Archives for 2016

Don’t Know Much About Geology

August 21, 2016 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

My knowledge of geology is simple and child-like–rocks are pretty and interesting; I like to pick them up and take them home. Most every room in our house has rocks in glass Mason jars or lying around on tables or shelves. Some are from Canada, some from Texas, and some from West River South Dakota. I’m pretty sure there are still some in boxes that remain in waiting for the next geological discovery–“I love this rock! I forgot I had it!”

Chris and I traveled west an hour or so to Glacial Lakes State Park to a geological area commonly known as the Leaf Hills. The hills, valleys, and ridges were formed by the last glaciers more than 10,000 years ago. The park has some of the greatest depth of glacial till–rocks, gravel, and dirt the glacial ice scraped off as it moved southward, then deposited when the ice retreated.

The information provided by the State Park introduced me to geology terms I had never heard before: kames, kettles, eskers, moraines, and erratics. “Kames are conical-shaped hills formed by glacial debris deposited by meltwaters flowing into and down holes in the ice mass. A kettle is a depression (which usually becomes a lake or marsh) that formed when a block of ice melts after being separated from the glacier and covered by glacial debris. An esker is a worm-like ridge that forms beneath a glacier as debris-laden meltwater runs under the ice. When the ice melts, the stream bed, formed by the running meltwater, shows up as a winding ridge. End moraines are areas where the leading or “resting” edge of a glacier “dumped” a load of debris that it carried like a conveyer belt transports material, or where two lobes of advancing ice cross over each other.” And this is my favorite, “An erratic is any boulder carried and deposited by a glacier.” The park contains rocks that have ferrous oxide (iron ore) from northeastern Minnesota and Canada, granite, possibly from the St. Cloud area, and basalt, probably originating from northeast Minnesota. The erratics help trace the movement of the glaciers.

Glacial Lakes State Park is located where the prairie of the west and south meets the hardwood and conifer forests to the east and north. Only about .1 of 1% of the original Minnesota prairie remains, and the park preserves a portion of that native prairie. It has a spring-fed, crystal clear Signalness Lake that is surrounded by oak-covered hills for camping, boating, swimming, and fishing. The park also has a horse camp area and riding trails through the prairie.

We hiked through mosquito-thick woods and prairie trails to reach the highest point in the park that overlooked the rolling prairie. Our only animal companion was a 13-lined ground squirrel who had a burrow right in the middle of the trail.

Bent, spiky seedheads of Mullein rose like saguaros of the prairie.

Tall Goldenrod and other late summer wildflowers bloomed on the hillside by the wild plums that were already wearing their fall colors.

I finally identified the feather-leafed prairie plant I first saw in La Crosse two years ago! (Below is the photo I took then and here’s the link to Great-Grandaddy Cottonwood Tree.)

The prairie trail was lined with green leaved versions of the feather-leafed plant that were just beginning to flower. It is called Stiff Goldenrod–tall, rough-leaved, and deep-rooted–one of many Goldenrods blooming at this time of year.

Indiangrass and Big Bluestem bloomed golden-brown and bluish-purple….

…making a patchwork quilt of colors with the other prairie plants.

Don’t know much about Geology, but I do know that I love rocks and I love the Prairie. Coming to a place like Glacial Lakes State Park makes one appreciate the enormous history of our beautiful green Earth and realize the teeny-tiny part our lifetimes play in that history. I wish we could all be human erratics–carried and deposited in all areas of our country and world, so that we can trace the movement of the people who stand up for clean water, clean air, and preserved wilderness, forests, and prairie. In so doing, we can make sure that our children’s grandchildren will be able to stand underneath the Great-Grandaddy Cottonwood tree and profess their vows to love and to cherish. What a wonderful world this would be!

Spend Time at the Lake

August 16, 2016 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

Advice from a Loon

Spend time at the lake

Enjoy a good swim

Call your friends

A little color goes a long way

Surround yourself with beauty

Enjoy time alone

Dive into life!

