tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40226961472633567652024-03-12T20:27:46.582-05:00Prairie TaylesA blog about a good life on the prairie: nature, small towns, history, pets, gardens, family, memories--everything that gives life meaning. You can listen to Prairie Tayles on High Plains Public Radio http://hppr.org/programs/prairie-tayles.Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.comBlogger376125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-47421884626666189962018-07-13T15:06:00.000-05:002018-07-13T15:06:16.422-05:00Hands or Tails?
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Recent heavy rains have done more than make grass grow. Bugs
like this moisture, and they’re reproducing at record rates and sponsoring
insect gatherings in town and out. Not only are humans swatting and smacking at
bugs torturing fleshy landing pads on arms, legs, foreheads, and more, beasts
are busy dodging biting and stinging creatures as well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">During a visit to Mom’s in Wakeeney, we decided to drive
about to see what effect these downpours have had on roads, streams, pastures, and
fields. We didn’t need to look long before we saw washed out rural routes and
fields, brush hanging off highest fence lines or dangling from tree branches
bordering creeks and streams, shallow ponds drowning once thriving wheat, and
cow herds massed tightly into fence corners.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I first saw those bovines grouped like junior high
girls at their first dance, I thought about the old saying that cattle
gathering in corners predicted impending storms. I was puzzled because I’d
checked the weather channel that morning, and, while it’s not always accurate,
it had forecast clear days ahead. Why, then, were these girls and their calves
snuggled tight enough you couldn’t count them on a hot day?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I couldn’t imagine that they wanted to be positioned nose to
tail or side to side so close that nothing could make its way through that herd
without major rearranging. Then a fly bit me at the same time a mosquito announced
its irritating presence with an obnoxious whine. Aha, those cows had united to
protect themselves and one another from noisy, hungry, flying hordes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While humans use hands to swat, flatten, or wave away these
aggravations, cows don’t have that option. All they have is a tail—a nice
switchy device with a knot of hair at the end, but it’s hardly adequate to
address swarms of starving bugs. Their problem-solving strategy impressed me.
No dumb animals here; these girls did not intend to be passive victims.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Such close proximity might have forced less than hygienic cattle
to not only smell but absorb body odors emerging from various, slimy orifices.
However, I doubt that’s a real concern for creatures that start life nursing directly
underneath their mother’s tails. Nope, these gals and their babes got up close
and personal, leaving tails free to swipe and slap each other’s pests.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhbNqxiLN6J4bYo_jxh5Gzai_-5I8S-K7Ub7VnBqe5IRaBBBlf2lqig3CuOh3ddID2jQRcB9guEuBi0z-iHHe4UHIiqKbn9aaihZg_-i5oaOXKpje9cUkGSE2CpW0YuIhd49mUN0i952c/s1600/branding%252C+old+buildings%252C+rainy+clouds+048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhbNqxiLN6J4bYo_jxh5Gzai_-5I8S-K7Ub7VnBqe5IRaBBBlf2lqig3CuOh3ddID2jQRcB9guEuBi0z-iHHe4UHIiqKbn9aaihZg_-i5oaOXKpje9cUkGSE2CpW0YuIhd49mUN0i952c/s320/branding%252C+old+buildings%252C+rainy+clouds+048.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While making sure I observed at a distance far enough away to
avoid inviting their six-legged tormentors to land on me, I noted that mamas
and babies chewed cuds, stomped feet, and swished perfectly designed fly
swatters in such a rhythm that it kept those blood suckers from landing on them
or any nearby bovine. An army of agitated insects hovered overhead in a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hangry </i>cloud. I’m sure if I’d been
closer, I’d have heard audible complaints.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I enjoyed cruising the countryside to view Mother Nature’s recent
activity. Even more, I appreciated watching the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> wrastling</i> match between cattle and insects. It’s good to know that
bovines can deal effectively with airborne forces possessing nasty stingers and
sharp chompers. I’m definitely pleased that I come with hands that can use a
flyswatter.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-60359610735687851452018-06-22T15:32:00.000-05:002018-06-22T15:32:21.209-05:00Inviting Bluebirds of Happiness to Move In
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Humans naturally seek happiness—some carry lucky charms or
practice mystic rituals to attract it. Others find inviting blue birds to the yard
does the job. Apparently, such choices aren’t unique to modern humans. For
eons, world cultures have honored timid, sky-colored creatures as omens of good
fortune. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nearly 2000 years before Christ, Chinese storytellers wrote
about a bluebird that delivered messages from the Queen Mother of the West, an
immortal. Native American societies also celebrated these brilliantly-hued
beings. Some tales associate them with the rising sun. In fact, the Navajo
still sing the bluebird song as part of their winter Nightway Ceremony.
European cultures, as well, included these beauties in literature involving a
fairy-tale search for the bluebird of happiness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Considering their history, it’s not surprising these pretty
birds are beloved. Unfortunately, like many species, their habitat’s changing
and invasive species increasingly compete for food and nesting sites. Residing
on the prairie is even more difficult for this cavity dweller who seeks hollow
trees or posts to set up housekeeping. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To complicate matters, the azure darts are finicky. They require
nests a 100-yards distant from other hopeful parents and cleared landscape
around their homestead. Healthy sparrow, sharp shinned, and Cooper’s hawk
populations lurk close by, so a view increases survivability for adults and
offspring. However, it makes it difficult to attract the picky rascals to nest
near humans. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Despite these creatures’ suspicious natures, shrewd birders can
entice them to live close enough to watch their broods mature. Visit a garden
shop or online site to learn more about this species’ housing requirements. Carpenters
can construct summer rentals designed specifically to attract them. Others can
buy well-designed blue bird boxes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cedar siding offers a good structure choice. Craft a
watertight roof and a floor with small drainage holes. Blue birds aren’t just
harbingers of happiness. They’re tidy as well so select nesting structures with
bottoms that easily open for spring cleanings. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>One source suggests leaving the inside
unpainted rough wood to encourage easy fledging. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To discourage rival species, build or buy nesting boxes with
entry holes no larger than 1 ½ inches wide. Starlings won’t fit in that opening.
To further discourage invaders, exclude external perches. Blue birds don’t need
them. They’re also satisfied with a 4” x4” nesting space, which is too small
for competing sparrows. Conveniently, such units fit atop fence posts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After offering species-specific housing, further improve the
environment by providing shallow pans filled with fresh water. Place savory
snacks nearby. Blue birds are insect and fruit eaters so don’t offer seeds. One
authority recommended chopping berries into pieces or even offering meal worms
as motivators to relocate. With plenty of live bugs and wild currant available,
we’ve never bought treats. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once you convince them to move in, the fun begins. Despite
their shy nature, these heralds of joy are natural entertainers. Their aerial
acrobatics turn insect catching into comic entertainment. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Watch mom splash in the birdbath with her
babes for twenty minutes of bliss. Observing them pop in and out of their tiny
doorways as they feed young stills racing pulses and lowers human blood
pressure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It requires effort to convince<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>blue birds to call your yard theirs, but once
they move in, you’ll see why humans from the beginning of time have invited
them to live nearby and woven them into their shared stories. </span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-73959285483847522642018-06-14T20:46:00.003-05:002018-06-14T20:46:53.347-05:00Country Living Catastrophe
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was visiting with a girlfriend today about cat behavior
and how despite being domesticated house pets share wild counterparts’
behaviors. This discussion retrieved a nearly forgotten memory involving two
kids, a bike, a cat, and a mouse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The adventure began on one of those sensational spring
evenings when the wind doesn’t blow and the sun sinks slowly into the horizon making
your system vibrate so that even though you’re tired, you aren’t ready to
settle down. Just as I called the girls inside for their bath, a squall emerged
from our rural driveway where our eldest was practicing riding her bike without
training wheels. She’d mastered starting, stopping, and turning so I’d gone in
to draw their water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Racing outside, I found her sprawled in gravel. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Thankfully there were no broken bones, but
after close investigation, I saw pebbles and dirt chunks embedded in her knees
and palms. I guided her into the house where she could soak it loose in the tub,
making it easier to remove. As I led one sobbing child up the steps, I spied
our youngest trying to take something away from the cat. So much for hindsight,
I’d think later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I comforted tear-stained kid 1 while she trickled water over
skinned appendages when I heard a shriek from child number 2. She raced into
the bathroom with something dangling from her finger. She held it out to show
her sis, and I observed a mouse--yes, a writhing rodent attached to her index
finger. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Daughter 1 joined little sister’s howls while the mouse
wriggled and contributed squeals of its own. However, it didn’t let go. At that
point the cat raced in to check on the prize that he’d caught and been
tormenting before our fair-haired girl intervened. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At this point, I’m scared the critter will fall into the
bathtub furthering injuring daughter 1 so I guided little sis’s bleeding hand
over the commode. In turn, she bangs the hitchhiker on the toilet rim. When our
feline leapt to recapture his prey, I abandoned our toddler long enough to toss
the cat and slam the door. Curiously, that action multiplied the volume in the
bathroom, perhaps inducing the mouse to release its vise-like grip and somersault
into the toilet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Someone, and I suspect it was me, flushed the stool. I know
I didn’t have a carcass when the thought of rabies flitted across my mind. Of
course, my husband was at work and out of reach so I told kid 1 to keep soaking
her wounds. I disinfected kid 2’s bite and comforted her as I simultaneously
called the emergency room to see if we needed shots. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The good news was we didn’t. The bite victim contentedly
sported a Band-Aid on her injured digit while I picked gravel from her sibling.
