Where Buzzards Roosted in Trees

A buzzard painting by my dad.

Seemingly, my dad and I had little in common. He wasn’t a parent who spent one-on-one time with his children, but he worked hard at hard jobs providing for his family and keeping our home place in good order. Rarely did I see my dad doing nothing or sitting still for long periods. He wasn't that kind of person. His key interests included exploring the countryside, oil painting, woodcarving and writing. His cousin labeled my dad an Indiana Jones type. I agreed.

 

A couple of things Dad and I did have in common included writing stories and a fondness for the turkey buzzard (or turkey vulture). I can’t help but admire this odd-looking, amazing bird. I appreciate the nasty but crucial job they do.

When I bought my 35mm camera in the 1970s, my dad told me about a bluff with a possible photographing opportunity, where buzzards roosted in the trees that grew along the steep cliffs. When the sun rose, the buzzards would awaken, stretch to dry and warm their wings before lifting from the trees to do their day job as Nature’s Biohazard Carrion Cleaner-Uppers. They ate decaying animals! 

One early morning, before light, we traveled down a gravel road, a driveway and then into a pasture heading for a cliff. We parked near our destination and waited for daylight by listening to the noisy and wonderful predawn fauna. A glow, in the eastern sky, became our signal, and we headed for the edge of the bluff to get ready. When daylight allowed us to see the buzzards in their morning routine, there were none. The trees that seemed to grow out of jagged rock stood—empty. There was no awakening. No stretching of black wings readying for lift off. No red heads to photograph. And there were no noisy pounding wings beating the air to fly from the cliffs in search of breakfast.

Although disappointment filled me, my dad seldom lingered in disappointment. He said we’d try again another day. My photography opt now changed. I took pictures from the bluff’s edge, but also sidled down the sloped cliffside by clinging on to saplings along the way while capturing images of fields and water in a valley below.  

Bookends carved by Dad.

We went back to my parents’ house with that promise to do it again, but we never did.

I’ll insert those pictures with this post… when I find them. 

 

Millie has a tissue issue!

Millie under my desk
when I'm writing,
 and there's not room for two.

My dog, Millie, is supposed to be a Maltese and Shih Tzu mix, but I often wonder if she is part bloodhound and wily coyote, too. Her nose (sense of smell) is off the charts good, and she is sneaky.

Millie has a tissue issue. Not toilet paper, but tissues for your nose. In her eight years of running my house and me, she’s never pulled a tissue from its box and ate it, but she will eat them unused or used (sorry about the image that just grossed you out), if they are outside the box. Her bloodhound nose will lead her to them just as soon as one is pulled from a box and the scent hits the air. Yes, we could say that it’s my fault for leaving tissues where she can harvest them, but it is difficult staying one step ahead of Millie. Finding tissues is always on her mind. Eating them fast is her talent. She has no qualms about nosing in small trashcans to yank one out or pull them from a jacket or pant pocket if they are within reach. 

 

I came home from a writer’s meeting one night and stepped out of my jeans, letting them fall on the floor. Normally, I put clothing away, but that night I did not. With my sinus issues, I went to the meeting prepared by stuffing a tissue in one pocket and a paper towel in another for sweat dabbing, as needed. I didn’t use either. 

 

The next morning, after Millie ate her breakfast, she went MIA. By this stage in her game, I know that her absence means nothing good. Usually, it means there could be an escaped tissue somewhere in the house, and she has gone in for the kill. I was almost to my bedroom door when Millie raced out and passed me like something was chasing her. It was guilt. Guilt was chasing her. The minute I walked through the door, I saw the remains of a tissue on the floor next to my forgotten jeans. I had interrupted her feast. 

 

Millie sleeps in my bedroom. I am certain that she schemed on extracting the tissue all night long, until 5a.m. arrived, when I left the bedroom and my coffee distracted me. 

 

I wish she could answer these questions?

 

• Why do you eat disgusting things?
• Do tissues taste like vanilla? 
• Did you dream about the yummy goodness of a good tissue all night?
• Or did you stay awake all night with excitement? 
• Lastly, would you consider a career as a rescue dog IF I made sure that the people needing rescuing will stuff a tissue in their pocket before things happen?

Millie is sometimes a mess, but she is a perfect mess. 

 

T. 

IN THE GARDEN: Summer Critters

A few of my summer visitors. 

A baby Praying Mantis. Can't see it? Here's a closer look.

There it is at the back, where the cucumber leaf is trying to come together. 

Slow and steady wins the race?

Hello, Beautiful!

Don't look at me that way, little bee, the flower is for you!

T.

