My family arrived at Westfalcon Farm just after noon – the sun was shining, a slight breeze was blowing across the open fields, but not hard enough to turn Mr. Squeaky (the 103-yr. old windmill that my children named), and temperatures were holding steady at 70F. The day had come – 2,000 three-year old Christmas trees had arrived, bare root, and ready to plant. We all slipped into our work boots, grabbed our water bottles, and headed for the trail that would lead us to the old hay field. Long grasses, sumac, birch trees, and white pines lined the foot path that had been recently mowed by my father in anticipation of the arrival of his helpers. The kids ran ahead with the dogs after hearing the distant hum of the tractor. I heard my mother exclaim “Well, look who’s here! How are you?” as we entered the clearing to the field. The kids replied “Hi, Grandma! We’re good.” and the dogs started whimpering with excitement as they love seeing Grandma and Grandpa. “Boy am I glad you all are here.” my mom said as we neared the table where my mother and aunt were working diligently at trimming long tree roots, and dipping them in root gel. “Where do you want us? We’re ready to work!” I greeted them with a smile. Truth is, I had been looking forward to this day for the past month. I want, more than anything, to be a part of starting this Christmas tree business on the farm that my ancestors homesteaded in the late 1800’s. From the time I was a little girl, I have dreamed of living in the country – working hard on a farm. Thanks to my parents, I get a little taste of that. “We really need stompers.” my mother said. I looked out over the dusty field and saw my grandfather on top of the ’62 Massey-Ferguson tractor, waiting for my father. My father had been riding on the mechanical Christmas tree planter behind the tractor planting trees, but had stopped to help my uncle straighten the trees that had been planted, and stomp the ground around them in order to secure the roots. “You got it.” I said. Our family ran out to the old red tractor and began stomping. With additional stompers we were able to keep up with the tractor and the mechanical transplanter as my father plopped the young trees into the holes that the machine was opening up in the earth. Seeing the ease with which trees could be planted astounded me. A whole row could be planted as quickly as just a few trees planted by hand. As I tended to the trees, I had time to think about my great-grandfather and his family farming this very land. In one of my great-grandfather’s memoirs, he reflected on working on the farm and wrote: We children were very active as we planted all the potatoes. We would take a one-row walking cultivator and one horse and walk behind that for weeks. I started plowing on a 25 acre field using a Janesville walking plow. I was rather short and the plow handles would knock me over when I hit a rock – being just 12-years old. I would sit down on the edge of the furrow and cry. Soon I had mastered the job and loved to plow, although walking all day behind one would tire even a kid. When cultivating season was over and the last hilling done, we would walk up and down the rows of potatoes pulling the weeds that had escaped the cultivator. Usually we planted 25 acres, but the year of 1914, we planted 42 acres. We kids picked all the potatoes and it was a heavy crop. At harvest time, we dug about 22 acres with our Hoover Digger, and 20 acres we dug with a fork. I can’t imagine the awe my great-grandfather must have experienced as he transitioned from the hard manual labor of the early 1900’s to owning his first John Deere tractor in 1950. There is one entry in his memoirs where he mentions this exact thing: I think as I look back that the lives that had the fate to be lived during this period 1900 to 1974 have been blessed with the richest experiences of any lives. Because in this time, we have seen the first automobile, the first phonographs, and the first airplanes. In other words, all major improvements have come within these years. After half of the field was planted, my mother drove back to the house to prepare lunch for the planting crew. By this time, my brother and his wife arrived to help with the trees too. Within a half an hour, my mother had returned with a potato bake, fresh fruit, coffee cake, and more. The adults sat on chairs surrounding a large wagon, and the kids climbed right on top of the wagon and sat right next to the food. “Mom, I love that you brought the food out to the field – thank you!” I remarked. “Oh you’re welcome! That’s how they used to do it back then.” She responded. “Serving the food on the side of the field makes sense. It would take a lot longer to get the crew to the house, have them eat, and then come back out. This saves a lot of time.” I commented. Everyone finished eating in no time, but grandpa had taken off somewhere, so I turned to my dad and asked him “Do you trust me to drive the tractor, Dad?” “Absolutely!” he responded. After a quick lesson, I was the one behind the big black wheel. The Massey-Ferguson jolted a couple of times as I eased off of the clutch a little too quick the first time. I looked back, crinkling up my nose, and yelled “Sorry, Dad!” He smiled and gave me a thumbs up as he braced himself on the
unboundroots
“Home”: Watercolor Wednesday