It wasn’t painless, but the extended soak that left daughter 1 wrinkled like a
prune made it easier to clean her wounds. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By the time their dad returned, sleep was the last thing on
anyone’s mind. We had red badges of courage and stories to tell. The only one
in the house still upset was the cat who meowed repeatedly over his lost snack.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-91020724676496192522018-05-18T09:52:00.002-05:002018-05-18T09:52:53.885-05:00Guilty Pleasures Await
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Warmer weather means gardens, birds, spring cleaning, walks,
fishing and more. For many, scores of garage sale ads make up for a long winter
without a reuse or recycle fix. There’s a whole group of folks whose guilty
pleasure involves sorting through unwanted belongings, hoping to score treasure.
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As a kid, I attended church rummage sales with mom or gramma.
These involved tables full of well-worn clothing or outmoded hats. Unlike our
daughters and grands, I didn’t anticipate weekly scavenger hunts where I might
find already broken-in jeans, cowboy boots, denim jackets, camo, hunting and
fishing supplies (including a Herter’s crow call), a favorite game piece, a specialized
cooking utensil, or funky décor to sizzle up outfits and rooms. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While garage sales potentially interest anyone, they’re
perfect for dressing children. Considering kids outgrow clothing before it wears
out, these weekend sprees offer a budget Godsend. Expect to find quality jeans,
tops, shoes, and coats for pennies on the dollar. Of course, you have to factor
in added expense for toys your kids latch onto while you upgrade their
wardrobe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As a result of these trips, our girls had more playthings
than they needed. Ditto for the grands. Their moms find clever sandboxes,
motorized bikes and cars, doll houses, and more for prices that don’t break the
bank. Oftentimes, these items are in excellent condition and can be resold when
the sprouts outgrow them. It makes financial sense to practice a reduce, reuse,
recycle policy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That said, my favorite part of garage sale-ing is discovering
treasures I didn’t know I needed. Some shoppers hit the streets each Friday and
Saturday with a specific list. Others count on serendipity to bless their
adventure. With our kids are grown, I’ve joined the second group, which adds a
new level of anticipation to the experience. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve picked up clam shells big enough to serve as bathroom
sinks and a conch larger than a basketball. One now showcases rocks, the other necklaces.
This decades’ long addiction helped me build an extensive shell collection. These
finds pushed it over the top. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In addition, cool kitchen gadgets and cookware from American
history wait to be reused. I didn’t even know about springform pans for making
cheese cake til I found one at a garage sale. Now, it’s a kitchen essential. Recently,
I picked up a never-used ceramic tart pan for a dollar.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>While I use it only once or twice a year, it
didn’t cost an arm and a leg so there’s no guilt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This doesn’t cover vintage finds that include everything
from Civil War letters to handcrafted lace doilies to WW II Ration books,
stamps, and magazines. These discoveries make a history lover salivate. You never
know when you’ll score the find that fills a hole in your collection. As a
bonus, you often get the item’s background story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I hesitated to share
my love for this guilty pleasure for fear it might increase competition. However,
the growing numbers of advertisements lead me to believe good deals await
anyone willing to hit the road to find them. </span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-45474333998219081342018-05-10T12:59:00.002-05:002018-05-10T12:59:18.576-05:00Art on the Move
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Frequently, I see ornate box turtles crossing country roads
or highways. Because I like this pack-its-own-home reptile, I dodge these speed
bumps. While seeing them slowly lumber across the road triggers a smile, I
hadn’t thought much about these Kansas state reptiles until recently.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This summer, I’ve been waking up early to enjoy the cool
morning air as I water, weed, and pick veggies. A bonus of rising with the sun is
meeting some of my yard neighbors that hide during the heat of the day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One such friend is a good-sized box turtle that hangs out
under my rose bushes in the mornings. I’ve seen it a couple of times, and today
we met officially. This particular terrapene <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ornata</i>, according to scientists, is at the larger end of expected sizes
for its species.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I’d guess its shell is
three to four inches across and five or six inches long. I didn’t have a
measuring tape on hand at 6:30 a.m. for an official accounting, but she’s bigger
than most turtles navigating Kansas roadways. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This particular reptile’s shell is dark with distinct yellow
markings on the scutes or plates. Before she tucked her head inside her shell,
I noted yellowish rather than reddish-orange eyes, which verifies she meets “she”
criteria.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Like all box turtles, she has a hinged plastron that lets
her tuck her head and limbs safely inside her shell. This ability frustrates hungry
coyotes and other predators, but it won’t stop a vehicle cruising down the
highway, one of this creature’s worst enemies. The minute she sensed me heading
her way, she tucked everything tuckable until she resembled nothing more than a
pet rock.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ignoring her desperate, introvert-like attempt to achieve
solitude, I placed my hands carefully along each lower side of her shell and examined
her beauty close-up. Like any unhappy female, she promptly got even. Without
sticking out head or legs, she peed, which made me jump backward to avoid a
splattering. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Once I finished my
inspection of her masterpiece of black and yellow shell, I rewarded this pretty
girl. I set a couple of pieces of melon in front of her so there would be a
little something to make her day when she finally stuck her head out. Apparently,
she can smell and likes cantaloupe because it was gone by the time I got
upstairs to spy on her out the kitchen window.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After researching box turtle factoids, I see why she likes her
flowerbed home. It’s damp, there are lots of sow bugs or roly-polies and other
insects to meet her carnivorous dietary needs, and the temperature is more
agreeable in that dark corner than most places in the yard. Containing the
softest soil on the hilltop, it’s a great place to dig in for winter
hibernation, which might explain my new friend’s greater than average size. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now that we’ve met, she’s earned a daily serving of melon or
fruit to enhance her diet. With room service like that, this lady should be
glad to call this corner of Trego County home. I wonder how big my walking work
of art will be next summer.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-1616643981556677602018-05-03T11:22:00.000-05:002018-05-03T11:22:12.973-05:00Seeing Possibilities in Junk
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Spring cleaning involves scrubbing and sweeping away wintry stains,
cobwebs, and dust. Outside the house it means raking wilted plantings and
scouring patios and decks. Those now clean, fresh surfaces provide an artist’s
canvas, inviting expression that can involve simply rearranging possessions or painting,
constructing, and welding efforts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Inside the house, this might involve moving furniture or
adding bright pillows and throws. Outside, the possibilities are endless. One
so inclined might use pallets to construct upright gardens that grow along a
fence or garage wall or outdoor forts and furniture. Those who love funky yard
art might head for the scrap heap to find broken down metal pieces that lend
themselves to new lives as flywheel-bodied birds and insects with plier head ornaments,
harrow tailed beasts, or disc and rebar mammals. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Waste not, want not is the mantra for folks who recognize a dolphin,
stallion, or buffalo sculpture in a pile of rusty nuts, bolts, and gears. You
can’t help but admire these creative spirits for both their vision and their
skillset. Holy cow, they visualize a final product and then weld it out of what
others tossed in the trash pile. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Think about possibilities waiting to be born from scrap heaps
in garages, barns, and at the junk dealer’s. Old tractor seats wait to find a
new life as a critter or a crazy looking picnic stool. Gazillions of metal knobs,
faucets, and handles oxidize in isolation until inventive sorts spy them and
reimagine them as garden fountains, coat racks, or google eyes on a dragon. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One young welder I know sees possibility in just about
anything. He can take garage sale or auction- found plumbing pipes and turn
them into high-end embellishments. I particularly like the innovative lamps he
makes. If he gets tired of his day job, he could make a living selling his one
of a kind furnishings and light fixtures.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In addition to scoping out creative neighbors, a stop at area
flea markets or the Kansas Store on I-70 offers potential buyers and craftspeople
a chance to see welded art creatures first hand. As a result of such adventures,
my brother’s backyard now sports a tractor-seat-bodied and tailed strutting
turkey. Who knows what discarded parts form its wattle. A welded grasshopper made
of once useless implement parts guards mom’s roses. A heavy bodied woodpecker
constructed from old plates, gears, and wheels climbs her trellis. A roadrunner
made of soldered spikes oversees her dining room. My own collection includes a heavy-duty
rooster, long-legged heron with leaf rake tail, and rusty armadillo formed from
bits of rebar. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My husband recently bought a welder so once I find a source
for metal, our menagerie will expand. Unlike living pets, these repurposed ones
don’t require food or cleaning up poop. Besides, flying pigs and unicorn frogs
exist in this world. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As you spring clean and find odd piles of metal or wood,
consider the possibilities. How can you recycle junk into yard art that entertains
you and visitors who happen to spot your creations? It’s not like we don’t have
a model for grassroots art in nearby Lucas, Kansas. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-79373184471786418082018-04-25T11:06:00.002-05:002018-04-25T11:06:41.066-05:00Captain Albert Barnitz: His Letters and Journals
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Following the Civil War, many officers born and raised in
the East found themselves serving their country on the Kansas frontier.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>One such man was Captain Albert Barnitz, born
in Pennsylvania in 1835 and reared in Ohio.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>He studied first at Kenyon College and later continued his education at
Cleveland Law College.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>While there, he
published a book of poetry titled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mystic
Delvings</i>. This hinted at innate writing tendencies that modern readers still
enjoy.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Barnitz’s road to the Kansas frontier began after the death
of his first wife who died in childbirth in 1860. Still grieving, he soon joined
the 13<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> Ohio Infantry as a three-month volunteer in 1861.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Following that service, he enlisted in the 2<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup>
Ohio Cavalry as a sergeant.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>By 1863,
Barnitz achieved senior captain rank.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Following his recovery from severe injuries, Barnitz returned
to serve under the command of George A. Custer in the Shenandoah Valley and fought
his last battle at Appomattox.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He
returned briefly to civilian life, but received a captain’s commission in the U.S.
