Monday, November 14, 2005, 07:30
Never Before
I did something on Saturday that I have never done before in my life.
I mowed the lawn.
In November.
Wearing a tank top.
I have shovelled snow wearing a winter coat, stocking cap, boots and gloves in November. But I have never mowed the lawn wearing a tank top in November. I mean, really. I live in Wisconsin. The land of ice and snow for 6 months out of the year.
It all started when I decided to clean off the little garden by the basement. Randy had brought home some straw from the farm, so I pulled off the tomato vines and cut off the gladiolus and pulled the sunflowers. I cover the little garden so the gladiolus will come back on their own in the spring (with any luck at all).
Once the garden was cleaned off, I figured it would be a fine idea to get the mower out and trim the long grass around it. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was mowing the drainfield. Randy got out the other push mower, and then we were both mowing the drainfield. I was wearing a sweatshirt, and since it was 60 degrees, I got warm, and since I was wearing a tank top under the sweatshirt, I took off the sweatshirt, and there it was -- I was mowing the lawn in November wearing a tank top.
When we were done with the garden and the lawn mowers, I finished painting the bedroom. I worked on it all last week, doing a small section at a time. There's only so much room in the bedroom to pull furniture out from the wall so I could paint. Randy got out the roller and went to work on finishing the ceiling. And while we were painting, thunderstorms started rolling complete with thunder and lightning and rain and the occasional torrential downpour.
Then Saturday evening, the wind started in again. From the west. And like last week, it was blowing at around 30 mph.
Sunday, by contrast, was very cold and windy. One day I was mowing the lawn in a tank top, and the next day, I was wearing a sweatshirt with a windbreaker, a fleece tunic, stocking cap and gloves. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Isabelle still does not use her shelter when it is windy. Instead she stands about halfway down the fenceline. I've gone down there to check the wind. There's not much of a windbreak. Instead of 30 mph it might be only 28 mph in the dip along the fenceline.
I don't know what we are going to do about Isabelle this winter. My old gelding continues to be grumpy, so I've started calling him "the grumpy old man." He's so grumpy I am afraid he will not let Isabelle stand in the barn with him -- which is where he spent his time on Sunday to get out of the wind.
And now the weather forecast is talking about 6 to 8 inches of snow on Tuesday.
After all of the warm weather this fall, I am not quite ready for snow. But that doesn't matter, I guess. The snow will come when it's good and ready.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Friday, November 11, 2005, 19:12
Milkweed Pods
The dogs and I went for a walk this morning, and while I was out, I picked some more milkweed pods so I can make milkweed pod poinsettia ornaments.
It must have been a good year for milkweeds because there are hundreds of them growing in the field next to our hayfield.
I have one milkweed pod poinsettia put together, and next week, when I go into town, I will get some glitter and ribbon and whatnot to decorate them. I am thinking that we can give sets of milkweed pod poinsettia ornaments for Christmas.
To see a picture of an undecorated milkweed pod poinsettia ornament, click here (click on the images to see larger images).
Milkweed pod poinsettia ornaments are fun to make. If you'd like to find out how to make the poinsettias click here.
The story of my first experience with milkweed pod poinsettias is included in my book, Christmas in Dairyland (Chapter 5)
Here is an excerpt from "Milkweed Pods and Poinsettias" from Christmas in Dairyland" (for those of you who haven't read the book yet!) --
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Outside our classroom window, bright sunshine sparkled across the snow, and as I waited impatiently for the final bell to ring, I wondered if maybe Dad and I would cut a Christmas tree tomorrow. It was December, after all, and we had already decorated our classroom tree.
“I know it’s Friday afternoon and that we’ve only got a few minutes of school left,” said our teacher, “but I want you all to pay very close attention.”
I turned away from the window and sat up straight.
When the teacher was sure that we were listening, she continued.
“This weekend, I want each of you to go out and find twenty-four milkweed pods. No, wait. Maybe you’d better make that thirty. A couple of them might get broken. And if you find a good supply and you’d like to bring extra in case someone else cannot find any, then please be sure you bring an additional thirty.”
