Celebrating the Fourth on the farm
No doubt it was a foolish thing to do.
I just drove 1400 miles and back again hoping to see a hometown parade, eat bratwurst and homemade pie, and watch fireworks. Rain chased me in and out of Wisconsin, provided sloshy driving through road construction demolition derby lanes but welcomed me back to Texas. Traffic was not as heavy as I expected confirmed by national news broadcasts announcing travel was down another 2.6%. I suppose economic woes are convincing people to stay home.
Unfortunately I missed the parade—and the brats—and the home-made pie with ice cream—and watched the fireworks from a distant viewpoint for only a few minutes before tumbling into bed.
The two days I spent were short but oh so wonderful.
Each morning began with drinking coffee while sitting on the front doorsteps overlooking the bean fields with the fog rising from the distant Wisconsin River. I sat and gossiped with my good friend while plucking dill heads to freeze for pickle making and snipping the leaves for dill-weed spread. Raspberries were ripe and I had grand intentions of picking them for a batch of jam but I ate them all while I worked on thinning the patch. Glen and I rode out to my favorite spot on my farm—through waist high grasses, surprised a deer, caught our feet on firewood hidden under the grass, and hacked our way through head high blackberry bushes. We also toured the Villa Louis, a mansion on St. Feriole’s Island, ate lunch at the Depot bar overlooking the Mississippi River, and came home to pull weeds in the garden and pick leaf lettuce.
The farm house is slowly moving along; I inspected the cupola on the barn and the interior pigeon proofing—and while chatting with my youngest brother was thrilled to see a bald eagle circling high above. We took pictures of us standing in the corn—to have a good crop it must be knee high by the Fourth. Flowers were in bloom everywhere including thistles. These are considered noxious weeds and I am supposed to have a plan to work on eradicating them on the farm—but the blooms are so beautiful.
Things seem to grow so bountifully and without the effort I seem to need here in Texas.
It is good to be home; but already I am looking forward to a return trip.
As usual, more photos can be found on smugmug at