Shoo Lie Loo

Crafter's Delight

Love, love, LOVE this website - and all I wanted to do was find alternatives to peanut butter for making homemade bagel birdfeeders!

http://www.makeandtakes.com/

Henry's currently hooked on Angry Birds on my iPhone, and I really dislike wrestling with him everyday for control of it (sigh).

This website has a craft to make your own Angry Birds complete with the greedy pigs. You do it from yarn pom-poms, googly eyes and construction paper. And then you use disposable bathroom cups to set up Angry Bird scenes and then fire away! I can't wait to try this one with Henry!!

How to Gain a New Perspective

Another deliciously wonderful website for writers and readers that I've stumbled on. It's a great place to find quotes from your favorite authors or pundits directly relating to a subject that interests you (i.e. finance, religion, child-rearing):

http://www.bookrags.com

I don't have Walden Pond, like Henry David Thoreau. However, that doesn't mean I wouldn't want someplace to go where I can lose myself for a short while and come back to my life with a new perspective.

The past month has been laden with changes and challenges and questions. Most of all, this has truly been the beginning of the journey to find myself. (I'd tried this before, but I'd always found I had too little time to investigate me. I realize now that not knowing myself actually hurts others around me, so it's worth the investment.)

February is still "clean the clutter" month as part of my new resolutions. At first I thought it was just physical clutter. Baby clothes and gear, things I either bought or received that I've never used, items much better off at Goodwill where someone can make use of them, etc.

But, after a rather thought-provoking weekend, I realize that, in order to truly "clean the clutter", I first have to "de-clutter" my brain. For the past decade, it's been so jam-packed with stress and worry and fear and self-doubt and feelings of inferiority (as many of us experience) that I've been virtually paralyzed in my quest to "Be Kimm".

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    • (And yes, it is spelled with TWO M's! It may not have been when I was little, but it is a nickname! I've taken the liberty to add that second M almost 12 years ago, sometimes sporadically at first as I myself got used to it (since my full name is Kimmberli, not Kimberli), and it's going to stay!
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        •  
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              •  Ok, I'm climbing off that pedestal now....

Anyhoo, back to my original thoughts. I cam up with a crazy idea to take a road trip. Not sure to where, not sure when, etc. But it would be alone. Free of distractions, my own music blasting on the radio, a change of scenery (whether it be mountains or prairies or beaches or big cities). Something I have not done since I was at my zenith at the age of 18, busting thru the borders of a small town into the real world like a bucking bronco smashing thru his cage.

One of my most vivid memories when I first came back to Millington when I was 20 years old was how incredibly small it seemed!!! My childhood house was very small, but there was no shortage of old Victorians and large farmhouses scattered around microscopic now that I'd lived in big cities, ridden like a pro on subways, shopped at stores where the milk was organic and came in large, chilled bags, spelled "colour" instead of "color"  and savored Thai food.

I'll never forget steering onto the bridge over the Fox River when I came home for a visit - a bridge I'd crossed thousands and thousands of times since my birth on my way to Sandwich. It appeared to be so incredibly small, as if only one car and maybe a bike could cross it at the same time. This was, of course, an illusion of my eyes. But wow....this startling visual perspective took my breath away!! The river that once looked large and even a bit intimidating seemed little more than a large creek after having driven over the St. Laurence River in Quebec.

The whole moment was astonishing, to say the least. And it left a deep and lasting impact on my life. Which is why, even though I loved my hometown and think of all the blessings that can be found in a small alcove of the world where everyone knows everyone else, I will always encourage my children to expand their horizons as far as they can (and want). There is an entire world out there, full of mystery, intrigue and...spicy food.

Happy ponderings, everyone!!! :)

 

 

 

Experimental Photography in the Yard

I hadn't moved beyond the iPhone for a while, so it was fun to break out my actual camera yesterday to take some interesting pics of some natural touches.

 
 
 
 
 

 

Summer Comes Early

One of the things that bothers me so about this time of year is the fact that I have to switch out the kids' clothing on a daily basis.