Laura Ingalls Wilder: The Masters Hotel - Burr Oak, Iowa

I am a fan of Laura Ingalls Wilder, Almanzo and their daughter Rose Wilder Lane. My interest in little Laura and little Almanzo began in grade school when a teacher read one of the Little House books to our class. I was hooked! Little did I know at the time that when my parents moved our family back to Missouri, from Illinois, that Laura and Almanzo's Mansfield home would not be far away.

Recently, I  found a couple of pictures from a trip to Iowa and a hotel that Laura's parents managed when she was a child. Their stay was for only a year according to the Masters Hotel website. Because most tourist places are currently closed due to the Coronavirus pandemic, I thought I would share!

Traveling through Iowa  

It has been a few years since I dragged my adult daughter along on a trip to Iowa and the town of Burr Oak. Before I share our short visit there, I need to talk about traveling through Iowa. Of course, I knew that Iowa grew corn because I had ridden in the backseat of a car at the age of 18 to an Iowa based wedding, but I was not prepared for driving through the state of Iowa during a prime growing season of corn. On each side of the highway, corn stood tall, thick and in perfect rows. I had never experienced claustrophobia aggravated by corn until that trip.

When there were breaks in the cornfields, we were allowed glimpses of beautiful farms with houses.

Now back to the trip.

On the Road

The trip from Southern Missouri to Burr Oak, Iowa was not a day trip for me. It was necessary to stop in a small city with a name I don't remember and at a two story "motel" with a name I also don't remember, to spend the night. Before we left home, I found on the internet a possible place to stop, but did not make reservations since I wasn't sure we'd end up there. It was an easy location, just off the highway we were traveling. In those days, I used Mapquest printout pages to assist me in traveling.

The minute we entered the building (NOT pictured above), I didn't like the dirty feel or the smell. No problem! We couldn't stay there anyway. The place was booked up with road construction workers who were living there until they finished the construction on the highway we'd just exited. This is one of those "God things" that I love, where he watches over me and gives me blessings without my asking. I had no way to check the internet from my phone for another place to stay. I'm pretty certain it was the era of my flip phone (still have it in its original box). So I did the next best thing! I asked the clerk if she could recommend a nice place in or near that city. She recommended a beautiful inn (place in photo above) that was built in a country setting. Our room with two comfortable beds was super lovely and clean!

Burr Oak

The next morning we headed out and finally reached Burr Oak, Iowa. I wish that I had driven around Burr Oak and photographed it, but I did not.

There was a visitor center with items you could purchase for souvenirs.

The Masters Hotel

The Masters Hotel sat across the street from the visitor center. The hotel was operated by Charles and Caroline Ingalls (Pa and Ma) after leaving Walnut Grove. Pa did more of the managing and Ma did the cooking. Laura is reported to have been nine years old at the time. Her sister Grace was born in Burr Oak. Read about her birth here. In my photo below, you can see a window air conditioner. Photos on their website do not show the window unit. I conclude they switched to a central air system.

The Masters Hotel was its own museum. We took a step back in time and with a guide toured the hotel. It's been years since we took that trip, but I remember the kitchen's location was in the basement. I believe the Ingall's bedroom was located there, as well. Something else that stuck in my memory was a bedroom on the top floor, a tiny room, smaller than most of today's walk-in closets. Our guide told us that the room was often used to bunk several men overnight. It was hard to wrap my head around that at least two men would sleep on the tiny cot like beds while other men slept side-by-side on the floor. The hotel got their money's worth!

The day was beautiful. The hotel was alive with history. Our guide helped us imagine life then and the people who passed through the Master's Hotel. 

Have you read any of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books? Have you visited any of the historic home sites? 

Little House on the Prairie Museum - Kansas

If you know me at all, then you might remember how much I loved reading Laura Ingalls Wilder books as a child. Who am I kidding, I still read them. I'm a huge fan of all things Laura Ingalls Wilder and her daughter Rose. Since I live near-ish Mansfield, Missouri, I have visited that home site many times since my children were in elementary school. I have visited yearly, sometimes once, sometimes twice a year. 

I didn't mean to (yes I did), but I got my daughter hooked!  Dr. Lovely daughter is a voracious reader and one summer as a child, while we were perusing a flea market, she picked up one of the Little House books and asked me if it was a good book.

My heart jumped to my throat. Could this be true? Was she really asking me this question? At that time, I didn't realize that Laura and Almanzo Wilder's Missouri homestead was under two hours away. Once I found out it was there, we took our children and visited the homesite and its museum. My daughter loved the first trip. My son not so much.

The other day, I was going through some of my old digital pictures and found pictures from two road trips in 2011. Dr. Lovely Daughter and I had traveled to Kansas to visit the Little House on the Prairie Museum. As close as Kansas is to Missouri, I had never been to Kansas or the Little House on the Prairie Museum. This was a day trip. Here are photos from that trip.

