Off Road

Years ago, I remember a conversation in the car with my 4 year old son as he asked his father, “Daddy? How come you don’t drive in the grass like Mommy does?” My husband burst into laughter as I alternately glared at him and then my son. He patiently explained that people are not supposed to drive in the grass and that possibly I needed more practice. It turns out that I was practicing for future life experience. (Shows him!)

Our driveway is long and narrow as it winds up the hill to our home. It includes two sharp right-angled turns as well as a horse-shoe turn. It wasn’t made with visitors in mind. Inevitably, friends, delivery men and large trucks run off the side and we spend the spring filling in ruts. Visitors glance with fear in their eyes at the long backup required to turn around at the shop. They often comment that they are afraid they will drive in the grass. I just respond, “Don’t worry about it. Everyone drives in the grass up here.”

Gone are the days of the manicured lawn. After two years of gathering dust, we gave our edger to our son. Now, when we need to load firewood or debris, we just drive the truck, tractor or Kubota through the lawn to where we need it. It offers a certain amount of freedom that is refreshing. No more rules, no more pampering the lawn. Who says that driving on the grass will kill it? If driving on your lawn kills your grass, I think you need tougher grass! My only concern is that when I visit my city friends, I will forget my manners and park two wheels up on the curb on their lawn and they will stop inviting me over.

Snow Fences Revisited

Einstein has been credited with saying, “Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”  That is how I feel about snow fences.  It is January and we have reset snow fence #2 several times because it keeps falling down.  Success eludes us.  We have finally had our first snow and so far, the darn thing is still standing.  I think the snow is holding it up.  We are expecting 5-8 inches of snow tomorow.  I will keep you posted.

The Law of Good Intentions

While visiting my family in Texas over Thanksgiving, Gene and the kids enjoyed trap shooting one afternoon. They talked about it for days, so I decided that a great Christmas gift would be to buy Gene a clay trap thrower. How hard could it be? Well, it turns out that it is a bit more involved than just having good intentions.

Like all good shoppers, I got online and investigated various throwers (trap shooters to the well informed). I found one with a good rating and ordered it. Once it arrived, I discovered that you needed clay traps to go with it. Why don’t they do like other toys and give you a few to get started? I opened the box and read the directions to find out what size I needed—yes, there are three sizes. So off to the sporting goods store I went.

Now let me be clear about how my day was going. I had a bad head cold and concentrating and figuring things out was not my strong suit on this particular day. When I got to the store, I looked for the gun section and found two helpful looking men stocking the shelves. I asked them where the clay thingies were that you throw out for target practice. No one laughed. They said, “Do you mean clay trap?” and promptly showed me a mile high stack of them. I grabbed a box (gasp, they are heavy) and the man asked, “Do you need shot to go with these?” I said, “Huh?” He said they had 8 packs of shot on sale and it would be good to buy some. I asked to see them and then said, “Oh, you mean bullets.” Okay, I meant to say ammo, but my head was fuzzy and things weren’t processing really well.

At this point, the salesman should have figured out that I was out of my knowledge base, so maybe it was out of pure entertainment that he asked me, “What gauge gun does he have?” Gauge? I know I have heard that term before, but how am I supposed to know what gauge the gun is? I asked him if they printed the gauge on the side of the gun somewhere. He excused himself (I’m sure he had to go to the stock room to laugh). Then the other, 12-year old looking salesman came over to help. He showed me how to read the gauge and other info on the end of the box. Truly, these things should be sold in sets with everything included! I studied the display and reached with total confidence and picked out a box of shot. The way I see it, shot is cheap, so if I made a mistake we could either give it away or my husband would have to buy a new gun at the After Christmas Sale.

At this point, I huffed my way to the front of the store carrying what felt like 50 pounds of clay and 2 pounds of shot, purchased my goods, slid out the icy sidewalk to realize I couldn’t open the car door and juggle my load. I’m here to tell you, that the law of good intentions dictates that I’m due some really thoughtful gifts as payback for my efforts.

Happy Holidays from Green Acres!

I have received a lot of comparisons to Green Acres since I started my blog. For those of you who missed this 1960’s sit com, this series featured a successful New York lawyer who gives up the rat race to fulfill his dream: living the life of the traditional American farmer. Fighting the move to rural life is his glamorous, boa-wearing, city-loving wife. While I didn’t grow up in a large metropolitan area, it would be fair to say that I moved to the country with some reluctance. After several months of absurd adventures, I decided to start my blog to share these adventures with others.

It is hard to imagine that we have lived in rural Iowa for over two years now, and I’m happy to report that we are still alive and facing each new challenge with a laugh and our trusty Kubota. I have received so many comparisons to the old T.V. show Green Acres that I was determined to take a similar photo for our holiday letter. Unfortunately, it is a lot harder to borrow a pig than you would think. So here is my “slightly retouched” version.

Our year has been filled with adventures and misadventures as we continue to adapt to country living. As I look over my blog and remember our attempts to tame nature, bouts of poison ivy, bon fires, grass fires (oops!), tree trimming, tree falling (oops!), tree not falling (strong expletive!), cutting grass and removing snow, I am amazed that we have escaped serious injury. Dealing with the moles, chipmunks, raccoons, deer, and other wildlife has become a science experiment involving chemicals, weapons and my trusty camera. (If you can’t shoot it, shoot a photo of it!)

