Archives

Under An Elderberry Bush

Jan15

Gathering clouds made the late summer afternoon feel cooler, so I decided to take a walk. Glancing into the dining room where my eight-year-old and twelve-year-old daughters were sitting at the table, I invited, “Would you girls like to go for a walk with me?” Obviously bored, they eagerly jumped to their feet, but obediently turned back to pick up their drink glasses when I suggested, “Why don’t you put your glasses next to the sink?”

In the driveway Tammie, my younger daughter asked, “How far are we going to walk? Is it going to rain before we get back home?”

“No.” I assured her. “It won’t rain while we’re walking. I only plan to walk one mile. That’s to the top of the hill and just a short distance beyond the oak tree that stands there.

The air was still and felt slightly muggy. Thinking of the dry soil in the garden, I reflected on how we needed rain. Unseen late summer insects hiding in the tall grass along the road and tree tops buzzed. I commented, “The sound that late summer bugs make always reminds me of the sizzling of bacon when it fries.”

Niki, my older daughter chuckled when I added, “The fat of the summer is melting away whenever you hear those bugs.” Both girls groaned when I cheerfully pointed out, “Your school year starts in three weeks.”

All family walks taken along our road must include a stop on the bridge, found one tenth of a mile from our house. We look down into the water and count minnows and crayfish. Pebbles from the road get tossed into the water to see them splash. Leaves are dropped to watch how fast or slow the current of the Little Eau Pleine River takes them away. Without the sun that day, the water looked dark. Tammie complained, “I can’t see fish today.”

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Frog Monster

Jan8

My daughter Niki snuggled down under the covers in her bed. Her younger sister, Tammie, reluctantly crawled into her bed. I turned on a small nightlight on the dresser, then leaned over to pick up clothing from the floor that had been cast off in favor of night clothes. Tammie sat upright to point out, “You forgot to shut the closet door.”

I thought, “That’s nice. Tammie likes having the room look neat at bedtime.”

Niki dismissed that idea when she sleepily commented, “Tammie wants the frog monster to stay in the closet.”

This was the first I’d heard about a frog monster! I looked closely at my youngest daughter. She didn’t look too worried. I asked, “Where did the monster come from? Tell me about it.”

Tammie shrugged as she outlined what she knew about the frog. “I don’t know where the frog came from. He wears a crown and is six feet tall.”

Sleepiness gone, Niki rolled on her side and added with a giggle, “It carries a large trident like Neptune.”

I was impressed. How many children have closet monsters that are six-feet-tall and carry the three-pronged weapon of a Roman sea god? I inquired, “Are you afraid of this giant frog monster?”

Both of my daughters denied being afraid. Tammie informed me, “The frog doesn’t bother us if the closet door is closed.”

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A Famous Relative

Oct9

Excited to attend the fair, my two daughters, Niki, Tammie and their neighborhood friend Dee-Dee, raced ahead of me through the parking lot toward the entry gate. I stopped to make sure my car was locked and was amazed that even this far from the midway, I could hear the screams of people enjoying the carnival rides. A gentle, easterly breeze carried the smell of deep-fried foods to us, but also the smell of animals that were entered at the fair. The unique combination of smells didn’t bother me because through the years I’d grown used to them.  

Of all the Marshfield fairground buildings, the first one and easiest to see from a distance is the huge red one that has a sign on it announcing that it is, “the world’s largest round barn.”  Tammie, my younger daughter, proudly informed her friend Dee-Dee, “My great uncle and his brothers built that round barn!” I smiled to hear my daughter repeating what I tell my children each year when attending the fair.

Knowing that my uncle, Henry Felhofer, and his brothers built this local landmark has always made me feel proud to be related to them. What they achieved was remarkable for so many reasons. The Felhofer brothers bid to the Central Wisconsin Holstein Breeders Association for the job was lower than any of the other bids because the brothers planned to do without using scaffolding.

Although the Felhofer brothers were thoroughly experienced in the building trade, this was the only round barn they ever built. They began to work on Thanksgiving Day, in 1915. Working through a bitterly cold winter, they cut the fingers off their gloves to keep warm and yet be able to handle the nails. Since the building had a round roof, the brothers were not sure how many shingles to order. They made an educated guess which turned out to be spot-on! They had only a handful of shingles left when they were done working. The 150-foot wide, 70-foot-tall barn was completed in the spring of 1916 and used for the fair that summer and ever since.

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Watch Me Dance

Sep25

The smaller grandchildren tumbled about on the living room floor like happy little puppies, while the eldest girl tried to organize the bedlam. Anne kept repeating, “Let’s put on a dance for Grandma!” I smiled. The younger children were lost when Anne wasn’t home to direct their play.

 A golden ray of late afternoon sunshine found its way into the room through a slight opening in the drapes. The wayward shaft of light was like a spotlight on each towheaded child as they obediently trooped out of the room through the light to put on dress-up clothes.