–Ilan Shamir, Your True Nature

We were fortunate to spend time at the lake not long ago. Our friends Rick and Lynda called asking for the favor of a little bit of our time and muscle, and in return we got a delicious supper, wonderful company, and a beautiful evening with the Loons. As we pontooned from the dock, puffy white thunderheads were forming behind the trees.

We cruised along the shore where reeds and Yellow Pond Lilies grew and where the evening sun lit up the skeleton bones of an old fallen tree limb.

The lake and sky were calm, the temperature just right, as we floated along discussing the tornado that had torn a path through the trees by the lake a few weeks prior.

We enjoyed the beauty of the billowing clouds and the rippling reflections in the blue lake.

We saw the resident Loons gliding through the water. Minnesotans love their Loons, naming them the State Bird and emblazoning their image on countless souvenirs. They have distinctive black and white summer feathers and red eyes which help them see underwater. They have four distinct calls that are used to communicate–tremolo, wail, hoot, and yodel. (Listen here.)

Loons, unlike most birds, have solid bones to help them dive deeply into the water to search for food. They are amazing swimmers, torpedo-like when underwater as they chase and capture their favorite sunfish and perch. They can stay underwater for up to five minutes and will emerge far from their diving point.

Nests are built by the male and female in a quiet, protected area of reeds and grasses. Their legs are set far back on their bodies, making them awkward on land, so nests are situated very close to the water. One or two eggs are laid and incubated for 28-30 days. The chicks are ready to swim almost immediately and will ride on their parents’ backs to stay safe from turtles and fish. Loon parents and two chicks can eat about half a ton of fish over a 15-week period!

In September the adults travel to their winter homes along the southern Atlantic coast or Gulf of Mexico. The juveniles will gather together and fly to wintering grounds a month or so later. Loons need 100-600 feet of runway in order to take off from a lake, but once in the air, they can fly 75 miles per hour. The Loons of Goodners Lake were undisturbed by our boating close by them as they floated in the placid water.

As the Loons swam off into the brilliant sunset, we headed for the dock. With the water reflecting and amplifying the sunset sky, a little color does indeed go a long way.

Many of Minnesota’s ten thousand lakes are home to the uncommon beauty of the Common Loon. Their haunting calls, like a wolf’s howl, invoke a peaceful wildness in one’s soul. It is a privilege to spend time at the lake with friends, a privilege to witness so much beauty in such a short time and in one snapshot of space on this abundantly beautiful Earth. Take advice from a Loon–call your friends, spend time at the lake, surround yourself with beauty, and dive into life!

I Accept This Gift

August 7, 2016 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

I live with a person who finds it very difficult to accept the gift of a compliment. He will downplay his role in the experience or banter about the stars being aligned or me needing new glasses. I see the same tendencies at times in his brothers. I know their mama told them not to be prideful, for nobody likes a boastful person. Pride is at the top of the list of the seven deadly sins and is synonymous with conceit, egotism, and vanity. C. S. Lewis called pride ‘the spiritual cancer’ which blocks love, contentment, and even common sense. Yet pride has many definitions–from ‘a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority’ to ‘pleasure or satisfaction taken in something done by or belonging to oneself’ or ‘the most flourishing state or period.’ The later two definitions sound like a good thing!

I took this photograph of a Dragonfly at the beginning of July. He rested on the Perennial Pink Salvia long enough for me to run back into the house for the camera. There are so many things I love about this picture–the see-through stained glass of his wings, the one brown patch near the tip of each wing, the long segmented tail, his huge, multifaceted eyes, and how he is holding the opening flower blossom with his legs. Dragonflies are carnivorous, eating their own body weight of gnats, flies, and mosquitoes in just thirty minutes! They fly forty-five miles per hour, can move in all six directions, can hover like a helicopter, and only flap their wings thirty times per minute (compared to 1000 times a minute for a housefly.) These acrobatic flyers need to keep their flight muscles warm, so will bask in the sun to warm up.

