Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Whiter than Snow!

It's snowing in North Carolina. In Minnesota I enjoyed playing in the snow, but on the farm I enjoy watching the snow cover all the broken, discarded, rusting stuff. It's not all junk or broken, but almost all of it is dirty and old.
This morning I thought of how all the yuck on the farm can be compared to the yuck in our lives. We can feel broken, discarded, or rusting. There might be things we're ashamed of and we wish we could just cover up. There is a cure!

God says, "I, the Lord, invite you to come and talk it over.
Your sins are scarlet red, but they will be whiter than snow or wool."
(Isaiah 1:18)

God invites you to sit with him and "talk it over." Think about that! If you've never tried it, go for it! Sit down. Talk to this God you can't see. This God you don't even believe in. You just might get up from that conversation a changed person.

The covering of snow transforms crud into works of art. The Lord does even "better" with our lives: he doesn't just cover our sins — he washes them away. Gone. Whiter than snow. As Christians, we sometimes mull over past sins, but God has forgotten them. Let's get on with living.

And now, for your viewing pleasure: God's Artistry with Broken Stuff.

Monday, October 30, 2017

It's a Matter of Perspective

Last night I lay in bed for a l.o.n.g time, thinking about how I should celebrate the 2nd Bookiversary of Crap Happens...Wallowing Is Optional. I know! I'll give two books away! I finally fell asleep.

I was eager to get started this morning, but I felt like doing a little research first. How many books have I sold in two years? The results were quite disheartening: I've sold approximately 375 books, and, just for the heck of it, I gave away (FREE) 305 ebooks on Amazon on October 2 of last year. Crazy, huh? All of this and only 38 reviews. Lovely reviews, but still ... only 38.

On the plus side, that's selling or giving away a book every day — a book I wrote and published for about $50. Counting all the joy it has brought to me and others, I say WooHoo! AND, I am SO thankful for the local bookstores and businesses that sell my book, some of them not taking even a tiny percentage. Yup, I might do it again.

But, back to my book's 2nd birthday. To celebrate, I've decided to give away two copies of Crap Happens...Wallowing Is Optional. Here's how you can be in the running.
  1. "Like" my author page on Facebook
  2. Leave a comment that tells me what puts a smile on your face.
If you've already "Like"d my author page, you only have to do the second item. Duh.

If you're not on Facebook, what are you waiting for? Actually, if you're not on Facebook, you can leave a comment on this post and I'll throw your name in the proverbial hat. Fair enough?

I'll choose two winners at random tomorrow (10/31/17) at approximately 6pm, Eastern time. I'll "private message" the winners so you can give me your address. If you already have a copy of my book, it will make a wonderful Christmas gift for someone on your list.

Tomorrow, in honor of Crap's second birthday, I'll drink more coffee and eat lots of cookies and name TWO WINNERS. Don't forget to enter!

Friday, October 06, 2017

His Eye Is On the Spider

Sparrow! I mean sparrow! But as long as we're on the subject ....

Wednesday evening, after having mowed the front yard earlier that afternoon, I switched out my little yard flag to better showcase the season.
Thursday morning I was hurrying out the door to get to work and, as I walked passed the flag, I had to double back to see why it seemed to be hanging at such an odd angle.
It took me a moment but, do you see it? A spider! What the ?? I shook the flag a couple of times, but the spider hung on. I got a little stick and knocked it down. The flag was still "bent," so I straightened it out and saw this fluffy white thing. Time to call for Weldon.
"Is this thing full of baby spiders?"
"Well, do something with it!"

He took out his pocket knife and began to scrape the lovely bundle off the flag. Eeeuuuuww. With shivers running down my spine, I hurried to the car and headed to work.

I'm not a fan of spiders, but God's eye is on the spider as much as on the sparrow, right? I mean, if he knows the number of hairs on my head, he must know about all the spiders that are hiding in my house and everywhere else. Eeeuuuuww. When I find bugs in the house, I try to capture them and set them free outside, but I don't trust spiders enough to do that. Instead, before mooshing one or sucking it up into the vacuum cleaner, I apologize and say, "I'm sorry." Okay, sometimes it's after the fact, when it's now just an icky spot on the floor. Sorry.

This is getting gross, so let's do a Bob Ross. Ever have spiders in life? Let's make them sparrows. Yeah, they're sparrows now.

