I stand on top of the bluff. It is tall, flat and wide. I feel calm here. My lungs expand, inhale the freedom, then push out the stale. I sense I am being looked after. The sky’s majesty engulfs my existence, whirls 360 degrees, spiraling into a funnel where I stand. The horizon seems hundreds of miles away. I cannot see any warm-blooded life, only the life that firmly embeds its roots in the rocky soil as it strains to flourish. The hills roll into one another with distinctive flecks of greens and browns, abruptly ended by the carved cliffs and begin again on the other side of the crags, rolling in and out of sight.

 I stand on top of the bluff. It is tall, flat and wide. All that dares to grow up here are prairie grasses and crocus. Rounded rocks, the size of soccer balls, placed in rectangular formations confirm where previous, old military buildings stood. I am aware of the soldiers from days gone by, under Custer’s command, carrying on their daily endeavors—marching beside me, barking orders to one another. This is their post. The men are stationed here to protect the white settlers from Native American attacks. The soldiers could see for miles from here. I can see for miles. The land to the river valley below cuts an extremely steep slope. The Missouri is overflowing this year—too much spring rain.

The sky is darkening and it begins to shows itself. An undulating summer storm begins sweeping over the horizon as if late for its purpose. Fast, dark clouds whirl and chase each other as if they were flocks of birds on their way to a warmer climate; swirling and gaining speed and direction with every wing flutter. The tempest takes hostage of the southwestern hemisphere, expanding its supremacy northeastward as it stirs the sky above my head. A merciless veil of water is approaching, suspended from the heavens. I stretch out my arms to receive the tempest. The power in the sky is welcomed trepidation. Cool, fast wind rushes over my face as it builds its symphony. Luminous shards of light from far away are pre-empted by low rumbles and then hushed smacks of thunder. The prevailing wind sweeps through me, as if I am a bound spirit, leaving steadfast in my place.

How insignificant I am.     

The rain begins with drops of water popping downward with a fluted melodic beat. After a brief instant, the temporal rain begins to hiss as it spills across the bluff and down the slopes. It beats down all that is not a hard, prehistoric mass. Yet, unseen to me, it is washing that away too, little by little to melt the stone’s glue that swallowed lives past—living, breathing remnants of another time. 

The lightning now seemingly close, assaults anything it wishes. My sight and hearing are battered, as the thunder and lightning have now become a united force. Nothing other than the natural world can provide as mind-blowing of a show as this. The bluff is under siege from unseen energy sources. My flesh gives in to the invigorating cascade bestowed by the heavenly wash and I take cover. I scramble to take shelter in one of the four rebuilt outlook posts. Cautiously raising the cover of the small trap window on the second level, I peer out. The air outside is dark. All I see is a murky, fluid wall of domination. The defiant flora takes its hold and drinks to satiety. The rocky crags gather any unused nourishment and gift the surfeit to the river so it may nurture another part of the country as it flows southeast down to the Missouri.

This land takes a pounding during a storm.

What lives here must relinquish its own meager power to the heavens and endure the endless submissions of climate. As the surge passes by, a quiet, sigh of relief flows through the air. The life on the bluff emerges unscathed. A slow release of tension seems inevitable.

Finally, it’s over.

I see gratefulness on that bluff. The prairie grasses and the crocus bow to give thanks and stir once again. The rainbow seams to stretch the entire southern horizon—they are twice the size here in North Dakota as they are elsewhere. Nothing blocks the magnificent arc of refracted water vapor and light stretching in view from my left shoulder to my right.

I imagine this land 15,000 years ago. It emerges from a flash-frozen, glacial-blue ice cover. The newly arrived travelers from the Bering Strait see it for the first time. Did they think of this land the way I do, as I see it today? Did they welcome the wide-open space or did it become another staggering part of their journey ambling over hills, and down through valleys with no protection from the elements? Or did they experience an ease, a comfort, a familiarity to this place? This bluff is a home I seem to have left behind. Perhaps the wind has connected this land to our hearts. It transported pieces of our essence to mix here and derived to create a common native land to be experienced over and over, generation after generation. It greets me with familial knowing, that I haven’t been back to visit in a long time. I feel welcomed here. My spirit knows this space.

Dearest Grit Friends,

I feel as though I am writing to a loved one from whom I have been absent from for many months. I have much to tell you about! I have been keeping up with things relatively well on my personal blog but have seriously neglected you. Therefore, I will give you a run down of our last few months here in Oshkosh, pulling excerpts where I think we need them. I’m sorry for the delay; once again, life happened and it seems that winter is full of fun even without an active garden!

In mid-November, we traveled to Minneapolis for a Farmer’s Union weekend and I wrote about it here:

I find myself at an ergonomically pleasing hotel room desk, sipping sub-par complimentary coffee and listening to a Japanese radio station via iTunes. In the background, Andy is finishing his shower and the window to my left show the city skyline, still dark but busy with cars zipping by.

I have a moment of serene peace before we head out for today's activities and I am trying to soak it all in. Our children are safe with our dear friends in Omro and should probably be awake and begging for oatmeal about now.

We arrived in the Twin Cities yesterday afternoon in a nice rental car and full of good conversation. Our purpose in being five hours from home is a leadership training event put on by Farmer's Union Enterprises (FUE). An offshoot of National Farmer's Union, FUE is the brainchild of Farmer's Union Industries, a for-profit investment arm of the non-profit National Farmer's Union. Farmer's Union Industries helps fund numerous outreach events and workshops to enable rural communities and farms to work together to build up resources and rely on one another to sustain and survive. One of the problems they faced several years ago was how to motivate young farmers and rural couples to become leaders in their communities and become involved in making a difference for all parties.

With the help of a strategic planning company whose founder was also a member of the Farmer's Union, they came up with FUE. The premise is simple: One couple from the five leading Farmer's Union states would be trained for a year at various gatherings and events throughout the nation and then asked to take up the mantel on their own and use that knowledge to make a difference on the local level. This is the sixth year of the leadership training and Andy and I are the sixth Wisconsin couple to take the reins in learning about ourselves, our family, community, and country. One of the first Wisconsin couples to go through training became the president of the Wisconsin Farmer's Union in his first year following his time with FUE. This is not usual but shows the sort of people that are attracted to this venture. The Farmer's Union Industries spends a substantial amount of money on each couple each year. Andy and I are here completely free of charge. We are completely thankful for the generosity of the organizations behind our retreat here and don't take the time lightly.

Last summer I mentioned this organization, as it was the reason we drove to North and South Dakota. This weekend is the second installment of training. It purposely coincides with the Minnesota Farmer's Union Annual Conference, held in this same Ramada Hotel. Today, we will have a day-long meeting with just the other four couples and a keynote speaker, along with our guide, Mr. Danielson, who has been leading the FUE couples since the inception (and which he helped envision via his company).