If it's a good week, I've prepared in advance and have outfits lined up for Monday-Friday, PJs included, for both children in their clothing sorter.

Granted, with the laundry room project currently stalled, we've embarked on yet another venture to attempt clothing organization. Each of us now has a small casket-sized bin in which we can store all of our personal clothing items without worrying about cat hair or dust. (Wrinkles are a non-issue - so long as we are sans dryer, I'm totally ok with any of us having a few crinkles here and there.)

I've also added large lingerie bags for each family member - socks and undies go in there, and I'm hoping this will cut down on the sorting and processing time.

Anyhoo, I once again digress.

Tomorrow is supposed to be the hottest day of the year, thus far. We're supposed to reach the 90s! We are also supposed to have some storms - and we live in the infamous "Tornado Alley". So anytime, especially in May, that we hit record highs AND the forecast is calling for storms, I get a little antsy. In this house, however, we have a huge, sturdy and mostly empty basement. So that does give some comfort.

As I type this, it's a balmy 77 degrees outside. I'm hoping that keeping the house al fresco as much as possible will keep us from breaking down and installing window a/c units. Ceiling and standing fans will have to suffice for now. The window in front of me is open, and a slight breeze is fluttering the blinds.

Yesterday gave us the first glimpse of this incredible weather.

It was Mother's Day, and Chris surprised me and the kids by taking us on an authentic paddlewheel ride down the Illinois River. We had lunch on-board, and then we spent the latter half of the ride on the top and mid-decks looking out over the water at sailboats and buoys (which the kids thought were seriously cool). We wind, sun and water made for a perfect mixture of spring joy, and I think all of our minds were soothed by the thought that the real spring is now here.

I was also gifted with a squirrel feeder, which Chris installed in our front tree today. It's the kind with the little pedestal where Sammy Squirrel squats and lifts the lid to grab a handful of food. Chris bought a bag of squirrel food and filled it to the brim with colorful corn kernels, nuts and other squirrel treats. 

Wouldn't you know it? Not one squirrel came by today... I waited all afternoon, watching from my office window. Nothing. Not one squirrel came by to lift the lid. (I did, however, spot a beautiful red-breasted grosbeak for those of you who care to know every critter that comes to our yard...) Better luck tomorrow - I think they are embarrassed that we would give this very personal gift to them after they have been so rude and downright gluttonous at the birdfeeders. I'm personalizing this, right?

Today was also beautiful. It was sunny and warm, and we enjoyed a very mild spring shower around 3pm. Not enough to make even a puddle but enough to cool the earth and make the lilacs pop with their heavenly fragrance.

Lucy had tumbling practice tonight, so Henry and I decided to take advantage of such a lovely day. We walked from the YMCA to the library where I finally picked up my library card. (Mom, I promise to do my best not be a delinquent and to return my books within the specified timeframe...I don't want to be announced on the local radio station nor do I want to be tossed in the slammer for abducting "Froggy Goes to School" from the kiddie shelves...)

After the library and choosing just two books (both for the kids), Henry and I went to a local coffee house. Literally - a coffee "house". It's an old Victorian that someone has turned into a cute "rooster-themed" coffee shoppe. Henry spent 74 cents on a grape juice box, and we again ventured into the sunshine.

We walked around the town picking up interesting rocks, looking at every car that went by ("Mommy, can we get a car like that one??"), investigating planters, petting a goofy coonhound named Thunder and watching bunnies scamper about in the bushes of the old buildings. We also found a tree from the original Potter Farm back in the 1850s, the site of today's downtown Kewanee. We also found a sign that told us that Abraham Lincoln had twice visited Kewanee shortly after his infamous Gettysburg Address. How cool is that??

Additionally, Henry also got a "shout-out" from a car speeding by. I have to admit, I was a little shocked to hear "Hey there, Henry!!" as the car went careening down Tenney Street. It was his teacher, Miss Katie. Nice that my three-year-old son is more popular and well-known here than his mom... As you can imagine, he was delighted... :-)

After Lucy's class ended, we came home and did quick showers and dinner. Then, after what I considered to be waaaaa-aaaaay past their bedtime, I finally shuffled them upstairs. The new books will have to wait until tomorrow, I'm afraid.

