What kind of farm girl would I be if I didn't post a harvest picture?

It's in full swing all around us.

Ho hum. Quiet morning. Boys off to school. Scott out looking at a barley crop and a bin to put it into after combining. Me and my nightie are soon to rustle up some breakfast.

Goose hunters moved onto the land south of Golden Grain Farm, effectively scaring off the deer and making moot our favourite archer's work setting up tree blinds and such.

He saw a moose track in front of the quonset, so obviously the great beasts are still coming right into the yard. I still haven't seen one there.

Scott is still struggling to priorize the improvements to be made at the new place. There is so much that he is overwhelmed. To be dealt with are shingling, insulation, windows, water, plumbing, and a porch that was set on an improper foundation and is pulling away from the house, allowing rainwater to leak between the two buildings.
And first, the last bit of flooring has to go in.

I'm already tired of it all.

Flowers still look good, though! What else matters?

My son and I set out on our two-mile hike to Golden Grain Farm yesterday beneath a ceiling of unusual clouds. By the time we got back, an hour later, the sky was a clear blue.

This morning I took a short break from work when an old friend, now my sister-in-law's sweetheart, pulled into the driveway. He has a week off from his job and is here to hunt deer with his bow and arrow; he's so excited he's vibrating. I took him over to Golden Grain Farm and gave him a key before he went on his merry way. He couldn't wait to get out there and warm up his shooting arm on the gophers.

Scott is 49 today. I will bake a chocolate cake this afternoon. No icing. He likes to pour milk on his cake instead.

Every year when school starts I raise the boys' allowance by a dollar a week. But I also increase their responsibilities. Everett's new job this year is to bake something on Sundays for them to take as a dessert with their school lunches. Today he is making whole-wheat doughnuts.

If you look at the cupboards behind him you will notice they do not have doors. That is because I removed them all, intending to paint them during the winter after the kitchen and cupboards were painted. That was, oh, three or four years ago. I have excuses, of course: the place I hoped to do the painting had farm machinery parked in it instead; I was busy; excuses, plain and simple. All this, just to help you understand why I haven't ripped Scott's head off for not getting us into our new house yet. I can't, because I'm not a damn bit better than he is at getting things done. As a matter of fact, I'm a far sight worse.

We've gone from a warm, even hot day yesterday to a frigging cold one. Harrumph. Everett and I went over to pick and cover tomatoes and peppers and it seemed a good time to snip what could be the last bouquet from my garden.

Earlier Emil and I were in town for the farmers' market and brought home some goodies: peach pie and pickled beets from Aunt Marge's table.

Her granddaughter's book seems to be doing well here in Canada. McNally-Robinson has Flight of the Dragonfly on its Top 10 Bestsellers list. This is good to see; finding her little girls and getting them home from Lebanon took everything Melissa Hawach had, and more. She still owed a lot of money to a kindhearted benefactor at the time the book was published. Book sales are unlikely to take that debt off her plate but she has become a speaker and advocate for parents of kidnapped children and who knows what that may translate into. She's been through hell, that's all I know, and deserves to have things go right.

This must be that fabled rare season, because what a gorgeous day. Warm wind from the southwest. I wanted to be out walking but waited for Everett to get off the bus at four o'clock so we could stroll together with the hounds over to Golden Grain Farm, which is a couple miles by the time we're home again. The geese are flocking and flying and honking against the sky, the swathers and combines are in the fields, and the hay bales above wait to be picked up and hauled to the farmyard for this winter's feed.

After the boys came home from their month at Gord's, Emil was sitting in the van one day when we returned from town. The dog, Sara, who tends to stay next to Emil when he is walking around outside, surprised us all by making herself at home on the windshield.

To get a picture of this unprecedented occurrence, I stood inside the sliding door with its screen. Had I opened the usual door, Sara would have leapt to the ground and trotted to the house to see where I might be going.

Once I got the photo of her on the van, I opened the door and poked the camera out for a clear picture. Then she got ready to run.

All summer there would be one or two great blue herons standing in the water at the creek when I'd drive or walk by. If I walked up, they'd fly off long before I'd get close. If I was driving and slowed down too much, to get a photo, they'd do the same thing. So I looked forward to Everett coming home. That way he could have the digital camera ready to shoot from the window of the vehicle, and I wouldn't have to come to a complete stop and scare off the shy birdie. This week we finally had success and Everett got a picture, although we had to keep moving. Oh yes; and the bird watched us carefully, too, moving almost imperceptibly sideways until finally it spread its great wings and flapped away.

The zoom feature isn't anything to brag about with this camera we've got, so it's not much of a picture. But ... there you have it.

***
Reta, I dropped Grandma and Evelyn off at the hall this afternoon for the seniors' rally and Janet Elliott was there. I gave her a mission: to remind both ladies to take their supper pills. Stopped and saw Bruce and Shirley for only a few minutes, because I had to be back in Wadena to pick up Everett. Bruce hasn't been feeling well for the past month, did you know?

~ in the afternoon, flowers ~

~ in the evening, parsley ~

For a while I was taking Big Girl with me to Golden Grain Farm, but one day last week I took off without her. She followed the van out the driveway but did not turn back as I'd expected. Instead she followed a quarter-mile, until I realized she was not going to turn back. I pulled over, spread some car blankets over the back seat, and waited for her to come panting up. She hopped right in, and away we went.

There are frost warnings for tonight. I'll pick the rest of the peppers and cover the tomatoes this evening. This could mean the last of my flower-gazing for this year.