A Shift in the Season

It almost seems like there were two weeks last week, the beginning was so different from the end. The beginning of the week was hot and dry. The temperature during the days hit the low 90's, which is very hot for us here in the Allegheny Plateau. That all changed on Wednesday when a storm blew in and brought us rain. The temperature dropped back into the 60's, our usual sort of September weather. It feels decidedly autumnal now.

We persuaded the Thayns to stay an extra day and spend Labor Day with us. I’m glad they stayed. Tabor and Josiah were finally able to go fishing that morning.

Tabor with fish.

Josiah and fish.

 Later in the morning we drove out to our friends, the Nicholas’s, house and loaded up a new wood stove. It isn’t really a new stove. It’s an old stove the Nicholases weren’t using and they gave it to us to use. It’s smaller than our old stove and much, much more efficient. We’ll have to have the stovepipe adjusted and a damper installed. One of the Miller boys (the Amish who put in our chimney) is coming tomorrow to see what needs to be done. We’re looking forward to a warmer house this winter, not that we’re anxious for the cold to come. While the Thayns were here that day, we finished stacking the woodpile too. Now with a good stove and a supply of wood, we’re a little more ready to face the winter (almost).

Our "new" wood stove.

Monday evening we took a walk up the road to the hollow, over the fields, and through the woods. It was a beautiful, warm evening. When we got back from our walk, we built a fire in the fire pit and had Family Home Evening under the maples.

On our walk in the hollow.

Hazel and June on a hay bale.

The view from the top of the hill looking toward home.

Family Home Evening around the fire.

The Thayns left on Tuesday morning. We were sad to see them go, but we’re planning to visit them in Tennessee next month, so we will see them again soon.

Good-bye to the Thayn family.

I mentioned last week that I’m reading the books of Laura Ingalls Wilder. When I last (and first) read her books 25 years ago, I read them aloud to my children at bedtime. Back then, when I got to the fifth book, By the Shores of Silver Lake, I had an emotionally traumatic experience. I am often moved by books and movies. I cry at movies all the time. And when I read, if the writing is good enough to get me sufficiently involved in the story, I’ve been moved to tears. When I first read By the Shores of Silver Lake and I got to the chapter where their dog Jack dies, I had to stop reading to the children. I couldn’t read it. I was crying too hard to see the page. I handed the book to Stacey and she finished the chapter for them while I sat in a corner and sobbed. Thursday night I was reading at bedtime (to myself this time) and I came to that chapter titled “Grown Up” in By the Shores of Silver Lake. Stacey was reading her own book in bed beside me and she heard me sobbing. She looked up and said, “Jack?” I could only nod. Have I said how much I love these books?

Saturday turned out to be a canning day, though we didn’t plan it that way. It was a cool, rainy day, so that was okay. I’d picked a bucketful of tomatoes on Friday and I decided to use the rain as an excuse to stay in the warm kitchen and can salsa. As I began that, I realized I had enough tomatoes to also can some pizza sauce. With the tomato canning underway, I remembered that Stacey had brought home a half bushel of green beans that she’d gleaned from a neighbor’s field after the harvester truck was done. So we decided we’d better freeze green beans too. Then the phone rang – it was Jonas Burkhalter telling us he had two bushels of pears for us. So we drove out to North Bingham and picked those up. The pears aren’t fully ripe yet, so we’ll be canning them later in the week. They also had nice plums for sale so we bought a peck just for eating. Later in the day we began processing some honey from comb that I pulled from the hive on Friday. I love to see jars of food lined up on the shelves. It makes me feel a little more secure as winter approaches.

A selection of tomatoes.

Pears - not quite ripe yet.

Ripe plums.

Honeycomb waiting to be processed.

Finished salsa and sauce.

On Saturday morning Helen Young died. Helen was the wife of my cousin Dick Young, who is the son of my great aunt Eleanor who was my grandfather Howe’s sister. Although Dick is technically my cousin, my children have always called them Uncle Dick and Aunt Helen. Helen had been in declining health for a while fighting cancer. She was a great lady and we will miss her. Her funeral will take place this Saturday.

It is cold and rainy today. We’re home from church and almost ready to eat dinner. It’s chilly in the house. I’m wearing a sweater and thinking about turning the furnace on even though we never do that this early in the year. If the new wood stove was hooked up, I’d fire it up and take my Sabbath nap beside it on the couch. I guess I’ll just have to make due with an extra blanket on the bed instead.

Sunset on Thursday.