It was a nice day, I have to admit. And the sunshine really makes your heart sing. Blooming spring flowers, birds, bikes, tank tops, flip-flops, hair flapping thru car windows in the breeze....all welcome to eyes sore from many days of rain and cold muck.

So, tomorrow is the "unofficial" start of summer. And guess what? I think I might be ready....

Animals on the Offense!

I'm back from the dead....it's funny how, at 34 years of age, a sinus infection can leave you a shriveled, sniffly mess standing outside of St. Peter's famous gate. Unable even to stay up past sundown to type on a computer.

In addition to the confounded rain and repeated wardrobe changes of spring, allergies rank up there as "worst season ever".

But, once all is well again and the rain subsides for a day or two, spring officially makes its way back into my good graces. Especially now that the magnolias and flowering crabs are in full bloom, tulips encircle nearly every tree and birdnests quietly peep with the first sounds of spring babies.

Which brings me to the topic of my blog du jour...spring animals.

Moving from a subdivision with immature trees, we rarely saw squirrels. As a matter of fact, I could probably count on one hand the number of squirrels I saw while living for five years in my previous home.

Sure, there were birds - robins, red-winged blackbirds, the American goldfinch, Canada geese, mourning doves. And I had feeders in the backyard and the front. (If you are not a birdlover, you'd be amazed at how much mint you can go thru feeding those goldfinches...they can really tuck it away!)

Also, living near the canal, there was an abundance of grassland-dwellers. Rabbits, toads, coyotes, foxes, turtles, frogs, field mice, giant caterpillars...

I would have to say, though, that I was never "approached" by an animal in Channahon. They kept their distance unless I was on the prowl (i.e. cornering a terrified toad in the flower garden so that I could show him to the kids).

Kewanee animals...they are NOT the same. Literally and figuratively speaking.

I've yet to see a goldfinch, but cardinals are all over the place! I haven't see a coyote or a fox, but I've seen an abundance of the previously-elusive squirrels. So much so that we joke we are living on a squirrel farm. (Which fits, as we are all a little nutty here...ba dum dum...*wink*)

Going back to my roots, I'm a nature-lover like my dear ol' dad. I see an animal with a crooked wing, I'm there with the Scotch tape to fix 'er up. An orphaned raccoon?? I'll take him in!

It hasn't come to that around here, though. Most of these animals are keenly self-sufficient (minus some cats who shall remain nameless). I've yet to see one of the 2,000 squirrels living on our block smushed in the road. They can scramble across the road in front of a Buick careening straight at them at 40 MPH like they are running to the end field during the last ten seconds of the Super Bowl with the entire defensive pack knipping at their heels! Cross my heart!

I digress.

My point is, I'm a nature-lover. So, with this new selection of wildlife and the unfamiliar trees, bushes, flowers and, well, habitat surrounding me, I have been doing my research.

One of the things my research has lead me to is an app for my phone called "Wildbird Lab". (It's free.)

It uses the GPS feature on your cell phone to locate where you are and approximate the types of birds you might expect to see in your area. You click on the bird's name and voila! There is a picture, a map detailing their migratory pattern and a sample of their call.

I picked up this handy little app about a month ago. Whenever I see a bird, I push "submit", and it sends my data to the folks at Cornell University, who apparently are tracking bird specie whereabouts. And then it kindly thanks me for "contributing to citizen science". I feel I'm making a difference, even as the battery in my phone burns my hand.

One of the features I especially like is the sample of the birdcalls. I've managed to get the attention of several cardinals, sparrows and blue jays by playing the call. I find it fascinating as they swoop in to see where that lovely bird noise is coming from. (It's also entertaining...)

The other night, I heard a white-breasted nuthatch calling from a few trees down. They have a rather annoying cackle call, but the picture on my app showed a lovely small bird that looked like a miniature blue jay. We had recently switched out our feed for a more nut and berry blend, so I thought I'd give this guy a call.

