torn again

Excited: about my big brother’s wedding tomorrow. He just left me a voice mail and said (I’m paraphrasing here) “Hey, we were wondering if you’d do double duty and do one of the readings tomorrow. It’s the one about man being lonely and so God created woman to cook him dinner.”

Apprehensive: about Ryan’s grandparents. Please say a little prayer for his grandpa who is suffering from a stomach hernia and his grandma who may or may not have throat cancer. If only the doctors could make up their mind.

The Farm

The last few posts have all used "the farm" as a back drop. It's been in Ryan's family for years. It is or will be a Century Farm. His grandma still lives there in all of her 80 some years of experience. She has about six cows that are bred and calf every year. For no other reason then her enjoyment. Cocoa and Zoe, a chocolate and a black lab keep her company. And every Sunday the extended family comes out to the farm. The men find something to do outside while the women sit in the living room and chat until it's time to get the coffee and rolls on. I often wonder how long that tradition has been going on... or when it got started. Maybe some day I'll ask his grandma.

Anywho - back to the task at hand. Ryan's cousin asked me to take a few photos of the farm to frame and hang in her house. I've taken a few before so I tried to get a few different ones this time around.

Opening weekend

Every year my husband starts to get itchy mid-October. By the second week he's counting down the days. By the third week he's ticking off the hours. And with just days to go until opening weekend of pheasant season it's usually down to the minute. He's like a little kid at Christmas. It's so much fun to see him that excited.
The past few years I've tagged along opening weekend to get some photos. Here is a few from last weekend's adventure.

Here's the crew after the first morning and their seven birds. I'm sure Ryan would want me to mention he shot three of the seven.

And here's the master hunter in action...

I love that you can see the dew in the grass. It was pretty but made for some soggy socks after the first half hour.

Have you ever tried to walk through prairie grass? You don't just take a leisurely stroll through the switchgrass. It's a lot harder than it seems. The wind whips through tangling it into big knots. So it's more like hurdling than actually walking.

This is Vern. Ryan's step-dad. He hurdled his way through nearly shoulder high switchgrass for about 45 minutes... with a herniated disc!

They went out again Sunday but the wind was so strong it was tough going. They didn't see a single bird.

odd

It’s an odd feeling. A little bitter with a generous amount of sadness and a touch of jealousy. Today my sister and her family are in Hawaii. That explains jealousy.

I can see them playing along white sandy beaches and eating dinner while being entertained by hula dancers. Why aren’t I happy for them? Because it means they’re gone. For two. Whole. Years. And I don’t really feel like I got to say goodbye. This is where sadness comes in.

Sure I organized a big send off for them… but that was weeks ago now. Thanks to the internet and all it’s agony we’ve emailed and shared a Facebook wall post now and then. But it’s not enough. I haven’t heard their voices. Wait for it…. Wait for it… yep, bitterness has arrived.

So Pam, Jeff and the kids - if you manage to find internet access amid your island adventures this week… know that I’m thinking about you and praying for your safe travels. Love you all.