Princess Buttercup

After poor Thunder's sad ending, Bell wanted to try again on getting a kitten. We already have Huxley the fishy smelling dog and Dr. Coconut the cross eyed cat, but we had promised her a pet of her own as part of a bribe to move cheerfully. (She really didn't want to move here at first.) Our friend Amy was helping to care for seven abandoned kittens and generously offered to let Bell pick one out.

Princess Buttercup is also proficient in lego destruction

Oh my, were those kittens sweet. There were adventuresome kitties, shy kitties, orange kitties, black kitties. Kitties everywhere! A little orange striped baby was the most curious and friendly and was just the obvious choice for us. She was Bell's kitten from the moment we got in the car. She curled up in Bell's lap, rolled over on her back, and alternately played and napped on our trip home.

Since it was her own kitten, Bell got to name it (though Jack and I retained veto power.) Thankfully, Bell broke from her tradition. This is the first female animal, real or stuffed, that she did not name a variation of Rose. We even once had a Rose Junior. Instead, this  orange wad of fluff has been named Buttercup. Amy had called her Fearless. I had to add Princess. Jack calls her Bonnebell. Bell has added Pouncer to the list. Poor thing. Fearless Pouncer Princess Bonnebell Buttercup is a long name for such an itty bitty kitty. Her personality might be big enough to handle such a moniker though. She has emerged as the alpha personality in the house. Huxley is afraid of her. Coco defers to her and lets her eat first. On her first morning here, I foolishly offered her dry cat food. She imperiously swept her little self to the fridge and took up a vigil there until I caved and got out the wet cat food. She goes up a tree faster than any cat I have seen before and she feels quite free to stake her claim to any surface she chooses, whether it be Huxley's dog bed or my lap.

In many ways, she reminds me of her owner: small and determined. It does seem that she will not be the only new addition to the family though. Remember Clemintine the digging dog? Well there were also three other dogs that have had to find new homes since we have been here. Additionally, the former occupant of the house left a cat, a tiny little female long haired calico. For over a month now, she has been skirting the yard and eating scraps and food that we leave out for her. Yesterday, Bell and Jack got her to be friends and this morning found her in Jack's lap. I suppose I will be taking yet another animal for its shots next week.  I don't know if I will get out voted, but I think she looks like an Eleanora.  I wonder if I get two votes since I am allergic to her and yet am buying her cat food.

Christened by Company

I spent a good chunk of Saturday and Sunday spiffing up the house in expectation of guests. Now, I know a lot of people almost have a revolving door with frequent visitors, but not so the Rucker family. Company was a big deal.


Jack and I have been married almost ten years and I am racking my brain to think of when we have had non-family guests over for general visiting and a meal. Twice, a friend of Jack's was in the area on business. Since he lived in South Dakota, he came for dinner and stayed the night. Other than that, I have had a friend over for lunch a few times, but we generally don't have a lot of company other than family, and even that is rare. We are both remarkably bad at small talk, and for years Jack had a crazy work schedule that made entertaining difficult.

We have Bell to thank for Sunday's visitors. When she found out that she would be going to a new school, one of her very few requests was that her best friend JJ get to come up and play for a day before school started. We put her off a bit, thinking we would like to get more done on the house, but it became evident that more home improvements would be delayed until fall, so I emailed JJ's mama and we made plans.

It was not a fancy affair, which is good since I dropped the squash on the ground when trying to grill it. I can only hope that our friends thought we were having an off night or they might not return. My child fought with theirs and there was crying. There was the afore mentioned squash. I know something else got dropped, though I have forgotten what. The fish we took them to catch refused to bite. It was hot. There were gnats. At times I am sure it looked like we were related to James Thurber's family. I wonder if they have ever read "The Night the Ghost Got In." However, It was not an all bad night in the least. The fighting and crying stopped and was replaced by a lot of laughing. The kids preferred to swim instead of fish anyway. There was plenty to eat that didn't end up on the ground.

Even though we are not very proficient entertainers, I envision afternoons and evenings of friends and family gathered here. Somehow, this place seems just right for bon fires, cider, and s'mores kinds of gatherings rather than white table cloth and napkin rings. The kind where people laugh irreverantly and loudly and it is not all polite and correct. I know we have a few friends from college that we would like to have out. My own family really has not had a chance to come yet. I think I can get better at hostessing. For now, it feels as if the house has been christened in a way by these friends who were invited, prepared for, and who actually came and shared a meal.