Andy has finished grooming and looks very handsome for our group breakfast. The skyline is a faded salmon-grey and I-94 is steadily picking up. Andy and I are excited for the day ahead in which we'll examine a personality profile we filled out online last week. It will help us understand others' personalities and the best way to approach them in conversation and as leaders.

We thank our friends the Gerhkings who lovingly took our three littles ones into their fold for two days. Tonight, Elly, Ethan and Liam will move "homes" to Grandma Judy's and Grandpa Dave's house to stay until we come for them Sunday afternoon. We are very blessed to have the sort of family support network that enables us to leave for this many days completely free of worry for our precious babes.

Friday was a good long day of learning about each other's personality styles through a questionnaire we all filled out called DiSC. You may be familiar with the program. You basically answer a bunch of questions about how you'd react in various situations at home and at work and then they are compared against the general population to see what sort of personality you lean towards.

Andy is quite familiar with this sort of personality profile as he has been on a years-long search to discover how he "ticks" and how to go about daily life with that knowledge.

Each letter stands for a personality type.

D = Dominant (Direct, results oriented, Firm, strong-willed, Forceful)

i = Influence (Outgoing, enthusiastic, optimistic, high spirited, lively)

S = Steadiness (Even-tempered, accommodating, patient, humble, tactful)

C = Conscientious (analytical, reserved, precise, private, systematic)

Nearly all the time, people test with two of the traits being part of their personality. For example, Andy tested as an iD. He was marked by Influence and Dominant characteristics. I was categorized as a CS, which is a person who craves routine, reliability and security. Learning these things about ourselves wasn't necessarily a surprise, but learning how to relate to each other was an answer to a specific prayer I had not one week ago. I want to support Andy more in his decisions and ideas, but given my personality, changes are scary and stressful. So I was able to learn how to relate to him on a level he understands and in turn, he became more sensitive to my needs as both a woman and a person who needs to feel safe.

We spent the whole day as a group talking about the different styles and how they generally relate to one another; how they view different personality types and how to mitigate conflicts by just stepping into each other's mindsets. I was able to pin point a couple of my immediate family members right away and began thinking of ways in which I can increase effective communication with them. After we exhausted our brains on acronyms and tendencies, we had a short break and then we gathered as a group to go out for the night. On deck? Dinner theatre!

I have never been to a dinner theatre, so as the 15 passenger van hauled us west of the Cities to Chanhassen, I just watched the sun set and listened to the small talk going on amongst the couples.

We arrived after dark to an unassuming building amongst strip malls and stores. We exited the van and entered a whole different era. The building was decked in dark wood and fireplaces and large stone walls. There were Christmas trees fully decorated and boughs of evergreens adorning every doorway and tree-trunk post. It was warm, magical and totally inviting. 
Andy and I were immediately impressed. We headed to the lounge to wait for our turn to go to the theatre. Low ceilings, leather chairs on casters and intimate conversations gave the impression of an exclusive supper club. Soon we were asked to get in line for our dinner seats. As we handed the tickets to the hostess, we were escorted to the center of the great room and just took in all the wonder.

Before us were tables and chairs able to seat as many as 600, tucked in here and there and covering at least four different levels. To our left was a large stage, protruding into the audience with a great sweeping curve. We settled in with two other couples and waited for our meal, still taking in the atmosphere. After we ordered and got our food, the bustle of the waitstaff and hustle of the multitude of people around us gave plenty of visual stimulation while we digested. Soon, the lights dimmed and the the MC announced our show for the night (which we already knew): "Bye Bye Birdie."

We settled in for a fantastic show of dancing, singing and orchestral performance right before our eyes. It was just amazing. I've been to plays before, but everything about this was just special. We were so grateful for the experience and acknowledged that it was something we could rarely have afforded in our own lives. What a special night out!

The musical ended about 10:30pm and we hopped in our van to ride back home, about 40 minutes. I was asleep on Andy long before that.

Saturday morning we began the Minnesota Farmer's Union Annual Convention. We spent the day in and out of policy sessions and listening to annual reports from various leaders and guest speakers. It was very informative and I could see how the stuff would be even more important when/if we attend our own Wisconsin State Convention in January. It largely depends on the goodwill of our babysitters and the temperament of our new baby!

That evening, there was a fundraising dinner, which seem to be attended by just about every farmer there! The entire convention hall was filled and they had to open another room to fit the last 40 people in! The food was all locally produced and very tasty. The speaker was Minnesota State Senator Al Franken and he gave a nice speech about the farmer's he'd met in the last year and what farming means in Washington.

   

Next morning, we got up about 7am and rushed down to breakfast thinking that we were missing something. Turns out, we were well ahead of everyone else in our group and got to have a leisurely 1.5 hour breakfast while we waited for the conference to begin again. Andy and I were able to talk with Harley and his wife more about life goals and direction and it was incredibly encouraging for Andy to figure out a direction for our family and him. (me too!).

We listened to a few more updates in the conference and then decided to pack up about 9:30am. We had babies to see and a mother with a birthday, so we were excused a few hours early for the drive home. Before 2:30pm, we were in Omro and reunited with the little ones. It was nice to spend the day at my parents' house before finally ending the trip at home, later that night. Everyone was well and only a few items were missing from the kids' clothing bags. All in all, a good trip!

 

In mid-December, I gave an update on the comings and goings surrounding the holidays:

I am grounded today by my pregnant body and decided to put in something educational for the kids on TV and kick my feet up and write. It's been a long time since I wrote because we once again rearranged our schedule to allow Andy more time to work during the day. In return, I spend more time with the kids exclusively and running errands or visiting friends with kids. As well, I have been working several hours at my mother's house sewing a winter peacoat for Elly for Christmas. The task is beyond my limited sewing skills and uses faux sherpa material which has been more difficult to cut and sew than normal cotton fabrics. However, with my mom's guidance here and there and a bit of reading and re-reading the directions, we are making progress. In the end, it will definitely look homemade, but it will be a wonderful expression of love every time Elly wears the jacket some place special. [it actually turned out beautiful!]

My downtime today is due to being in the final month of pregnancy and the general aches and pains that go with a larger than life body at the end of its stretchiness. However, today I have some unusual stabbing pains in my lower pelvic region that I don't recall experiencing before. Thankfully, I have a prenatal appointment this very afternoon, which will allow me to ask the midwife if she knows what's happening.

Our Thanksgiving this year was highly unusual. We planned to meet up with my parents and brother's family in Omro, but the morning of the big day, we got a call that my Dad was really sick with a cold and that the celebration was to be moved to the family farm (where my brother lives). However, they weren't feeling the best either and no one was sure the day should even happen. Given that each of the three families were to make part of the total feast, we postponed our Thanksgiving until Friday.

