Mary Jane's Video

Oh, if you love Mary Jane Butters, you will love this video which I found by way of the sweet, peaceful blog of Clarice (thanks tons, Clarice! I'd never seen Mary Jane on video before... what a treat to find this!).

I discovered the Mary Jane's video this morning at 5:00 a.m. and could barely keep myself from racing out the back door (it was still black outside) to begin farm-like projects. To work hard. To continue taming our few wild acres into productive and lovely ones. (Perhaps instead of calling our place, Healing Acres, we should have called it, Wild and Weedy Acres. Sigh.) And I love being reminded that Mary Jane began her farm as a single mom living at the end of the road in a house with no plumbing. Out here, I need lots of inspiration and those kinds of stories give me boosts to hang in there.

I'm thinking all you farmgirls and farmguys at heart will love this video.

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Need some more ways to save money? Our local tv news station shares ways to save each morning at 6:15. Here's their list of money-saving links. One of the websites delivers your home supplies free and even applies online coupons to your order for you!

And there's more. Here's their list of homemade household cleaning remedies. Non-toxic ways to clean--love that.

Our local morning news program is a treat. Rather than just drone on and on about local bad, depressing news, they share a bit of bad news, then the weather, then, say, some helpful hints (sometimes sharing their own tips in a humorous way following the tape). Then they might run some film on newsy local happenings (some of them heart-warming), the weather, then ways to save money (after which they sit at their desk chatting about saving money). Then one (quite funny) guy on the news team will appear at a local shop or school or museum or fun place to interview the folks in charge and those who frequent their business/activity. (What a terrific way to discover places to visit in our area!) And so it goes in this similar pattern.

I'm always reminded of the Mary Poppins song, 'Just a Spoonful of Sugar Helps the Medicine Go Down,' while watching our local news each early morning. They share so many good, positive things that it makes it easier to swallow the bad stuff. :)



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I bought a couple yards of black and white gingham yesterday and placed it over our table. Adds a bit of drama.

So there I was at Salvation Army today practically standing on my head to read some of their book titles on shelves barely above the floor, when I heard it. Fleetwood Mac's song, Dreams. Wow, suddenly I was whooshed back to my senior year of high school in a tiny California mountain town. Funny how songs can do that to you, scents too, of course.

"Thunder only happens when it's rainin'..." I loved that song as a young girl of just 18 and I stood before the books, listening, remembering all I felt and thought back in 1977. Well, only parts. Who can remember everything? Old friends, old teachers, my walks to the high school just around the corner from my house and my longer strolls to the post office nearly everyday, for no one in town had home mail delivery. Sights, sounds and smells of pines and smoke from wood stoves (nearly everyone heated their homes solely with wood). And dream-stepping, dancing, through my days in a land only a teenage girl knows her way around.

Ah, memories.

But you know? All these thousands of days and miles later, I'll take my today. Some of my friends wish they could return to childhood, for they miss it. But not me. No, even though I have fewer years to live (upon Earth, anyway) than the ones I've lived already, still, I'll keep my today and tomorrows. My todays are better than all my early years of days, combined, and I'll choose young at heart inside an aging body.

And those were my thoughts while the music played there in Salvation Army on one of my rare days away from home alone. For just a moment I traveled backward thirty years, but oh, was I ever grateful to boomerang right back to today. Not because of where I live or dreams I am living-out, though all that is nice, of course. But because of God and the wisdom He gives and--especially-- knowing I am loved with a love which cannot be shaken.

That was the missing piece in 1977. But it is found, missing no more.


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For inquiring minds, I bought two spiffy 1960's kids' novels and a pair of like-new black slacks, no pockets, my favorite kind. A highly successful day at SA. :)

My latest issue of Mary Jane's Farm arrived yesterday, the perfect day, at a much needed time (long story). Inside, there's my favorite kind of article to read (a favorite subject for tv news stories, too) and I simply had to share it with you. This woman is beyond inspiring--at 83 she's (contentedly) doing what, on some days out in my garden, I question whether I'll have the strength to do at age 55. I need to read about people like Willodene, for they help me, day after day, keep doing what I'm doing the old-fashioned way.

