I love Farmbeau, and that's that. When he is at his best, he is the sweetest of the sweet, the adorablest of the adorable. He is My Most Admired. Not only do I not *look* at other men; I don’t even *think* about other men other than as platonic friends. Finally I have the good fortune to be with a man who is the star of my romantic and sexual fantasies, and makes them come true.

On our way to pick corn at Dawn’s, we passed this farmyard that no one lives in any more. So many of them.

My grandfather built this grain elevator with his two brothers. It was the first elevator in the district (I am sure I read that in the local history book), and privately owned. If you aren’t familiar with grain elevators, you may not realize how large this one is. Compared to the ‘company’ elevators that later proliferated on the Prairies, this one is small. They can be 150 feet tall, and seen for 20 miles or more. (There is a mirage thing that happens, too -- where you can see the elevators of a distant town, and you shouldn’t normally be able to).

But to see this elevator in the distance ... you can see it for a long ways away. I’m going to drive in for a better look. My cousin, who owns the land now, told me I could.

One evening we took a drive out to the north place, so Farmbeau could look at the cattle that are grazing out there.

My flower beds were not thrilling this year. No excuse. I watered. I fertilized. I started with the best soil. Hmph. These are the flowers at South Forks.

I have had this mug for over 20 years. I reach for it every morning to pour black coffee into.

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