Monday, June 22, 2009

Oh-klahoma... (Or Things I Love About Summer, Part 2)

...where the wind comes sweepin' down the plane! And the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet when the wind comes right behind the rain...

Too bad I can't sing in writing--I can really belt it out. (Really. It's a family joke. They always stand a few feet away from me in church, to protect their eardrums. Long term exposure to my singing could cause hearing loss. At least I'm on key though...most of the time...well, when you sing as loud as I do you SET the key, so...)

I had a wonderful Father's Day vacation at the farmhouse in Oklahoma. I am lucky to have such a place, built with my stepmother's grandfather's hands. There were eight original children raised in the spot; they sat around a big table in the little dining nook and ate together. And now, it's a home full of wonderful memories for so many of us (when you start with eight, you increase exponentially!). It's a peaceful place, where you can hear the wind stopping against the house. It feels safe from the elements; it has a big basement. It's just...a sturdy old thing.

When we got in Friday crews were finishing up the harvest of my grandfather's wheat, and it was something to watch. Three threshers cutting huge swaths in the wheat. We went out later in the evening and watched them harvest at night. It was really something--spotlights on the field, grain dust blowing up in the air, reflecting light and looking like a fog around the threshers. I'm sorry my camera was broken.

Saturday I talked and talked and talked with family and friends and knit on my current sock project (they're Spring Forward from Knitty in Lorna's laces shepherd sock, "Franklin's Panopticon" colorway, in case you're interested). Being a vegetarian is hard on the farm. I missed out on some homemade fried chicken that looked awfully good (I kept running through the long list of reasons I don't eat chicken in my head the entire time my grandmother was cooking), but I had plenty of mashed potatoes and fresh-picked green beans and blackberry cobbler (from the garden's blackberry bushes). Sigh. Even the memory is making me feel satisfied. We played Farkle (my brother is a big fat cheater). We talked. (Did I already mention this?) We napped. Little brother and I went out and picked more blackberries to replace the ones that went into the cobbler. We ate a lot of them before we got inside. We went to bed late.

On Sunday, we all went to church together and I sat in the choir (I tried to tone it down a bit, so as not to hurt anybody's eardrums). Then to Italian food restaurant. Then, sadly, home. Good food and fun like this can only be had in small doses.

I had good company in the car, too. Brother and stepmother and I could solve the world's problems, if only everyone would listen.

The sock grew considerably. I took a picture on my phone, just for you, dear Blog.


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