Spending a week or two at my great-aunt and uncle’s farm every summer is one of my fondest memories. Waking up each morning to the sun shining in the upstairs farmhouse window, playing in the open fields, caring for the horses and ponies, and enjoying delicious homemade food made it a little girl’s dream, but the best was just being around my great-aunt and uncle. Both were happy, loving, and gentle people – the kind that everyone liked to be around. But, this post is dedicated to my great-uncle. The man you see below with that fantastic smile – a smile he wore often. My great-uncle was the one responsible for igniting my horse passion. He taught me how to care for his horses and ponies – feeding, brushing, and spraying the coat to repel flies. He also taught me how to saddle up Danny (the pony I learned to ride on), adjust the stirrups, and control the reigns. It takes a patient kind of pony to let a learning child take control. From the awkward first saddle tightening to letting me braid his mane into several dozen braids (tying each of them with red ribbon) – Danny was just as patient as my great-uncle. My great-uncle sure loved his horses and ponies, but he also loved his tractors. At about the same time my great-uncle trusted me to take Danny for a ride on my own, my great-uncle talked me into driving his tractor for the first time. I remember the gentle, yet thorough, explanation of how to work the tractor. I also remember his giant belly laugh as I lurched the tractor forward in a not-so-smooth manner. My eyes must have been the size of saucers. My great-uncle urged me to go faster – so I did. He laughed the entire time I was on that tractor. Not ceasing until I parked it back in front of him – relieved, but safe. A few years ago, I was up visiting my great-aunt and uncle, and my great-uncle was proud to show me his tractor that he had restored so perfectly. The 1950 Ferguson TO-30’s gray paint was flawless, and its low rumble continued without a hitch. He even had a small replica of the exact tractor wrapped up in a small blanket and placed safely into a small compartment under the hood – that smile of my great-uncle’s never faltered. That was one of the last times I would see him. My great-uncle passed away this past winter, but he wasn’t alone. Just two days before he passed, Danny, his pony, passed away too. I believe God had a hand in that one. I picture them both in the country – my great-uncle on his tractor and Danny in a field of long grass. After attending my great-uncle’s funeral, and learning of Danny’s passing, I felt the need to paint a picture for my great-aunt – one that I hope will make her smile for years to come. Here is my great-uncle and Danny at “Home”:
“Jessie Diggins Coming Through!”: The Best Cross-Country Ski Trip Ever
“Jessie Diggins coming through!” my daughter exclaimed. “Go Jessie go!” I played along as I heard the rhythmic swish, swish, swish of my 7-year old daughter’s cross-country skis passing me on my left. “Do you think I could be in the Olympics one day, Mom?” she yelled over her shoulder as she continued to pull away from me. “OF COURSE YOU COULD!” I replied – hoping she could hear me up ahead. “Here she goes again!” my 9-year old son said as he took off to race his sister. My daughter has been practicing her cross-country ski sprints ever since that historic cross-country ski finish by USA’s Jessie Diggins – I’m sure my daughter is not the only one. Who wouldn’t be pumped up, motivated, excited, or ready to try cross-country skiing after watching Jessie Diggins and teammate Kikkan Randall take the gold in the Ladies’ Team Sprint Free Final in Pyeongchang (the first gold medal for USA women in cross-country skiing). The jostling for first place between the USA, Sweden, and Norway, the final push for the last 100 meters, the NBC announcer’s extraordinarily excited commentary, the win by a half a ski length, the yell by Jessie as she crossed the line, and the tackle by teammate Kikkan Randall as Jessie collapsed in exhaustion led to the most exciting finish of all Olympic activities – well, it was for my family and me. This finish had everyone in our house up off the couch yelling, cheering, and celebrating the epic win. Check out the excitement in the video below. As my son and daughter skied back to me, I asked them “So, how far do you want to ski today?” “Let’s ski all the way across the lake!” my son suggested. “Yes, can we, Mom?” my daughter asked. “Hey, I’m game if you two are up for it.” I answered. “YES!” yelled my son. “I’m so excited!” said my daughter. This winter my kids have had fun making distance goals each time we ski the lake. The furthest we had skied was to the spot my kids named “The Peninsula” – a total of less than two miles round-trip. Skiing across the lake means doubling our previous distance. On this day, the sun was out, the temperature was perfect (about 35F) and we had the lake to ourselves – not a car, fish house, or person in sight. We had just a few inches of powdery snow on top of the foot of crusty snow that lay heavy atop the thick bed of ice (we’ve had a cold winter), so the skiing was fast. As we set out on our trek across the frozen lake, my kids had energy – they were excited to attempt their longest ski yet. I can’t tell you how many times they both talked about how excited they were, how happy they were to be skiing, and how they couldn’t wait to tell Dad how far they skied. But, with kids, the journey is much more than how far they ski. On our way across the lake, the kids noticed a wild rabbit mostly buried and dead in the snow, so we had to stop and discuss why this may have happened. “Do you think it was run over by a snowmobile?” my daughter asked. “I doubt it, but you never know.” I answered. My son then noticed dog tracks next to the rabbit. “Look!” He yelled. “Look at those tracks. Do you think those are dog tracks. Maybe they’re coyote tracks. Do you think some type of dog killed the rabbit?” “Again, it could be. But, I think that if a dog or coyote killed the rabbit they’d probably run off with it and eat it.” I replied. “Perhaps the rabbit got lost in one of our recent snowstorms and passed away in the middle of the lake.” I