It worked. Well. Very, very well.

Along comes the confused, and, apparently, very lonely nuthatch. I sighed with happy fascination to see him do a few observation swoops around the front yard and along the porch as my phone cackled back at him.

And then, to my surprise, he actually came on to my screened-in porch.

Now, I'm not at all afraid of birds. The most frightening thing about birds, in my mind, is the possibility of getting pooped on as I dodge for my car. (Hey, Chris has already been a victim this spring of this fowl act...ba dum dum *wink*.)

But this guy, though small in size, has a beak as pointed as a quilting needle! And he was FAST! He was on the porch lickety-split, my phone still cackling away, him bouncing off the screens here and there looking for either an escape or the bird to which he was attracted as I little-girl danced and jumped here and there to avoid his swoops. If common sense had taken hold, I would have gracefully stepped back to the opposite side of the porch. He would have eventually figured out he had been dooped and would have been on his way. But no - I thought it best to stand my ground and watch him struggle for an escape. God forbid if he hurt a wing....who'd rescue him??

After several minutes of our ridiculous game, I managed to prop open the front door to holler "Chris, you gotta see this!!!" (To cry for help would have been a sign of weakness...)

Chris came out on the porch. He's so used to me, God love him. He just stared and said "Wow, sweetie." I really believe that is all he said. Some husbands may have been banging garbage can lids in desperate aid or shouting for another brewski from the sofa. Not my Chris. Maybe it was his calming presence. Maybe it was a shift in the wind. Maybe the nuthatch finally figured out the there wasn't a nuthatch dame waiting to nest with him. But moments later, he lit off the porch thru the door and flew to land in the tree.

Enough excitement? Heavens no....but this time, I was somewhat innocent...

The other day, as I was stepping out to get the mail, I was encountered by a furry critter. He stopped - paws mid-air. I cocked an eyebrow.

Yep, it was a squirrel. On my porch.

Well, without saying a word, all hell broke loose! The deranged squirrel began doing a "Wall of Death" routine along our porch screens, dashing here and there horizontally as I stood and simply watched. I wasn't about to approach the guy. He was clearly "in the know" that he had made a bad choice. I continued to watch as he scrambled this way and that, probably cursing those diabolical screens.

After a good five minutes, he found his way thru a teeny slit in the bottom of one of the screens.

Grateful to be alive, unharmed and free? Not a chance...the little brat climbed into our front tree and started belittling me with screechy squirrel barks, accompanied by vicious tail shivering! The audacity of the little scoundrel!!!!! I swear if I had a squirrel-speak translator it would have been "You wanna piece a me, huh?"

The nuthatch had made my heart race. The squirrel...he probably got my systolic blood pressure up a little bit.

I summed it up to "squirrel drama" and a freak incident. Until today. When it happened again...

Once again, it's a peaceful spring day. I step out onto my front porch to collect the mail (which I'm now considering to be an act of bravery). And again, I'm confronted by a squirrel. Probably the same one, but most assuredly fatter than last time.

Again, he went into full-blown panic mode. Horizontal dashes along the screens. Apparently unable to find or unable to fit thru that teeny screen hole from the last time.

After several mad dashes with me just standing there stupified, he decided to charge me. And I decided to dodge. He came dashing across the green Astroturf, his little squirrel claws digging in deep, and he rounded the corner to the front steps and was away in a flash! Only to reappear in the tree in nanoseconds to start with his squirrel-barking and tail-wagging show.

As I told my co-worker Mickey earlier, he and I shared dialogue this time. I told him that, if he decided to pull this trick on me again, I would be wearing him on my head.

I hope that does the trick.

Otherwise, I'm deleting the bird app and assigning Chris to mail duty.

Have a GREAT night!

 

 

 

 

 

That Charlie is a REAL Creep (or so I've heard...)

As the days of spring bring us more and more plant and animal life, I'm drawn further into solving the mystery of "what lies beneath".

Yesterday, Easter Sunday, my mother-in-law walked me thru the yard and helped me to identify several plants we had growing but which I had little to no previous history tending. (I attempted this with my dad and brother on Facebook but was met with their typical goofiness...)

