In Fallow Fields and Byways

Summer is here. It won't be long before delicate Queen Anne's Lace will be nodding in warm breezes.

Passing The Unworked Field

Queen Anne's lace
     is hardly
          prized but
all the same it isn't
     idle look
          how it
     stands straight on its
thin stems how it
     scrubs its white faces
          with the
rags of the sun how it
     makes all the
          loveliness
                  it can.

(Mary Oliver)

Kalona Creamery & American Gothic House

Two more of the stops on our way home from North Liberty/Coralville: The Kalona Creamery. I remember going here years ago after touring the Amish town of Kalona. One of the grandkids was with me - maybe Zach? We watched the cheese makers at work and bought ice cream for sure!

Bud had only a single dip chocolate cone topped with a chocolate cow. I ordered a double dip which was so HUGE I was in danger of losing the top dip as I tried to eat it. I went back for a dish to put the top part in while I ate the bottom dip. Too much ice cream. But it was SO GOOD!

Several Amish buggies went by but I only managed a photo of this horse. Yes, I know the Amish do not like having their pictures taken.

Bud wanted his picture taken with one of the milk cows. Ha. Ha.

Our next stop was in Eldon where, with the help of one of the visitor center's staff, we did our best to recreate Grant Wood's 'American Gothic' painting. She told me not to smile or be touching. "He's not your husband and you're not happy about posing for the picture."

I was a bit surprised that they had costumes available to wear, but I was really surprised that there was no charge for them. This was a fun stop.

I discovered it is just as much fun to play dress up now as it was sixty-five years ago wearing Mom's black hat and posing with my little sister and our cousins.

Oh, yeah, I did buy some cheese at the Kalona Creamery. Those cheese curds didn't last long. Lucky for me Bud doesn't like squeaky cheese, so I had them all to myself. 😁

In Search Of A Monument

Friday morning we left for Eastern Iowa for a wedding. Opting for a more leisurely route than I-80, we headed east via US 34. Along the way we marked several stops to make on the return trip. About halfway between Albia and Ottumwa we saw a sign "Swedish American Immigrant Memorial". With Bud's Swedish ancestors on his Mother's side, we decided that was something we would like to see on the way home.

The marker along Hwy 34 indicated the memorial was North, two miles on T61. We drove the two miles with nothing that looked like a memorial marker in sight. Another mile, nada.

There was this huge boulder, but there was no signage around it. We drove on. "It must be just over the hill." After about five miles we decided we had missed it unless that boulder was the marker.

Bud pulled over so I could take a couple photos on the way back. "We'll just have to google it when we get home and see if that is the monument".

Then at the one mile corner North of Hwy 34, coming from the opposite direction, I saw the sign for the memorial marker, "one mile east". So, for clarification, the memorial is one mile north, one mile east of the highway, not two miles north.

And there it was, adjacent to the Munterville Lutheran Church and cemetery. As impressive as the monument was, the first thing I noticed was the small bird perched on the father's hat, singing it's little heart out. By its size, I thought it was a wren, but its song wasn't that of a wren. I think it may be a Henslow's Sparrow.

I took this picture of Bud taking a photo because behind him in the cemetery is a stone with the name 'Nelson' - his mother's family name - that of his ancestors from Sweden. Not that this is any of his relation, that we know of, but it seemed significant that it was the first name I noticed in the cemetery.

I took a photo of Bud with the memorial and the flags of the United States, Sweden and Iowa before getting back on the road.

Even though it took a few extra miles to find it, I'm glad we stopped to see the Swedish American Immigrant Monument overlooking Iowa's beautiful countryside.

Read In May 2019

This is unbelievable - only four books read in May??!! I even checked my book lists twice to make sure. But it is true. Guess I spent more time planting flowers and taking photos - 400 so far this month with about 12 hours to go. 😉

As you can see, still reading my way through the Thomas Perry titles at the Creston Library - Silence, The Boyfriend and The Bomb Maker - and still enjoying this author.

As well as Karin Slaughter, though Cop Town wasn't my favorite of hers.

Surely June will see a few more than four books read! I've already earmarked three on the new books list the library just shared and I got four from the Corning Library, with three more on my list from there.

But we have a deck to paint, a wedding weekend coming up and 'spring' cleaning still to do. June reading may be limited, too.

How The Butcher Became My Friend

After my stroke six years ago, I recovered from the light paralysis quickly and soon went back to my regular routine at the Y, working mainly on the treadmill trying to rebuild speed, stamina and gait. I was still having some dizzy spells, but nothing too bad until August 12, 2013. I was on the treadmill when without warning I veered to the left. It only lasted a second, but I hit the stop button and quit for the day. I got to my car and sat for a minute, deciding I felt okay, and went on to the Fareway as planned.