I’ve sat with this photograph for over a month now. It didn’t seem to fit in with anything else I was writing about–not even the Gleanings post. Then it came to me: this photo, this Dragonfly, was a gift! And my next thought was: I accept this gift! With great gratitude I contemplated capturing the images of deer, birds, the little fox, insects, flowers, trees, water, and all of Nature’s beauty as a gift to me that I can pass on to you.

Dragonflies symbolize change in the perspective of self-realization, change that has its source in the understanding of a deeper meaning of life. I’m glad Chris is not boastful or egotistic, as that kind of pride is destructive to relationships and prevents us from knowing the truth about ourselves. Yet I urge my humble husband to accept the gift of my compliments with a simple thank you, to feel the satisfaction and pleasure of it. How many gifts are all around us that we don’t perceive, receive, and accept? Whether it is a Dragonfly, Grace, a beautiful Lily, Mercy, a spotted Fawn, or Love, let us accept the gifts of our lives so that we may live in a most flourishing state of being.

Gleanings from July–Animal Behavior

July 31, 2016 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

Animals have always been such an important part of my life. When I was very young, we had a menagerie of farm animals–Holstein dairy cows, a black Mustang horse, chickens, cats, dogs, pigs, and sheep. Later in my growing up years we had a rabbit, ducks, cats, dogs, and horses. (I tend to leave out the hamster who I did not like–he was too squishy and mouse-like.) Horses were the best; I loved everything about them–brushing their dusty coats and tangley tails, feeding them sweet feed and fragrant hay, saddling and riding them through fields and woods, and even cleaning out and shaking fresh straw into their stalls.

July has not only been a month of flowers, but one of animals, too. The young Bluebirds who fledged the nest have been swooping to the ground to pick up insects, then quickly flying back up to tree branches, just like their parents.

The chattering House Wrens are on their second brood of young ones and spend most of the day hunting for insects for the hungry houseful. (See my post of wren babies fledging from the nest.)

When I was weeding the garden one day, a Leopard frog leaped out from under the kale and hid in the grass.

Have you ever seen your reflection in the eye of a frog?

Mother turkeys and their young broods have been wandering through the yard and woods, scratching and pecking for food.

A call from Chris one morning alerted me to come check out a field close to his work. I pulled into a field driveway, walked across the road, and saw a large community of Sand Hill Cranes! There were about forty in all, gleaning the kernels from the grain field.

Sandhill cranes mate for life, choosing their partners based on spring mating dancing displays. They live for twenty years or longer.

The young ones stay with their parents through the winter and separate the following spring, but can take up to seven years to choose a mate.

A pair of sentries closest to me, but still on the far side of the field, started making alarm calls as they watched me.

The others slowly began gathering and walking along the edge of the field.

This photograph of beautiful bird behavior, after the sentries sounded the ‘beware’ call, illustrates a variety of responses. The one in the middle is ‘shaking it off,’ the two adults in the back right seem to be discussing the problem–“what do you think–is that figure holding the black box really a threat?” and the young ones in the front are following directions–“walk to your left.”

I was fortunate to witness another display of articulate animal behavior in our front yard the other day. I saw a doe with her fawn grazing along the edge of our yard. (Look at the line of spots on either side of the spine.)

The doe stayed in much the same spot, and I hoped she wasn’t munching on the hazelnuts Chris recently planted. She was as sleek and healthy-looking as I’ve ever seen a deer, so she must have been eating nutritious food. (Hmm, some of our hostas had been eaten down to the stems…)

The fawn wandered out in front of the doe.

Soon he ventured out into the mowed part of the lawn, bucked, and kicked up his heels.

With cautious curiosity, he walked to the crabapple tree and nibbled on a few leaves.

Suddenly, something scared him, and he ran as fast as he could back to his mom! Immediately she started licking him. He stood close to her and continued to graze as she licked his back, reassuring him that he was okay. After a few minutes of that, he slowly pulled away to wander on his own again.