offered. “Poor rabbit.” my kids said. About 20 minutes later, we spotted a tiny spider darting around on the snow. “Now, how do you suppose this little spider made it out onto the middle of the lake?” I asked. “Mom, there is land all around the lake – it could have come from anywhere!” my son said almost exasperated. I laughed and said, “Well, yes, but that is a long way for a little critter to walk.” We came up with the possibilities that the spider may have: blown to the middle of the lake from a tree bordering the lake hitched a ride on a bird and dropped to the lake dropped off of someone’s vehicle or ice house We were left wondering what the little spider would eat while he was out there. After about an hour and a half of skiing, exploring, and lots of conversing, we hit our destination. The kids rejoiced and fell onto the snow to cool down as soon as they reached the far side of the lake. Both of them took a small piece of bark that had fallen off of a nearby tree and put it in their pockets to commemorate their achievement, and asked for a picture so that we could prove that we had made it across the lake. The journey back was a little bit slower, as we took a couple of breaks, and skied through an obstacle course (the car wheel tracks and skid marks from pulling ice houses across the lake had made for some fun hills and valleys in the snow). But our conversation was just as entertaining as it was on the first part of our journey. “This is just the perfect day” “I’m so hungry and thirsty” “I hope Dad is going to go grocery shopping soon because we’re going to eat everything in the entire house” “The sun feels so warm” “What do you think sugar ants think when they see us” “If you think that would be bad, what do you think sugar ants think when they see an actual giant” “What if
The Downfall of Youth Sports – Part 3: The Effects of Sport Specialization
An email from our local soccer club that went out to all under 8yr. and under 9yr. families: I’m writing today to discuss the U9 (birthyear 2009) playing options this winter and for this coming spring/summer league. Our Rec soccer program will only offer U9 soccer through July 2018. After that, Rec soccer will only encompass U5-U8 ages. Any player currently playing U9 in Rec will be allowed to play U9 through Rec this summer (2018) but we would also like to extend the option of jumping onto a competitive team before the summer. We are hoping to form 1-2 MORE U9 teams on both the boys’ and girls’ sides. I’ve put together a little Q&A for parents considering jumping into Competitive (aka “Traveling”)… Q. What are the expectations of competitive? A. Players will practice 2x/week (schedule set by parent-coach), with a game 1x/week (Girls T/Th game days, Boys M/W game days). Q. What is the cost for competitive? A. Spring/Summer fees run around $200 for 8-10 weeks of league play. There are no coaches fees. Teams will decide as a group, if they wish to play in any weekend tournaments. This would be an additional cost (approx. $30/ea. tournament). [We just paid over $280 for my son to play his first season of competitive, not including tournaments – not $200]. Q. What is the cost/info on uniforms? A. Good news! We are just now ordering for the next 2 year uniform cycle. Uniforms will be in this January. There will be 3 uniform try-on options next week… [Soccer club] staff will be recording sizes and/or entering your order online (I’m not sure if they’ll be ready to enter now or not. Either way, I do not think payment is due at this moment). The cost for the full uniform kit will be around $125-130. [So, after we order uniforms we will be paying over $400 in order for my son to play summer soccer – not including tournaments, travel expenses, or extra training]. Q. What are the winter dome training options? A. Winter dome training is an optional “add on”. [Our club] would like all of our players to play 1x/week during the winter. Winter dome training would be the perfect time for your kiddo to get acquainted with the other U9/10 players. Q. Why should I consider moving my U9 to competitive this summer? A. Playing competitive this summer will give your player a season “under their belt” before the U10 competitive tryout and season. Q. How far will I have to travel for games? A. Each team will have 8-10 league games. Half will be home games. Away game locations can vary; [most locations will be within a 1/2 hr. drive]. Q. What if I have a U8 (2010) that is ready for Competitive? A. Players that have already played Rec soccer and wish to move into Competitive “early”, will be accepted, as long as there are roster spots available (and they do not take the place of a true U9 wishing to play). U8 play-ups are “first come, first served.” Q. I see no reason not to play Competitive. A. That is not a question. 🙂 Crossroads Crossroads – this is where my family is at within our youth soccer lives. In October, we were notified by our city’s soccer club that they would be discontinuing recreational soccer for kids that are nine years of age and older starting in the summer of 2019. This summer will be my son’s first year of competitive soccer. My daughter, who is currently in first grade will be forced to try-out this coming summer if she wants to be placed on a team. From here, she will be placed on a team (one of the club leaders expressed his intentions of making sure every child who tries out gets placed on a team, as they don’t want to cut players if at all possible), and will start her competitive soccer career that following fall – at 7 yrs. old. Following the fall season, players are asked to pay for additional training throughout the winter. As mentioned above – the club would like all of their players to play at least once per week throughout the