Hot Days

Hot days make for slow accomplishment here. I look at my last post and realize that we accomplished very little of what we had planned on doing and I fear we will accomplish even less in the last three weeks of freedom.

The pumpkins did get planted and until the grasshoppers found them yesterday, they were pretty happy on their scorching hillside. I really hate to use chemicals on them, but I have some seven spray and suppose I will go spray in a bit. A friend suggested dippel but I haven't found it here.

Jack has been busy with a little side job of transferring old home movies for someone we know and needs to finish that up and we are on standby to keep a friend of Isabella's when his mom goes to the hospital to have a baby. In the meantime, we want to do a little geo caching. We have done almost none in the last several months. We still need to take Bell to a water park. I also really need to make an appointment with our friend Misti to get my hair "banged." It at least needs a few inches whacked off, but I am considering something a lot shorter. Last time I got that urge it ended up being about 2 inches long. I don't think that was my style, but I am tired of all this long mess. Jack will have to go do some training in Clinton for a few days and I suppose I really need to go get my room in order at school.

Somehow, even with all this to do, when it is hot, I don't even have the umph required to take Bell down the hill to the lake every evening.

Catching up

This is sort of a catching up week for us on the farm. Jack is going to be tied up with other things next week and possibly the week after. I go back to work August 13. We are about to run out of summer. I had hoped to squeeze in a day at Sulphur, Turner Falls, or a water park, but I don't think that Jack has time. But this week, we are all here and things around the place need done.

This morning Jack is tilling up a spot for pumpkins. Yesterday, he got drip line and maybe tonight or tomorrow we will get about 155 plans in the ground. Right now, they are outgrowing their flats rapidly.

We also are going to try to replace the toilet this week. We had originally thought we would get all the painting, trim, bookshelves/office nook, everything finished this summer, but money and time have sidelined us. Jack might have some time off in the fall when we are at school, and he will get more done with us out of his way.

The yard needs mowing. Dead limbs need removed. We have to get something to spray stickers with. Another load of stuff needs to come from storage in Loco. I must go to the city and get hair cuts for Bell and myself. I am anxious to start cleaning up the piles of debris in the fence lines and behind out buildings, but we want to wait till fall for that. Less likelihood of biting stinging things then. It seems that we just have too much to do before that first day of school. Jack will be back work even earlier than I will.

Somewhere in all these chores, we need to find some time for some fun things for Bell. Today will be one - after lunch I think the movie theater is calling our names.

House Work

I have spent a lot of these first 6 weeks on the farm cleaning, putting away, and just generally puttering about.  I do a little yard work, a little re-arranging of things I thought I had put in the right spot.  I do a little cooking and little garden planning.  I did have some actual house projects planned and am thankfully done with some of them.

Take this couch for instance.   It is a perfect couch to take a nap on or to curl up on to read.  It is not a good couch to sit demurely and lady-like on while sipping tea with grandmotherly types.  It is just too deep - my legs stick straight out like a small child's.  It also needs re-upholstered.  I can't justify the expense of having it professionally done, so I made a slip cover out of chocolate colored sheets (cheap and big) for the body and then got some upholstery fabric in green and chocolate for the back cushions.  I hope I never have to do this again. It was a horrid experience that resulted in a few frustrated tears.  May the couch fairy bring a new couch before this slip cover falls apart from my in-expert seamstress abilities.  In the meantime, at least it can be washed and dried if it gets icky.


Curtains are also not my forte. This fabric was originally intended for the couch cushions, but I underestimated the amount of fabric needed for the couch so it became kitchen curtain material instead. I must put on record that there WAS enough fabric for curtains . . . but once again, I didn't figure well and they came out too short by about half an inch.  I will be looking for a red or chocolate fringe or border to go along the bottom.  For now, at least the windows are covered. It was not  a fun project, though anything involving sewing is never fun for me.

 Two projects that I really loved were refinishing Bell's desk and dresser.  The
dresser once came from Harold's brother and was pretty scratched with an orange-ish brown colored stain and flaking varnish.  The desk was one I picked up at a thrift store, originally for me.  Once home, I decided it was too small for my needs and Bell claimed it.  The desk, too, had peeling varnish.  I stripped and sanded both pieces and then in lieu of stain and varnish, just oiled them down.  The desk came out prettier, but it was much higher quality wood.  These are the sorts of projects that I really get into and am actually a bit sorry I am out of things to refinish.

