Yes, I've been busy

Cliff and I wanted to go to Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, for the Old Settler's Reunion.  Trouble is, we no longer have a camper, and motels for fifty miles around are usually booked months ahead for the event.  I mentioned that we could buy another tent, but neither Cliff or I wanted to do that.  I started calling motels, just in case somebody might have cancelled at the last minute.  Imagine my surprise when the second motel I called had one room available:  It was $119, and had a Jacuzzi tub.  That's more than I like to pay for a motel, but I knew it was our only chance, so I grabbed it.  
I usually read a book aloud, on a road trip, to keep Cliff awake and to make the time pass faster for both of us, but this time I checked out some audio books from the library.  Although we neither one liked the way the first book, one of the Spenser series, was written (too many "he saids" and "she saids") , it did help pass the time and we followed it through to the very predictable ending.  The book we started on the way home was much better, but we'll never finish it unless we go on some spur-of-the-minute road trip between now and September 13.  

Drilling a well

Cliff found lots of junk useful items for sale.  

While he looked at useful items, I went for a train ride.  You'll find a Youtube video HERE, but I should have had my Ipad turned the other way when I made the video.  

It was 104 degrees at the hottest part of the day, which took some of the pleasure out of things, but we enjoyed ourselves anyhow, and a couple of nights away from home are always fun.  I may share more pictures in another entry.  

There are some changes coming to our vast estate in the near future:  Cliff's sister, who has lived in our old house for over five years and taken excellent care of it, has bought her own place and will be moving in a couple of weeks.  She is very excited, and we are happy for her.  However, we're not sure what our next move will be.  We're not fond of the idea of renting the house out to strangers.  Been there, done that.  It's an imperfect house, and some people might not want to live there.  Although if the right person came along, we would rent it very cheaply.  What is the right person, you ask?  An old couple with no pets that doesn't throw wild parties and goes to Texas in the winter. Oh, and with no pesky grandchildren or grown children that would want to move in with them.  

Yes, we know.  That perfect rental couple doesn't exist; if they can afford to go to Texas, they don't need cheap rent or desire life in the boonies.  

The insurance company, as well as our bank, demands that somebody be living in that house.  The bank has no interest in our mobile home.  As far as they are concerned, it doesn't exist.  Cliff suggested perhaps we might rent the mobile home out, but mobile homes are built very cheaply.  They deteriorate fast enough when the owner lives in them; you can imagine how quickly they fall to ruin when occupied by most renters.  We know this from experience.  

I prefer my yard and the view where I'm living now; if we are not going to rent the old house out, we would have to move back into it.  We would lose the rental income, but we've only been getting a very tiny sum for it because of who was living there, knowing she would take care of it.  I think we could tighten our monthly budget by such a pittance.  

Some of the major problems that drove me back behind the barn have disappeared into thin air.  Not-so-desirable neighbors, the falling-down rental trailer, kids on every side partying until 4 A.M. and walking across our yard  All those things are just fast-fading memories.  I could always bring my morning coffee over here, sit on the back porch, and watch the sun come up, just as I do now.  We would, of course, turn off the electricity and drain the pipes.  The mobile home would be waiting for us if and when something else turned up, or if we changed our minds.  

We shall see what happens.  Wish us luck!  I'll keep you updated.       

Busted, dusted, disgusted, and can't be trusted

I have the Woody Guthrie Library of Congress recordings, and at some point in the discussion between songs, he makes the above statement, talking about the Okie "dust bowl refugees".  He tells about the extreme drought and dust storms before he breaks into song with "I got that dust pnuemonee..." 


Woody is one of my favorite songwriters, along with Bob Dylan and Kris Kristofferson and Tom T. Hall.  And Fanny Crosby, of course.  All of those people make me want to sit down and write a song.  

With the extended drought we're having and the string of highs in the upper 90's, I'm starting to feel dusted and disgusted myself.  I'm still watering the tomatoes and peppers, but I'm letting everything else go.  Those seeds I optimistically planted for a fall garden never even came through the surface of the baked earth, except for turnips.
The weeds grow, though.  Boy, do they.  Mostly vine-y stuff like creeping jenny.  That's what my dad called it.  And some other little lacy-looking thing that is vining everywhere.  I'm ashamed of my flower bed.  

I don't recall ever having a problem with this little creeping thing, whatever it is.  

Five years ago when we moved back here behind the barn, we planted grass in the front yard.  It was beautiful the next spring, lush and green like a carpet.  Two straight years of drought have turned it into ugly weeds.  

Oh well, I'm thankful for air conditioning, which we never had at all until five years ago.  I'm loving the abundance we're getting from the garden.  There are so many things to eat at each meal, we can hardly eat it all.  And we're not tired of tomatoes yet.