Hostas, flag plants (breathtaking when they will bloom!!), red maples, eunonymous, blue fescue, patches of Kentucky Bluegrass...

We discovered some old bricks covered by a vast field of a clover type of groundcover with violet trumpet shaped flowers. I had noticed this groundcover all around the yard. It surely is pretty, and it's also aromatic. I also remember seeing it quite a bit in my own yard as a child.

There was another variation of this groundcover, only the flowers were a lighter purple and were more fan-shaped. We saw far less of those.

My mother-in-law told me that we had....duh da daaaaa...Creeping Charlie. She said she wasn't 100% sure, but she felt pretty confident. And, according to her assessment of the situation, this was not a welcome visitor, but rather an invasive wildflower.

Well, my ears started to twitch and I had to practically lasso myself to the porch so as not to make a hasty, Internet-bound retreat. However, once we were inside, I was able to converse with the fam while I surfed from my phone. My poor mother-in-law - little did she know what can of worms (ha!) she had opened. Because, a little information goes a long way with me, and I've been accused of being an Internet Bloodhound.

Within minutes, as the family attempted to talk about things that most normal families talk about during a holiday get-together, I was interrupting the casual flow of the conversation dancing like a five-year-old who has to pee.

"Mom, Mom, MOMMMMMM...is this it? Is this what we saw??"

And yes, it was....Creeping Charlie.

The first site that I visited introduced "Charlie" as a friendly wildflower. Fragrant, edible, pleasing to the eyes, an easy to grow groundcover with a vast array of medicinal qualities. It belongs to the mint family. "Charlie" prefers moisture and shade. Well, our yard is a paradise for "Charlie"... With all the trees and tall houses, shade-loving plant life does quite well here.

But this left me confused. My mother-in-law had said, in no uncertain terms, that "Charlie" was a jerk. He squats on your territory and mooches off of other plant life. And that, once a resident, "Charlie" is nearly impossible to evict. This website (which I cannot recall because of the speed with which I was surfing) had described "Charlie" as the boy-next-door...

So I ventured to another website.

Confirmation.

There are two ways to look at "Charlie". As described above by the first website and then, as the next website clearly stated, "Charlie" really should go. Creeping Charlie is known to completely choke lawns, particularly those that are shady. The pretty little flowers that first display are just a tease, really, because they eventually fade into brownish clovers.

Various commercial products like Round-Up aren't even effective against this creepy chap. Borax or a chemical with a Borax component is the only way to go. It's highly toxic, smells horrible and will kill anything around it. That sort of goes against the grain (ha again!) of my organic thinking.

By the way, the relative of "Charlie" with the fan-shaped leaves turns out to be Creeping Thyme. This is viewed as a "friendly" groundcover, also easy to grow, and is very resilient to being walked on. Therefore, it is quite good to grow in between the bricks on patios or sidewalks, sort of like you would use moss.

So, I will have to debate on this to see if "Charlie" will go or if we'll let him stick around for a while. Certainly he doesn't detract from the beauty of the house (he actually enhances it with a naturistic aesthetic).

So, some of my first gardening mysteries have been solved. 
The news is a mix of good and bad, but it really depends on how you look at it.

I'm just very, very thankful that it is NOT a green mumba....Dad....  ;-)

Spring Isn't Springing...

Well, I guess it is, to some degree.

We have green. We have budding. We have birds a'plenty (which I'd rather call "hogs" since they go thru nearly a bag of food a day). We have mud. The calendar clearly states that we are "well into" spring.

Yet, it's still downcoat weather. It's still "start your car before you head out to let it warm up" weather.

As one who has lived in Illinois the greater part of her life, I should not be surprised. But, here it is, April 21st, and we are still getting frost, biting winds and even snow!

I have twenty-odd somethings growing in my front yard, but they appear to be afraid to bloom due to the unpredictability of Mother Nature. So I stare at green leaves, daily, and wonder what they will become.

