Frozen in Time

This time of year folks tend to wax nostalgic, and, as a result, share long told family stories, old greeting cards and photos of the good ol’ days. I love hearing the tales, but the pictures are often better. I especially enjoy ones that depict festive clothing and social gatherings. Nothing charms me more than seeing a picture of skaters wrapped in heavy coats, warm mittens and muffs, furry hats, and flowing neck scarfs. Wintry scenes like these occurred wherever water was deep enough and temperatures froze for a long spell in western Kansas.  

These old greetings remind me of my grandfather’s adventures in Ford County, where he grew up along the Arkansas River. Family members taught him and his younger brother to skate as boys. Once they’d mastered their silver blades, the two of them traversed the frozen, winding waterway from their hometown of Ford all the way to old Fort Dodge. According to Grandpa, this was the fastest way to travel. To earn extra money, they ran a trap line along the banks. I don’t recall hearing stories of parties on the ice, but I’m sure if one occurred, the Bisbee boys were there.

Speaking of celebrations, old Ellis Headlights and Reviews are full of Big Creek Skate party stories. Apparently, events involving community members of all ages began in the afternoon and continued after dusk. Merrymakers built bonfires in the middle of the creek to light their way and provide warmth. This seems risky, but I’ve seen photos of Ellis residents harvesting ice to store in a warehouse near the old railroad bridge. It’s clear that the creek held considerably more water than it does now and got cold enough to freeze it several feet thick. That explains why revelers could safely stack logs and burn them right in the middle of the frozen creek bed without landing all of them in frigid waters.

A recent trip to a craft fair in Norton triggered some North Solomon skating stories. A friend and I found a cleverly constructed Christmas door hanger that used an old skate. The crafter had painted holiday designs on the leather uppers, strung the boot with red lacing, and tucked evergreens and bright berries into its opening. Immediately, I mentioned this was a great way to reuse old skates found at auctions and garage sales. My friend remarked that she still had the skates she’d worn down on the Solomon below Logan.

“What? You guys had enough water to ice skate right in Logan?” I asked.

That triggered more memories of skating parties she’d enjoyed as a child and teen in post WW II Kansas.  Sounds like Logan merrymakers had every bit as much fun as those red cheeked, frost nosed revelers in Ellis.

During these droughty years, it’s hard to imagine hosting community skates in our little towns on the prairie. However, when wet years come again, wouldn’t it be fun to start a new round of tales of little ones learning to skate with their parents and friends while young lovers hold hands and cruise up and down frozen tracks?

Immigrant Success Story

For a gal who grew up spending every fall hunting pheasants with family, you’d think I’d have been insanely curious about how these strikingly beautiful Chinese immigrants found their way to the Great Plains. Knowing me, I did look up these pretty birds in a well-used set of World Book encyclopedias. I must’ve settled for the simple answer that someone imported them from Asia. I’m certain the article was short and sweet, with few of the embellishments now found on the World Wide Web.

 

With the power of cyber space at my fingertips, I’ve since learned these ring neck wonders arrived first at Port Townsend in Washington State. An American consul general by the name of Owen Nickerson Denny discovered them during his service in China. There, local farmers netted and marketed these wild birds. This diplomat recognized not only their beauty but also their flavorful meat. According to Historyllink.org, Denny wrote a friend, saying, “These birds are delicious eating and will furnish fine sport.”

During his tenure in Asia, Denny bought enough birds to raise a fattened domestic flock for his own dining delight. As time grew near to return to the American Northwest, he conceived the idea of taking a breeding population home with him. He arranged in 1881to transport aboard the vessel Otago, 60 ring necks along with a few Mongolia sand grouse and chefoo partridges. In the shipment, he included native fruit trees and bamboo cuttings to transplant to his homeland. Only the pheasants and bamboo still exist in the wild.

While the birds survived the ocean voyage, they didn’t do well during the overland transport. Only a few lived long enough to establish homes on an island in the Columbia River. Authorities disagree on how well this population reproduced and expanded.

Still hoping to establish a successful breeding colony of these game birds, Denny imported a second group in 1882 and shipped them directly to Portland, Oregon, which was closer to the family homestead. These new imports quickly went native, and within a year, thriving populations expanded into surrounding counties. By 1892, Oregon established a pheasant-hunting season. If accounts are accurate, hunters harvested 50,000 of Denny’s pheasants on its first day.

In 1884, Denny arranged a third delivery to the original destination in Washington State. This time, the birds proliferated and expanded their territory into Canada. Anytime people see success, they duplicate it. As a result, hopeful sportsmen transported breeding pairs to other regions until you can now find descended stock in at least 19 American states. No longer called Denny’s pheasants, populations did so well in South Dakota that over a million now live there, and legislators named them the state bird.

Despite reduced populations the last few years in Kansas, this is still a great environment for these Asian immigrants. Our many fields of grain offer optimal food and cover for these beautiful and tasty birds. Just as many of our ancestors came to this land as new arrivals  and thrived, so have these creatures. They are as much a part of what makes this state amazing as we are.