Before the children were dressed and ready to put on a floor show, their mother and youngest sibling returned from town. I got up and walked into the dining room to talk to my daughter. When the children came back downstairs from their visit to my dress-up box, they were wearing prom dresses, scarves, petticoats, and lacy kerchiefs pinned in their hair. Anne begged over and over, “Mom, Grandma, come into the living room and watch us dance!”

We all returned to the living room, and Anne lined her siblings up. I took a picture of the performers. When she said, “Ok” they all began to twirl, jump and leap. If enthusiasm indicates a superior performance, my daughter Niki and I were watching the world’s best dancers.

“Watch me dance” was a demand I heard Anne make often when she was a small girl. It didn’t seem to matter if her siblings danced with her or not. In her mind, she seemed to feel she was on a stage, and that her leaps and twirls were flawlessly choreographed movements.

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A Luthier’s Gig

Sep18

A shaft of late afternoon sun peeked into the building’s smoky interior. The bartender stood, polishing drink glasses and watching the band setting up for their gig on the far end of the room between drawing fresh drafts of beer for customers. One of the musicians on the stage was my nephew, John.

John is a luthier. I like telling people this, but very few people know what a luthier is. One of the people I told was silent for a while before inquiring, “Do you mean, he is a Lutheran?”

I kindly explained, “A luthier is a maker of stringed instruments, which requires a lot of artistic skill. John has made and sold several huge upright bass instruments since he completed his training in Red Wing, Minnesota. When my nephew talks about building them, the wood he uses, the carvings in the wood, you can hear his passion for the job. He works for hours in his workshop to make an instrument produce beautiful music.”

Five lone drinkers dotted the long, polished bar. They were sitting slumped on tall stools, hitched to what I figured were most likely their favorite, and frequently used spots. A few steps from the bar, clusters of tables and chairs ran almost the entire length of the room. Due to the early hour of the evening, not all the places to sit were occupied.

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Sweet Relief

Sep11

Spotting a shaded bench in the garden, Tammie hurried over to it and quickly sat down before anyone else had the same idea. Slipping off one of her shoes, I noticed a spot on her foot where her shoe had rubbed the skin raw. She sighed with resignation, “Here we go again! The shoes I’m wearing today are rubbing and making my feet hurt, and I didn’t pack any band aids.”

This was our first full day in Seattle, Washington. The day before, my sister Agnes, daughter Tammie and I had done a lot of walking in the airports. Today, we were touring the Chihuly blown glass display and garden next to the Space Needle Center.

After thoroughly searching through her purse, Agnes handed a band aid to Tammie, proudly announcing, “I knew I had one in there somewhere!”

I sat down next to Tammie to apply the band aid for her. Slipping her shoe on again, she stood up, saying with relief, “Now it feels much better! We’re going to stop at a pharmacy to buy a box of band aids before returning to our bungalow for the night.” 

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Swimming Through Crowds

Sep4

I had a hard time following my daughter Tammie and sister Agnes. A river of people surged past market stands displaying everything from honey, jewelry, large bouquets of fresh flowers, meat, candy, fresh fruit, and clothing. Just when I thought I could catch up to them, another group of people intent on reaching a nearby stand stepped between us. Despite it being a weekday, the determined crowd at Pike Street Market reminded me of a strong current of downstream water that I had to swim against to get where I wanted to be.

Pike Place Market in Seattle Washington doesn’t require an entry fee to enter, nor does it have official entry gates. People just flood in through the many entrances from the surrounding neighborhood, or up the steps and elevators from the wharf level stores and the stores on the floors in between. Small stores and shops also line the streets and back alleys outside of the market. Tammie, Agnes and I visited an alleyway tea store and a leather goods vendor.

In all, Pike Street Market District covers nine acres. It is described as Seattle’s largest incubator of small, independent businesses where there are a couple hundred independently owned shops and restaurants. It provides income to over three hundred farmers, entertainers and crafts people and affordable housing for over 450 people.

I finally caught up to Tammie as she was examining skin care items made with honey. Agnes was nearby, looking at earrings. I said, “I wonder if there is a public bathroom nearby?” The friendly shopkeeper nodded and pointed further down the hallway saying, “You’ll find one just beyond the Pike Place Fish Market, then down one floor.”

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Looking Down

Aug28
Seattle’s iconic skyline

We stepped off the elevator and looked down. Seattle’s Space Needle has an observation deck with a glass floor near the top of the structure. Through it, we clearly saw the ground below…500 feet below. Heights don’t usually bother me, but when I noticed the floor under me wasn’t stationary, my stomach gave a lurch. Tammie announced, “The top of the space needle turns 360 degrees in an hour.” I nodded to indicate I’d heard her. Agnes nonchalantly walked away from us across the glass floor to get a good spot to look out over the city.