Army in 1866.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The following year he
married his second wife Jennie Platt, and they began their Great Plains
adventure that included writing and saving a series of letters and journals which
shed light on military and social life of the time.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">During his military career, Barnitz served at several
frontier forts, including Leavenworth, Riley, and Harker.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>His wife Jennie joined him at several of
these postings.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>When they weren’t
together, they wrote one another regularly. Albert also kept a journal of his
experiences over decades.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Fortunately
for posterity, they saved these documents.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Through these letters and journals, readers can time travel
to the years 1866 – 1869 on the Plains.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Robert Utley collected and edited them into the book Life in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Custer’s 7<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> Cavalry</i>.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Barnitz and Jennie write about military
experiences, life on the prairie, Hancock’s failed expedition, a battle with
Indians at Fort Wallace, Camp Alfred Gibbs (near the town of Ellis, Kansas),
and Jennie surviving a flash flood at the site of the first Fort Hays.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of interest to history buffs, Albert and Jennie’s letters
reveal personal information about the Custers, Colonel Alfred Gibbs, Major Joel
Elliott, Miles Keogh, and other famous colleagues.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Through this couple’s running commentary,
readers see these historical personages as real people with their strengths and
frailties.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>In addition, readers see the
evolution of Barnitz’s attitudes about these individuals and realize Captain
Barnitz and Jennie’s opinions weren’t static.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>This couple’s correspondence must’ve engaged Robert Utley completely as
he studied their decades of text.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Their letters reveal Albert and Jennie’s love story, his
desire to be a good officer, and his disgust with fellow officers who drank too
much or abused their troops. Interested in nature, he provides excellent
accounts of wildlife, plants, and weather in this region as well.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because Barnitz had the observational and writing skills of
a poet, he thoroughly recorded the essence of military life during one of the frontier’s
most active periods, providing a time machine-like glimpse into a vanished era.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Life in
Custer’s Cavalry</i> is more than communication between a man and woman. It’s an
invitation to visit their world.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-48034768082387074872018-04-20T11:18:00.001-05:002018-04-20T11:18:22.556-05:00Details Change but Stories Go On<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">We’ve visited daughters, grands, and friends throughout
Western Kansas for several weeks and I’ve noticed Dollar Stores thriving in
rural communities. Apparently, these replaced old-fashioned dime stores everywhere.
What happened to the high ceilinged, wood-floored mom and pop shops similar to those
Grace Stetz or my grandma and grandpa owned in Ellis, Bucklin, and Meade?</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Times and people change, but there’s no way candy or toy
aisles in today’s variety store hold the same appeal as vintage eye-level,
glass-rimmed displays that captured a nickel-holding child’s attention. I’ve
seen posts where folks of a certain age wish they could return once more to enjoy
Grace’s or my gramma’s lemon-oil -scented exhibitions of the latest dollies, cap
guns, or licorice bits. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">I recollect the satisfaction of pulling open the heavy front
door and stepping into a vast anything expanse of necessities people required. Curious
explorers had to first navigate past a 4’ x 6’ divided candy display strategically
located to capture interest and money. Wood dividers separated glass bins full
of malt balls, chocolate stars, licorice babies, jaw breakers, caramels, and other
cavity-inducing treats you could buy by the piece. Once you broke its spell, you
traveled either left or right. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Kids usually chose left—toward the toys. Grandma and Grampa
maintained a selection of Big Chief Tablets, coloring books and crayons,
paints, plastic and metal cars and trucks, building blocks, and more. In addition,
they placed a bouncy horse nearby so a young patron could ride and make
birthday and Christmas lists while parents inspected needles, thread, underwear,
mittens, hats, dishes, pots, pans, utensils and more. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">A favorite section was the pottery display. The always dusted
shelves were full of pastel vases and teapots decorated with flowers and pine
cones in bas relief. While an adult attending auctions, I imagined Grandma and
Grace would’ve benefitted by warehousing those Hull and McCoy pieces to finance
their retirements. What they marked with $3.00 price tags, estate auctioneers sold
decades later for a $100 or more.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">From the time I first walked, I loved visiting my
grandparents’ business. As family, we entered through the alley door where we
first noted grandpa perched on a chair in his railed office, surrounded by
still-boxed merchandise and stacks of unsold comic books, with an eagle eye
view of the floor below. Few shoppers knew he watched their exploration of each
department. He knew who’d left hankies unfolded or fingerprints on a shiny race
car or who slipped something in their pocket before paying. Of course, it was Grandma
or the clerk who returned mussed items to their former pristine conditions
before the next customer visited.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">While modern box stores keep rural residents in paper towels,
soap, and bathroom products, visiting them isn’t anything like a trip to an old
variety store. The lights, linoleum, and metal stands are too bright, and the
candy is packaged as are the toys. A kid can’t try out potential purchases
ahead of time. Besides, you can’t buy anything for a nickel!</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Someday, our grown grandkids will reminisce fondly about the
Dollar stores of their youth and tell their own youngsters what they missed out
on. Details change, but stories go on.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-45800341268724780092018-04-20T11:17:00.000-05:002018-04-20T11:17:17.172-05:00Gardens Then and Now<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">By St. Patrick’s Day, my fingers itch to sift soil and plant
seeds or potato eyes. Some March 17ths permit starting new growth while others
force me to wait. Recently, I read a garden-themed post from old Fort Hays
dated March 26, 1871.<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> </span>it stated, “Ten
men have been directed to report for work in the post garden and all the
prisoners will report each afternoon until further orders.” Clearly, military
leadership was eager to turn over that loam and insert seeds saved from
previous harvests. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">I thought back to old photos I’ve seen of early settlement
days where barren prairie dominates the view. It’s easy to imagine how hungry
residents and travelers would’ve been after a winter without fresh greens. Just
thinking of eating straight-from-the-plant corn, tomatoes, or melons must’ve
wreaked havoc on salivary glands. I know how I long for tender spinach or lettuce
freshly plucked. In my imaginings, I taste sunbeams before they reach the
roots. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Unlike us, those hardy souls couldn’t grocery shop to buy
vegetables recently shipped from California or Mexico. Even canned goods offered
less selection than consumers have today. You know soldiers and settlers anticipated
fresh produce for long months. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Thinking about this historical document raised numerous questions.