Here's just a small excerpt:


"Now nearly 83, Willodene still plants a large garden and waters it by hand from her well. She gets up early while the heat is still bearable and carries five-gallon buckets of water to her plants...She washes clothes in a Maytag washer ... and her only dryer is a clothesline in the back yard. She has half a dozen martin birdhouses down the fence row, a large supply of winter wood to feed her heating stove, and a push mower she prefers over a riding variety. She complains of "slowing down"--telling me she used to mow her yard in one day, but now it takes two. She cans and freezes her garden produce, climbs to the chimney flue atop the roof and cleans it out every six weeks or so, and feeds the cattle as well.... Hollyhocks of every color ring her garden fence, roses and hydrangeas nestle around her little frame house.


"' I do my best thinkin' in the garden,'" says Willodene."
(Written by Kay Thomas)



I wish Willodene lived next door to me. She would keep me young, maybe even for another 30 years.

Oh, what an influence we can have upon each other!

Just came inside from doing daily battle with Japanese Beetles. I think I've killed 50 so far. Generally I hate killing anything, but (don't tell anyone) I'm actually having fun whacking at these destructive creatures and seeing them float, lifeless, in my bright yellow pail.


Speaking of yellow, I also just now brought in my very first yellow crookneck squash of the summer. Beautiful thing on a beautiful afternoon--we had a summer shower which left us with bright blue skies and gleaming raindrops upon everything green.



Bob the Milkman just left, too. He liked our new kitchen storm door.


Progress is nice. But alas, progress tends to come slowly around here so I should doubly appreciate and celebrate it, I think. And be more patient waiting or working for it next time.




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Is that little gnome guy adorable or what? He was only $1 at a yard sale. And the old-fashioned wooden tulip and chick were only 25 cents each.

The yellow flowers are sundrops, my new favorite perennial.

That's some surprising news about Sarah Palin, isn't it? I'll not add any comments about her decision, but I did want to note something I heard her say on a Canadian talk show (well, the show is always shown on our Canadian station so I'm assuming...). The host told Sarah that another politician on his show told how he'd been devastated when he lost an election and it took months for him to get over the depression of losing.

Then the host asked Sarah if she'd experienced any of that after the presidential election in November, but she answered, no, she hadn't. She told him she couldn't imagine ever experiencing such devastation over a political loss because politics are not her be-all, end-all. They are not the most important of her priorities, she said, so they did not hold that kind of power over her.

I loved that. And sitting here in my living room, I applauded her answer.

I also contemplated her words throughout the rest of that day and something occured to me. That's the sort of thing which has changed my whole life these past 15 years. Since Jesus became my be-all, end-all, I've never dived down deep into depression like I used to. That's how real He's become. Jesus is my reason for getting out of bed with joy in my heart. He's my closest friend. My 'cheerer-upper'. My encourager, my hope and my strength when mine evaporates (which, on this farm, happens a lot).

And well, He never forgets me or goes away on vacation. He never gets all in a huff, ignoring me. And so since He means the most to me, more than anything, then as long as He's here beside me, well, I'm ok. Peaceful. Calm. Steady. And nothing else holds the power to totally blow me apart into a million pieces.

But in years gone by, just about everybody else came before Him. He was way down the list. And because I based how I felt upon how everyone else treated me (giving them power over my feelings), well, it was like I was in a rocky boat. Steady one day (when my friends or family treated me right) or rocky the next day (when others got mad at me or Life's circumstances went all askew).

I had around 35 years of rocky-boat-rocky. I prefer peaceful, calm, steady. What a way to go.

Anyway, those are the kinds of thoughts I was thinking after that interview with Sarah Palin. It's funny how a person can say one thing and your mind can run all over the place from there.