Rejoining us, Agnes commented, “Isn’t there supposed to be a restaurant up here?”

Trying hard to remember what I’d read about the space needle, I squinted as though trying to reread the article from a distance, “I think there were two restaurants. They were closed a few years ago so the space could be remodeled and opened in the future as one big restaurant.”

My daughter, sister and I had arrived in Seattle less than 24 hours earlier. Since then, we made good use of our time by exploring the neighborhood around our bungalow, attending Mass at a nearby church, shopping and finding a wonderful restaurant where we had a relaxing meal. Since today was a Sunday, one of Agnes’ sons and his wife who lived thirty miles east of Seattle, had come to spend the afternoon with us.

I had visited the Seattle Space Needle in 2000 with my late husband Arnie, and Tammie. So many changes had been made to this area that the only thing recognizable to me was the Space Needle, which had been built in 1962 for the world fair held in Seattle that year. All the restaurants, hotels, flower-lined sidewalks, gift shops and the Chihuly Garden and Glass were new to me. The carnival atmosphere that afternoon was supported by food stands selling unusual treats, and a street entertainer playing an electric violin for money thrown into his instrument case.

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Unseen Blessings

Aug21
July 24th 2024, off the shore of New Hampshire, a whale breached, and landed on a 23-foot fishing boat. Two people were thrown from the boat as it capsized. They were quickly rescued.

My daughter stood at the door of the adorable 1920-era bungalow, watching my sister Agnes and me buttoning our coats. The sky was heavily clouded, so the shadowed rooms inside our Airbnb house made us feel like it was earlier in the morning than it really was. Tammie stated, “We need to leave now, if we want to get to Pier 69 in time to go whale watching.”

A slow-moving train made us stop and wait while trying to find a place for us to park. After finding a parking spot in a nearby car ramp, we then had to walk across the railroad tracks. Another train was going through, making us wait some more. We could see the wharf and the boat we would be spending several hours aboard through the gaps between train cars. I nervously glanced at my watch. Tammie assured me, “We’ll get there on time.” There were half a dozen other people waiting with us for the train to pass. I nodded. The only place they could be going was Pier 69, and a tour boat wouldn’t leave so many people behind.

Light rain spattered down from the gray blanket of clouds overhead as we boarded. A cold wind whipped around us. With a shiver, I commented, “Let’s hope there’ll be seating in the enclosed part of the boat. It’s hard to believe that the Midwest is having hot and humid weather this week. I’ve been slightly chilly ever since we arrived in Seattle a couple days ago.”

Most of the seating options on the San Juan Clipper that day were within cabins on two different decks. People who didn’t want protection from the cold wind and possible rain could sit on the open top deck. My sister wondered, “Do you think weather affects a whale watch?”

I answered, “I was wondering that myself. We’ll just have to wait and see. The tour promises guaranteed whale sightings. They have a 97% success rating.”

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Home Sweet Bungalow

Aug14

My daughter Tammie stopped the rental car, and announced, “Here’s the house we will be staying in while visiting Seattle.” I scanned the row of houses lining the street. They were all older homes tightly embraced by shrubs, flowers and bushes that had been planted around them many years ago. The houses looked messy, but cozy, like happy, comfortable homes.

“Which house?” My sister, Agnes inquired from the backseat of our vehicle, a Grand Cherokee Jeep. Tammie motioned to the house alongside the parking spot she’d just backed into. I turned to look and recognized it from a picture that my daughter showed me when making trip arrangements. It looked older and more cluttered than other places we’d looked at, but that was my choice.

Tammie and I were calling this trip to Seattle, Washington, a small trip. Instead of spending an entire day traveling to a faraway place, like Europe, our flight halfway across the United States had lasted roughly, about three-hours. The tiring part of the trip was all the waiting, the treasure hunt search for the right place to check in, the TSA line, the gate our plane was, and hopes there wouldn’t be delays. My travel savvy daughter made doing these things easier.

As we lifted our suitcases out of the Jeep, I thought about how I’d been lugging mine around since leaving home and decided that the word ‘luggage’ perfectly described suitcases. Even when they have wheels, a person must do a lot of lifting and lugging to get them from one place to another.

Hauling my suitcase up the porch steps, I hoped this would be the last lift for the day. The effortless roll of my suitcase was stopped by the threshold.  Glancing down, I lifted my wheeled suitcase over the bump and walked through the open entryway into the living room.

Glancing around to take in my surroundings, I breathed, “This place is beautiful!” From watching HGTV, I recognized the house was most likely a craftsman style build around the 1920’s. Other than upkeep, it appeared to never have been remodeled. The floors were wood, and the living room was open through a large arch to the dining room. A built-in buffet sideboard separated the dining room from the kitchen. Off the dining room was a small hallway with a bedroom on either end. Between the rooms was a bathroom. It was small but had everything a person would need.

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