How big was this garden to require so much labor? What did they plant? How did
they water it? Did prisoners see this as punishment or were they, like me, glad
to get dirty hands? Once plants began production, did the commander post guards
to prevent unauthorized reaping? What procedures did they use to store harvests
and seeds for future use?</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">During past summers, I’ve seen reproduction kitchen gardens
behind officers’ quarters, but with ten assigned men and additional prisoners
to help, this endeavor required substantially more acreage than those small
plots. After all, mess halls feed hundreds. If I planned this, I think I’d place
it between the stables and creek so it would be easy to gather fertilizer and
to create an irrigation system. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">This thought reminded me of decades ago when an older
gentleman in south Hays nurtured a phenomenal truck garden on the site of an
old dairy. Every year, his abundant crops dazzled family and friends. Every one
with a defective green thumb or too little time looked forward to buying his
tomatoes, cucumbers, and other lush produce. When I recall his undertaking, I
imagine the fort garden must’ve been similar. Every row would have been just as
orderly and precise.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">To this day, January and February’s first hints of warmth
excite me into planning the moment when I tuck that season’s hopes into recently
tilled soil. That said, my anticipation can’t match that of soldiers who hadn’t
eaten fresh vegetables for at least six months. This reminds me how spoiled I
am to have a vegetable drawer full of carrots, celery, radishes, peppers, and
lettuce no matter the season. However, my taste buds remind me there’s nothing
better than salad made minutes after picking and washing the ingredients. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-82936142737163789082018-04-20T11:14:00.003-05:002018-04-20T11:14:37.462-05:00Spring Inspires Crazy Imaginations<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Decades ago, a student growing up in a clever family used
his weekly spelling words to write a story that I still chuckle over. Each
spring, I recollect his tale about the Easter Cow who unless offered tasty grasses
would scare off the more traditional, egg-delivering rabbit. To prevent empty
baskets at their house, this lad and his siblings would share tasty greens with
their unique but never seen bovine. Over the years, my mind altered this ingenious
family’s holiday rendition until I have my own version that includes greening
pastures and newborn calves.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">All it takes to trigger flowing creative juices is to drive slowly
down a country road on a sunny day with windows rolled down. The sound of tires
rotating over gravel soothes the spirit and fires up the right half of the
brain, which according to some researchers is the random, intuitive,
spontaneous side. Some might call it downright goofy. A few miles into wide
open spaces occupied primarily by cows and my brain alters the end result of this
former student’s assignment to create entirely new possibilities when it comes
to Easter eggs.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Over time, his story evolved so that newly greened pastures dotted
with tiny, newborn cows tucked into ovals turned into Easter eggs in my
imagination. Despite the fact that most giant rabbit deliveries come in bright
colors, gentle pastels, or wrapped foil, my story involves rust, brown, black,
sometimes cream, and occasionally speckled orbs soaking up spring sunrays while
their moms nibble tender, green shoots. Chocolate eggs are little brown bovines
basking in golden heat. The only bunnies are neighboring cottontails and
jackrabbits—no anthropomorphic rodents carrying straw baskets in my version. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Even though I know kids prefer Cadbury and speckled malted eggs
combined with sugar-crusted marshmallow Peeps to celebrate the season, I love
to cruise dirt roads and view gangly calves with unblemished noses and shiny
eyes, bodies either rolled up in tight little balls or wobbling on spindly
legs. My mom seconds my thought that this is the one time in the life of
pasture-raised beef that they’re ever so clean. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">If I’m lucky, I’ll see little burgers-to-be frolicking
across fields with equally cute calves or impatiently butting mommas’ bags to
bring down belly-filling milk. Equally enjoyable is watching huge mothers who
aren’t nearly so clean and adorable as their babes caring so tenderly for their
spring deliveries.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">What I learned from my clever student was that I need not
tie myself to traditional holiday stories. If it pleases me to drive across
Kansas prairies under cotton ball filled blue skies imagining pastures polka-dotted
with newborns posing as shiny ebony and russet Easter eggs then I should savor such
moments.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">This youngster’s story evolved once he shared it with me, so
who knows how this wisp of fancy will inspire new traditions in someone else’s
imagination. After all, the Easter Rabbit started somewhere. Maybe someday an
egg delivering armadillo or noisy magpie will help kids celebrate spring.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-44575877518230681592018-04-20T11:13:00.000-05:002018-04-20T11:13:20.726-05:00Dot Connecting Possibilities<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Those who play connect the dots find the experience relaxing
or agitating, depending on the outcome. Some see relationships between one idea
and another despite having too little information to clearly link them. To
complicate matters, lack of resources can limit time or money investments even
though strong interest in a subject exists. I know this sense of tension well,
especially after reading recent articles about Clovis Caches found in America.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">I suspect few care much about Clovis culture let alone have
a burning interest in stashes of stone tools ancient inhabitants concealed and
didn’t retrieve. While made of common, not precious, materials, these relics equal
buried treasure for those who love archeology and connecting to ancient humans.
</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">The term Clovis Culture came into existence when a sharp-eyed
New Mexican noted artifacts formed using a particular bi-faced fluting between
Clovis and Portales. Since that discovery, scientists identifying stonework
designed with this pattern characterize them as Clovis points. Scholars
attribute the style to bison antiquus and mammoth hunters who lived at the end
of the Pleistocene era about 13,000 years ago.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">The article that started my exploration mentioned the Busse Cache
that contained Clovis bifaces made of Niobrara or Smoky Hill Jasper. Anyone who’s
walked country roads or plowed fields in Northwest and North Central Kansas has
seen this frequently ochre-hued, silicified stone even if they didn’t know what
to call it. Researchers have identified prehistoric quarries containing outcroppings
of this desirable knapping material in Trego, Gove, and Graham Counties in
Kansas and Fremont County Nebraska. That tidbit has me trying to connect points
in history based on limited knowledge.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Interestingly, these western Kansas excavations produced desirable
knapping material early hunters used for thousands of years. Oklahoma
archeologists have found it in sites from east to west. To entice further,
prehistoric mammoth and bison bones found during work on roads, bridges, dams,
or other such dirt shifting activities occupy shelves and dark corners in
regional museums and personal collections. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">This combination makes me wonder how many Pleistocene
hunters wandered this way in search of game and resources to make dinner-capturing
tools. After all, the Great Plains supported modern bison and native cultures who
depended on them for survival. This information increases my curiosity about
how often their ancestors roasted a mammoth haunch under prairie skies. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Keep in mind state borders are fairly modern concepts so
migratory people would’ve wandered from one watershed to another without
worrying about taxes, land ownership, or other recent complications.<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> </span>Nearly a decade ago, Dan Busse in
Northeastern Colorado worked a field and noted a fingernail-size bit of Smoky
Hill jasper that wasn’t native to his area. Upon further investigation, he dug
up a hunter’s pack of fluted Clovis-style stones. Among them are several
manufactured from Niobrara or Smoky Hill jasper, commonly found in western
Kansas and Nebraska. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Add to this data information about KU professor Rolfe Mandel’s
2014 dig near Tuttle Creek. His team specifically searched for evidence of
Clovis and pre-Clovis inhabitants in what is now Kansas. Their efforts are in
the hands of lab analysts who work to verify their findings.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Though few Clovis Cache finds are documented in the U.S., such
articles offer hope that any day now a Kansan could be turning over soil and
make a discovery like a landscaper in Boulder, CO.<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> </span>He recently found a stash of 80 artifacts
used to butcher prehistoric camels and horses in his yard. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Though I doubt I’ll find such treasure, the combination of connecting
dots leads me to expect I’ll soon read about the person who does.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-9572700793554410002018-04-20T11:11:00.003-05:002018-04-20T11:11:19.671-05:00Sturdy Stock<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">When news stories are filled with the evil that people do, it’s
easy to get depressed. Add normal life struggles, and a person can get so
downhearted to never want to crawl out of bed in the morning. When bad weighs
heavy, I recollect family stories that remind me I come from sturdy stock,
where wimping out wasn’t an ancestral option. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">This particular line started as religious dissenters in England
who survived rolling Atlantic waves in the hull of a dark ship that landed them
near Plymouth, Massachusetts. After several generations as Americans, this
group left New England to start a brick factory in Ontario, Canada. Along with
changing nationalities, they switched religious preferences to Methodism.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">As followers of Wesley, they migrated to Northwest Kansas in
1873. My 3x great grandfather finally answered the call to preach and found himself
riding or walking waterways that drain this region. He knew the Sappa, Prairie
Dog, Bow Creek, North and South Solomon, Republican and others like the back of
his hand. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">After his retirement, the Methodist Conference asked him to
record the story he titled <i style="direction: ltr; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Forty Years on
the Firing Line</i>. The original copy was handwritten on Big Chief tablets. About
60 years after he recorded it, my mom transcribed and typed it into a legible
document. Between his handwriting as well as inconsistent spelling and punctuation,
she labored for months. Fortunately, she recalled she too descended from sturdy
stock and persisted until she had a document that gave family members and
historians a sense of early Kansas settlers’ lives. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">When I read this, I wish he’d included more details. However,
a much longer document might’ve deterred the editing and typing required to
make it readable. He opens with, “So I have hurriedly written largely from
memory, making many mistakes, leaving out much that might have proved
interesting. <span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> </span>. . . I plead for pardon
for all that I have failed in. I pray that our young men in the ministry of Jesus
Christ—will not—complain nor murmur, but go where they are sent in Jesus name.”</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">That statement reminds me that around 150 years ago, Grandpa
came to preach on the American frontier. Yes, the place I call home and
consider modern and comfortable was a mysterious, unsettled land. Ill health
had driven him from frigid Canada to Kansas. His father and 13 other family
members joined this trek to homestead in Norton Co. He mentions they arrived on
November 3, 1873 and were 128 miles from Lowell, Nebraska, their nearest
trading center.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Thinking about Kansas Novembers I’ve weathered, his comment
that “We were delighted with the country and especially with the climate,” surprised
me. He continued with, “I believe it added years to the life of my parents and
my wife who the doctor said would not live to get to Kansas and our boy 2 years
and 3 months old, that weighed only 17 pounds whom the doctor said could not
live is still alive and the largest man of the family.”</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Over the next few months, I’ll share more of his experiences.
His stories remind us western Kansans come from determined, capable gene pools.
As descendants, we continue to make our communities fine places to live and
raise families.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-70970874800223439762018-04-20T11:10:00.000-05:002018-04-20T11:10:10.189-05:00Staying Sturdy through Hard Times<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Last week, I explained our family’s arrival in Kansas. In
short time, those hardy ancestors faced more than isolation in Northwest
Kansas. After surviving that first winter in their new country, they learned firsthand
about plagues of Biblical proportion.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Grandpa didn’t spend much time whining in his memoir, but he
explains how grasshoppers in numbers large enough to qualify as an Old
Testament pestilence arrived. He says they devoured “everything that was
green.” He’d traveled to what he termed Saline County, Nebraska where he saw
insects “come down like snow until they were 2 inches thick on the ground.”