Then they slipped back into the woods.

I have learned many things about myself and life from all the animals over the years. Anyone who has ever been astride a horse that is spooked by something, knows in his/her body what the fight or flight response feels like. Consequently, one learns how to soothe the horse and let him know that he’s okay. If you have seen a mother cat caring for her kittens–nursing them, hunting for them, cleaning them, keeping them safely hidden when small, and teaching them to be on their own–then you know what parenting entails. We often forget that we are one of the many animal species and that we have much in common with them. So watch closely in the presence of animals–we can see the reflection of ourselves in their eyes.

A Woman and Flowers

July 24, 2016 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

Where flowers bloom, so does hope. –Lady Bird Johnson*

We were married on a glorious day in the middle of May, and three weeks later I received a dozen red roses from my new husband for my birthday! It was the first time I had ever been given a dozen roses, and I remember how carefully I unwrapped the double layer of tissue paper in the long, white box to see the velvety red flowers. We have a photograph of that young, smiling, newlywed me holding the box full of roses. Four, six, and ten years later my husband gave me and each of our sweet newborn children an exquisite arrangement from the fabulous Licata’s Flowers, now in Lee’s Summit, Missouri. I know there must have been a few other times that Chris surprised me with flowers, but store-bought flowers quickly fell to the bottom of our priority list.

You’ve heard the saying “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime,” haven’t you? The same goes for a woman and flowers. In every place we have lived, my horticulturist husband has planted perennials, annuals, and flowering shrubs in abundance. From early spring until late fall I can look out most any window of our house and see flowers blooming! July is peak season, and I have included some of what’s blooming in our gardens.

A pink Asiatic Lily found its way into my prairie garden this year. It looked pretty with the Blue Flax flowers.

Lavender has beautiful gray-green foliage and spikes of lavender flowers, all with a delicious, relaxing fragrance.

Queen Anne’s Lace floats on long, slender stems along the east side of our yard. They tip their heads to greet the morning sun.

I like how this single stem of Queen of the Prairie, which lies partly in the shade of a neighboring shrub, shows the progression of tightly closed buds to fully open, frothy pink blossoming.

Lantana is an annual in Minnesota–one that I try to keep alive inside during the long winter. Look at how each tiny flower in the cluster unfolds from a rectangular envelope.

Allium, commonly called ornamental onion, comes in all sizes in mostly shades of purple. It shares space with a bright yellow Daylily and the second blooming of Perennial Blue Salvia.

Purple Coneflower, a prairie wildflower, begins to open, complementing the Queen Anne’s Lace.

Daylily flowers, slowly opening in the morning light, grace us with their beauty for only one day. The curved stamens look like candles with their flames aglow.

Getting a bouquet of flowers from anyone makes a person feel special–I smile just thinking about those times. But there is also something amazing about walking outside into the yard with scissors or pruners in hand and choosing my own bouquet. I greet the morning sun along with the flowers and walk through the dewy grass in my blue rubber boots. The birds are chirping, and the poplars are gently singing. Sometimes my bouquet is a tiny gathering of fragrant Lily of the Valley that I put in a small, old bottle by the kitchen sink. Other times I collect long stems of Lilies, Rudbeckia, Phlox, Baby’s Breath, and ornamental grasses and arrange them into a large, heavy vase. It is a sweet and satisfying act of love for myself, my family, and anyone who comes into our home. I am grateful to my husband and to Mother Nature for giving me flowers to share space with every day for so many months of the year.

*Lady Bird Johnson along with Helen Hayes founded the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center the year Chris and I were married.

A Study in Variability–Rudbeckia

July 17, 2016 by Denise Brake 1 Comment

Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher. –William Wordsworth

All Rudbeckia. All unique. What a joyous sun garden!