Spring, I implore you - please make thyself known. I need to be able to take my kids to the park or have them ride around the back helter-skelter on their trikes. I need fresh air. I need to be able to wear a hoodie. I need....a change!

Virginia Bluebells

When I was a little girl, I have distinct memories of picking bouquets of Virginia Bluebells and lilacs for my mom for Mother's Day. I'd put them in one of my dad's mason jar glasses and voila, instant gift.

Granted, my mom may not remember those bouquets as well as I do, because moms are supposed to accept trinkets and small gestures from their small children as if they are prized possessions. My dad usually managed something from us kids, and Mother's Day was usually a flurry of activity - go to Grandma Cleary's house, have a nice dinner, maybe BBQ out, etc. I honestly don't have many childhood memories of Mother's Day other than those darn bouquets.

Virginia Bluebells are perhaps my favorite flower. Yes, I love tulips and lilacs, hyacinths and hydrangeas, roses and Asiatic lilies, lavender, peonies, clematis, moonflowers and morning glories and asters - my taste has evolved over the years as I've started my own gardens.

However, the Virginia Bluebell holds significant meaning for me now. Like so many experiences in life, which we inevitably take for granted due to the hustle and bustle of our own worlds, the Bluebells only hang out for a very short time.

They grow in heavily shaded and moisture-rich areas, like my old backyard in Millington. There was an easement from our property to the cornfield behind us that was heavily wooded and very hidden from the sun. It was also at the bottom of a hill, which allowed for ample water drainage right down into the thick of it - where you would found bountiful Bluebells each spring. Delicate draping trumpets in lavender, violet and sky blue presented on large, green, leafy plants. (See picture.)

You had to be quite careful when picking these flowers. It wouldn't take much for the flowers to pop off the stem. So, in the clumsy hands of a five or six-year-old, it was good that there were hundreds of plants to pick.

I'd give the flowers to my mom, and then, over a very short period of time, the Bluebells would wilt and then dry out and then crumble at the slightest touch. Such a short lifespan for such a lovely, unsung flower. (The lilacs don't stay with us for very long either, but you can keep their fragrance going if you keep the branch thoroughly watered.)

I mention these flowers tonight because, as I was unloading the kids from the van after playschool, I noticed that the neighbor behind us has one lone clump of Bluebells growing. I hadn't expected to see them there, amongst his diesel engines and various other projects that he and (so it would seem) everyone is working on. I gasped because it's been so very long since I've seen my beloved Bluebells. And I took each child by the hand and showed to them the precious flower.

I'd have launched into an all-out nature lesson on the short life of the Bluebell, but both of the kids wanted to get inside to see our kitty visitor, Domingo. So, they were off and running thru the mud in their rainboots before I could really even say "Bluebell". Oh well, even kids are lost in their own worlds.

I call our daughter Lulubelle (or sometimes, Lubelle). I'm not sure where the name came from, but she's had it since she was months old. We made her a toychest, and we painted that name on the front of it. I'm as uncertain where Lucille/Lucy evolves into Lulubelle as I am where Margaret becomes a Peggy. But, no matter, that's her nickname (or, one of them -- the child may suffer an identity crisis because we picked a good name for lots of nickname opportunities).

One day, I called out to her "Lubelle!" when we were at the store. The woman beside me said "Bluebell? Is that her nickname? How sweet is that?"

That moment stuck with me, because I'm sure most people aren't used to hearing Lubelle. But it warmed my heart.

And now, when I refer to my daughter as Lubelle, I often think back to the reference of Bluebell. And sometimes, just for fun, I'll actually call her Bluebell.

And, like the flower that I love so much, the little girl that I love so much will all too soon be gone into her own world, her own life.

And that, my friends, is the reason that you really should stop to smell the Bluebells. :-)

 

Busted!

After cramming his little face into the feeder, I knocked on the window to notify him that he had been caught. Therefore, he made a mad dash... Sorry for the crummy view. The only way I could snap the pic on the fly was thru my kitchen window....otherwise, he would have scurried. away.

Our First Known Visitor to the Windmill Birdfeeder

Front Porches

Oh what a wonderful day!

