And So It Begins...

 

 

I awoke to the sound of birds flocking together in the woods behind the farmhouse yesterday, and watched them for quite a while as they chirped and foraged in our yard. Eventually, the flew off in a great ball of bird wings, and the woods became quiet again. I decided to take a short walk in our yard.

 

Every year in Wisconsin, we gauged the beginning of autumn by our annual Labor Day (Sunday) party at our previous home, Hawk Hill. In the beginning, it was our family and a few other friends. By the time we held our last party, prior to moving to Florida, we had about 250 people who would attend. Having company for the holiday was not an excuse not to attend. We just told people, "Bring them along!"

 

Each family would bring their own chairs and a dish to pass large enough for their own group. That way there usually wasn't a huge amount of leftovers, but whatever was left from the party was always packaged up and shared with the local Women's Shelter. They appreciated it, and we did, too.

 

Our parties were always headquartered in our 40' x 60' pole barn, and we had all kinds of tables set up inside. Handsome and one of our boys would get up early and head to the butcher shop in town where a mobile grill was waiting, along with a spit loaded with pork roasts supplied by our dear neighbor, Frank as payment for the land he leased from us every year. Once home, the guys would get the grill going (around 5 am), and by noon the meat was ready to come off the grill and head to our phalanx of Nesco roasters. Frequently, our old friend, Harry and our #1 Son would be in charge of slicing and shredding the roasts, and I think they loved the job as they got the first taste of Frank's world-class pork.

 

Another friend, who was one of my team instructors for Hunter Ed, was the son of a baker. He brought dozens of Sheboygan rolls (the best) as his contribution. Another friend brought the soda dispensers, and then the party would begin, as people parked, brought in their chairs and the delicious dishes to share.

 

Each year we had some form of entertainment, too. One year we hired a barbershop quartet, another we had karaoke, or the guys would bring instruments and set up to play live music. Our younger son is also a drummer, so his band played one year with Handsome sitting in on a number or two. Always music.

 

We would shoot clay targets over our field late day in a friendly competition. We had a sand volleyball court behind the tree line near our pole barn, where our boys and all their friends would play for hours. We even had a horseshoe area that Frank would set up so the adults could have their own competition. When the party ended, our kids and their friends (teenagers by then) would head up to our high ground woods, set up tents and camp overnight. 

Then, the next day, we fed a bunch of hungry campers who would help us with cleanup in the barn and store all our summer furniture away for the winter. The party always signaled the end of the warm weather as we prepared for the cold and white stuff to come.

 

Those were the days - and the things I contemplated as I walked around our yard yesterday. I admit I was a little misty-eyed thinking about it. Those parties over the course of seventeen years always foreshadowed the end of summer and beginning of fall. Some years were warm, and some years we wore "layers" to keep warm. Sometimes it was sunny, and sometimes we took shelter from the rain in our barn, but every year was filled with love, laughter, music and great memories. I reflected on these memories as I walked, with Claudette and Crystal mewing behind me.

 

It was cooler yesterday, so I was wearing comfortable sweats as I walked. The huge maple in our front yard is just beginning to turn, but this stately old girl is still mostly green. She's raised a litter of squirrels every year since we've been here, and likely for years before. They'll soon be preparing for winter, too, as they gather up their hickory nuts that have yet to fall. Like us, they're filling their stores for the inevitable winter ahead.

 

 

I checked on the garden, too. There are a lot of tomatoes that have yet to ripen and I'm hoping there's still enough warm weather for that. Just in case, I'll find some recipes for how to use green tomatoes, as I want nothing to go to waste.

 

The squash seeds I planted in July are now large plants with beautiful blossoms and tiny squash coming up. I have fennel, carrots, onions and some garlic that I hope to harvest yet this fall. There's still time, and they prefer cooler weather, so that's good.

 

In the meantime, I continue to heal. I tried to stitch for a bit yesterday, but quickly lost focus. I'll try again today. I also went to bed much earlier than you'd usually find me under the blankets. When Handsome checked on me at our usual bedtime, I was out cold. Still healing. (That accounts for the lateness of my post today.)

 

I guess today was a time to reminisce a bit. We've been blessed beyond measure in our forty two years together (thirty nine married), and it's fun for me to slow down to think about those years from time to time. I guess that's one of the up-sides of this recuperation. I'm forced to slow down, and I hope you've enjoyed reading about a little more of our life. 

 

I'm off to have a cup of decaf tea and perhaps attempt to stitch again. I do know that I'll be resting. That's Job #1 right now, and I'm getting really (almost too) good at it. See you tomorrow, dears.