Walking in the Sand

July 10, 2016 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

…in every grain of sand there is the story of the earth. –Rachel Carson

Walking in the sand along the shore of a lake or ocean is the epitome of a romantic sunset evening or a sand-castle fun family day. Bare feet sink into the dry sand, slowing down the pace of gait and time. Sand has been used for training athletes, including Walter Payton, to improve speed, agility, and strength with the added resistance of moving through sand. Now imagine going for a hike in the middle of a pine forest in Minnesota and walking in the sand!

Sand Dunes State Forest and Uncas Dunes Scientific and Natural Area is located in the Anoka sand plains created when meltwater from the last glaciers deposited a large area of sand. Sand dunes were formed when strong winds blew across the flat landscape. Prairie grasses grew on the sand, and when European settlers arrived, they plowed the virgin prairie for cropland. The drought and Dust Bowl era of the early 1930’s ended farming in the area as the sandy soil “took to the air and drifted like snow.” Hardwood and conifer trees were planted in 1941 to stabilize the sandy soil. In 1943, the state legislature passed a bill to set this land aside for conservation, and since that time, the forest has been enlarged to over 10,000 acres. It now includes camping, swimming beach, horse camp, and trails for hiking, riding, and snowmobiling.

Over 2,400 acres of pine trees have been planted over the decades. They are thinned and harvested for forest products every 5-10 years.

The Uncas Dunes Scientific and Natural Area lies within and adjacent to the State Forest. It was established to protect the sand prairie, the dry sand savanna, and the Uncas skipper, a state endangered butterfly. We had no idea at the time of our hike what the Uncas skipper looked like, but my photo of a small butterfly turned out to be a Mustard White butterfly.

Prairie, pine forests, and blue skies surrounded us as we hiked. Unfortunately, the deer flies also surrounded us, and I tried implementing the Aaron Brake Mind-Over-Mosquito Strategy for the extremely annoying pests.

We hiked past native hazelnut shrubs with their frilly, pale green seed pods encasing the immature nut.

A fern-lined wetland area held the remains of trees that had died from wet feet.

The trail of trees opened up to a small meadow where a brilliant Butterfly Weed was in full bloom. Dark green lance-shaped leaves were outlined with sunlight. The bright orange flowers attract butterflies and hummingbirds. Native Americans chewed the tough roots of the Butterfly Weed as a cure for pleurisy and other pulmonary ailments.

Another wild flower that I didn’t know was in the foreground of the Butterfly Weed. It is either Hoary or Hairy Puccoon, similar sandy soil-loving perennials that are known for the intense reddish-purple dye derived from their deep tap root.

As the time edged closer to suppertime, we decided to turn around and head back to the car, ready to be free of the circling deer flies. Our footprints sank into the sand, along with deer and horse hoof prints.

Evening sunlight streamed through the trees and lit up a spider’s web that was previously unseen.

Explorer Will Steger has been doing a yearly ice-out solo expedition in Northern Minnesota and Canada for the last number of Springs. He travels with a sled or specially designed canoe that he can either pull across the snow and ice or float in the rivers and lakes when the ice breaks up. He radios in a daily report telling about his night and day. Most often the temperatures are below freezing and sometimes below zero. Some days the wind chills are staggering. Snowstorms can dump many inches of snow that impede his travel. Food and fuel sometimes need to be rationed towards the end of his trip if he is in the wilderness longer than planned. And yet, he wraps up his report of a freezing night in a tent, thigh-high snow to trek through, and treacherous ice to navigate with “it was a good workout, though.” This 71-year-old explorer challenges his mind and body with these solo expeditions, doing the hard work, and calling it good.

We find ourselves in trying times with lives endangered in a myriad of ways. Somehow we must stabilize the shifting sands. So whether we’re trekking through deep snow, walking in sand with deer flies, navigating polarizing politics, or trying to save lives, let Light shine on the previously unseen, let us challenge ourselves to do the hard work, and at the end of each day, call it good.

Gleanings from June–Synergy

July 3, 2016 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

–Maud Hart Lovelace from Betsy-Tacy and Tib

We began the month of June with a sun halo–a rainbow all around the sun. Also called a 22-degree halo, it is caused by millions of tiny ice crystals in high cirrus clouds that refract (at a 22 degree angle) and reflect the sun’s light. Amazing!