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The above photo is of the flag we finally bought. We'd wanted one for ever so long. Of course, I should have posted it yesterday, on the 4th of July, but that would have required clear, concise thinking. I'm too old for that. :)

Alas, the white wall in my kitchen and I have called a truce. I'm actually liking it. And remember Laura's idea about an all-white kitchen with the orange counter tops? Wonder of wonders, I watched a movie last night, Far From Home: The Adventures of Yellow Dog, which had exactly that. Well, the counter tops were more of a red-orange, but still... What a coincidence. And I did love that kitchen, but then, mine doesn't have all the lovely glass-fronted cabinets up on the walls and the center island and all that floor space and cool lighting and --

Anyway. The Japanese beetles have invaded again. Last year they chewed-up our grapevines and our rosebush. But unlike last year (and its overwhelming-ness), this year I'm not too busy to kill those guys. I read online that if you can get them into a bucket of soapy water, they'll die, so I found a short white plastic stick-thing, got my bucket of soapy water and walked through our orchard, garden and grapevines knocking the shiny copper guys into kingdom come.


The woman online said to do this everyday. E-v-e-r-y-d-a-y. So now you'll know where to find me in-between the painting and gardening and mowing and pulling weeds and redecorating and --


Such is farm life.


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I could also buy Japanese Beetle traps, but they sound like more trouble than they're worth. At least for today.

Happy 4th of July.

I hope yours is going better than mine.

Ugh. Oh, the wonderful plans I had to repaint my kitchen today, or at least, two walls of it. I got out the ladder and took decor off the walls and it went downhill from there.

I nearly always buy marked-down 'mistake (oops) paint', but this can was like tinted water. Didn't even cover those annoying stripes I'd painted. And I couldn't mix it with any other paint lest that turn to half colored water.

So I found the last bit of the paint I'd used in our dining room, my favorite room, and knowing I didn't have enough to finish, still I painted a large kitchen wall and a tiny one, stood back, and was horrified. In the kitchen this paint does not look like autumn gold, no, it looks like butterscotch. Brown butterscotch. I even panicked and used the watery goldy color as a sort of glaze over the butterscotch--and though the effect was interesting--it looked bad. Very bad.

Ack! So then I ran back upstairs, grabbed a half can of white paint and just started slapping it on over any parts of the walls which had dried. And I'm still not finished with a second coat.

Some people can make white walls appear French and ethereal. I am not one of those people. White on my walls always looks sterile, cold, not to mention boring.

Some days I love painting. But this isn't one of them.

Last week I had a feeling that dining room paint would look too dark in the kitchen. And someday--maybe--I will learn to listen to that deep down stuff, that still, small voice from Grace (I know she was the one trying to get through to me). Sure will save me a lot of time, money and energy when I do listen.

I can hardly wait till that day.



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The good thing? At least the white walls are brighter than the former green. I like that. My online buddy, Laura, who loves orange (nobody's perfect...heh...), suggested I paint the whole kitchen white and then the orange countertops would stand out and look classy. I just may try that, for I'm running out of options. Earlier today I did consider dynamite, but alas, I don't have the money it would take to rebuild. :)

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Anyone have a nice shade/tint of white to recommend?


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And yes, I know there's always yellow for the walls but 1.) I had yellow in our last kitchen for a few years and--for this house--I wanted a completely different look. When I said good-bye to our last house, I said good-bye. And 2.) Yellow is a tricky color to get just right. But alas, I may have to cave and go with it. Later. Someday when I'm no longer sick of painting.


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UPDATE: Wow. The white walls are growing on me quickly. I actually think I like them! A better tint of white might even make me ecstatic. (Who knew?)

For thirteen days Tom and I have been on 'staycation'.

We went to yard sales and to his back injection (where I waited over three hours, but with coffee and my books) and to that Men's Swap Meet I told you about and out to eat a ton of times and we watched scandalous hours of Stargate SG-1. We puttered in the yard and barn, took drives, ate lunch in front of a stone church built in 1834 out in the country, visited with Naomi and Carl, shopped and ate enough junk food to feed a village. I did only minimum upkeep in the house, made only a couple creative changes and let my email box fill with unanswered emails.