We worked on projects outside all day - all on the front porch.

I love the sunshine as much as most people, but there is something so soothing about laboring underneath a shelter while still being able to feel the fresh spring air all around you. (It also makes for fantastic ventilation...)

There has been much ado about our front porch.

Lavina, the previous owner, was talked into buying this house by her husband. According to her daughter, the two things that sealed the deal were the fireplace and...the front porch.

Our neighbors tell us that Lavina used to sit outside on the front porch daily and just enjoy the fresh air. You can tell that her family fixed it up to make it comfortable for her. They installed ceiling fans and blinds, screened it in and added the two French doors. It might not be the most attractive porch on the street, but I'd bet it's at least the biggest.

My mom also loves the front porch. She is just waiting for us to tear down the screens (which are in rotten shape and mess up the view) and the doors to make it nice and open. And, once we've done that, sweet ol' Mom expects us to head straight to The Cracker Barrel to get a set of rocking chairs.

The kids love the front porch because it's like an outdoor room. They could literally ride their bikes on it. Hopefully this summer we will spend a lot of time out there doing messy crafts and things while staying cooler than if we were in the middle of the yard (and keeping the house cleaner at the same time).

Chris has recently informed me that, after doing extensive research via his iPhone, he is planning on growing his own tea and tobacco - the front porch would be a nice place to initiate the process, although both his planting devices and produce would quickly be scooted off.

The animals in the neighborhood, both wild and domesticated, seem to enjoy our porch, too. We have had a cardinal fly in to hop around, make an assessment that there wasn't a feeder up there and then fly off. Various other birds like to hang around in the overhangs and gutters (oh, goody). Squirrels like to play on the railings. And an unknown number of cats have visited (both on the porch and beneath it).

Every country song singing the praises of front porches now makes sense to me.

Have I mentioned we also have a back porch....? No? Well, that's probably better left alone for the time being....(ugh....)

 

Heavily Shaded Area Growth

Prairie Grass

Sundial or Birdbath?

New Growth

We have lots of plant surprises coming in...

Feather Down Farm Days®

Feather Down Farm Days®

Found this in Country Living, March edition.

If you want to learn where your food really comes from and you also want to support Midwestern Farms, plan a family vacation at one of the farms from this site. The money is well-spent because you combine education with vacation. Plus, it just looks like fun...

I don't live on a farm, but I grew up with a cornfield out my back window and, for many years, geese, chickens and ducks to care for.

Weather Or Not...

Every spring here in Illinois, I do the same thing to myself - I burst through the doors on the first day where temperatures don't require down coats and head-to-toe bundling to drink in that delicious sunshine.

And every year, I'm hornswaggled (a term that I find is perfectly acceptable down here). The weather gives us a sneak peek, a tiny tidbit to get us all excited and to dig out the garden tools. And then, it happens...the temperatures drop, the pollen count explodes and it's miserable. For days. On end.

Case in point, last Saturday and Sunday were in the 50s and 60s. We spent those two days really enjoying the weather and watching the curtains flutter. We tackled the now infamous "leaf project".

Despite the weather...today, on my lunchbreak, I stepped outside in a coat and rainboots into a cold, miserable drizzle under a pale gray sky to lay down grass seed and to gently rake aside some debris burying unknown garden finds from the side of the house. My goal was to try to expose and  hopefully identify some of the perennials, trees and bushes that previous owners have planted.

Once again, I embraced my A.D.D. tendencies and moved quickly along the side of the house. Daffodils, lilys, prairie grass, a few ornamental trees and a gorgeous dark green leafy ground cover that appears to vine (ivy?)... Instant gratification. I would bag the piles of ick later.

I moved on further to the back of the side yard to discover another garden. I'd reference Frances Hodgson Burnett and call it my very own Secret Garden, but the area is in plain view. Just another example of the famous saying that a man will walk straight thru the gates of hell with both eyes wide open (since we tend to ignore our senses).

Perched centrally in that garden is an old metal weathervane/windmill. I posted a picture earlier because I'm hoping that those more creative than me will be able to help me come up with a way to repurpose it into something for the birds. A feeder, a perch? Should I just make it a piece of garden art?