We are hoping that this Christmas proves more peaceful than last Christmas when the septic system backed up and we spent the majority of the day digging our daughter’s car out of a snow drift that it landed in when my husband tried to pull her up the icy driveway. I invite you to follow our crazy antics on my blog as we continue to adapt to country living. Happy holidays to all.

Theme song from Green Acres

Green acres is the place for me.
Farm livin' is the life for me.
Land spreadin' out so far and wide
Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside.

New York is where I'd rather stay.
I get allergic smelling hay.
I just adore a penthouse view.
Dah-ling I love you but give me Park Avenue.

...The chores.
...The stores.
...Fresh air.
...Times Square

You are my wife.
Good bye, city life.
Green Acres we are there.

Saga of Snow Fences

We need a snow fence. We know this because everyone who comes up to our house for the first time, asks us if we use a snow fence. Being the clever souls that we are, we recognize that we need help, so we Googled "snow fence installation" and gathered a wealth of information. Things like:


"A drift can spread as far as 35 times the height of the fence. Therefore, the fence must be at least that far from the roadway and the distance may be farther because of irregular terrain. Also build the fence longer than the area that needs to be protected. Add 20 times the height of the fence on each end to account for wind variation." Math stuff hard!  The most daunting bit of information is the statement "proper installation of the snow fence is critical to its success." Hmmm.

Friday - Installation of the first snow fence. Posts, check. Fence, check. Zip ties, check. Printed instructions from the DOT, check, calculator, measuring instrument, bottle of vodka, check. We have determined that the snow fence needs to be 120' from the driveway. 120' is a long way. We decide to go 80'. We install the posts and tie the fence to them, noting that the wind is very strong here, making it difficult to stretch the fence and hold it taut. When we are finished, we note that our straight line is more of a zig, zag, rather than straight. It doesn't look very taut, and we are out of zip ties. Also, the posts look too short. A trip to the hardware store is needed.

Saturday - Installation of second snow fence. This time, we set the posts first, making sure they are in a straight line. THEN we attach the fence, using a few more posts and a few more zip ties. We are so proud. The fence looks straight and taut.

Tuesday - Huge wind storm. Snow fence #2 blows over. Damn it! Are you kidding me???

Thursday - Setting posts with an attitude and a vengeance. More zip ties.

Winter just 36 days away -- I checked on Google!

When life hands you ashes . . . cook wieners!

We had a terrible storm hit our county in July with winds over 130 mph. The storm caused tremendous damage throughout the county with the loss of thousands and thousands of trees, and over 400 telephone poles had to be replaced. Unfortunately, our property was not spared. We lost close to 40 trees. Some were simply blown over, while others snapped 20’ off the ground. There was debris surrounding our house and all over our 14 acres. Fortunately, our home and workshop were spared.


With the help of friends, we were able to clean up the downed trees near the house, and Gene and I have been cutting up one or two trees each weekend trying to clear the rest of the yard. It felt like we were on a treadmill going nowhere. The more we cut, the more trees there appeared to be. And then I found Dean. For the past month, this wonderful man has been helping trim trees and stack firewood. He even rented a 60’ lift to get the dangerous hanging limbs out of the tops of trees. I have felt like I was playing Russian roulette all summer long as I have mowed under these hanging branches, just waiting to be decapitated.

To say that we have created a large burn pile is the master of understatements. The burn pile has grown to 30’ X 20’ X 8’ tall. And I have been patiently waiting for the farmer to harvest the soy bean field that abuts our property. (Okay, I wasn’t patient, but I didn’t want to set fire to his crop and have the entire area talking about me!) And then came our chance . . . a nice, calm weekend day to light this puppy up and get rid of it.

I celebrated as we set fire to one corner of the pile. Had it been up to me, I would have started fires on all four sides, but Mr. Safety Conscious, my husband, suggested that the pile might be too big to handle and we should start small. My celebration lasted about five minutes until the fire lit up all the leaves and we had a serious fire on our hands. I prayed we would not set the neighbors forest on fire. I suspect that is a good way to lose friends.

Three hours after the initial lighting the torch ceremony, the fire appeared to be under control, and we were starting to get hungry. Now this is where being creative and impulsive is a good thing. I suggested that the fire coals were just about perfect for a barbecue. After all, if life hands you ashes, shouldn’t you cook wieners? Gene fabricated a wiener roaster out of a coat hanger. He seemed to think we shouldn’t use the painted hangers in case they were toxic. Always thinking, isn’t he? Just for good measure, I wrapped 4 potatoes in foil and threw them in the ashes. Next time, I will be a little less impulsive in tossing them just anywhere. They can be a bear to find later. We used the Kubota tailgate as an impromptu table. And sat out and enjoyed our lunch while monitoring the fire. This is the life!

750 wieners and 93 packages of buns later, and I still can’t get the buns to equal the same amount of wieners!

Tree Trimming

Do you think it is rude to supervise the tree trimmer?  I'm sitting in my lawn chair with a book, a camera, and a beer.  I think it is important that someone is available in case there is a disaster!