Lovely days. Days where I told Tom, "I wish you never had to go back to work and we could live this way forever."

But alas, Tom must return to work this evening and so must I. And that's a good thing.

I think it's in both Proverbs and Ecclesiastes where work is listed as being a blessing. And it is, what with the balance it brings, as well as it's discipline, exercise, lessons and progress. Work was good back then and it's still good now. And with today's economy fears, work should be more appreciated than ever.

Yes, our staycation was amazing, but so are my Normal Days, for which I'm grateful. Why? Because, boy, do I ever have tons of Normal Days in my Life... and to concentrate upon making only a few vacation days special each year would be such a loss.

Here is a plaque I found at a yard sale. My grandparents owned one very much like it and for me, it's hard to pass by anything which reminds me of them. Remembrances of those two sweet folks are here and there around my house, keeping them close.

And here is one of our 'miracle' storm doors. We ordered two of them yesterday and were told it would take four weeks for them to be delivered and installed. Alas, they were installed today! And oh ... I didn't know just how much the dirty old broken screen doors bothered me until until these new doors came along. A small change, yet a huge impact--the house even feels larger, looking from the kitchen to the front porch. (The green bench was a yard sale discovery for only $2 and made by the father of the woman who sold it to me. She was feeling sentimental about letting me take it, I could tell.)

Tom and I celebrated our new doors with rainbow sherbet while watching Stargate SG-1. Does it get any better than that? :)

I so appreciated each of your comments to my last post. They reminded me that one of the reasons we go through hard times is so that we'll be more sensitive to others when they experience them later. We generally will know the right things to say if we recall what we wish others would have said to us.

I spoke with Naomi over the phone yesterday morning and felt better afterward. She's leaving Oreo The Cat with Carl because Oreo has become a great buddy to Carl and she hates to take everything and leave him alone, with nothing. I appreciated hearing the compassion in that thought and also knowing that they plan to remain friends. I realize lots of people say that, but knowing those two, I believe it will happen.

Anyway, there was more in the area of explanations, and well, I got off the phone feeling more at peace with the situation. So that's good.

Tom and I traveled over to the village of Niagara Falls yesterday and ordered two storm doors to replace our two ugliest-dirtiest-screen-doors-on-Earth. Valu Home Center had an amazing sale on them, installation and delivery, included.

How fun to make this home, ours. Even when I buy simple things like brass switch and outlet plates or decorative ceramic balls for the ends of pull chains, I feel like I'm creating something all my own. Or recreating, maybe. Every wall I paint or curtain rod I replace makes this more like Tom and Debra's House, rather than a house belonging to a line of faceless strangers. (Though I do like to imagine faceless strangers within these walls back around 1900. That, I think, is fun.)

One of the many ways in which I like New York better than California? When you buy a house here, you are given the Abstract of Title (as it's called). What's that? It's an amazing list of everyone who has ever owned, not only your house, but the property upon which it sits, even before it was divided up into your current lot. It's like reading the history of your house! Well, sort-of.

Anyway, I thought I'd share with you some of the wonderful old-fashioned first names of people listed upon the pages of our title:

Charles and Blandina (1828)
Ebenezer and Jemima (1832)
Theodotus and Ann (1833)
William and Cornelia (1833)
Trumbull and Sarah (1833)
Elbridge and Ruth (1853)
William and Eugenie (1895)

There are more, but you get the idea.

Remember the 1970's decor I've told you about? The orange counter tops, gold/tan/white kitchen floor, orange shag carpeting and bicentennial wallpaper (which the previous owners removed) and aluminum windows? Well, after reading the title, it all makes sense now. A man and wife bought the house in 1975, in November, then she filed a quit claim deed in March(!), which means, he must have later decorated the place himself. Only a man would have put so much effort into making this place look so bad.

Heh. And there is your smile for the day.