off-season (winter and early spring). As soon as the snow melts, club players are out practicing again in the spring to prepare for the summer soccer season – at 7 and 8-years old. Competitive soccer: a season without end and a price increase that is six times the amount we currently pay for both of our kids to play summer and fall recreational soccer (competitive will be roughly $1,800-$2,200 to have both of our children play whereas we currently pay $300 for both children to play recreational soccer in the summer and fall). These costs for traveling sports is actually below average. According to The Aspen Institute’s “Project Play”, the average traveling team spends $2,266.00 annually on a single child’s sport. Within the past few months, I have been contacted by several parents on my soccer team that are worried about the upcoming changes. So far I have three players that don’t plan on returning. Parents can’t afford the price to play competitive soccer, they want their children to be able to participate in multiple activities throughout the year, and feel that sport specialization at young ages is not appropriate. Most of these players are girls that have been with my team for several seasons now. They are players that have grown to love the game, and who want to play, but the club expectations are too much. Declining Participation in Youth Sports These problems are not only happening in the sport of soccer. The BBC recently published an article by Tom Farrey called “Have adults ruined children’s sport?“, where a disturbing infographic depicts the sharp decline in participation in youth sports: Another image on the post depicts perfectly manicured soccer fields at one of the largest youth soccer tournaments in the United States. More than 600
Christmas Memories: A Doll For Grandma
Porcelain-white skin, lips tinted rose, eyes painted with exquisite detail. What would her hair look like? Long blonde locks that brush her ankles, two auburn-colored braids that playfully hang down from each side of her ball cap, or raven-black ringlets that delicately frame her face – I could only guess. Most outfits were fancy gowns trimmed with lace, but another was a softball uniform, and one was a beautiful red sweater with plaid skirt that included ice skates as an accessory. When I was a young girl, I remember running down Grandma and Grandpa’s stairs at Christmas time to the Christmas tree they had decorated so nicely. I’d gently search through the gifts until I found the one with my name on it. Every year the box was roughly the same shape and size, and I always knew what would be carefully wrapped up inside – and yet the excitement never waned. When the time came for presents to be opened, my parents, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents would gather in a circle to read the Bible. As a child, it was so hard to sit still for the reading, so as soon as the scripture reading was finished, the kids would jump up and hand out presents to their grateful recipients. Everyone got one present from Grandma and Grandpa – simple and sweet. Logs crackled in the fireplace, cheeks were pink from the heat of the fire, the murmur of relatives chatting could be heard, and the smell of delicious holiday food filled the room. All of this was drowned out as I started to unwrap my gift. The tag with my name on it was always written in my Grandma’s beautiful handwriting, and the rectangular boxes were expertly wrapped. I’d take my time unwrapping my gift, as I knew the suspense would only last a moment. After I removed the top of the box, I gently unfolded the tissue paper that protected my gift, and there she was – my new porcelain doll. For many years my grandmother picked out a new porcelain doll to give me for Christmas. Each and every one was special to me. All throughout my childhood my dolls were displayed on my dressers, shelves, and any other open spaces I had in my room. I spent hours playing with them and combing their hair (which I found out later was not a great idea – doll hair is not like human hair). I still have my dolls, and now my daughter enjoys playing with them and taking care of them. Grandma always loved dolls, and I was not the only one she bought porcelain dolls for. She also bought them for the other girls in the family, and for herself. She once told me that when she was a little girl, her family didn’t have much money, but she remembered getting a doll when she was young – a treasured possession. I often wonder if this was why she continued to collect dolls. A few days ago, my great-uncle sent me a document that had been written by my great-grandfather (my grandma’s father) in 1977. In this document, Great-Grandpa reminisced of Christmas’ past, and I found a special mention of my grandmother (Connie) inside of it. Christmas was better as our children came and gave us incentive for celebrating. Connie started Sunday school and the first year at Christmas program I remember her little poem, yet- so, it goes: ‘Presents large and presents small But this is the best gift of all (she held up her doll).’ ~Roy Falk Reading this brought back the memory of my Christmas porcelain dolls – a Christmas memory that is still one of my favorites. I like to imagine the magic my grandmother must have felt when she opened up the doll she was given at Christmas when she was young. Was it the same kind of magic she gave to me each and every Christmas when I was a child? I’d like to think so. To my readers: I hope you had a very Merry Christmas. A Christmas that was filled with tradition, loved ones, and fond memories. Do you have any special Christmas memories? I would love to read about them if you would be so kind as to share them in the comment section below. Wishing you a Happy New Year! `Erin