On Friday morning, no one was better. In fact, they were worse. So we decided to meet briefly at my parents to exchange the food we had all made so that each family could have an individual Thanksgiving at home. We divided up all the dishes into thirds and went our separate ways. Andy's family had also been unavailable with Maddie receiving more cancer treatment in the hospital and the grandparents working all weekend.

We never did have a big family gathering. My father was diagnosed with bronchitis and just this week has been able to get out and about and start catching up with chores and such! We have been relatively healthy and thankful for it! Thanksgiving weekend we decorated the house for Christmas and it was quite fun. As in years past, we let the kids decorate it with minimal interventions from the parents. This was Liam's first year decorating as last Christmas we did not have a tree (living in a friend's house). Before I even had the chance to show him what to do, he had hung no less than three ornaments all by himself! I guess watching Elly and Ethan, or just intuition led him to do it on his own.

    

In early December,  we went to the annual Experimental Aircraft Association’s Christmas in the Air event, which was a lot of fun for our family, for free! I wrote a bit about it here:

Last evening we were grabbed the kids and headed over to the EAA Airventure Museum here in Oshkosh. They were entertaining their annual Christmas in the Air event, which happens to be free for the community. Christmas lights and trees, cookies, beverages and a myriad of performances happening all over the huge complex were the main draw for folks. We went last year and saw all the sights and watched the performances and then waited in line to meet Santa who'd flew in on a helicopter. This year we saw him land just outside the main building to a large crowd, dancers and music. But by the time he entered the building, our boys had worn out their sugar cookies and napless afternoon and were downright belligerent. There would be no Santa lap this year. Even though the night ended on a rather rough note, we did have a good time and hope to bring them back soon when there are no crowds and we can really see the museum for what it's worth. Ethan so loves airplanes and after last night, it appears Liam might as well.

As we draw upon the final two weeks before the Day of Christmas, our days will be filled with schooling, baking, creating, wrapping, visiting, hosting, and sewing (the last one me, not so much anyone else). Then we (ideally) have two weeks before Baby arrives. No name yet. No worries. It will come when it's right. For now, the little guy keeps me on my toes already! Or, in the case of today, on my rear.

   

At the end of December, I gave my annual year end wrap up:

I suppose I better get this blog in while the gettin' is good! As I write this a mere two days before the turn of 2013, I am in the early stages of labor with our fourth baby.

Over the last two days, several definite "baby coming" signs have been showing themselves and while my official due date is the 5th of January, we all know that babies come when they are good and ready. Liam was eleven days early and Ethan was five days "late." Only Elly came exactly on the day they said she would which, if you know Elly at all, makes perfect sense!

Early this morning I was awakened by heavier than normal Braxton Hicks every half hour or so. Because they were waking me up, I knew them to be more like early labor. Throughout the course of the day the contractions chilled out but never completely went away. As this evening begins, I anticipate the contractions to ramp up again through the night. We have childcare lined up with my mom (who spent the afternoon with us in hopes of baby, but went home just before supper), and our friend Malissa lined up to accompany us in the delivery room as a support to Andy and myself.

My bags are packed, the car seat is resurrected from the basement and the bassinet is all set up. For Christmas, Andy's mother Julia made baby a quilt, which will travel with us to the hospital. My mom bought us a new outfit, which will be his going home clothes. We are pretty much set. Just waiting for the child to make his appearance.

We are still undecided on a name. Andy is very fond of one iteration that I just can't seem to get behind. While I am not sure what is holding me from giving the green light, part of me just wants to be decided and go with it. And then there's always the possibility that the ultrasound was wrong and we've got a little girl about to make her debut! :-)

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This year we had a lot of changes. The last two years I've been amazed at how much we've gone through and this year was a little milder but no less eventful. At the start of 2012, we were living in a friend of a friend's house in the basement, with most of our belongings waiting patiently for us in a storage unit across town. Liam was about to turn one and Ethan about to be three. I revisited an interest in writing and sewing and began to get restless for a place of our own. Still employed by Gourmet Grassfed, Andy and the family enjoyed many days as a family unit working from home. As Spring began to trickle in, we finalized a search for a house to rent in Omro or Oshkosh. By the end of March, we had found a place with character and a large yard. We moved in in early April and relished a place of our own, even if it wasn't a country estate with land for chickens and cows.

We settled in and Andy tried several iterations of working from home before I took a job with Oshkosh Corporation as a temp employee in May. For about six weeks, he played SAHD while I worked long hours typesetting. I thoroughly enjoyed my time back in the workplace and the only thing holding me back was the morning sickness I began feeling about two weeks into the job. Yes, we were pregnant again and while it was not planned or even hoped for, we quickly accepted the new being inside me and prepared ourselves mentally for the major change in the coming winter.

After that job ended in late June, we got to go on a trip to the wild west of the Dakotas and take the kids on a good ol' fashioned family vacation. Upon returning home, we settled into life with a city garden and a super hot dry summer. There were farmer's markets to be at and playdates to be had. We explored our new town on bike and on foot and stroller and even stopped to eat ice cream while the cars went by once in a while. Summer seemed to fly by into Autumn which quickly revealed itself to be one big canning festival. We reorganized Gourmet Grassfed and placed all sales and marketing into Andy's hands while Ben took on all other responsibilities. New flavors were developed and labels needed to be designed, along with a website overhaul that is much anticipated to break in the coming month. I started Elly on her kindergarten year of homeschooling with some work in numbers, writing, reading and any sort of nature interest that caught her attention. The boys were just along for the ride and have been picking up all sorts of stuff because of it. In September I got to go to Pennsylvania for free to the Mother Earth News Fair. Because of the people I was riding with, had the incredible privilege to eat across the table from Joel Salatin of Polyface Farm. He shared an intimate story from his childhood with the group of about 20 that touched everyone deeply. It was so neat to listen to a person so well known and remember that he’s just human, too.

Late fall gave us respite and a low key Thanksgiving, building into the Christmas season. Now we are into early winter and we definitely had a white Christmas this year. Just yesterday it must have snowed another 10" on top of the pre-Christmas snowfall of a foot or more! If this is any indication of the winter we'll have, I'm really sorta thankful we don't have animals to care for this winter. Digging out a public sidewalk and your driveway is nothing compared to deep snow and animals to feed. Waterers to unfreeze. Feed to uncover and replenish. Bedding to change out daily. (do me a favor and thank your closest farmer today!)

And so with the close of the 2012 year, we look forward to what 2013 has to offer. A family of six, living in interim in the city, praying and hoping for a place in the country, doing their best to pay off their debts so that they may begin building their future once and for all.

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As I close, I know the next time I write will be to share the story of Baby's entrance into this world and there will be photos of him to share with you all. As it is right now, I bid you farewell 2012. You haven't been too shabby to the Sells and for that we are grateful. A little less tumult in our lives is always appreciated (at least by me, a personality who craves stability and order!).