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Pie In the Sky

I like happy songs, happy stories, happy life. When I wake up in a funk or if the day seems to go from bad to worse, I try to think good, cheerful thoughts. Happy thoughts! Sometimes I imagine a fun surprise. Yes, I might even dream about someone bringing me a piece of pie.

There's nothing wrong with dreaming, right?

Some people think that believing in God is just a dream - a nice, but made-up, story. Heaven is just "pie in the sky" - something that is pleasant to contemplate but is very unlikely to be realized. Even if God and his heaven should all turn out to be a hoax, life is better when it's lived according to the Golden Rule(s) we find in the Bible.

Love your neighbor as yourself. Loving yourself (taking care of YOU) is a good thing! Do you ever treat yourself to a trip to the spa or that new book you've been wanting to read? Maybe, if you're like me, you love yourself with a bag of M&Ms or a pizza pie. You're worth it!

What if you were as lenient with others as you are with yourself? You’d think and say nice things about the people you meet. You’d help them when they need help and encourage them when they’re sad. You’d want them to have the best seat in the house. If they ever disappointed you, you’d know it wasn’t on purpose and you’d forgive them immediately.

Go the extra mile. Your neighbor comes to borrow a cup of sugar and you give her the whole bag. A friend asks if you could pick up his son from school. You not only pick up his son, you stop and buy him a milkshake on the way home. When you go out to eat, you treat the staff with kindness and leave a good tip. Your mother asks if you could come help her get the Christmas tree from the basement, and you stay to help her decorate the whole house.

Don’t kill, cheat, steal, or tell lies. Life would be a whole lot rosier if everyone followed these simple instructions.

Sing songs and make melody in your heart. Don’t commit adultery. Honor and respect your mother and father.

After a lifetime of trying to follow the good advice found in the Bible, you die. There’s no heaven, no hell. But what a life you lived! A good life! No doubt about it: I’ll take the pie in the sky.

If you actually know me, you know that I don't think God is a myth or a dream. He's the "real deal," and I won't be surprised if he serves pie when I get there.

Saturday, August 19, 2017

[Another] True Story

I posted this story on my Facebook Author page yesterday. For those of you not on Facebook, I'm posting it here for your reading pleasure.

I got out later than usual to feed “my” kitties in the big shed last night (nearing 8:00) and saw that Pat hadn’t been out yet. I moseyed on up to the house to see if everything was okay. Pat and Edith were sitting at the table—Pat, looking a little ragged, sipping on a cup of something, and Edith snapping beans. Pat had overworked herself in the sun all day, mowing and picking beans and who-knows-what all, but said she thought she could get out "pretty soon." I got a knife and helped Edith with the beans and then told Pat I would feed “her” kitties and tell Weldon that he’d have to care for the calves by himself. She needed to stay inside and rest. She acquiesced.

Pat asked me to let Annabelle (mama of the “ring-around-the-Rosie” kitties) out of the cage for a while and then put her back in with the babies before bedtime. On my way to the house, I stopped to tell Weldon he was on his own for the evening, and I set Annabelle free as I passed by the barn. At home, I got a bottle of Gatorade and some yogurt and took it to Pat. Then I went to feed cats and kitties at the milk barn and in the big hay barn.
The ring-around-the-Rosie kitties. I just had to name the white one Rosie!

An hour later, I got a flashlight, turned on some yard lights, and went to find Annabelle. Ahhh, there’s a gray cat. I felt her belly. She didn’t feel much like a mother nursing five babies. What if this isn’t the right cat? I know there’s another gray cat about the same size, but this was the only one in sight. I picked her up and put her near the cage. She sniffed a bit and then looked at me, so I pushed her in. She carefully circled around the babies and settled in. She wouldn’t lie down with them if she wasn’t the mother, right? Right? Weldon was still in the milk parlor, so I asked him. He said he knows what the mother looks like, so he’d check in on them before he came home.

An hour later (yes, it was about 10:00 now), Weldon came in. “Did you check on the mama cat and babies?” No, he forgot. Oh well. It’ll be alright, right? Right?

And now it’s Friday morning. I fed “my” cats and had to go to the milk barn to get some milk. As long as I was passing by the big barn, I thought I'd let Annabelle out. She hopped out, but the five babies were spread across the floor of the cage and little Rosie was lying on her back. (It’s not a very big cage, so they weren’t separated by much, but they weren’t cuddled in a nice little kitty cat pile, either.) There was no movement. Oh, my gosh! They’re dead. I looked again, my heart pounding. Not the slightest bit of movement.