According to him, “70 acres of fine corn just in the blister disappeared in 3
hours.” All that remained was stalks.<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> </span>In
addition to devouring corn, grasshoppers wiped out wheat and oat crops as well.
I recall articles in old Ellis Headlights that verified this invasion. As a
result, settlers depended on charity from churches and families still living in
the East to help them survive those first years.<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> </span>You know stomachs grumbled with hunger and
growing kids wore hand-me-down clothing during such hard times.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Unfortunately, life didn’t improve the following year.
According to Grandpa, grasshoppers came again in 1875 but “took the crops only
in spots.” He explains that he and 3 neighbors lost their fields, but the
hoppers left corn standing nearby. Despite, dire circumstances, he had a sense
of humor, saying, “We had the sympathy of our neighbors which they lavished
upon us. When I told them we were better off than we were the year before, they
asked how that could be.” Tongue in cheek, I’m sure, this farmer/circuit rider
explained, “We had a chance to steal. The year before there was no corn west of
the Missouri River.”</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Bad events come in threes, which held true for the insect
invasions our ancestors experienced. A third year in a row, ravenous jaws
zeroed in on Northwest Kansas. Grandpa Reuben says, “There were grasshoppers by
the billions.” He tells a story about his brother-in-law accompanying him on
church business. The two rode near Spring City, which is now called Lenora.
They stayed at a church member’s home on Saturday night and awoke to “hoppers
hung on the willow trees until they looked like weeping willows.” After the
sermon and dinner, the two set out for grandpa’s evening appointment in a distant
community. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Heading northeast, one thought he saw fire while the other
claimed it was a dust storm. In short time, grandpa reports, “A hail storm
struck us from the southwest and grasshoppers came down by the bucket full.”
After battling their runaway team, they made it to church in time for
Grandfather to preach. Shivering, he delivered his message in dripping clothes.
The storm hadn’t hit this area, so the congregation found their preacher more than
a tad curious.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Before evening ended, a passing traveler confirmed Grandpa’s
experience, stating, “There were 2 feet of ice and hoppers in places and dead
antelope on the prairie.” These difficulties didn’t dim Grandpa’s determination
to preach and farm in Northwest Kansas. He did, however, say he never left home
afterwards without his overcoat.</span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; position: static;">Again, vintage journalism verifies my relatives’
experiences. Such tales remind those whose families settled Kansas that we’ve particularly
determined DNA pulsing through our bodies. </span></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; direction: ltr; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 10.66px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-32891040688062154082018-02-16T13:41:00.000-06:002018-02-16T13:41:20.053-06:00Minor Holidays that Connect Us to Our Past
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">History lovers like to connect dots between present and
past. I fit in this unique group because nothing thrills me more than
discovering unexpected links between <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Now
</b>and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Then</b>. Recently, I got more
than I bargained for when I explored the backstory to Punxsutawney Phil and
America’s Groundhog Day. By the time I finished researching, I found answers to
questions I didn’t know I had.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">First, I always wondered what Candlemas Day was when I saw
it on calendars at the same time I noted GH day. Why I never stopped to look it
up befuddles me. Otherwise, I’d have known much sooner why local churches host
pancake feeds on February 2 or thereabouts and how that event relates to
weather predicting groundhogs. The obvious commonality is that Candlemas and GH
day share the same date. Once I knew that, I wanted to know more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Easy, peasy. Groundhog Day first began when ancient peoples
celebrated the halfway mark between winter solstice and spring equinox. Think
about that one. Approximately three months separates two major solar events our
ancestors used to mark time and indicate seasons. Halfway between gets you to
early February. In some climates that’s the time hibernating or estivating
critters crawl out to check the weather. Depending on the culture, those could
be bears or hedgehogs, close enough to woodchucks if you stretch your
imagination to end up as Groundhog Day in our culture.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For people whose lives were heavily influenced by sunny and
dark cycles, longer periods of light and upcoming planting traditions would
provide reasons to celebrate. Pesky rodents and other hairy creatures emerging
from under and above ground dens at the midpoint between two major solar events
encouraged foretelling impending weather using clever rhymes. Thanks Farmers’
Almanac for sharing: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If Candlemas be mild and gay/Go saddle your
horses and buy them hay</i></span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 8px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But if Candlemas by stormy and black/It
carries the winter away on its back</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long ago, Romans honored Lupercalia and held purification
and light festivities to mark increasing sunlight each day. Tribes living in
Germany and Ireland held ceremonies for similar purposes. The Irish called
their revels Imbolc (“lamb’s milk”) in honor of lambing season. Once
Christianity came to the island, this holiday evolved to honor St. Brigid, saint
of candles and light. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’re back to Candlemas--a feast day that celebrates introducing
Jesus in the temple and blessing candles. Not only did participants deliver
those valuable light sources for consecration, they also feasted on crepes or
pancakes. Now we see the initiating event for why so many congregations host
pancake feeds on February 2<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Unless you happen to be an Ancestry.com junky or a fan of TV
series that reveal celebrity genealogies, it’s easy to forget how generations
before ours influence us. Heavens, many don’t realize winter solstice signifies
the darkest day of the year and summer the longest. It’s even easier to forget
spring and fall equinoxes mark halfway points between those landmarks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After years of not paying attention, I now know that
February 2, aka Groundhog Day or Candlemas, signifies another midpoint—this one
between winter solstice and spring equinox. Our ancestors understood that life
is short so we should celebrate often. From now on, I’ll rejoice with pancakes
poured in the shape of groundhogs, soaked with the previous spring’s maple sap
turned to syrup, and served by candlelight. </span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-10015372744624318862018-02-16T13:39:00.000-06:002018-02-16T13:39:09.256-06:00Winter Morning Shadow Plays
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<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>One of my
favorite childhood memories or perhaps even adult memories involves using a
bright light to cast finger shadows of rabbits, birds, and other creatures onto
a blank wall. One morning, I noticed Mother Nature playing her own shadow games
on Big Creek below my kitchen window. These engaging and active silhouettes
encouraged me watch further and discover what fun the “old girl” could concoct
using barren branches, agile squirrels, and flitting birds.</div>
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A number of
factors played into this shadow extravaganza.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>First of all, water filled the creek that winter and provided a surface
to reflect dozens of scampering critters bobbing in the overhead branches at
any one time.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Also, the creek hadn’t
frozen for long periods due to unseasonably warm temperatures. This sharpened
the mirror-like effect on the slow-moving stream. Next, the red line on the
thermometer recorded mornings chilly enough to invigorate squirrels and birds,
but not so cold that it forced them into still, huddled energy preservation
mode. </div>
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<div style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Another bonus was unnaturally clear
air—no fog, no mist, no moisture of any kind obscured mirrored images. Finally,
weekends provided time to be home around 8:30 a.m. when the early sun popped
over the hill in just the right spot to profile a myriad of cottonwood, ash,
and locust shadows onto the winding brook.</div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>What I saw when
I gazed out the window onto Big Creek was a most unusual circus.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Shadows of furry, acrobatic figures chased
one another from one darkly silhouetted high branch to another up and down the
bank. The inconsequential forms seemed to fly as they leapt across open space.
I suspected a previous May’s tornado created greater gaps than the squirrels
were used to based on some of the stretches their images made as they reflected
vaults from one landing to another.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Amazingly, those breaches didn’t
faze them as they launched wiry forms from limb to limb across spans of about
300 feet. The fearless rodents blasted off across open territory with the
fearlessness of the Flying Wallenzas.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Every now
and then I spied one of the reflected creatures performing a flip or winding
itself artfully around a branch like it wanted to enhance its routine. Working
in tandem, several choreographed a chase scene to rival the chase in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Thomas Crown Affair</i>.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>In addition to the fury critters’ mirrored dives,
leaps, twirls, shadows of big and little birds hovered and darted in and out of
the darkly profiled scenes. Where to look first became the morning challenge.
Who cared about coffee?</div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I don’t
know how I missed this show on earlier weekend mornings unless that year’s
presentation had more to do with previously mentioned factors—unnaturally warm
temperatures and lack of moisture in the air that provided clarity we normally didn’t
experience winter mornings.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Whatever the
reasons, I’ve recorded this shadow play in my memory banks so I can sit back on
future mornings and smile at the antics of frisky squirrels turning somersaults
in my mind. </div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-65198541811268456482018-01-26T14:29:00.000-06:002018-01-26T14:29:18.278-06:00End the Drama with an Exchange Program<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Recently, Ag Daily posted an article by Missouri farmer
Blake Hurst that explores why the media doesn’t understand “flyover country.” It
takes a while to read his essay, but the points he makes are worth weighing and
deciding whether the mainstream news over-dramatizes lives of those from small
towns in middle America. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Reading his
article made me thankful that I’ve spent my life living in villages with less
than 2,000 population, even if it that means a long drive to Walmart. It also
makes me want to correct some misconceptions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even for those without children to raise, small communities in
the middle of America offer plentiful reasons to call them home. You’ll know
your neighbors. That doesn’t mean you’ll never have conflicts, but odds
increase that you won’t worry about them belonging to terrorist organizations
or holding 13 children hostage in filthy conditions. Rural living means you
have an idea regarding who lives on your street and know their family history
as well. So much awareness typically helps folks get along. Ever noticed how
lawn mowing, flower planting, and putting up Christmas decorations appears infectious?