   

The next morning, our baby boy made his entrance into the world and kept me from writing for about a month. I recapped his birth and the rest of January here:

Finlay Dael Sell was born on December 31st, 2012 weighing in at 8lbs 1oz and 20" long. We were all surprised at his weight, given that no one thought I was even close to being due from my belly size. We were not surprised at his gender this time, quite unlike our boy Liam from two years ago. :-)

   

Andy and I headed to the hospital (no home birth this time; financially unviable) at around 2:30am on that Monday and our friend Malissa met us there to be a support to both Andy and I. After the initial round of heartbeat monitoring and questionnaires, I was able to labor in peace. We dimmed the lights and added music from the Prayer Room in Kansas City and Andy had brought candles to add softness to the room. Around 4am, I was in hard labor and asked to have a bath drawn. I have never labored in the luxury of the hottubs most delivery wards offer these days as I have back labor and that keeps me moving almost to the end. This time, though, we decided to try it, even though I was convinced I would have to hop out as soon as I was in.

Well, I was so very wrong...and so very thankful of that! As soon as my first foot hit that hot water, I was instantly relaxed and soothed into a meditative state of labor in which even the most strenuous of transition contractions left me with just a few moans of pain. Man, I wish I would have given this a try with the other labors! It wasn't long before I knew without being checked that I had to push. Since the hospital we were at does not allow water births, I knew I had to exit the water even though all I wanted to do was float blissfully into motherhood. Malissa and Andy helped me out and I headed to the bed. The room flooded with nurses, equipment and the midwife. I knew I had to push, but since I had not been checked to see if I was indeed fully dilated, I pushed only hesitantly at first. When the midwife was ready and waiting, I really began pushing and only then did my water break. Within 15 minutes, little Finlay made his debut and I had him cuddled in my arms, so tiny and warm and beautiful. It was 5am. Malissa left about a half hour later to go to work. She pulled an all nighter like us and didn't even bat an eye. We were so thankful to have her there as moral support and even some comic relief for Andy during the long parts of my labor.

   

Family and friends came to visit us that day and as the rest of the world rang in 2013, we cuddled down in a hospital room with a brand new human in our charge. Welcome to the planet, Finn!

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The month of January has passed quickly only because I am usually not sure what day I'm actually in. On the 11th, our quirky personality Liam turned two years old. We held a party for him on the 12th with family and friends. He very adorably accepted his gifts and cake amidst the bustle of the get together. Liam is talking now and "sharp as a tack" according to his Grandpa Steve. He continually makes us laugh with his expressive face and ability to repeat phrases at just the right moment. He is amazingly compassionate for a two year old boy and seeks to make things right when he's been naughty. Often, a frustrated outburst that resulted in him hitting or biting will cause him to immediately recant with a diminutive hug and kiss. He melts anger in us in a way that the others never could. We began potty training him last week, but for some reason he has refused to accept it. We'll wait another month and try again. He definitely gets what's going on, but fails to see the independence in it.

   

Eleven days later, we celebrated my 32nd birthday, on the 22nd. I was blessed with several nice gifts from my family and a small get together with my in-laws at the end of the week. My mom even handmade me a table runner and some cloth napkins with some fabric that I had found at a rummage sale. It's funny because she totally stole it from me one time in late fall and I looked for it several times during the Christmas season because I had an idea that I wanted to sew a gift for someone with that fabric. As I apparently had "lost" it, I gave up on the gift idea. Turns out I never had time to sew it anyway so when Mom presented my birthday gift, I laughed out loud. It all worked out for the best!

  

Just after that, Andy and I spent the weekend in Eau Claire attending the Wisconsin Farmer's Union annual conference. I was asked to take photos in exchange for our admission fees, which helped us afford to be there at all. We took young Finn and had the kids stay with family for two days. It was a long Saturday in which I had a bit of a fever and my camera battery nearly died, but Andy got to attend most of the sessions and take part in the important policy discussion.

   

I got a few neat shots of the day and the break out sessions throughout the hotel. The evening dinner had a local author as keynote speaker and several awards were handed out to the farmer's union youth (they put a lot of effort into young people education). The keynote was Michael Perry, author of Coop and Truck: A Love Story, amongst others. He is a great humorist and I was already a fan of his writing. I brought my copy of Coop for him to sign, but it didn't work out. Mr. Perry did however admire Finlay when Andy had him out in the hallway just before he and his band played for the late night crowd.

   

Everything was to pick up again on Sunday, but due to an impending ice storm, the convention was wrapped up by mid morning and Andy and I headed back to his folks' house several hours early. Our boys had been with the Sells and we would pick them up there. Elly stayed with both her cousins in Omro and my parents for the weekend, so that no one family would be too overwhelmed by kiddoes.

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As we entered February, there were a few things that I wanted to talk about but had to wait until things got fleshed out a little more. Jonathan Foreman, lead writer and singer for the band Switchfoot has a line in one of his songs that rings with me this past month: "Life begins at the intersections." We have many choices ahead of us as a family.

2013, unlike 2012, is already shaping up to be a season of opportunity and fruition. Whereas Andy and I have been in a period of waiting, learning and proving ourselves for a couple of long years, now it seems that we may have come through that time and are seeing doors open. Doors that once were closed and doors that were only just recently unattainable. I know that's a lot of vague jargon to many of you, but I feel compelled to keep it that way until we know more. In the meantime, we huddle down in this cold Wisconsin winter, sip our hot coffee and pray for God's continued guidance in our lives.

  

Since I wrote that last post, our very own Ethan turned 4 years old in the middle of February. How could it be that when we started blogging for Grit, I was just barely pregnant with this little being and now he is nearing school age? We love the little scamp as he daily brings us the most challenges and laughs of our four children. Finlay remains to be seen, of course! 

  

And so, now that you are caught up on our lives thus far, I will be able to tell you about those “intersections” in a following blog. However, Andy and I leave again on another FUE adventure in just a day: We are flying with Finn to Massachusetts for the National Farmers Union Convention to be held in Springfield. We spend four days away from our other babies who will be in the loving homes of two different friends of ours. It will be interesting to see how they fare without us but I think they’ll be ok as long as they are together. Meanwhile, Andy, Finn and I will take in the continued learning that awaits us in MA. Hopefully I’ll be able to write about that experience as it happens, but no promises! Take care and I’ll chat at ya soon.

   

One thing I love about British food is that it’s not scary. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good walk on the culinary wild side (fufu and fish heads in Ghana, roasted grubs in Thailand, bull testicles in Spain, and sheep brain right here in the Lone Star State) but sometimes, there is such a thing as a pleasant non-surprise. Brits have mastered the meat and potato combo, along with gems like fish and chips, mushy peas, all things pickled, puddings (or “desserts” as we Yanks say) and other yummy treats (short bread? yes, please).