The flowers of June welcome the bees and butterflies. Wild roses peek their pink flowers between the stems of grass along the road.

I’m in love with this Perennial Pink Salvia we have planted close to the front door. Each stalk of delicate pink blossoms attracts bees of all kinds–the hard-working pollinators of the world.

The much larger bed of Perennial Blue Salvia is spectacular when in full-bloom! Pollen-laden bumblebees rumble from flower to flower, and the sight of a Yellow Swallowtail is like a shimmering ornament on an already beautiful evergreen–synergistic beauty!

I am always delighted to see this Pink Poppy bloom in June. The crepe-paper-like petals are entire works of art in and of themselves and when combined with the dark purple, velvety center, it is so lovely to behold.

A late evening storm turned the sky pink, and as the clouds cleared to the west, the setting sun and water droplets created a rainbow among the maple, cedar, and pine trees.

When the cobalt flower petals fell from the Blue Salvia and seeds formed in their place, the American Goldfinches gathered their bounty.

Pale purple coneflowers with their wispy, drooping petals danced in the breeze along the trail on an evening bike ride. Prairie grasses and coneflowers complement one another in the prairie landscape.

Farther along the quiet trail, the western sun glittered on a small lake and surrounding cattails that created a perfect home for this mother duck and her ducklings.

Synergy is defined as the interaction of elements that when combined produce a total effect that is greater than the sum of the individual parts. Nature combines the elements of sky, water, land, and vegetation to produce phenomena and beauty that is beyond our imagination. It works together for the good of all so that animals have a place to live, insects have food to eat, plants and trees are pollinated so fruits and seeds are produced that in turn feed other animals. It is the circle of life, the halo of Planet Earth created from the Source in the heavens above. May the powdered gold sunshine grace us all with sustenance, beauty, and synergy.

Sorrow in the Wind*

June 25, 2016 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

I hear the soft wind sighing, in every bush and tree. The sound of my heart crying, when you are far from me.

When we’re apart, my darlin’, there’s sorrow in the wind. When we’re apart my darlin’, sweet sorrow in the wind.

*Sorrow in the Wind, written by American folk singer/songwriter Jean Ritchie, was recorded by Emmylou Harris on her Grammy winning album ‘Blue Kentucky Girl.’ Harmonies by Cheryl and Sharon White, simple guitar picking, and the cries of violin emote the very essence of the song. The word sorrow means distress, misery, and regret associated with loss, grief, disappointment, and sympathy for another’s suffering.

Many of us who have lived with animals know that our mammal friends feel sorrow when a special person or companion is gone from their lives. What about birds? I think we know less about this; however, from watching birds build intricate nests, fiercely protect their eggs and nests, and tirelessly provide food for the tiny young ones, I would guess that in some way, they know the sorrow of loss.

One of our bluebird nesting boxes was occupied by a Tree Swallow. She is a young female, as her plumage is mostly brown and not the iridescent blue and green of a mature bird. She flew from the nest and perched on a near-by tree branch when I took a peek into her house.

What a surprise when I looked in! The nest was lined with feathers of all sizes–my guess is they were goose and swan feathers from the River and wetland areas not far from our hill. Five blush white eggs nestled in the softness.

She cautiously returned to her nest when I moved far enough away.

Two days later, the evidence of a raid spilled from the nesting box.

The nest was torn up, broken egg shells were stuck to feathers and grass, and feathers were on the ground. I don’t know who raided her nest or why. But I felt sadness for her. She had carefully crafted her first amazing feather nest and had laid and warmed the beautiful little eggs.

And then suddenly, they were destroyed. Expectation and hope were dashed.

Nature has its ugly side. Perhaps the raider was the red squirrel who had chewed away at the hole of the nesting box earlier in the season. Maybe it was the aggressive House Wren that has since moved into the nesting box. Perhaps the young swallow couldn’t defend herself and her eggs as well as a mature bird. Who knows? Violence in Nature is often related to hunger and food, territory, or mating.