Ack. Tom and I were just dealt a blow on this raining, dark day. Our daughter and her boyfriend of seven years are splitting up. And although this isn't a 100% surprise, it comes close.

I don't believe I've mentioned here that Naomi and Carl have been living together for a couple years. Some things are no one else's business (and yes, we know what the Bible says about such things). But alas, they have been living together, and now Naomi will be moving out, taking just two of her four cats with her. Naomi is letting Carl keep her favorite cat of all time--and that concerns me. Shocks me. I never, ever thought she'd give up Oreo--Naomi's always been more passionate about that cat than she ever was about Carl.

Carl! We've always liked Carl. He appeared right after Naomi's relationship with a guy we were actually afraid of, one who caused us to pray, pray like crazy for two long years. But Carl came along and was instantly a breath of fresh air. A sweet, helpful guy who took care of our daughter. He helped us with rewiring and insulating and lifting heavy things--and more. And all those holidays with the four of us! And in these seven years we grew to love him.

No, they weren't married, yet this still feels like a divorce.

Naomi will be moving into an apartment closer to her job, but a bit farther from us, although we do often travel over there. Living on her own again, which will mean more prayers and more trusting of God to protect her and provide help when she needs it.

And Life will go on, I know. But these blows which come along when everything--for just awhile--was going smoothly... these blows require Time to adjust to. And I know many of you know just what I mean.

So Tom's tractor buddy, Al, told him there was a swap meet (flea market) on Saturday, an annual one at the county fairgrounds. Tom and I drove there, each of us envisioning tables and miles of cool, flea market type stuff.

Well. We had to pay $6 each to get in (hmm...) and the first few tables held Man Stuff. You know, tools, hubcaps, car repair magazines, tools, old car parts, tools, diecast cars, rusty metal things and did I mention tools?

I told Tom, "We must be in the automotive section, so tell me which way you're heading and I'll search for the good stuff and find you again soon."

So in the sun, I walked up and down three more aisles, scanned table after table, and here is what I saw:

tools, hubcaps,
car repair magazines, tools,
old car parts, tools, die cast cars,
rusty metal things and did I mention tools?

Oh my goodness! Though I spied a few token items which women would appreciate, I realized we'd landed at some kind of Manly Men's Swap Meet.

Sigh.

So I went and found Tom, who appeared as though he'd been beamed-up to Heaven, what with the stars in his eyes. And you know? The old Debra would have been all, "This is pathetic! There's nothing in this whole place for me." (Me! What about meee?) Yet the new Debra, the one God is re-creating (after I messed-up the first one), felt such peace, perhaps even supernaturally-so. I felt happy for Tom, even, that this was the flea market of his dreams.

So I told him (while his eyes darted everywhere, trying to absorb it all), "I'll go out to the car and get my book, then I'll sit and read in the food court area and you can find me when you're ready."

He loved that idea. What's more? I did, too. I loved sitting at a picnic table with a root beer and a spiffy yard-sale-found book while also watching and listening to people. Oh, it was sunny and hot and I felt myself frying, but sometimes a cool breeze wafted through us. Besides, I love those fairgrounds, for the happiness of people feels so palpable there. If only the lambs and baby pigs and chickens were inside the barns, it would have been perfect.

But alas! There was a classic car show and both Tom and I adore those. So after we ate lunch at my table, we wandered down to all those waxed, gorgeous cars and named our favorite--a beautiful sea-foam green and white Oldsmobile from around 1957. Oh my. We stood before her and swooned and agreed if we ever get into the classic show car thing, we'd buy a car exactly like that one.

Anyway, the hours we spent there were fun for both of us. And I'm so thankful that God is changing me day by day. I'm grateful He's replacing my tendency to moan and whine when I don't get my way and --in its place--He's putting contentment and joy, powerful things when they've come from Him.

Life is a zillion times more fun and downright pleasant when I let God change me rather than trying to change myself. It's usually not fun during the changes (uh, heavens no), but afterward, oh the peace!