As our time in England drew to a close, Hubs and I took a couple of day trips into Wales. If you’ve never been, Wales is a beautiful country with lots of sheep and unusual linguistic choices. Exhibit A:

 

Right. So. On our jaunt to Hay-on-Wye, “the town of books,” we were delighted by a pop-up farmers’ market but I was absolutely blown away by a food entirely novel to me: flap jacks. Now, as a card carrying American, I grew up with flap jacks as pancakes. Pretty run of the mill stuff. But let me tell you about flap jacks on the other side of the pond: they are so much more delicious, because they are even more full of fat, sugar, and carbs. They’re a little oat bar and if you’re lucky, you can find them topped with chocolate fudge. Wanna fly off to flap jack heaven? Here’s how:

   

Flap Jacks 

Ingredients: 

  * 6 tbsp. syrup

* 2 sticks butter

* 12 oz. oats

Directions:  

• Preheat oven to 350
• Butter a 9″x 13″ pan and line the base with baking parchment.
• Place the syrup and butter into a large saucepan and heat gently until the butter has melted into the syrup and stir well.
• Put the oats into a baking bowl, add a pinch of salt then pour over the butter and syrup mixture and stir to coat the oats.
• Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and spread evenly.
• Bake in the preheated oven for 25 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from the oven while the flapjack is still slightly soft, they will harden once cool.
• Cut the flapjack into bars and let cool completely before serving.

After stuffing myself full of flap jacks, our second day in Wales was spent getting slightly lost on Sugar Loaf Mountain. Check out the kind of creepy Medieval looking forest we found:

 

But I digress…on our way back from Hay, we made a pit stop in Hereford (England side of the border) at the Oak Church butchery, farm shop, and garden centre (“r” before “e” because that’s how they do it). At the sight of fresh vegetables, every cut of meat you could imagine –and probably didn’t know existed–  and a cheese case that made me weak in the knees, I knew we were in just the right place.Though I stuck with a grilled portobello mushroom, Hubs bought a few gorgeous steaks and I gotta say, it was nice to see the animals right there in the field enjoying the open air and  cloudy, damp sky.

 

It was one of our last nights in the UK and we wanted to make a special, slow dinner for Mum and her beau. We decided to start with local cheeses (Herefordshire goat cheese and a firmer cheese called Little Hereford), crackers and a scrumptious assortment of olives stuffed with garlic, and pickled onions stuffed with blue cheese.

Dinner was steak/portobello, with roasted vegetables, and garlic mashed potatoes. We finished up European style with a green salad and, finally, a homemade rhubarb crumble.

Our meal, starting with wine and nibbles, started around 5 o’clock in the afternoon and eased into the latest hours of the night. There was no rush, no better place to be. For  several creeping hours we ignored our phones and instead enjoyed sharing the kitchen, simple food, real face-to-face conversation, and maybe a few too many bottles of wine.

If this is the best of British eating, I’ll take it.

A year or so ago, I taught a writing class to folks with Alzheimer’s and dementia. On an exercise writing about travel, one gentleman commented that in England, “they have a hundred religions and only one sauce.” Well, that may have been true once upon a time. A few hundred years ago is when Voltaire first made that comment, though he cited only sixty religions. But still one sauce. Bad, bland food seems to be a pesky detail Brits have a hard time shaking. Even now, upon returning from England and telling friends (who haven’t visited the mighty island) about my trip, they instantly don a face of genuine concern before asking, “How was the food?” then wait with bated breath for me to traumatize them with tales of jellied eel and black pudding. Instead, I tell them about the fabulous vegetable gardens and spread the gospel of pickled onions. Truthfully, I don’t know how horrendous English food might have once been. Maybe pretty bad, considering its global reputation (but let’s take it with a grain of salt, especially when judgement comes from our own country that now values quantity over quality). Hubs assures me that English cuisine has greatly improved over the recent years and I have to say, I’ve not had a bad meal yet.

But regardless of food, one thing I’m certain they do right is booze. And how. But I’m not just talking about beer. With his abundance of fruit from the garden, my father-in-law puts it to good use by making his own rum and wine. Too many currants? Ferment them into vino! Tired of eating damson? Drown it in rum! His concoctions are good, though I have to say it’ll make your eyes cross. If you’re thinking of making fruit wine at home, check out this handy guide: http://www.fruitwinemaker.com/ 

And if you’re here for something stronger, I’ll pass along the easiest recipe ever. Drink the rum, and use the boozy fruit as a topping for ice cream.

Rumtopf 

Ingredients: 

1 lb. fruit (berries, peaches, plums, etc.)

1 heaping cup sugar

rum

Directions: 

• Wash fruit and cut in half.
• Put fruit and sugar in rumtopf. Add enough rum to completely cover the fruit. Mix.
• Close rumtopf and store in a cool, dry place. You can add more fruit/sugar/rum as you like.
• Wait about 6 weeks and voila! Fruit flavored rum, and rum flavored fruit!

Pickles. Dill, spicy, sweet, you name it. Just typing the word makes my mouth pucker a bit. I’m not afraid to say I have long loved pickles. When I was little, I would drink the brine. Straight. And as a grown-up, I love that same brine mixed with a bit of vodka and a pickle spear (simply called a pickle martini or Rabbi). At around age six or seven, some neighborhood friends and I decided it was high time we left home to eke out a living in the woods. Surviving without adults would be difficult and the others determined toilet paper, flashlights, water, and peanut butter sandwiches were a must. What did I bring to our packing meeting? Pickles. I was that kid that contributed absolutely nothing but pickles. Because what else was there?

Needless to say, I was beyond thrilled to be introduced to pickled onions on my first visit to England last summer. According to the National Onion Association, onions actually have a fascinating history. Not only are they one of the earliest cultivated crops, perhaps even a staple in prehistoric diets, the circle-in-circle design of an onion symbolized eternity to the ancient Egyptians and thus became an object of worship and esteemed funeral offering. The Romans, one of the first to travel with their food in containers, carried onions on their journeys to England and Germany. Today, pickled onions are a traditional addition to English fare, my personal favorite being an appearance on a ploughman’s (hunk of crusty bread, butter, pickled onions, Branston pickle, bit of salad, tomato, and super sharp cheddar or Stilton…a simple lunch that can’t be beat!)

Unfortunately, I’ve not been so brilliant with our own onion crop. We planted yellow and white onions as our first garden crops but tragically, failed to thin the rows. The result? Onions with beautiful tops but coming out of the ground very, very small. So right before leaving for last month’s visit to England, I pulled up our tiny onions after realizing they would be perfect for pickling. I let them set for two weeks while I was away and upon my return, already missing family and friends in my second home, I opened the jar and tried my first batch of pickled onions. I’m happy to report they taste just like in England. Crunchy, salty, refreshing.

Other than their irresistible taste, pickled onions are great because they can be done in the refrigerator (no need for a boiling water bath) and not give you botulism. My father-in-law pickles onions and his steps are simple: 1) peel the onions, 2) sprinkle with salt and let sit for 24 hours 3) rinse and place in jar with brine.