There’s sorrow in the wind in our world, too. The horror of forty-nine dead and many seriously injured people from the Orlando shooting just two weeks ago is still fresh in our minds and hearts. Dashed hopes and expectations. Destroyed lives. Not to mention the children and staff of Sandy Hook, the co-workers of San Bernardino, students and faculty at Virginia Tech, and the thousands of others who were killed at military bases, colleges, places of employment, and homes. And with each person killed there is a rippling circle of distress, loss, fear and grief among the family, friends, co-workers, first responders, and even bystanders. I hope we are all feeling deep sorrow. I hope we can feel not just sympathy, but empathy for those who are suffering. What if it were our child, our husband, our wife, father, mother, or loved one? The sound of our hearts crying should transform our daily lives to spread love, not hate, to practice patience, not annoyance, to commit to self reflection and peace, not blame and violence. Only then will the sweetness of the sorrow be revealed in the resurrection of faith, hope, and love.

Listen to Sorrow in the Wind

Fathers, Summers, and Moments

June 19, 2016 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

It’s my first Father’s Day without my Dad. Less than six month’s time doesn’t seem like much when one is more than halfway through the sixth decade of life, but it feels like such a long time ago that he died. I will never again send a Father’s Day card–something I know he enjoyed receiving. I have ‘Dad’ programmed in my cell phone, yet I will never be able to call him again to hear his gruff ‘Hello,’ to laugh at his silly jokes, to bear with his political rantings, or to hear him say, ‘I love you, babe–thanks for calling.’

Tomorrow is the first day of Summer, though for most of the country the calendar is not keeping up with the warming temperatures of the seasons–record heat has already scorched the land. When I think of Summer and my Dad, one of the best memories I have is putting up hay for our horses. Sometimes we would just buy hay and artfully stack it in the back of the GMC pick-up–if we did it right, we could haul so many bales without tying them down or losing the load. But the best way was when we put up the hay ourselves. Dad would cut the hay with a sickle mower, let it cure, rake it over with the big-toothed rake at just the right time, then get out the old International #46 baler. With the patience of a saint and only a few cuss words, he would bale the long rows of hay, stopping when a bale flew out of the chute with only one string tied. He would tie the string of the bale still in the baler and adjust the knotter so it would tie again. The scattered, untied bale would be put back into the windrow to be baled again. Sometimes we pulled the hay rack behind the baler and grabbed the bales as they exited from the faded red International, but more often the bales were spit out on the ground in a rhythmic, geometric pattern, and we picked them up later. At times it was my job to drive the tractor at a slow, steady speed while my Dad, Mom, brother and sister picked up the bales or stacked them on the hay rack. Other times I would walk along one side of the tractor, pick up a bale, and with the help of elbows and knees, I would chuck it up on the moving wooden planks. As the stack got higher, it was harder to get the bales up to where they belonged. I marveled at how my Dad (and later my brother) could pick up a bale and toss it above his head with seemingly no effort at all–no knees, forearms or pushing involved! The job I liked best was stacking the bales on the hay rack–it was almost like a puzzle. Dad taught us the best way to stack them so the bales on top would ‘tie in’ the ones below and inside so the stack was tight and stable. And when we had a load, I loved the feeling of sitting on the top of the stack, smelling the sweet, hot smell of fresh hay, and riding back to the barn to start unloading.

It was hard, hot work putting up hay, and it was a family endeavor. The smell of the hay, the sound of the baler, the feel of standing on the swaying hay rack, the sight of a stack of bales, and the delicious taste of cold tea going down our throats when the work was done will forever be etched in my mind and body. It was fun work, together work, important work. Most of the time, we don’t even realize how important those moments are when they are happening. On this Father’s Day and eve of Summer, I am so thankful for all those moments I had with my Dad.

Archives for 2016

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