I see that my mother has suffiecently embaressed me quite well. She was talking about living in the Flint Hills of Kansas. Yes, kansas does have rolling hills, it is in south central and western Kansas that has been left flat.
After my second son {my oldest living child} was born that I moved out to the Flint Hills with my mother, stepfather, and little brothers. You know some of my past, and and moved out there because of my husband's drug use at the time. {I got tired of it, and left him for awhile, until he cleaned up}
The house was rather small. The orginal structure had been added onto over the years, yet still small. There were six of us in this 2 bedroom home. I got to sleep in the mudroom. They put up a partition, and gave me a bed. It wasn't too bad as the weather was still warm. My son and I cuddled on our bed to enjoy a night of peace. It was comfortable, that is until the June bugs appeared. They were every where, in our hair, crawling over our flesh. June Bugs might not bite, but the have some spiky little legs.
Their onsluaght was merciless. Coming for me and my son in droves. It was as though they were not just the little annoying bugs that search out lights only to thump against your siding. The were fairies trying to change my son for one of their own. It was not just annoying, it was terrifying to have so many of these dull bronze bugs flying into my mouth.
We managed to get a bassenit, one meant for the outside, with a zipper screen that covered the top. My son was now safe, but I was not. I don't recall how long I stayed in the mud room, until I started hunkering down in the living room. It is all a blury nightmare.
The Flint Hills is also were I learned that Mulberries stain. My mother had several trees on her land. I don't remember...oh wait, we were on a mission, a cobbler mission. My mother and I marched up to those trees, an picked and picked, and shook and climbed those trees. We had more than enough to make a cobbler. Once in the house, we cooked them and strained them for stems and seeds. The cobbler turned out wonderfully, we however looked like . . .well, purple.
The Flint Hills is also were I learned that my mother is a good shot, as long as the target wasn't moving. We had a skunk wondering around the chicken coop in the dead of winter. My mother called my stepfather who told her that skunks don't wondering around during the dy, in winter, unless it was sick. It wasn't just that it might be sick, it was loitering arouond the chicken coop. My mother got the rifle out and roceeded to miss hitting the skunk, over and over. There was also another time. Mymother arrived home to find her roosters had ganged up on each other. All but one had died, and the one left was torn up. She wasn't able to butcher the bird in the correct manner. Instead she got out her rifle, and shot at the bird. How many times was it mom? 6? She was only a few feet from that rooster, yet unable to hit it.
It was great living up there. It was isolated and Gloria, the goat, like to think herself the dog. She would follow you to the mailbox that was about a 1/2 mile down the drive. Gloria was an odd goat. The one thing mymother forgot to mention was that after she was able to stop her from chewing on it, Gloria tookon rubbing her horns against the door. She ate dog food, never see a goat do that, but I guess it is better than the nuts and bolts. She followed us everywhere, unafraid of anything. She followed my friends and I out to the creek and hung out while we went camping, she was a great dog, um goat.
My grandpa Lucky, ran over my brother's dog Hopeful out there, with a swather. It was frightening. Blood was everywhere, and my poor brother was devastated. They took him the 30 minutes into the closest vet. Hopeful lost a leg, but live. And after he healed you would have thought he had been born without that leg. He ran and jumped up onto the well house as if it was nothing.
The Flint Hills were fun and scary at times. We lived in an area that was ignored my the media. I was sleeping on the floor in the living room one morning when my mother woke me. "I think we need to take cover" she told me. I sat up and looked out the window. The air was thick and the color of a green sea. Not anormal color we see, not a tornado color. I scooped up my son, and we ran into the hallway just as my brothers were pulling out a mattress. As soon as I got behind the mattress the house moved. It was hit hard. The walls seemed to breathe. A tree came down, the sound of metal being dragged across concrete couldn't be heard over the roaring sound of the wind. It lasted less than a minute, but when we emerged we were without power and propane. A tree branch had come down and moved the propane tank. It wasn't a tornado, it hadbeen a micro-bust, sudden straight line winds that come out of nowhere. Yes, it was fun out there.
This Friday Overwhelmed with Joy is once again hosting
Holiday Cooking Blogger Style. I did this last year with
a roast goose. I will be posting again, not sure what yet, this Friday. Hope some of you will join me.
Hopefully the coding works, it has been a long time since I have done it by hand.