It's clearly something you'd see down on the farm. I would love for it to make the house pop. Color - lots of color. The Victorian Period was splashed with color.

However, our house has been resided, possibly several times, into a drab off-white. The only hints of color to the house are the red cedar wheelchair ramp off of the porch (my son three-year-old Henry calls it "the bridge"), the black shingled roof and some trimwork on the front porch in a pale green. There is also bright green Astroturf covering the whole floor of the wraparound front porch, but that's not really my idea of "color".

So, this weathervane/windmill-a-ma-bob is ample enough in size that I can place it somewhere in the yard to add some eye candy.

One of my best girlfriends introduced me to spray paint not so very long ago. I keep finding things around the house that are begging to be primed and painted. I've sampled reds, blues and greens, a stony-finish taupe. Not sure where to start with this thing. I see endless possibilities. Hubby, no doubt, sees it as something he's going to have to help me haul out of the garden bed.

No matter - the weather will not get me down. Ok - honestly? It will. But only for a short time. Because I know something that only people who have spent a fair amount of time in Illinois know: if you don't like the weather, wait a few minutes because change will undoubtedly come.

 

Restoring an Old Metal Weathervane?

Looking for ideas to make this into a nice piece for the yard. Colors? Additions? Total waste?? I would like it to blend country with Victorian...

The Mystery Unraveled a Little Further...

Today's project was to buy a new van. Pending some other issues, we are waiting until Monday to complete THAT project.

One of the benefits of backbreaking yardwork (which was the back-up A.D.D. project du jour) is that you often get to converse with your neighbors.

While Chris and I watched the skies for threatening rainfall as we shoveled about 23 bags of leaves, branches and seed pods, an unknown neighbor came by to introduce herself. Forty-five minutes later and her cat Wendell using one of our eight leaf piles as a litterbox as we watched in resigned curiosity, we found ourselves covertly dancing back and forth with "we need to move on now" as she continued to talk.

However, truth be told, she was a wealth of information about the previous homeowners for at least the past 30 years and the goings-on of the current residents of our prestigious Chestnut Street. 

Chris and I have always been very intrigued by the Winchester Mystery House in California for its odd structures and designs, a la  Sara Winchester, the wife of the late inventor of the Winchester rifle. A psychic had apparently told her, at some point, that she needed to move from her native Boston to the West Coast.

The eccentric Sara Winchester required her builders to work 24/7 to appease the spirits with a grandiose house made of nothing but the finest of materials (and she was a bottomless pit of money) and also to confuse them with odd architectural designs to prevent them from following her. With the unusual staircases and completely odd architecture of our house, we had immediately begun referring to it as "The Winchester Mystery House of Kewanee."  

And guess what...there was indeed an "eccentric little old lady" who lived here. As we had suspected. And she barricaded herself into the dining room as her primary residence. As we had suspected. And she built on various additions and questionable upgrades. As we had suspected. And she had plopped a bathroom two feet from the grand foyer in our house because "she could". As we had suspected.

We also found out that this eccentric elderly lady had, at one time, turned her home into a home for elderly ladies. So parts of the picture become clearer.

This all still clearly, and possibly more so, propels me to go to the Kewanee Historical Society to uncover more mysteries.

Now - some hydrocortisone on my neck, a nice adult beverage and some blogging about the day's experiences have made me feel quite good. And I'm ready to tackle something else tomorrow.

But guess what....we FINISHED the project. The front yard, as proven by the pictures in the photo album, show the before and after shots of what we tackled today. And I'm awful proud of us. We worked as a family in the beautiful "day before spring" sun, each with our own rakes and each child additionally wielding a cheap plastic shovel. And Super Grammy came to the rescue at the right time to bring us additonal lawn bags (we seriously thought ten bags would be enough...?) AND take over childcare for the evening so we could finish without having to constantly run interference.

We have uncovered grass and hostas and renewed our belief in ourselves that we can complete a project.

The result? Sore....but very, very proud.