Prairie Art Renaissance

Making art is a lonely business. Just as very few high school athletes grow up to sign professional sport contracts, limited numbers of painters, sculptors, photographers, poets,  actors, singers, and song writers achieve fame or financial success as a result of their efforts. Such individuals work in the privacy of homes and garages without anyone but family or close friends knowing they painted a luminous prairie sunrise or captured a reenactment of buffalo soldiers crossing the South Solomon River. Fortunately, for inspired spirits who call the prairie home, more communities are collaborating to share their efforts-- a deal that benefits both parties.

In addition to annual shows in Norton, Hill City, Nicodemus and Phillipsburg sponsored by area art supporters, Stockton business owners have teamed up to host an art walk on Sunday November 22^nd from 2 – 5 p.m. At this time, six downtown stores have invited regional painters and photographers to display work and chat with visitors. Anyone interested is welcome to meet these creators, grab a snack, and appreciate locally produced paintings, mosaics, and photographs.

Cheryl Calvin, owner of Sand Creek Mercantile, shares that this innovative group plans four such events throughout the upcoming year, exposing even more talent to the public. This approach keeps energy and interest high and offers supporters more occasions to appreciate varied styles and techniques.

Personally, I’m thrilled to see grass root support of regional art expanding. Few true creatives have the business acumen or training to promote their own work. As a result, you’ll find it sitting on dusty shelves or hanging on walls that no one sees. When individuals who have such proven ability get involved, it means local artists receive exposure and potential income.

 In addition, well-advertised campaigns attract visitors from surrounding areas, which expands a supporting business’s client base. Such opportunities open doors to consignment fees for gallery space. Even better, the public learns they can afford to hang hometown artists’ works on their walls.

Nature understands the advantage of symbiotic relationships where one creature or plant benefits another. Think of yuccas and the moths that fertilize their blossoms or cattle and the birds that pick irritating insects off these ruminating bovines. Our Great Plains landscape affords many examples of creatures whose lives benefit one another. Local businesses and artists working together provide a perfect pairing to help one another thrive while making the rest of our lives richer through their efforts.

Our region of the sunflower state pulses with the energy of accomplished artists. However, few of us have seen their work. Trade people who understand the benefit of inviting the public into their businesses not only to purchase a product or service but also to appreciate landscapes, still lifes,  portraits, sculpture, photographs and more  function like that all important yucca moth. They germinate  community spirit so our descendants can live the good life on the prairie in another hundred years.

Mining Gold in the Garden

Miners may have headed to the mountains hoping to discover gold nuggets and tiny gilt grains in streams and veins of rock. We’ve stayed home on the prairie and discovered it in our Kansas garden after experimenting with new crops. One such Eureka moment arrived in the form of beta-carotene, vitamin A rich sweet potatoes.

From the time my mother fed me pureed orange spoonfuls from a Gerber jar, I’ve loved the flavor and bright color of this still favorite food. Thanksgiving recipes incorporating butter, brown sugar, and marshmallows or pecans into the mix confirmed my cravings. With the advent of cooking shows and online recipe sites, I’ve discovered sweet potato pie, casseroles, fries, chips, and soups. Those dishes mean I no longer wait for holidays to gobble this favorite goodie. What I didn’t know until recently was that I could grow my own tubers and enjoy them fresh from the garden.

Our family has planted traditional potatoes many times over the decades and enjoyed the fun of digging them. It’s a thrill to stab a potato fork into the soil and turn it to see how many thin-skinned, big and little spuds one seed potato produced. Planting sweet potato slips doubles the fun for anyone who loves to guess what treasure lurks beneath those vibrant green plants and vines.

To grow these holiday favorites requires shoots you can buy at the garden center or start in the kitchen window in February or early March. While you plant a cut up russet or Yukon eye to produce the traditional tater, to harvest these sweeter forms of starch, you tuck a single leafy slip into a mound of soil. This produces a beautiful vine that generates orange-tinged gold underground. As a bonus, sweet potatoes are not in the nightshade family so gardeners can eat tender leaves as well as the tubers multiplying beneath them later in the season.

My husband dug ours recently and struck an unexpected Mother Lode. We planted 12 tiny slips, losing four to frost. Later, another plant succumbed so we were down to 7 plants. Examining  our reduced hopes, I wanted a large enough harvest to supply our family Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners along with  a batch or two of mashed or baked sweet potatoes for the two of us.

Conditions this summer must’ve been perfect for this crop because once my sweetheart turned the soil beneath the drying vines, he discovered various sized orange tubers in a large enough quantity to fill an old-fashioned washtub. One potato nearly the size of a football will feed our extended family! Others grew large enough to serve multiple  mouths per spud. Thank goodness, they aren’t all humongous. A few are small enough to feed a single diner.

It’s as if Midas with his golden touch produced these  grand champion sweet potatoes. If they were actual gold nuggets, we couldn’t find wheelbarrows enough to haul the money they’d be worth to the bank. We’ll let miners slog through the cold, dark, and damp to find wealth deep in the Rockies while our family celebrates our summer harvest of gold this holiday season.