I hurried to the milk parlor. "Weldon, I think the five kittens are dead!" "Dead? All of them?" "Yes. They didn’t move. They’re not snuggled up. I don’t think they’re breathing. I must have got the wrong mama!" He immediately went with me to the barn. None of them were moving. Weldon put his hand in, and gently touched and petted them all. "They’re fine." "Fine? Really?" "Yes, they're fine."

Heart attack averted. Barely.

A few minutes later I confessed the whole story to Pat. She said she has had the same kind of experience, but she learned that the babies just spread out if it gets too stuffy and warm for them. I’m pretty sure she was just trying to make me feel better … and it worked. Kind of.
This is, indeed, Annabelle.

The End. Of one more farm story.

Monday, August 07, 2017


Weldon has been farming his whole life. He's a farmer like his father and grandfather before him. I've been here for almost 13 years, but I'm not a farmer. When I helped with the milking chores, I liked to call myself a farm-assist. Sounds pretty important, doesn't it? I still assist when Weldon comes to the house and asks if I can help him for a few minutes. That happened a couple days ago, when he had to go up into the silo to make some adjustments.
This silo is 50 feet tall, not counting the rounded top. Weldon and a friend had cut and chopped the early corn and blown it up there. Well, they didn't blow it up there ... a machine did it. You can see a video of silage being blown into the silo here (scroll down almost to the end):

The cows were super excited to see what was going on.

Now, were was I? Ah, yes. Helping Weldon at the silo. This "crank thing" (below) raises and lowers the auger that's inside the silo. I don't have the strength to turn the crank, so the handle is replaced by a drill that can get the job done. Weldon is in the silo and I run the drill to raise or lower the auger per his directions. That's not a very good description, but if you want to understand it better, come for a visit and I'm sure Weldon will tell and show you all about it.
When I was done and Weldon was safely back on the ground, I decided to stroll toward the back of the barn and the pasture area. A calf had gotten out of the fence and was feeling footloose and fancy free - until he saw me. He scampered as fast as his little legs would carry him right back to his mama's side.
The early corn is in the silo, so I asked Weldon when the "later" corn would be ready. In September, of course. I should have remembered that, because on the morning of our wedding (September 25), Weldon was chopping corn! The late corn won't be late ... it will be right on time. And we're finally getting some rain to make it happy and healthy.

Friday, July 28, 2017


Eleven years ago I wrote my first blog post on Farm Muse. It was about pickles. My second post was just a day later (on July 7, 2006) and it was also about pickles. So guess what I was doing today. Yup, making pickles!

It wasn't a great year for cucumbers on the farm, so I hoped maybe I wouldn't have to make any pickles. Silly me. With only two quarts of pickles left in the cupboard from last year, I knew I'd have to do something. Weldon can't live without his sweet pickles. Maybe Mom Edith still has some in her basement from previous years.

My younger daughter had been with us on the farm since late January, making a huge move from New York to France. We were busy. We had stuff to do. Pickles weren't on the to-do list. But, Mom and Pat to the rescue. (And I didn't even know I needed rescuing!) They started two gallon jars for me and passed them into my care on July 17. Truly, I was thankful. They're so thoughtful. And kind. And helpful.

These pickles don't happen overnight. First the cucumbers are picked and washed, then packed into gallon jars and covered with boiling water. Days 2 through 5 you drain off the water and then cover the cucumbers with fresh boiling water again. On Day 6 you pour off the water and this time add alum to the fresh boiled water. On Day 7 you drain the water from the jars and this time cover the cucumbers with vinegar and add a little bag of pickling spices. Now the jars sit for nine days and you don't have to do anything with them. Yay!

Today was Day 16. Pickle-making day. I took pictures. Because a blog is no fun without pictures. Some of you may have quit reading already. Such boring stuff. But, hang on. Pictures are here!
My first year (2006) I did SIX gallons. Impressive.
Today, Day 16. All cucumbers sliced thinly and covered in sugar. Lots of sugar.
The bowls of sugared "pickles" are covered and left to sit until the sugar dissolves.
When the sugar has dissolved (sometimes with the help of a little stirring) the pickles are packed into jars.

The jars are lowered into the hot water bath canner.
After 20 minutes, the jars are removed from the canner.
Tah Dah! 6 quarts of sweet pickles for the sweet farmer.
The way Weldon goes through these pickles, I'm thinking I'll still have to go check out Mom Edith's basement to see if she has some left from previous years. But this is definitely better than nothing.