I exchanged glances with a couple my classmates.
“Thirty?” someone asked.
“Milkweed pods?” added another.
The teacher nodded. “Thirty milkweed pods.”
“It’s December. Aren’t they all gone by now?” asked another classmate.
“The seeds are gone, but the pods will still be on the plants,” the teacher said.
Over the years, our teachers had occasionally asked us to bring something to school—cream, for instance, when we were going to make butter, although only the kids who lived on farms were asked to bring cream. And one time we had to bring sugar cubes when we were going to make igloos. But so far, we’d never had to bring milkweed pods.
“Besides the milkweed pods, you will also need to bring a wire hanger to school on Monday,” the teacher continued.
“Why do we need milkweed pods and hangers?” someone asked.
“Because we’re going to make Christmas presents for your mothers,” our teacher replied.
Every year, we made Christmas presents for our mothers. I always wondered why we made presents for our mothers and not for our fathers, too, although one year our teacher had helped us glue Popsicle sticks together to make frames for our school pictures, and then she had told us to write ‘To Mom and Dad’ on the packages after we had wrapped them.
“What are we going to make with milkweed pods and a hanger?” asked one boy.
“A wreath,” the teacher replied. “Now, in other years your teachers helped you make your Christmas presents, but this year, you are going to make them all on your own. You’re old enough to handle a project like this by yourselves.”
“By ourselves?” another girl asked. “All by ourselves?”
The teacher smiled and nodded. “All by yourselves. First you will glue six milkweeds together so they look like poinsettias. When the flowers are finished, I will spray paint them either gold or silver for you, but then you can sprinkle them with glitter, if you want. Next you will stretch the wire hanger into a circle and cover it with butcher paper. You can leave the paper white, or you can sprinkle glitter on the paper, too. Then you will glue the flowers onto the paper. When everything is dry, you may also tie a bow around the top of the hanger, if you wish.”
Poinsettias! My mother loved poinsettias. When it wasn’t too cold outside, so that the plant wouldn’t freeze while it was being carried from the car to the house, my big sister sometimes bought a poinsettia for Mom at Christmas.
Mom’s last poinsettia had lived well into the summer, and for a while, she thought maybe it would make it until the next Christmas. But it didn’t. Not after the curtain knocked it off the sewing machine cabinet one windy summer day and the pot had landed upside down on the floor, breaking off most of the leaves and stems and spilling dirt everywhere. My mother put the plant back into the pot, but it never recovered.
Finding a wire hanger for the poinsettia wreath that we were going to make would be easy. All of the closets at home, both upstairs and downstairs, had wire hangers. But where was I going to find milkweed pods?
I knew there wasn’t any milkweed left around the edge of the barnyard because one summer day Dad had used the scythe to ‘make things look neater,’ and when he had cut down the pigweed and nettles, he had also cut down the milkweed that was growing by the fence. The purple-pink milkweed flowers were a pretty color and smelled as sweet as any of the perfume my big sister dabbed on her wrists before she went to work—
Wait a minute.
What was that the teacher had said? That we were going to make the wreaths all by ourselves?
And right then and there, besides not having the foggiest notion of where I was going to find milkweed pods, I knew that I was in big trouble.
Art was my worst subject. I always followed the directions carefully, but no matter what we were doing—weaving Easter baskets out of long narrow strips of colored construction paper—making flower bouquets out of our traced hand prints—or painting black snow-covered trees on blue paper—my project always ended up looking as if I had made it with my eyes closed. . .
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Fortunately I am better at arts and crafts projects now than when I was a kid -- just as long as it isn't anything too fancy or complicated!
To receive a 5 percent discount on one or more copies of Christmas in Dairyland -- go to the book order page scroll to the bottom to find the order form, and in the section where you can include a special inscription, write a message to me telling me that you read about the milkweed poinsettias in my blog on Nov. 12, 2005.
LeAnn R. Ralph