I was at the meat counter, waiting while Jim (I only knew his name because it was written on his hat) filled my order. Suddenly I started feeling faint and knew I was going to pass out. "Do you have someplace I can sit down?" I asked him. He saw at a glance I was in trouble and stacked a couple milk crates for me to sit on. He wanted to call 911, but I told him I was recovering from a stroke and still had dizzy spells. "Would you call my husband for me?"

Bud came. I insisted on finishing my shopping so he transferred the things from my cart into the wheel chair cart, we checked out and went home. By afternoon I was fine. We went back so I could drive my car home.

On my next shopping trip to Fareway I again profusely thanked Jim for his help. Over the years, he never failed to smile and ask, "How are you? along with "What can I get for you?" He never made it sound like he was alluding to that day in August and I never acted like it was anything he didn't ask all his customers. Yet, once in awhile I felt we were both remembering that day. It wasn't a bond, but it was a connection.

From time-to-time we would visit a bit more. He told me as a teenager he had started working for Fareway in LeMars, because his Mom worked there. I told him we had moved to Creston after we retired because we had both been born in the hospital here (though we grew up around Corning) and decided we might as well (most likely) die here. I remember at least once telling him how much I appreciated his help that August day.

Then in January, I think we were talking about age for some reason, he mentioned that he would be 62 in May and was going to retire. May 31st, to be exact - his 62nd birthday. I told him that would be my daughter's 50th birthday. I asked what his retirement plans were and he told me that he and his wife wanted to move to an acreage and had looked at one northeast of Creston but decided to build their retirement dream home on the edge of Lenox because it was closer to Kansas City where their three children live.

His retirement party at the store was scheduled for yesterday and I knew there would be a lot of his customers/friends there, so I went in Tuesday to wish him well. He waited on me, asked if there was anything else and I said, "Well I do have a favor to ask, would you mind having a picture with me?" So we posed with the last package of meat he would be wrapping for me (a pound and half of Fareway's own ground beef for meatloaf) and I told him once more how I would never forget how he helped me six years ago - how much it meant to me even though he would do the same for anyone. I got a little teary eyed and so did he. Jim then shared his philosophy of living by being a good person and doing what he could to brighten the lives of others.

I will miss his brand of old fashioned customer service. I truly wish him a very long and happy retirement.

I didn't even know his last name until I read it in the paper, so I debated about referring to this kind man as a friend, then I remembered that old saying: "A friend in need is a friend indeed".

Little Robin Redbreast

Little Robin Redbreast
Sat upon a rail,
Niddle nobble went his head,
Wiggle waggle went his tail.

As a child, did you learn some form of this rhyme about Robins?
They were probably my favorite bird when I was young. But that is no longer true. I am often annoyed by their way-to-early wake up tuk, tuk tuk, It sounds like they are right outside the bedroom window. Oh, wait, that is because they are. Then they go into a rapid cheerily cheer up, cheer up, cheerily cheer up! They might as well be saying, get up, get up, get up! Because I do; no way am I going back to sleep.

There are a lot of Robins around here. I should be getting used to them. Yesterday I heard one loudly giving their danger call - yeep, yeep, yeep, yeep! I knew what that meant - the neighbor's darned gray cat was sneaking around. I went out and there he was on our stepping stones. I may not be fond of the noisy Robins but I sure don't want them to be victims of a preying cat.

Favorite poet Ted Kooser has different take on these early morning birds. It is very timely considering how cold, dark and rainy this day began:

The Early Bird

Still dark, and raining hard
on a cold May morning

and yet the early bird
is out there chirping,

chirping its sweet-sour
wooden-pulley notes,

pleased, it would seem, 
to be given work,

hauling the heavy
bucket of dawn

up from the darkness,
note over note,

and letting us drink.

If only I could keep Kooser's poem in mind, perhaps I wouldn't so much mind the Robins' early wake up notes.

A Committee of Vultures

Coming home from decorating at the cemeteries Saturday, we saw a dozen or more turkey vultures on this gate and in the field. There were seven on the gate, but the others flew off before Bud could get a photo.

Turkey Vultures 
   (By Ted Kooser)

Circling above us, their wing-tips fanned
like fingers, it is as if they are smoothing

one of those tissue-paper sewing patterns
over the pale blue fabric of the air,

touching the heavens with leisurely pleasure,
just a word or two called back and forth,

taking all the time in the world, even though
the sun is low and red in the west, and they

have fallen behind with the making of shrouds.