Those are really the only big house projects for now.  We even got some pictures on a few walls.  We are trying to get my sis to make some art for the other walls.  When we get a chance, we will be building bookshelves around another desk I bought (and fell in love with) from a great little shop in Marlow that sells refinished old peices. Then, we might get all the books out of boxes.  We also have some kitchen projects planned and need to finish painting trim, but Jack will probably do those in the fall when he has time off, but Bell and I are packed off to school for the day. Oddly enough, he gets more done when we aren't around.

The First Crop . . . Hopefully

For Yankees or Canadians the end of May might still be spring planting weather, but in Oklahoma, the heat has already set in and it feels like summer is upon us.  Now, summer holds many delightful things in store.  Blackberries.  Sunbathing.  Fireworks.  My mama's homemade ice cream.  What summer does not hold in store is good planting weather.  Just about anything I ever try to plant at the end of May sprouts and then promptly burns up.  This means that I didn't get to plant a garden this year since we moved over Memorial Day.  I brought a few tomatoes, cukes, peppers, and a squash in pots but that just isn't the same as a real garden.

We had hoped maybe to build an irrigation system this summer, but that just hasn't been the top priority. Even though we didn't get that done, Jack thought I could still do a little bit of fall garden.  I know I really won't have time to can beans and all that once school starts, so I don't think I will mess with those.  What I did want to plant were pumpkins.  We bought our seeds on the 4th of July and got them planted the next day.  This is what I found Monday:

No, it is not a worm.  It is a pumpkin sprout.  By the end of the day, most of the trays had sprouted.  It didn't hurt that it rained most of the evening and was nice and cool.  Then yesterday, we had another little shower, giving me trays of real plants by this morning.  Amazing what 2 days will do.

So sometime in the next week, Jack will till up a spot on our sandy hillside and lay some drip line.  In the meantime, we are being  very scientific with this.  While I planted, Jack started our plant journal and logged the types of seeds, suppliers, number planted, dates, etc.  We tried 4 types of pumpkin from two different seed companies, plus 2 types of gourds.  I wrote down what flats sprouted when and we will continue to log their progress . . . or lack there of.  I may be swimming in pumpkins come October if even half make it.  I will simply say that a lot of seeds fit in a flat and there are several flats.

It isn't really farming, but I like the idea of putting things in the dirt here; I was hating the idea of waiting until next spring.  Maybe in the fall there will be tiny pumpkins, giant pumpkins, and every size in between dotting our hillside, waiting to be carved or eaten.  It is a beginning.

My Mama's Daddy

For all that I am grown with a family of my own, I still call my parents Mama and Daddy. I always have and imagine I always will. My mother called her daddy Bud Bud when she was very small. There was a spell of hard times when no work could be had, and he was home with her during the day while my grandma worked as a nurse. He was Mama's buddy. I imagine she followed him around like a too small shadow. I know he once gave her a boy haircut so she wouldn't fuss when he had to untangle her hair everyday. I think my grandma was less than happy.

I have very few memories of my grandfather, a short barrel chested man with squarish hands; I was 6 when he died and we did not live nearby. I know that he was in the Army Corp of Engineers during WWII and served in Burma. I know that when his children were small, he gardened and would take a horse and wagon to sell produce. Later on, he didn't take a wagon to market, but he was still a fabulous gardener. One of my only memories is sitting in a green chair on his knee while he read the paper. The other memory is of going to Horton's store at Four Corners with Grandpa. I do not remember why we went to the store. I do remember that in the produce aisle, hanging over the produce, were stuffed Snoopy dogs. I certainly didn't need one, but he bought me one of those stuffed dogs. I don't think I even had to wheedle that much. I have this idea that he was pretty indulgent with me and my fuzzy memories are of a gentle, kind man in overalls. One of my favorite stories about him is not one of my own memories, but a story my mama tells. When I was wee bitty girl, I loved tomatoes. I would cry for them, but the adults hated to give them to me because the acid in them gave me a rash. Grandpa planted low acid tomatoes for me because he hated to see me cry. Maybe that is why I still love tomatoes . . . Just because he planted them for me.

One of my very few regrets in life is that I didn't get more time with my Mama's family. I don't know the stories and lore that I know about my daddy's family. I am so very glad I still have my daddy's parents. They have been visiting my parents for a week and are about to head back north. I think today Bell and I will go spend some time with them, see if we can soak up a few more things to remember.

