Saturday, July 13, 2013

Pete and Re-Pete Pick Strawberries

"Little boys come in all shapes and sizes,
Shy and adventurous, full of surprises,
With misshapen halos and mischievous grins,
Small dirty faces, and sweet, sticky chins."
 
 These are my grandsons, and yes, they are twins.  Every Thursday they spend the day with me and we have an adventure.  They love strawberries and picking them themselves from Nana's garden is soooo exciting!





 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 







Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Summertime and the livin' is easy

“Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” 
    Henry James
Bee balm, monarda, bergamot -- whatever you call it, it says hot hot summer on the prairie.
 

Monday, July 8, 2013

Something New -- Our World Tuesday

Our World Tuesday Graphic

   Another blogger told me about memes ( a word I had to look up because I never heard it before) and I am going to try linking up to one today.  It seems a fun idea.  For this meme, people from all over the world write about what's going on on a given day, then all the links are gathered and shared.  If all goes well, after you read this, you can click on the URL at the bottom of the page to see what other part of the world grabs your interest.

   So.  Today in my corner of the world it is cherry picking time. 
 
   This is my cherry tree, sour cherries for pies. The birds in my yard love them as much as we do, and it is a battle every summer to get enough for a few pies.  I've tried netting the tree but the birds get under the net, get caught, and then guess who has to free them. 
  That green thing is an old cherry pitter.  The cherries go in the dish, one rolls into the chute, you whack the plunger that forces the pit through a hole in the bottom and the cherry continues down the chute into a bowl.  Theoretically speaking.  In reality, about every other cherry involves a malfunction (too small, goes right down the hole with the pit), so there is a lot of hand pitting involved.
 
   I have picked and pitted enough for a couple pies so far.  The birds have pecked and rendered inedible enough for at least 10 pies.  I can't show you a beautiful pie picture because the cherries are waiting in the freezer for two special occasions: Christmas, and my mom's birthday.  Cherry pie is her favorite.
 
 


Our World Tuesday Graphic

 
 
 
 

 








Sunday, July 7, 2013

It's a bird. It's a plane.

It's ... another nest!

   A while back I posted a photo of a nest built by architecturally challenged robins in my rain gutter.  Well, their story continues. 

   A few days ago there was a ruckus in the backyard with lots of noise that brought me out to see what was going on. Just as I entered the yard, two brown thrashers swooped by me, chasing and diving at a pair of robins, which seemed to be fighting each other.  The thrashers were so close I could feel the woosh of air against me as they wheeled by.  I thought to myself that for some reason they wanted to chase the robins out of the yard and then I kind of forgot about it.

   Next I noticed that I was no longer seeing Baby Robin around, although the parents were still hanging out and eating cherries.

   Last night I was outside cruising the garden and admiring the tiny grapes on the arbor when a robin erupted from the leaves right by my head. 

   Here is what I found, perched atop one of the posts holding up the arbor.


   These are not brightest members of the bird world.  They built their second nest on a post that is 3 1/2 X 3 1/2 inches square.

   Baby is allowed back in the yard today and is hanging out in the birdbath as it is nearly 90 degrees.  I suspect he is the one who was being chased away and told in no uncertain terms that he needs to stand on his own two feet.  I don't know what the thrashers were doing.  Maybe the robins hired them for help.  You know how grown kids keep coming back home these days to live off their parents.  Anyway, he seems to pretending to not even recognize his parents.

   Mama is sitting on the nest in the hot, hot sun.  You can tell she is hot because her mouth is open and she is panting.  I filled the birdbaths and I hope Papa will spell her so she can go get a drink and cool off.  I wouldn't count on it if I were her. He is pretty busy eating the cherries I want for pies. 

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Oh, beautiful for spacious skies . . . .

Red, white, and blue from the garden



Albino squirrel





"God bless America,
           my home sweet home!"
 

Happy 4th of July!

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Best of intentions -- The Minnesota State Public School for Dependent Children

"There can be no keener revelation of a society's soul than the way in which it treats its children."
                                                       Nelson Mandela

   The State School for Dependent and Neglected Children of Minnesota was created with the best of intentions: to take children out of the poorhouses and workhouses, feed them, educate them, and find adoptive families for them.  Built in 1895 on 329 acres outside the small town of Owatonna, the State School and grounds are majestic and peaceful. A tour is narrated by the voice of an elderly man who grew up a "State School kid".
The Administration Building sits atop the hill overlooking the town.  Behind it are the cottages and other buildings, the farm, electric plant, hospital, and cemetery.  It now houses a small museum depicting the history of the orphanage.  Once it held an auditorium and the dining rooms where 500 children and workers ate all their meals.
 
In memory of the 12,000-15,000 (to me this is stunning, considering the population of Minnesota at this time) children who called it home, this sculpture looks out over the rolling front lawns.

   Many, if not most, of the children were not true orphans; they had one or more living parent who couldn't take care of them and earn a living at the same time, came from an immigrant family that had more children than it could house or feed, or there was severe physical or mental illness.
 
Children were housed in "cottages" by age and sex.  Each cottage had a matron dressed in a white nurse's uniform who oversaw the children and meted out corporal punishment for rule infractions.  There were playgrounds, pools, and a gymnasium for the 500 who lived there at a time.
   

 

 
Babies were attended by nurses in what was advertised as a completely sanitary environment.  Sadly, many died of "failure to thrive" from lack of love and touch.  (Click on photos to see details.)
 
 
 
   Each cottage had a front room, where children were never allowed, except sometimes at Christmas.
    The pillows were just for show and not to be used.  They were stored in the closets for the night.
 
   The cottage basement is where the children spent their indoor lives.  They entered and exited through a door in the basement and went upstairs only to go to bed at night.

   Each child had a chair where he sat and waited for the various activities of the day.  He dressed on his chair.  He was punished on his chair.  A little bag hung on the back of each chair with that child's possessions.
   The institution included a farm that raised all the food for the children, an elementary school, electrical plant, greenhouse, kitchen, bakery, shoe repair, barber shop,  and butcher shop, and the children worked in all these, plus did the cleaning and maintenance of the grounds. Most of the children were trained in these skills and then indentured out into the farms of Steele County and the wealthy homes of Minneapolis and St. Paul.  Some were fortunate in finding good placements, but most were sadly misused and overworked, according to their memoirs.
 
198 little graves, unmarked until 1993, stand on a hillside behind the school.
 
   A memorial walkway leads to and from the cemetery.  Some of my sadness went away when I read the inscriptions and realized that many of the children found love and a family after they were grown.
 
   The school closed as an orphanage in 1945 and became a home and school for the developmentally disabled, which continued until 1970.  Many of the old buildings are still in use for other purposes.  The administration building and Cottage 11 are open to the public as a museum.
 
   My grandpa was an orphan in Minnesota in the early 1900s.  I don't know that he ever spent time in an orphanage, but he was shuttled among relatives who didn't want him and taken out of school in the third grade to work and "earn his keep."  He had a hard and sad life as a child, with many of the same memories of the man who narrated this tour.  Happily, he, too, became part of a family who loved him very much, including me. 




Tuesday, July 2, 2013