When everyone on the street tidies yards or hangs festive lights, it’s like a germ—in
no time, everyone’s got it.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On that note, if there’s a resident who can’t manage
yardwork or maintenance, small town neighbors help. Now days, school kids join
in the volunteering. On an established date, you’ll find entire classes alongside
teachers and principals raking, painting, washing windows, or whatever needs done.
Many youngsters continue helping older or disabled neighbors long after the assigned
event. It’s part of their culture.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At workshops I’ve attended, urban teachers are curious about
rural schools’ technology. They have the misconception that our facilities don’t
compare to theirs. Imagine the surprise when they learn our students often have
one on one access to computers or I-Pads. They’re more intrigued by rural youngsters’
savvy at designing web pages and computer programs, mastering CAD skills, or printing
3-D designs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because of technology, those who live in the hinterlands can
access the world. We may have to drive an hour to shop at a big box store, but nothing
stops us from placing a cyber order that’s delivered to our doorstep or from
making reservations to travel wherever necessary to achieve our goals. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Due to such access, rural regions house an
increasing number of ex-urbanites who’ve given up gridlock to work online. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Recent arrivals mention missing familiar restaurants,
entertainment venues, and shopping. However, I’ve heard these same newcomers
share how nice it is to visit with neighbors at the market or on the front
porch. Almost all appreciate drivers who wave at everyone they meet. No one
misses the honking and rude gestures they left behind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Granted, folks in little towns give up some privacy, but the
trade-off is genuine concern from people where you live and do business. I’d
like to think Mr. Hurst’s article encourages rural dweller to share the truth
about their communities—that these are places where residents want what humans
everywhere want—love, community, safety, job satisfaction, and accomplishment.
Maybe it’s time to start an exchange program to encourage Americans to see the
reality of one another’s lives, rather than manufactured drama.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-14291045339907198022018-01-26T14:28:00.000-06:002018-01-26T14:28:13.488-06:00Getting Used to Country Noises
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those who’ve grown up in urban areas get used to round the
clock mechanized sounds. Hearing lawn mowers, leaf blowers, drivers gunning
engines, or jets roaring overhead causes no panic. In fact, car alarms, sirens,
and even crashes at nearby intersections generate only short-term interest. Move
that same population to the country and note how their eyes widen at every
noise. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No matter a sound’s origin, imagination multiplies it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A squeak or scritch in the wall is a rodent
infestation. Coyotes howling alarms pets and humans alike. You’d think
werewolves had invaded. A rabbit shrieking its death cry is enough to send former
city dwellers into a catatonic state. Knowing this about my former big city
neighbors, I wondered how I’d handle living a mile from our nearest neighbor
when we moved from the edge of Ellis to an isolated hilltop in Trego County.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It didn’t take long to find out. We moved in December, and
resident wild canines serenaded us to sleep on wintry nights. In short time, I
looked forward to these rural lullabies. We also had nesting owls in a tree
outside our bedroom. Again, once I recognized the source of those sleep
inducing hoots and murmurs, I nodded off quickly. The occasional death cries of
expiring cottontails raised my heart rate, but once I identified the source, I
knew another hilltop inhabitant had dined well. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What I wasn’t prepared for were unexpected and repetitive
tap, tap, tappings of woodpeckers. All those trees lining nearby Big Creek and
the cedar siding on our house turned the area into a battle of feathered
percussionists. Because we fed black oil sunflower seeds and suet to resident
birds, we regularly enjoyed watching the unique flight pattern of sapsuckers,
flickers, redheaded, hairy, and downy woodpeckers. They joined a myriad of
other species at our feeders. All our guests were delightful, but the
hard-headed, sharp-beaked creatures especially charmed us. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That is until they decided to drill for insects in our cedar
siding. The first time this happened, it was early morning and our resident
game warden was on duty checking hunters. A sharp and continual rapping on the
north side of the house awakened me and our young daughters from deep sleep. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After peering out windows, expecting to see someone parked
in the drive and pounding unceasingly on the outside wall, I was surprised to
find no vehicle in sight. When we couldn’t identify the source of the intense
and unending tapping, the girls’ and my imaginations went into over drive. We’d
watched one too many scary movies.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For just a while, had someone been recording, the three of
us would have qualified for America’s Funniest Home Videos. Pajama clad, we
crept about looking for our tormentor and trying to decide whether this
situation required a 911 call. Thank God, we identified our intruder before we
punched that button.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Upon further inspection, I found a pair of flickers wildly
attacking our siding. Intent on a tasty meal, they hammered til my presence
drove them from their perch. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Recalling that incident and my response still makes me
blush. After years of hearing only nature’s noises, I’m a country convert. A
few hours in a metropolis and my brain reels from so much man-made sound.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-44545844785161782342018-01-26T14:26:00.000-06:002018-01-26T14:26:46.513-06:00Old Stories About New Beginnings
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fresh beginnings make people reflect as well as anticipate.
I’m no different as I behold the clean canvas of a brand-new year. Like many of
you, genealogy and ancestry sites have captured my interest, and I’m intrigued
by ancestors who migrated to begin fresh lives and kept on traveling.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I’m curious about why so many kin made it to
Kansas and stayed. As I explore their stories over the next few months, I hope
your families examine your sunflower roots as well.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our first Kansas ancestors arrived by train from Devizes,
Ontario, Canada, in 1872. Although former brickmakers, they homesteaded along
the Kansas/Nebraska border in Norton County, KS. While they exchanged
longitudes, latitudes, and occupations, they maintained familiarity with their previous
home by naming their new home Devizes, Kansas. According to family records,
they donated land for a school, post office, and cemetery. Only the cemetery
remains. Like so many start ups at the end of the 1800s, this little community
withered til little except headstones remain to remind us of hopes that once
existed in this isolated place.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This particular group of immigrants came not only to claim
land, but also souls. Though Grandpa Reuben missed the Second Great Awakening
of the earlier 1800s, he discovered a deep faith and committed himself and his
family to the demands of a prairie Methodist Circuit rider. This meant he
frequently left wife, children, and parents to develop the homestead while he and
his pony traveled drainages with names of Beaver, Sappa, Prairie Dog, Solomon,
Deer, and more. No matter the weather, he crisscrossed mostly empty miles, holding
services for those settled far from town. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His tiny wife Hannah grew up as a daughter of ship captain
who navigated Lake Michigan. Marrying Grandpa meant exchanging her predictable
life for the exact opposite. I’m certain she surprised to herself by starting a
family in a sod house far from any large body of water.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She made do in those first homes, offered bread and coffee to
roaming Cheyenne, hid children in native grass to protect them from hostile
natives, lived off missionary barrel goods sent by established eastern
congregations, buried children, and in-laws, and lived to ripe old age before dying
in Ford, Kansas.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Grandpa writes about arriving soon after the Rebellion when
Kansans still reeled from the border wars. He detailed insect and weather-related
devastation and expressed his satisfaction that many settlers hungered to hear
the Lord’s message.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I read his memoirs, I note town names have changed.
Lenora was once Spring City while Glade was Marvin. He shared his frustrations
with getting actual church buildings constructed. In Kensington, he and the
Baptist preacher held services in the local saloon Sundays when it closed for
regular business. He and the Methodists of Agra raised funds to build a
sanctuary that was soon destroyed by a tornado. They didn’t give up. The
community rallied and rebuilt their church. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With a love of history and so many roots in Kansas, I’ve
stories to share. Perhaps our tales intersect with yours. I’m eager to hear
from those with details to fill empty blanks in our saga.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-10678116828234011912017-12-15T13:23:00.002-06:002017-12-15T13:23:48.703-06:00The Gift That Keeps on Giving
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s the season to count blessings and assess the past year.
Once I finish listing family and friends, another favorite is the local library
and its wonderful librarians. No matter where I’ve lived or worked, these book
lenders are critical to a town’s success. If you don’t possess one already,
head to the front desk, meet that guardian of knowledge, and arrange the power
to check out books and movies throughout the year. Heck, get a Kansas Library
card while you’re at it and add research services. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">During early statehood, these institutions focused primarily
on loaning books. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Over time, these
magical passes permitted access to newspapers and periodicals affordable to few
families. As one might expect, services have changed over the 150 years since community
libraries first improved rural lives. Today, most patrons possess technology
that lets them read on line so they don’t need to check out books. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>If they don’t own one, they can borrow a
library device. So what’s a good librarian do to make certain patrons keep
coming through their doors?</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Over the last few years, even dinosaurs like me who enjoy
the weight of a book in hand and the sensory thrill of flipping pages have observed
that library services evolve constantly. Because more folks read digital texts,
librarians don’t need to buy as many hard copies. As a result, more of us now
depend on interlibrary loan to get our sniff of lignin from the printed page. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Instead, limited budgets purchase videos,
electronic games, audio books for travelers, and technology. In addition, small-town
librarians design intriguing one-time as well as ongoing opportunities to explore
the world. One friend serving a small library says it best--programming is
everything. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Investigate your local library as well as those nearby. Enjoy
tea parties and movie or game nights, receive homework help, listen to various speakers,
learn genealogy, explore 3-D printing or robotics, and more. Every director works
overtime to encourage residents of all ages to enter their doors several times
a week.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Most facilities sponsor story time, which introduces
toddlers to books and fun. Little ones might mime stories and march through
colorful obstacle courses that begins a lifetime habit of recognizing
characters and authors. One innovator creates a Lego based activity every week to
keep little ones looking forward to their next visit.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another friend in charge of a very small facility designed a
teen corner where junior high and high school kids meet to play games, compare
favorite books, and join a scavenger hunt. This creative lady took pictures of
her town’s unique but rarely noticed architecture, trees, and other highlights.