…But for my first attempt I didn’t yet have that not-so-secret English recipe, so I used the refrigerator pickle recipe from The Hip Girls’ Guide to Homemaking: 

Pickled Onions 

Ingredients: 

• 1 cup vinegar (I used white, but the Brits I polled recommended malt)
• 1 cup water
• 1 tbsp. salt
• Spices (I added 2 chopped garlic cloves and some peppercorns, but you can add whatever your pickle-loving heart desires!)

1. Wash and cut up your vegetables and pack them into a clean jar. *You don’t need to buy Ball jars, you can just save and reuse salsa jars, pasta sauce jars, etc. You can also opt to blanch your veggies, though I prefer the crunch of raw.

2. Add spices.

3. Combine in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil the vinegar, water, and salt. *Add sugar for sweet pickles.

4. Pour the boiled brine over the vegetables in the jar.

5. Seal your jar and let them sit in fridge for at least one week (the longer you wait, the better they’ll taste) and voila! Pickled onions!

Anyone else pickling vegetables this summer? What’s your favorite method? 

These days a lot of large, industrial companies take it on the chin for their lack of concern over ecologic and community issues.  Bush Brothers & Company, headquartered in Knoxville, Tennessee, with processing plants in Chestnut Hill, Tennessee, and Augusta, Wisconsin, is not one of those.  But that’s not surprising given the values and community concern of the company’s founder.

 A History of Bush Brothers & Company 

In 1867 Andrew Jackson “A.J.” Bush was born in the community of Chestnut Hill Tennessee, where he lived for most of his life, leaving only to receive a college education at nearby Carson-Newman College. 

 In 1891 A.J. married Sallie and they rapidly produced 6 children; four boys and two girls.  Both A.J. and Sallie had a deep interest in their community and love for their family.  In addition to being a mother of 6, Sallie acted as a midwife and nursemaid as well as training young girls the fine art of proper household management.  A.J. had been a school teacher since graduating college, and was elected to the local school board.

 A.J. was always looking for ways to help his community and had developed an interest in the trade business.  He decided to serve both interests by creating the A.J. Bush & Company General Store, which provided a convenient location for local residents to barter for goods that were not locally produced, as well as a training ground and legacy for his children to insure they would have a livelihood when grown.

 But A.J. wanted to do more for his community; its residents needed jobs.  He decided to open a hosiery factory; such a factory would provide many good jobs and hosiery was something that sold well.  As he worked on the building, word of his plans made their way to the Stokely Brothers Tomato Cannery in Newport Tennessee, and they approached A.J. with an offer: if he would provide the building and staff, they would provide the canning equipment to open a cannery instead of a hosiery factory.  In 1904 A.J. Bush partnered with Stokely Brothers and the cannery was opened, providing needed jobs to Bush family members and the tiny community of Chestnut Hill.  In 1908 A.J. bought out the Stokely Brothers’ interest of the partnership and formed a new partnership with his two eldest sons, Fred and Claude as Bush Brothers & Company.  The General Store continued to serve the community well as mercantile and social center, a place were locals would gather around the wood fired stove to exchange tall tales.

 The cannery was prosperous and the first decade saw many improvements: the cans were no longer soldered and filled by hand, one can at a time, once steam powered seamers and fillers were installed.  A.J. improved his distribution system as well, upgrading from mule drawn wagons heading to Newport’s railway to working with distributors in Knoxville, Asheville and Greenville S.C.

 The onset of World War I gave Bush Brothers & Company another economic boost as the government’s demand for canned food supplies increased.  Even though the tomato cannery went to working around the clock every day except Sunday, 85% of the company’s product was set aside for use by the government.

 The end of the war, however, meant a drastic decrease in demand for canned goods in general including tomatoes.  Many canneries went out of business and Bush Brothers struggled, but survived.  A.J. incorporated the cannery in 1922 and turned the management of it over to his sons so that he could concentrate on managing the General Store.  In 1928 a second cannery was built in Oak Grove Tennessee.

 The new company added green beans and blackberries to their tomato line of canned goods and developed the Chestnut Hill, Clinch River, English Mountain and Clinton labels which were carried by stores throughout the region.  By 1930 Bush Brothers & Company produced and distributed a wide variety of canned products to markets all across the southeast.

 The Great Depression of the 1930’s provided another challenge to Bush Brothers & Co. as they sought to find affordable products to offer an economically challenged country.  Hominy, Sauerkraut and Pork and Beans were some of the products that filled that bill nicely.

 War time needs again caused Bush Bothers to increase production as World War II approached.  At the same time, the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) created Douglas Lake to power a hydroelectric dam to meet the country’s need for electricity.  This flooded a lot of prime farm land, including the fields Bush Brothers used to produce most of their crop, and claimed Bush Brother’s Oak Grove plant, impeding the company’s ability to meet production demands.  But in 1944 Bush Brothers acquired the Blytheville Canning Company in Blytheville, Arkansas and was able to increase production once again.

 In 1947, Bush Brothers’ board of directors decided to sell under a new identity; Bush’s Best.  The double-B logo they developed would become a well known trademark all across the southeast for the next 50 years.

 In the early 1990’s Bush Brothers decided to focus on their line of Bush’s Best Baked Beans as a core product. They touted the secret family recipe, which was originally developed by Kathleen Bush and was truly her secret family recipe. 

 To make the company more accessible to the talented marketers they would employ, it was decided to move the company headquarters from Chestnut Hill to Knoxville.  This move was completed in 1992.

 The television commercial that was taking shape would revolve around a company spokesman who would explain why their product “tastes so darn good”.  Auditions were held for this spokesperson position and several of the Bush family members tried out, but it was the 29 year old manager of the company’s Shiocton, Wisconsin plant, Jay Bush, who won the role.  The commercial began airing regionally in 1993, and went national in 1994.  The result was to triple Bush’s Best’s market share and become the nation’s leading brand. In 1995 “Duke” the talking Golden Retriever came on board as Jay’s sidekick and the, somewhat less than trustworthy, guardian of the secret family recipe. 

 All through it’s history Bush Brothers & Company has grown through innovation and a dedication to the guiding principles of A.J. and Sallie Bush through a balanced equation of value to their consumers, service to their customers, opportunity to their team of employees, enhanced value to their owners, stability to their suppliers, and responsible citizenship to the communities where they have plants.

 Responsible Community Citizenship 

 One aspect of their mission statement; responsible citizenship, deserves a closer look as the world turns its eyes to issues of ecology and maintaining a “green” footprint.

 It takes massive amounts of water to clean and process a raw agricultural product like the Northern White Beans used by Bush in their baked bean products, as well as cleaning the equipment and facility.  How they deal with the waste water says a good deal about the company.

