I'll tell you where I took this photo, but you mustn't tell anyone:

shhhhhhhh.........The Krispy Kholesterol Donut store......

The "Fresh HOT Donuts" sign was lit in blazing pink neon as we drove past. It's like a siren song, causing many a good dieter to crash on the rocks.

Of course I was there strictly for the artistic photo opportunity.

Fourteen!

This girl grew up. Happy Birthday, Merrill.

First Shot

My eyes have been automatically focusing wherever I bid them for nearly half a century. But they're getting tired and a little balky. Vintage eyes using the tiny LCD screen on my camera means my photos are often not pretty....just pretty blurry.

Rachel and John solved the problem by surprising me with a new camera. Their timing couldn't have been more perfect---a few days later the old one died a quick and complete death. The new camera has a generous three-inch LCD. I hate to admit that I need the Large Print Edition camera, but apparently I do.






The camera had only been in my possession twenty minutes or so when Audrey and I headed into a fabric store. When my old eyes glimpsed our images in the storefront glass, I paused and took this shot.



The reflection of the cars outside, our silhouettes, and the bolts of colorful cloth beyond the glass intrigued me. With all three elements in proper focus, I'm pretty much liking the new toy.

It Must Be Horse Show Season

BEFORE:

DURING:

AFTER:

Asparagus Heaven

Planting an asparagus bed is a lot of work. You have to dig down twelve inches before setting the roots; you have to fertilize heavily. Then you have to wait a few years before you can even harvest more than a stalk or two.

But if you lay the groundwork correctly, the payback will be abundant and long-lasting. I'm eating asparagus nearly every day; I've even given away a few handfuls.

Growing asparagus reminds me of raising children: dig deep. Lay a good foundation. Fertilize well.

Though there is a season of waiting while the roots take hold, the fruit will be long-lasting, a rich blessing that spreads well beyond your own four walls.

And, while you may be glad that you put in the early labor, the credit for tasty asparagus and faithful children ultimately goes to God.

Incredibles at Home

Have characters from The Incredibles come to dwell in my home?

Or are these my children?

Relaxation

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              Photo by FAR

The Photo Road

I need to exercise. I need to lose some weight, and I need to keep the ol' ticker banging out its rhythm for the next several decades.

Yesterday, Merrill told me that she would be rising at 6:30 to sample the great outdoors with a little run/walk down the gravel. "I'll come with you," I volunteered. "I need to exercise."

We ventured out early into the cool grey, wearing our workout shoes and exercise pants. At the edge of the driveway, I spied morning's dew gathered into a single drop at the end of every blade of ditch grass. A thousand jewels, a thousand fleeting diamonds, crying out for permanance before lifting off into the sky, one molecule at a time.

I ran back to get my camera. Merrill ran ahead to get her exercise.

I spent the next half hour capturing water beads from every angle. Here are three of my favorites.

The road to flab is paved with good intentions.

Viola Performance

On the way in.

Dad helps the violist and accompanist laugh away pre-show jitters.

Cherry Blossoms

I'm not the only one who likes them.

Bubbles

Haiku

Wedged between my afternoon bowl of cereal and Leave It to Beaver, my mother used to ask me, "How was school today?"

I never ask my children "How was school today?" I usually know.

But now Rachel goes to school in another city, and sometimes tells me about the things she is learning. Like this profound haiku, beautiful Japanese poetry with a five syllable-seven syllable-five syllable line structure:

Haikus are easy

But sometimes they don't make sense.

Refrigerator.

Thank you for sharing your insight, Rachel. I'm glad to see that every penny of our investment in your "higher" education is paying off.

The Young and the Restless

Cyber Trouble

I wonder if John thinks this is funny.

One Hundreds

A lot of Nebraska farmers calve in January and February. It can be bitterly cold then, but farmers are usually busy with fieldwork in April and May. So they calve early, to have it over with before they disappear into a tractor cab for six months.

John and I are thankful to have excellent on-site, 24-7 help with the calving, even when John is busy in the fields. So we don't calve in the very teeth of winter, planning instead for our cows to give birth into the gentle zephyrs and soft green warmth of spring.

So why are these girls so muddy?


















Because we have no gentle zephyrs and soft green warmth. Instead, another calf has taken its first breath eye level to a world of cold mud slobber. The girls have hauled 100 pounds of slimy newborn for about 100 yards, out of the slop and into the barn, with its mama splashing through mud puddles and bellowing at the trot behind them.

This is the third calf in the last week that has needed extra attention: rubdowns, heaters, help nursing or standing.

The girls are getting pretty good at this routine. Their homeschool grade in bovine care: 100%.

The Penguin

Bad ugly floor.

