One Year Later . . .

A year ago, we moved out into the country. It isn’t as if we moved to a new planet, but it did present us with a number of challenges and opportunities that required us to adapt and change our outlook. I remember driving up and seeing a huge hole in the yard where the inspector had dug up the septic tank access to inspect it. That was a challenge that we hadn’t planned on for moving day. The seller said, “A couple of scoops with the tractor and you will have that filled in in no time.” My thought was, “Who knows how to drive a tractor?”


I remember spending the first couple of months wondering what happened to my well-ordered life. The next couple of months I ordered everything online so that I could see Ray, the mailman, and Bruce the UPS man and have someone to talk to. Where did all the people go? And then it started snowing, and Gene and I went into survival mode. With the second highest snowfall totals on record, I spent so many hours in the Kubota, that I am now qualified for a commercial snow removal license. Look out Urbana Streets Department! (I have actually seen the Urbana Streets Department which to the best of my knowledge consists of one guy, a can of white paint, a paint roller, and a pick up. But I will say that he did a great job this fall cleaning up before Urbana Corn Days.)

Just as we celebrated the end of winter and the snow melting, mowing season hit. We had the second highest rainfall this summer (do you see a pattern?), and the grass loved it. Two mowers and 3 ½ hours each week and we had the grass mowed. Fortunately, I was already a pro mower, but mowing is really scary here.

Now, fall has approached and we are celebrating not just surviving, but thriving in the country. Gene knows how to drive the tractor . . . I have an opportunity to get a commercial truck drivers license. I no longer hit the dirt when I hear shots fired, or reach for the phone when I smell smoke. I’m not going to say that I have converted to a country girl, but I’m considering adding a cup holder and seat belt for my John Deere to my Christmas List. (Gene cringes at the seat belt request. He seems to think if you need a seat belt for a mower, you are trying to mow a hill that is too steep.)

You will know that I’ve truly gone country when I trade in my SUV for a pickup with a towing package and I wear a ball cap to town. Until then, I will continue entertain myself with writing down all the stories as we learn how to live in the country.

Pick-Up Sticks

As a child, I loved the game Pick-Up Sticks. The game consisted of a can of brightly colored wooden sticks that you would shake and then dump out on a table. Sticks have to be removed from the pile without disturbing the remaining ones. The person who collects the most sticks wins. At the age of 8, I felt particularly skilled at this game and envisioned myself the envy of all others.


Now I find myself playing an entirely different kind of game called Pick-up Sticks that isn’t nearly as entertaining as it use to be. With all the wind that we have had this summer, Gene and I find ourselves regularly picking up sticks in the yard prior to mowing. Some, the small ones, are simply a nuisance. They are just big enough to make you hesitate before pretending you didn’t see them while passing over the mower. I just shrug when Gene comments that the mower blades don’t seem very sharp, and hope he doesn’t look over his shoulder while I’m mowing. Others are large enough to cause you to put the mower on idle while you climb off and move them. And then there are the big limbs that finally fall to the ground and require a two-man effort to haul to the burn pile.

I’m looking forward to cool days so that we can light the burn pile and roast some hot dogs!

The Squirrels are Trying to Kill Us!

Dolly has done a great job of keeping the squirrels on the run since we moved in.  She races out of the garage as soon as you hit the garage door opener, squeaking under the door before it even opens fully.  They know that she will not follow them into the woods, but will chase them to the tree line, where they scramble up the tree and taunt her.  Now they have begun tossing acorns down on us.  It is literally raining acorns under the big oak. 

I spent the weekend sweeping them off the drive, only to have dozens of them fall on my head.  As I look up, the squirrels are chattering away, and I swear they are smiling.  Dolly does her bit by picking up a mouthful of acorns and carrying them to the grass and spitting them out.  She truly is a wonder dog.

While all of this is amusing, I found that it is possible to hydroplane sideways down the hill on a riding lawnmower.  I kid you not.  I'm going to die by squirrel!