You Get What You Asked For

We have a neighbor who occasionally does work for us.  This week we had him spreading some landscaping rock around our workshop.  As I was leaving, I mentioned that we had some bigger rocks lying around and to just stack them up near the faucet.  This is what I got.  It makes me laugh.



Dolly seems confused by the new addition.



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.

Singing While Mowing

Have you ever noticed that men and women approach chores differently? Take mowing for example. My husband gears up for mowing as if he is going into battle. He wears boots, pants and long sleeves along with goggles, a face mask and a big straw hat. He is so safety conscious that I suspect he would wear armor if he felt he needed it.

I, on the other hand, wear shorts, tennis shoes and a t-shirt. I dab a bit of eau de bug spray strategically behind my ears, knees, and on my neck, then I accessorize with a fine pair of sunglasses, MP3 player and headphones. I start the mower and then I start singing. I’m not talking about the polite hum along with a song type of singing. I’m singing in full performance mode. My arms are waving, I’m holding long, loud notes and bobbing my head in time with whatever is playing. And I’m having a great time.

Today, when I looked up, I saw my husband sitting in a lawn chair with his arms crossed and that quirked eyebrow that I love so much as he watched me mow. When I asked what his problem was, he said, “You are going to scare the new neighbors. They have small children you know.” Now let’s be real. You would need a pair of binoculars to correctly identify one of our neighbors from our yard, and I can’t possibly be singing that loud. I think he is jealous because I know the words (or at least some of the words, I’m happy to make up the ones I don’t know) to so many songs.

So I have decided to create a play list for my MP3 player of appropriate mowing songs. Here are some of the titles that I have come up with. Be sure to email me if you can think of any others.

Under My Wheels
Don’t Cross the River
Barren Ground
Spare Parts
Dirty Little Girl
All Shook Up
I got Stung
5th Gear
Jesus Take the Wheel
Go Your Own Way
Doctor My Eyes
Running On Empty
Slow Down Sister
Knee Deep in the Water Somewhere
Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?
One Way or Another
Against the Wind
Colder Weather
Whiskey’s Gone
No Hurry
Drive Like Lightning (Crash Like Thunder)
Slip Sliding Away

Over the River and Through the Woods

Whenever it snows, I look out my kitchen window and think of the song lyrics, “Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go.”  A postcard couldn’t better capture the image of snow in the woods, a graceful hill covered in trees and evergreens, and a small clearing just perfect for an old-fashioned sleigh to pass through.  One of these days, I’m going to get the sled out and climb up that hill and take one, quick ride down, imagining I’m young again.  The wind will blow in my face, my heart will race, and for an instant, I will be 8 years old and free.  Sadly, reality will hit as I’m cold and wet, wheezing and pulling the sled to the car, covered in bruises . . . not only to my ego.  But maybe, just maybe, it will be worth the risk.

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.

Farmer's Tan

Gene told me that I'm getting a farmer's tan. Just great! Next thing you know, I will be buying plaid shirts and cutting the sleeves off.

Dealing With Ice

We had our first ice storm this week. Now to be fair, I don’t like ice when I live in the city and there is an entire team of city employees who are in charge of dealing with it. You can imagine my enthusiasm as I look out at the “mile-long” drive. I watched the ice grow to half an inch during the day, but Gene was able to get up the hill, so I ignored it and hoped that it would go away.

As Gene was getting ready for work the next morning, we knew we were going to have to put some salt down. I decided that the best approach was for me to sit on the tailgate of his truck and sprinkle salt out of a five gallon bucket while he drove us down the drive. Gene seemed to think there were safety issues involved with my plan.

We are nothing if not inventive and creative in this house. Gene rigged up a “seat belt” for me to make sure I didn’t fall out. You are going to have to use your imagination to picture this, but a tie-down strap around my waist and two bungee cords actually make a nice seat belt. I thought it was all overkill until we turned around and came up hill. As I was leaning over the tailgate at a 45 degree angle, I realized that I was just one bump away from experiencing a toboggan ride down the mile-long drive (sans the toboggan!).

The best part of my adventure was when we turned around at the foot of the hill and I got to wave at the county snow plow driver who was gaping at me. We’ve talked about him before, so I don’t really care if he thinks I’m crazy.