 At Bush Brothers & Company all waste water is recovered and piped to an on-site processing facility where all the solid material, primarily bean pulp and skins, is filtered out of the water and sent to another area where this material is converted to methane which will be used to fuel boilers that provide steam heat to the plant.  The remaining water is further cleaned and piped out and used to irrigate surrounding pasture land.  Water not absorbed by the plant life filters back down through the soil to rejoin the water table in a pure and natural state.  The entire process produces very little waste or pollution, a model of ecologic efficiency.  They also use high efficiency lighting and have motion sensors in the lighting circuits to switch off lights in areas that are not in use.

 Serious About Sanitation 

 In 2003 Bush Brothers completed a 160 million dollar renovation and expansion project at the Chestnut Hill plant that not only tripled their production but included a 38,000 square foot office building that provides administrative space, training areas for new employees and locker rooms and showers for employee sanitation procedures before entering the plant.

 This plant utilizes the latest in cooking technologies. Its nine-story hydrostatic cookers enable Bush Brothers to produce products more efficiently while the Allpax retorts enable a wide variety of product selection and packaging options; all directly supporting an R & D effort in new product development.

 Food safety and employee safety are top priorities one at Bush Brothers.  Max Fultz, Community Relations and Visitor Center Manager, states, “For five consecutive years we have received the Industrial Safety Merit Award from the Tennessee Safety Council for having safety rates below the national average and both of our plants are Safe Quality Food Certified.  Which means Bush Brothers & Company has met food safety and quality standards accepted by an increasing number of retailers, manufacturers and food service companies worldwide.”

 Consumer Friendly 

  

Bush Brothers & Company has opened a very nice visitor’s center in Chestnut Hill.  This visitor’s center features a general store, cafe, museum including small movie theater where a presentation on the history and a virtual tour of the plant showing how the product is made is offered  throughout the day.  The General Store is packed with items ranging from old fashioned candy to Bush Brothers memorabilia, T-shirts packed into Bush Beans cans and assorted items featuring Duke's image.

"It is an honor to tell our story in the very spot where A.J. Bush started his first company-his general store," said Max Fultz, Community Relations and Visitor Center Manager at the grand opening in June 2010. "We are delighted with the wonderful response we have received so far and can't wait to see more smiling faces on our guests as they enjoy the center and share in a piece of our history."

The hours of operation for Bush's General Merchandise are Monday - Saturday from 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. and the telephone number is (865) 509-3077.  The address for the visitor center is 3901 Hwy 411, Dandridge, TN.

The hours of operation for Bush's Story (museum) are Monday - Saturday from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.

The hours of operation for Bush's Family Café are Monday - Saturday from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., and the telephone number is (865) 509-3485. 

If you are planning a vacation to the Great Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee, plan to make the short trip from the Sevierville / Gatlinburg area to Chestnut Hill on Hwy 411 and tour the new visitor center.  Plan to spend a half day on this so you have time to take in all that the museum has to offer.

 

I took a long-awaited week off from work last week. I never seem to get everything done I want to do on the weekends (even if it’s a long holiday weekend). So, I took the time off to work on some projects I’d been putting off.

One of my major projects was to scan my dad’s slides (taken in the late 1960s and early 1970s) and save them to my computer. My goal was to scan at least four trays and I got six done. Most of the slides were of our vacation to Yellowstone and Grand Tetons National Parks. It was the first vacation our family took without my older brother. Although we missed having him along, it was one of the most memorable vacations our family ever had. As I looked at each picture, it immediately took me back to our trek out west.

The first leg of our journey led us through Western Kansas and the northeast corner of Colorado to Cheyenne, Wyo. We stayed with my cousin’s in-laws. After a tour of the capital city, we enjoyed rainbow trout for dinner. My sister and I slept in the family’s camper and we thought that was a real treat.

After we left Cheyenne, we headed north. We stopped at a tourist attraction called Hell’s Half Acre, 40 miles west of Casper. It’s not the kind of scenery you’d expect to see in the high plains of central Wyoming. Hell’s Half Acre is a horseshoe-shaped gorge with jagged spires and eerie rock formations.

Our next stop was Dubois. I fell in love with this authentic western town nestled in the valley between two mountain ranges. My parents, sister and I took an evening trail ride. I pretended to be a rancher’s daughter surveying our vast Rocky Mountain empire.

I hated to leave my little hamlet in the mountains, but the best was yet to come. We headed further west to Moran, a small community just outside of Grand Teton National Park. The motel where we stayed looked like a log cabin with a rustic décor. The view of the Tetons from the motel was spectacular, but the mosquitoes were so thick, it was impossible to sit outside and enjoy the view. 

Our time in the Tetons was one breathtaking sight after another. We toured the park, stopping at various turnouts to enjoy views of Jackson Lake, Wind River and alpine meadows. We also took a shuttle boat across Jenny Lake. The spray from the alpine lake hit my face – and it was cold!

 

One of my favorite places was the Chapel of the Transfiguration. The tiny log cabin structure, built in 1925, is owned and operated by the Episcopal Church. A picture window in the front of the chapel frames the Teton Range. I thought it would be a perfect place to get married (they do have weddings there).

Another day found us visiting the town of Jackson Hole. We had a picnic in the park that features an arch made of antlers. We also took the tram up Rendezvous Mountain, but it was so cold when we stepped out, we quickly looked at the spectacular view and immediately stepped back into the tram.

Our travels next took us to Yellowstone National Park. What amazing sights awaited us there!  We saw Old Faithful and other geysers, Mammoth Hot Springs, thermal pools, a mud volcano and sulphur caldron (it smelled like rotten eggs – Eww!). We also took in the grandeur of the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone complete with spectacular waterfalls. We had heard that there were a number of black bears in the park, so we were disappointed that we only saw one young bear.

After we left Yellowstone, we spent the night in West Yellowstone, Montana. I felt like I’d stepped back into the 1800s. We took a day trip up to the area where the largest earthquake in Montana history struck in 1959. A vistor’s center told the history of the quake and the area showed evidence of its destruction (a huge landslide and damaged houses) and the beauty it created (a peaceful lake).

We left Montana and drove down through Idaho to Utah. We spent the night in Ogden, then toured Temple Square in Salt Lake City. Aside from the inspiring temple, I was most impressed with the acoustics inside the large tabernacle (built without any nails). Our tour group stood in the back while our guide stood in the front with his back to us and whispered. We could hear every word he said!

The last leg of our trip took us thorough familiar territory in northern Colorado (a favorite vacation spot for our family) to visit some friends and then back home to Kansas.

As I finished scanning these slides, I felt as if I’d been on that wonderful vacation all over again. I’m glad my dad took so many pictures of that and other family vacations. It allows me to not only relive the good times we shared, but take a vacation without ever leaving the house!

How do you take a mental vacation? What is your most memorable vacation?