Goodbye Thunder

The day began with me not rested, Huxley wanting out, and Coco wanting in so we got up and attended the animals and had coffee. Usually, Isabella's kitten hears us and crawls out of her bed looking for his breakfast. Not so this morning. We found him in her bed, but he was gone. Jack wrapped him in a piece of cloth and took him outside. When Isabella got up an hour later, she was upset though not at as weepy as I had expected. Perhaps it was because she knew he had been really sick and even though he was much, much better, she also knew he had gotten really weak and frail.

Oddly enough, yesterday when we thought he was going to pull through, she finally named him. For two weeks, he has just been Tiny Black Cat or TBC. She named him Thunder since he was stormy colored, and Jack added Black Cloud so he could retain his TBC moniker.

So on a morning when the sun really wasn't up because of the dark clouds and the wind was cool, still in sleep clothes, we walked down the slope and dug a hole. There were iris bulbs hiding in the dirt there. After a teary eyed daddy buried his little girl's kitten, we left the bulbs at the surface. Rain fell lightly as we walked up the slope as we all three cried a little.

You were a good kitten Thunder Black Cloud.

Just Me

A few days ago, an old friend made a comment about me during our high school days,  and it has got me to thinking that now I am  not quite the girl that friend once knew.  A year or two ago, a former professor of mine and I had an online discussion about the importance of occasionally re-inventing one's self.  Some people probably think that is what I have been doing lately, what with the move to the farm and job change and all.  However, I don't really feel that way.  Instead of reinvention, I feel like I might have just found the niche I have been looking for.

I grew up half country kid, half town kid.  We lived at the edge of a small town, close enough to the pool to ride there on my bike.  Close enough to school to walk and not ride the bus.  On the other hand, I once had a spell of having to milk a goat every morning, and I remember keeping bottle calves in the field behind our house.  My dad was the ag teacher.  My mom grew up on a farm and always had a garden and canned and sewed.  We spent holidays and summers at my grandparents' farm.  In high school, I was always in ag.  I was also the academic sort of kid who actually thought trig was fun.  I wasn't the fashionable, homecoming queen girl or the cute, spunky cheerleader.  I was the girl in the school greenhouse or the girl with the library book.  Looking back, I probably seemed stuck up or stand off-ish to others, but I  really just didn't know what to say to anyone.   In college, I shed the country girl image, but kept the academic image . . . and probably the stuck up image, though I didn't realize until later.   In retrospect, I don't think I ever quite felt comfortable in any of these roles.  They just weren't quite entirely me even though they were parts of me.  Later, I became an English teacher.  Then, I became a wife and, eventually, a mother.  Those were important additions to the parts that make up me, but  I spent a lot of time worrying about the sort of student, teacher, wife, or mom that I should be instead of . . . well, just being.  

He won't be getting this shirt back

 I feel pretty good about where I find myself now.  I don't care much anymore that my sewing is awful or that I am not good with small children.  I don't even care that I don't like Nathaniel Hawthorne (there probably isn't a rule that English teachers who shun Hawthorne are burned at the stake).  It is okay if I am not Betty Crocker or Ree Drummond or any of those amazing homemakers out there.  I am certainly not my mother.  Instead, I am who I am.  I am best when I get to workout.  I just really don't like brown rice and whole grain pasta, even if they are supposed to be healthy.  I don't even like arugula.  Instead, I would gladly eat cool whip straight from the container.  I have learned that I don't really like to wear make up, so I mostly don't.  I love to cook but am terrible at getting an entire meal to all finish cooking at the same time.  I love to dig and muck about in the garden. I think I am young and not old yet.   I haven't owned cowboy boots since I was 18 and probably won't ever again, but I love Jack's old Navy shirt and a pair of old deck shoes for my summer garden uniform and plaid school girl skirts and riding boots for  winter attire.  

I used to worry a lot about not being the sort of wife Jack needed or the sort of mom that Bell needed.  I worried about not being the right sort of teacher.   I don't worry so much anymore.  Everyone seems okay with the me they got.  I think Jack's willingness to let me figure out who I am might be one of the best gifts he has given me.   He never expects me to fit some image.  Some days, he gets a baker.  Some days a filthy gardener.  Some days it is the girl saying, "listen to this" and then reading him a passage from a book.  Today, the wife he got was one who will feed him leftovers because I want to finish a desk I am working on.  All those parts work pretty well together.  They feel right.