Penguin standing guard -- no midnight refriger-raiders on fresh kitchen varnish.

Happy penguin, happy floor.

Happy Alice.

What To Do

Q: What should you do when your house is a torn-apart disaster, your wood floors are halfway refinished, cows calving in the slop need constant attention, it's two weeks until your big party, and strawberries go on sale?


A: Make strawberry jam with your daughter, of course.

My kitchen counter.

The last time we made jam - apricot - was before Audrey and I took up physics. I wrote then that we gave only a passing nod to the physical changes that went into preserving fruit jams. This time, armed with our newfound knowledge, we could actually discuss the process from a scientific standpoint. It was fun. Take physics if you get a chance!

Living Forever

I've heard it said that God doesn't let people die until their work here on the earth is finished. Given the present condition of this house, I'd say my immortality is pretty much assured.

The Outdoor Kitchen

We're living without a kitchen for a few days while I refinish the floor.

Yesterday we had grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. Emphasis on grilled.

Clampett Outdoors

Clampett has gotten warm and dry in the house, but she needs more groceries. Her crooked little back legs won't hold her up to nurse, which means we have to bring breakfast to her. You may think that the milk you buy in the grocery store is "cow's milk," but Clampett would disagree. She needs the real, fresh, unpasteurized and unhomogenized product, and there's only one place around here to get it.

Our beef cows are not accustomed to being milked by a human. They have to be "persuaded" to stand still long enough to get the job done. We hope Clampett's mama is about to put her bovine head into the head catch, to the right in this photo. As she tries to walk between the vertical bars, her shoulders will push them shut and she will be immobilized.

On second thought, "immobilized" is not quite the right word. The milker girls will still have to be cagey and careful, in order not to be stomped by this mama's 1000 pounds of beefy frame. John is giving the cow incentive to get her mind on something other than nailing his daughters with a back hoof. Attitude is everything, mama cow, and we want you to have a good one.

Lots can go wrong when you're trying to milk a beef cow. First is the aforementioned projectile back hoof. Even if it doesn't hit you, it is likely to knock over your bucket of milk.

The cow's second line of defense is her tail. Unlike the hoof, a cow tail can't maim you. But a powerful, wet, stinging swish to the face can be a strong deterrent to milking, which is what the cow hopes to provide. So John and Greg, our employee, take turns keeping the tail out of Audrey and Merrill's eyes.

The milking was a success and Clampett has gained enough strength to drink from a bottle--no more tube feeding. The next step is for her to learn to feed herself. We'd like to get out of the loop, but her legs are crooked and not very strong.

Just take a look at that back left leg!

Audrey gives her a boost.....

....and points her in the right direction.

All the attention has paid off. After a day of human intervention, Clampett's appetite is strong, and her legs are strong enough to satisfy that appetite.

She's ready for an ear tag and life in the calving pen with all the other cows.

Ain't life grand?

Saving Clampett

Lots of times, a hard winter can mean more calving difficulty come spring. This year is no exception.

The twin to this calf was born deformed and dead. This sister was small, weak, and unable to pick herself up out of her cold birthday mud. By the time we found her at six in the morning, she was listless and barely able to move. Her temperature, normally 101 F for a calf, had dropped to 95 degrees. She was headed for dead.

We rushed her to the hospital on the back of a four wheeler. The hospital in this case is our lunchroom, where John held her icicle legs and gave her an invigorating rubdown, drying her off and encouraging her heart to pump. A normal calf, even a newborn, would be vigorously trying to kick him away, but this little gal was too cold to care.

The dog bed turned into a calf bed, and we piled on the heat: hot water bottles, blankets, radiators, and a heating pad under the rugs, all ministering warmth and life while we prayed and waited.

Since the calf couldn't stand, we knew she hadn't had a first meal. Audrey is offering her some electrolytes and colostrum, but the calf is too far gone to suck from the bottle. Not too far gone, however, to clamp her little calf teeth shut. Hence her nickname: Clampett.

If you can't suck from a bottle, you get the tube. Audrey has slid the long rubber piping down the calf's esophagus, and is squeezing warm, nutritious liquids into Clampett's stomach.

I don't usually go for cattle in the house, but, in this case, it worked. After a few hours of being cocooned in the warmth, Clampett's temp is normal, her head up, and her eyes perky.

If she could stand up to nurse from her mother, she could leave off being a dog and return to the bovine world. But, like her deformed twin sister, her legs aren't quite right. She will need help getting her mama's milk---a story for another day.

Miracle Forthcoming

I'm refinishing my wood floors. This is my dining room.

This is my office.

This is my kitchen.

This is my living room.

And, in eighteen days, I am hosting a party for about a hundred people.

With God, all things are possible.