Photos taken by Kenneth and Velma Kipp

A couple of weekends ago, we made the trek to the southern Missouri town of Springfield. We left Topeka at oh-dark-thirty and got to see the sun rise over the misty hills. 

Springfield is yet another college town (I seem strangely drawn to them). There are four colleges in or near Springfield: Missouri State University, Ozarks Technical Community College, Drury University, and Evangel University, totaling nearly 36 thousand students in this metro area that about 385,000 people call home.

Springfield's Web site boasts: "Nearly 50 percent of the U.S. population lives within a 500-mile radius of Springfield, which is Missouri's third-largest city." This statistic seems impossible, you can't reach either of the coasts with a 500-mile drive. But you can reach a startling number of the non-coastal population centers: Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City, Indianapolis, Louisville, Nashville, Memphis, Little Rock, Dallas, Omaha, Des Moines, Oklahoma City, Wichita, the list goes on (perhaps this is why Branson is so successful).

It was a beautiful time to visit the Ozarks – the trees were still green, and the water levels high. If you're interested in hunting, fishing, or just a gorgeous campsite, check out a few of the "more than 7,500 miles of shoreline along accessible lakes and floatable streams and rivers" near Springfield.

On the way home, though, was where we found our gem, nestled next to one of the gorgeous lakes in the area, Truman Lake, and right off highway 13 between Springfield and Clinton.

I freely admit to a love of tourist-destination-type places, and this one fit the bill, nicely. We stopped at Osceola Cheese Company and tasted cheese. We found them open and hoppin' on a Sunday afternoon.

I developed an interest in cheesy knowledge while working on the cheese-making article in our November/December issue last year (I wrote a sidebar using what I found out).

Osceola Cheese is the perfect place to go if you're looking to teach your tastebuds the difference between Havarti and Edam. They have many, many types of cheese, from the previously mentioned to chocolate cheese, cheese with chipotle or jalapeño, cherry and blueberry cheese, goat cheese, and tomato and basil cheese. Most kinds have been cubed and placed in tupperware containers along the cheese case. Using the strategically placed toothpicks provided, you can taste before you buy.

We ended up with a cherry white cheddar and a smoked goat-milk Gouda, as well as a few other crunchy tidbits.

You can also get myriad types of mustard, salsa, fruit spreads, and salad dressing, but we were strong and got away without indulging.

The cherry is unique – mild with just a hint of sweetness, and the goat-milk Gouda is incredibly creamy and smooth. I originally promised some to the rest of the GRIT staff, but I find myself hoarding it at home. I suppose that's the true test – am I willing to part with my hard-won spoils?

My major concession to higher gas prices has been to set the cruise control to 70. Yes, I know, but it’s slower for me – just ask anyone.

Anyway, I’ve managed to squeeze out a few extra mpg for my Geo Prizm – nothing major, but every little bit helps, right? The slowdown, however, has had another positive effect – I’m paying more attention to the scenery. It seems a bit easier to glance to the left or the right, to really see the countryside I’m traveling through, when my car is moving a bit slower than the rest of the traffic.

This was very noticeable on my last two trips west. The homeplace is about 3 1/2 hours from where I currently live, and it’s a relatively easy drive on the interstate. So I head west in the late afternoon, and before the sun becomes too much of a problem, I keep one eye on the road and the other on the view.

The Kansas terrain changes significantly around Salina along I-70. The trees, shrubs and rolling Flint Hills give way to my Kansas. I prefer wide open spaces and the ability to see to a horizon where the landscape tinges blue. I can finally breathe.

For other views of the Great Plains, visit the other GRIT blogs, include K.C.’s Waking Up in Kansas and Kate’s Osage County Almanac.

About 25 miles west of Salina, a new sight has appeared in recent months. Rising from the prairie is a forest of wind turbines, gleaming white and silver above the green and gold land. Fifty-six of the turbines have gone on-line, producing enough power for 37,000 Kansas homes each year. From what I read, there will be 120 to 170 on-line when the project – the Smoky Hills Wind Farm – is completed. The project spans 26,000 acres and involves 120 landowners.

The turbines spread along several miles, spanning the Ellsworth and Lincoln county line – it’s difficult to count as you drive past, so I’m not sure if all of them are finished. A few are close enough that I think I can reach out to touch them.

It’s an awesome sight.

And it’s even better when the blades gently swoosh through the Kansas wind, allowing the bright sunshine to cast graceful shadows on pasture and wheat fields. The farmers and ranchers are still utilizing the land, right up to the base of the giants, and one can see wheat stalks and cattle grazing even from the highway.

For me, the only sad part of the sight is the number of blades that are still – though I understand that will change by the end of the year, when the entire project is scheduled to be in operation.

When that happens, I will happily drive slowly past these behemoths, the new monarchs of the plains, watching the huge blades whipping in the prairie breeze. It’s guaranteed to bring a smile to my face – the gorgeous, awe-inspiring giants adding to the delight of my favorite Kansas scenery and offering a wonderful, renewable energy source for our struggling Earth.

If you’d like to learn more about wind energy, visit the American Wind Energy Association, the U.S. Department of Energy’s site on renewable energy, or the National Renewable Energy Laboratory’s site.

 

 

For the Fourth, we went to Buford, Wyoming: Population 1 (it said that right on the sign). We were at a little campground that's up just a little ways from I-80 between Laramie and Cheyenne. Our elevation was somewhere around 8,000 feet, and I was struck by the difference in the flora.

When I came to Kansas to interview (in September, after the heat had passed), I couldn’t believe how green everything was. I must’ve said it to 20 people when I got back, “It’s just so green there!” It made such an impression because you don’t really notice how not green it is in the West (I lived in Loveland, Colorado). One of the things that continually amazed me was how dry everything was. I know people always talk about the humidity differences between here and there, but it’s not like the eastern slope is a desert, right? Well, actually it is, especially during the drought times.

 

This year has been a wet year for them, though. Wyoming on the Fourth was certainly greener than usual. It actually felt hot and sticky at least one afternoon. We go back to that campground every year, and I saw flowers I hadn’t seen up there before.  These flowers (on the right) are mostly alpine desert, but with a few that I might find in my backyard thrown in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We set up our tent in the dark, and this prickly pear grouping was right outside the door of our tent. (I succeeded in not poking myself, but one of my traveling companions was not so lucky.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had a great dog next door, “Shim.” Let’s just say he wasn’t watch-dog material. Though as we were packing up, he did try lying on the tent to get us to pet him (it worked).

While I don't live anywhere that most would qualify as a "city" (Topeka is pretty urban for Kansas), I still sometimes feel hemmed in by streetlights and paved roads. I get a hankerin' for wide open spaces and sandy soil. And, to be honest, a good drive across Nebraska, where you can see the weather coming can be just what I need.

Where do you go to recharge? What's "home" to you?