She ran off multiple prints of each photo and directed teams to find odd shaped
windows, funky tree trunks, and other oddities. Combining laughter and learning
built great memories.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you aren’t a regular at your library, stop and visit. The
librarian has a book, movie, app, or program you’ll enjoy. If nothing else,
suggest something to add to the schedule. Odds are at least one other person in
town would appreciate your idea. Sure, it’s Christmas time when we’re supposed
to give gifts to others, but using your local library is a present you’ll savor
all year long.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-138770899971152462017-12-08T15:49:00.002-06:002017-12-08T15:49:51.070-06:00Share What You Know and Learn Something New
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you ask, I’d bet every American believes they’re the real
deal--100% red, white, and blue. Yet, media talking-heads highlight divisions,
making us wonder what’s true or fake. The greatest cure for confusion is
visiting other parts of the country and welcoming tourists to our state. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Regional
and cultural differences exist and offer educational opportunities for visitors
and locals. I’ve learned it’s best to keep a straight face when strangers ask about
something I consider obvious. Their mistake may be sincere, so don’t blow an opening
to correct confused folks without embarrassing them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A friend who owns a western store has occasion to enlighten urban
travelers who stop to shop. Many vacationing city dwellers end up in her rural
community which is populated by boot and cowboy hat wearing citizenry. Outside
city limits, deer and antelope defy fences to join domestic cows and horses in
the satisfactory munching and digestion of local grasses. Both western fashion
and <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>intermixing of wild and domestic
herds seem perfectly normal to this shop owner and fellow residents. Chatting
with out-of-state customers let this businesswoman know some see her world as
unusual or exotic.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Several times during tourist season, folks stopping through inquire,
“What’s going on in town today?” <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Typically
she hands them the weekly visitor guide and encourages them to tour area
museums and nature sites. Eventually, someone was more direct and added, “No,
why are so many people dressed up like cowboys?”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She peered out the door to notice locals dining at the
hometown restaurant? “Like those guys?” she asked. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yea. Are they dressed up for a special event?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Always striving to promote her town and encourage tourism,
she considered her response. “No, that’s how many business people who live here
dress. It’s lunch hour.” </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Clearly, this confused someone used to urban professional
attire. In their experience, places don’t exist where business people wear
western shirts, jeans, and cowboy boots to the office. As a counter point,
those accustomed to rural dress codes might stare if someone showed up on the
job in an Armani suit or Manolo heels. It’s not what we’re used to. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Later that summer, out-of-staters paused to shop and learn about
the area. This friend is very approachable so her customers started chatting
about farms and ranches they’d passed on their way through the middle of the
country. They were curious about how farmers and ranchers managed to raise
cattle or horses and the deer and antelope browsing alongside their livestock. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A quick glance told my friend the curiosity was genuine. This
wasn’t a joke, so keeping a straight face, she explained only the cows and
horses were domestic. The deer and antelope were wild and could leap over
fences or crawl under them anytime they wanted. Kudos for her ability to
maintain her composure.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our conversation began as we analyzed differences between
Americans and what people know based on where they come from. That triggered her
to tell these stories. Though we share a common government, it’s clear Americans
don’t always understand one another’s regional and cultural differences. Anyone
can take a lesson from this shop owner and make time to clarify misunderstandings.
We’d all get along better.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-50859644606589583592017-11-24T12:39:00.000-06:002017-11-24T12:39:08.952-06:00So How Lucky Is a Wishbone?
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s amazing what you can learn watching <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jeopardy</i> or reading their website. Who
knew that one of my favorite Thanksgiving customs ties back to the ancient
Etruscans who considered chickens and this oddly shaped bone to possess good fortune.
These are folks that settled in much of what is now Italy and possibly contributed
to the founding of Rome. Yes, the custom of snapping the wishbone is an old one,
imported from a distant culture and continent. Guess it resembles many American
traditions.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Despite learning about Etruscans in world history and
reading about their art in archeological journals, I had to look up this
culture’s homeland. They occupied what is now Tuscany in Italy. According to one
source, their civilization contributed to the founding of Rome. Apparently,
they appreciated chickens, considering them and the distinctly horseshoe shaped
furcula or two fused clavicles of this creature to bring good luck to the individual
who won the longer side of the snap. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anything that brings good fortune is worth sharing. According
to Alex Trebek, this ancient custom made its way to jolly old England and from
there to the American colonies. Clearly, sharing chicken husbandry was
important as well. In addition, the tradition translated over to even larger
fowl, the turkey--a new world bird.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Early in my childhood, my mom whose heritage is predominantly
from the British Isles taught my brother and I it was lucky to possess the
longer piece of the wishbone after a contentious battle. Somehow my sibling,
younger no less, examined that interesting looking bit of bone and cartilage
and pre-determined the winning side long before the two of us began tugging
with all our might to break it. After losing too many times, I, too, learned
the secret and then the real war began to see who controlled which side of this
odd lucky charm.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If we happened to be at a family meal with cousins involved,
the competition stiffened. Ironically, where I fought obnoxiously to gain the
upper hand at home, I was my brother’s biggest supporter if an older cousin
challenged him. As it is in the political world, alliances shift in a flash
depending on the opposition. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just as mom shared this tradition with her kids, I carried
it on with mine. I discovered, after baking and boning the turkey a day ahead
of our feast, extra hours drying on the window sill sped up the time necessary to
snap the wishbone. No longer did the taller, usually stronger sibling have the
advantage of exerting extra torque on soft cartilage and bendable bone. The sad
news is sometimes we forgot the bone where it lay drying, delaying our fun until
after the holiday. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Upon viewing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jeopardy’s
</i>presentation just before Thanksgiving, I was struck by its irony. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Etruscans considered this bird and bone to be
lucky. So did the English and later Americans. Looking at it logically, I’m not
sure chickens would agree. After all, they must die to provide the bone. Like a
rabbit whose foot is carried for good luck, the contributor isn’t all that fortunate.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-3310197486582176292017-11-16T14:42:00.002-06:002017-11-16T14:42:58.162-06:00Band of Brothers: Beloved and Celebrated
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This year’s Veterans’ Day--a reflective time since so many family
members have served our country—has passed. This one was more poignant than
usual after I listened to a former student and current soldier speaking in
honor of the occasion. He reminded me I’m blessed to know him and other young
people who answered our nation’s duty call. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In his opening, he shared what he most values and loves, which
is family--including fellow warriors. His respect and fondness for those he
trained and served with in the 388<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> rang clear and true, making me
think of Shakespeare’s lines in King Henry V, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“From now until the end of the world, we and it shall be remembered. We
few, we Band of Brothers. For he who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.”
<span style="color: #333333; margin: 0px;"></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the time he enlisted, so did many other western Kansans. A
number of Ellis students in that four-year period joined the military, uniting
to protect country and loved ones. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Many
trained together and later deployed to the Middle East. Almost all still serve America
in some fashion. When I see their FB posts, I think about their shared
childhoods and history in the military. These new pictures of mature men and
women make it difficult to recall them as youngsters who procrastinated
endlessly over giving speeches or writing papers. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Several years ago, one former Ellis grad spoke at a
political function in Phillips County. Like many students in public school,
English and speech weren’t his favorite subjects. Imagine my pleasure while
observing him present an enthusiastic, poised, well-organized presentation. I
talked to him afterward and asked what he’d been doing post high school and
active duty. At the time, he worked as a political advisor where public writing
and speaking were keys to success. He shared a story about a classmate and fellow
soldier who majored in English. That individual ended up ranking above him in
their unit and insisted this former classmate rework reports until they met
specifications, skills contributing to the speaker’s current employment. I chuckled
to myself that some of the blood this band of brothers shed might resemble blue
or black ink.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many members of the 388<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> Medical Battalion Reserve
Unit have earned advanced degrees or certifications. Several are authors and
professors. Not only did they back each other in combat zones, they encourage
one another’s home front success. I have no stats, but I’d guess this group has
earned more than the average number of degrees or advanced accreditations. This
explains how the gentleman giving the FHSU Veteran’s Day speech crossed my
radar. He’s in school accomplishing a goal.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">These soldiers have done more than serve their country.
They’ve brought out the best in one another and modeled the meaning of strength.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>While bravery during battle is part of the
that definition, sometimes it means standing before an audience, telling them
how much you love your wife and how her commitment has allowed you to perform
your duties well. I’m proud to know many of the brothers and sisters in this
particular band. Western Kansans have much to celebrate.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-91947591262532018102017-11-16T13:53:00.003-06:002017-11-16T13:53:46.516-06:00Masters of Everything and Nothing
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dramatic stories of natural catastrophes fill newsfeeds almost
daily. Earthquakes, floods, fires, hail storms, tornados, and hurricanes
dominate headlines, reminding us that humans hold little power over weather and
geological activities. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Discussion of
recent events led to an emotional discussion during art class the other day.
Eventually our group wondered how people who lived here before us handled such
phenomena when they occurred during their lives?</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Depending on how far back we’re talking, we agreed that many
of those individuals lived migratory lifestyles. It made me think about what I
know about native people of the Great Plains. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Using human, horse, and dog power, they
transported tanned hides and wooden supports used to construct temporary homes with
them as they followed wildlife herds. These creatures provided not only food,
but also materials used to construct homes, tools, bedding, and clothing. Their
Walmart had hooves. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The nature of these transient beasts meant they constantly
moved, seeking grasses that thrived across this region from Texas to Canada.
Herds large enough to darken the plains for miles quickly devoured this solar
generated calorie resource. When the grass was gnawed to the ground, they moved
shifted locale, leaving it to regrow before their next pass through the area.
As a result, humans whose lives depended on the great, shaggy beasts packed up
and trekked after them. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While some imagine the hardships of such a life, researchers
tell us it was beneficial. Food was fresh, and tribes usually abandoned camp
long before human wastes fouled water and soil that sustained them. As part of
nature’s cycles, they understood the waxing and waning of the moon as well as
the always changing seasons. They knew where their food and resources came from
and how to preserve them for later use. They were more in touch with the realities
of existence than modern urban dwellers.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Like us, they were susceptible to natural disasters. Oral
histories and records kept on animal skins reveal accounts of apocalyptic
events. The difference is that their mobility encouraged a high degree of
adaptability. Reconstructing a hide tipi required resources and labor, but it
didn’t require a lifelong mortgage to replace it. Because they moved where game
moved, fire meant a lost season of grass in one locale, not a lost herd that
had to be rebuilt--if finances permitted.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When such events occurred, whole tribes moved on, lending
support to the weakest in the group. They maintained their cyclical behaviors
until cultural conflict made that impossible. Equivalent catastrophes today
often isolate individuals or families who then depend on strangers or
impersonal government entities to help them rebuild lives. Not only do people
lose homes and possessions, businesses, farms, vineyards, and ranches succumb
to raging floods and flames. Lifetime dreams vanish overnight. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While technology and civilization provide temperature
controlled climates inside four walls, it’s worth considering what modern humans
give up to enjoy such comfort. Unless we consciously contemplate our
relationship with nature and its pros and cons, it’s easy to think we’re the
masters of the universe. That is until a natural disaster reminds us we aren’t
in control of anything but how we respond to what happens to us. </span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-63961119145299589742017-11-16T13:52:00.000-06:002017-11-16T13:52:02.671-06:00Mother Nature and Her Wily Assassins
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Conspiracy theorists need to investigate Mother Nature’s
actions against trees in Western Kansas. Yes, she’s conspiring to make this a
treeless plain once again. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Western history buffs often read descriptions of the region
called the Great American Desert. Explorers Zebulon Pike and Major Stephen Long
documented journeys across this landscape, noting its aridity and incompatibility
with agriculture. A lack of trees supported their conclusions. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Despite the region’s general absence of foliage, wayfarers
noted groves along rivers and streams, naming several camp sites Big Timbers.
Clearly, the soil wasn’t insufficient. More was involved. Those who came to
stay observed fire’s role in eradicating trees and shrubs. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Great thunderheads built up on the horizon then as they do
now. When lightning bolts arced and contacted dried prairie grasses, flames
raced unimpeded across the landscape, searing emerging seedlings and delicate
saplings.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>To encourage buffalo
migrations, some researchers explain that natives utilized fire to encourage
tender grasses to sprout. Between lightning and manmade fire, trees struggled
to survive. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That said, photos of western Kansas communities in the early
and mid-1900s reveal flourishing stands of elm, ash, cottonwood, and hackberry.
Towering trees shaded neighborhoods, hiding structures and yards from
photographers. More recently, property owners have included pines in landscape
designs.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you compare images from earlier times to now, they’ve
changed. What happened to the dense greenery shielding rooflines and sidewalks
from camera lenses? Not fire, but dastardly, insects! That’s what. Mother
Nature doesn’t want western Kansans to enjoy shady siestas or hear wind
soughing through leafy branches. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After settlement, families planted trees and controlled
fire. Combining these practices led to aerial shots of shady lanes and
sheltered yards.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>That is until beetles
invaded this continent to wipe out one tree after another. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once hardy Dutch elms dominated neighborhoods across
America. Now healthy ones are impossible to find. Walk through town and note tattered
remnants of a once thriving population. It’s hard to think of small insects as
assassins, but as their numbers multiplied elms withered.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While concerned about these striped beetles, western Kansans
didn’t panic. Ash trees grew well, providing stunning fall foliage as well as
hardwood to warm winter hearths. That is until the emerald ash borer, another
Asian invader, arrived. In its native land, its populations didn’t grow out of
control. As an uninvited guest, it’s multiplied until most American ash trees
risk annihilation. Mother Nature clearly intends to vanquish prairie arbors.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Clever souls tried to outwit her by introducing Scotch and
Austrian pines. Initially, it seemed a good strategy. Dense windbreaks
protected yards, parks, and cemeteries while beautifying them. Then, (hear the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jaws</i> theme in your mind) pine sawyer
beetles arrived to alter the story. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Traveling
from tree to tree, this invasive species introduces a nematode that weakens
trees. Needles turn from green to tan, signaling a tree’s impending death. It
can take only 6 weeks for the disease to destroy a mature evergreen. This
killer is very efficient. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As the region’s tree numbers dwindle, it’s clear Mother
Nature’s killers labor unceasingly. Insects have assumed fire’s role as
destroyer. Clearly, it’s going to take more than a desire for shady respite to
outwit this gal and her team of wily assassins.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4022696147263356765.post-72339135581881607882017-11-16T13:49:00.001-06:002017-11-16T13:49:28.638-06:00Time Well Spent
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Art day in grade school was so much fun. I looked forward to
it all week and could barely contain my excitement through morning lessons. Throughout
lunch, I’d mull what we’d create when the teacher told us to clear desks for
art. My favorite activity was painting, but coloring, gluing, forming clay,
whatever hands-on mess making was a hit as far as I was concerned. Art time
meant dabbling, creating, and chatting with nearby classmates. What could make
it better?</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, as an adult, I have an answer. Sip or snack and paint
class for grownups. The sponsoring artist provides the easel, paint, brushes,
and canvas, while students bring beverages and treats. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Several area artists have discovered they live in
communities filled with wannabe Picassos. They’ve learned they can offer classes
several times a month and teach others to enjoy capturing a scene on canvas.
Friends even plan birthday parties and showers involving such activities.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve attended sessions in different area towns and enjoyed
every one. In the hours leading up to class, I build the same anticipation that
kept me on the edge of my grade school seat. My mind rehearses familiar
questions: what are we going to paint, will it be hard, how can I avoid a mess,
who’s going to sit nearby, will I like the finished product? Some personality
traits never go away, and these have remained mine for decades, even those
where I never touched a brush.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No matter whose class you take, teachers understand student
limitations and the old adage that nothing succeeds like success. Every course
I’ve seen advertised has a great picture for students to paint. Sometimes they
focus on scenes involving trees, clouds, sunflowers, water, or farmsteads.
Holidays offer options from pumpkins and black cats to big-eyed owls to trees
silhouetted against a haunting full moon. Thanksgiving scenes involve
everything from autumn leaves to jolly turkeys. My favorite’s Christmas snow
men. These whimsical characters might be skating, sledding, trimming trees or
even standing on their heads. I enjoy such charming and colorful scenes so much
I could paint them year-round.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I credit instructors with setting up the perfect get
together. By the time we “artistes” arrive, they’ve arranged plastic protected
tables, canvas on easels, paint brushes, Styrofoam plate palettes, and paper
towels for messy pupils. They’ve finished at least one if not more
demonstration pieces that model what the end result’ll look like if students
follow directions. It’s fun to listen to everyone’s remarks as they anticipate
the task before them.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s interesting how a special energy happens when creative
spirits unwind and loaded brushes starting slapping canvas. When colors fill in
forms and designs take shape, everyone relaxes. Breathing slows as folks
capture key elements of the painting. As participants relax, stories and
laughter emerge, adding to a perfect event.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank goodness, local artists invite dabblers into their
studios and offer opportunities to rediscover joys found in grade school art
class. For some, this’ll be their only painting experience, for others this is aspringboard
to more advanced skills. Regardless, it’s time well spent. </span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Prairie Ramblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06073052804039419456noreply@blogger.com0