Before we saw the Little House on the Prairie site, we saw Independence, Kansas. I can't recall what this building is but I sure love the architecture. If anyone knows what the building is or was, let me know in the comments.

Then there was this road to the Kansas homestead and museum. 

Then a sign to let us know we had arrive. I'm not positive, but I don't think any of the buildings are original buildings to Laura's family. I believe, however, that the land was actually homesteaded by Ma and Pa Ingalls.

A schoolhouse and another building. To the right of them is a cabin built in late 1970's.  

Here's the cabin a little closer. 

A sign!

Inside the little cabin.

Inside the school on the property. 

I had to add this picture of an ugly tourist in the school room! Do not make fun of her. She hates her picture taken. She told me so.

 

Here is Dr. Lovely Daughter sitting on the front porch, looking out over the land that little Laura lived on. Well actually she was looking at the camera, but before that she was looking out over the land.

Visit their website for more information here. I have a couple of pictures from our Iowa trip where we traveled to see the hotel where Ma and Pa worked. I will write that for a future post. The Iowa trip was not a day trip. I might have gone corn sane a few times.

If you're interested and haven't read them here are posts regarding the Mansfield site: Laura Ingalls Wilder Gravesite, Laura Ingalls Wilder and more Pictures and Laura Ingalls Wilder Quilt Block Patterns.

Not My She-Shed!

My Barn/Shed that is about 40 years old and needs a haircut! 

It was a warm day in January when I decided to spend thirty minutes cleaning out the winter creeper vine in a section along the back fence. I'm having lower back issues so don't tell my family that I did that, but I needed to start the process. I have fought the invasive winter creeper for years--a battle I am not winning. I have no clue who introduced this vine into our rural neighborhood, but those people are not my friends. 

I took this photo January 1, 2020 of my old barn/shed that is covered in the winter creeper vine. I did not work on this project. The building is made of old but sturdy wood and it's a mess with it's missing boards and creepiness. I need to have it taken down, but it's not in my way. It has character.

When I looked at my photograph, the shed gave me the vibes of a hairy monster. The least I could do is give it a haircut, I guess.

Rural Rewards and Blocks

Living in a rural area where the people population is less and small towns are your go to place for goods and services seems like a wonderful idea and a Mayberry experience. If you want to avoid others being in your face and place, if you want the government to stay out of your business more, if you want fewer restrictions on building structures and if you’d rather hear frog peepers instead of people voices, rural living might be for you. Well-water tastes better than city water. The air smells better unless you happen to live downwind from individuals who buy up real estate to run egg laying farms that are not favored close to towns or cities. If you want to cast your eyes on an ever changing country landscape complete with wildlife and experience stress relief, the rural experience might be for you. People in rural areas mostly know your name and sometimes your business, but if anything goes wrong, rural folks line up at your door, in the olden days. Today, they might show up on your social media page to help out.

Rural life offers rewards, but it also can be a stumbling block.

Growing up rural meant for me that I rode the school bus for at least an hour one way, depending on the year. Back then, I couldn’t join after school activities. I wanted to but knew the reality of the commitment. We lived in the area where my mom grew up, but when she was a child/youth her school was only a couple of miles away from her home. She could join activities and walk home after, as needed. My school was much farther away. Kids today in rural areas still have a long commute to school. At our district, there are school activity buses now where kids can participate after school and be delivered to centralized bus stops for parent pick up.

Remote rural areas can also draw in the criminal element. Because of the remoteness, rural areas are handy places for manufacturing meth and stashing stolen goods.

Inconveniences Linked to Rural Life 

Rural individuals go to their doctors less and often miss early diagnosis of chronic diseases (Saylor, 2012). If there are tests to be done, patients are sent to large cities quite the distance away.

Getting to any appointment anywhere can be difficult for the elderly or for anyone who does not own or can't borrow a vehicle.

Aging in place in remote rural areas is a concern unless you have family living with you or nearby. If those are in place is your house aging compliant and if not do you have the money to make it so. If you have passed the above obstacles, there is one more--a shortage of people who can help the aging population with housekeeping chores in rural areas.

Transportation

Unavailable transportation not only restricts doctor visits, but other important life things. Without transportation, the pursuit of higher education is a struggle or not attainable. In most cases, education is a way to escape poverty.

Employment opportunities cannot be continued if an individual does not have a vehicle or a ride to work. There are no city buses in the country and most of the time not a reality in small towns. However, in town individuals can ride a bike or walk to their destination. And without a job, it’s difficult or impossible to buy or maintain transportation. If an individual is lucky enough to have a car, then the cost of fuel can be a hindrance especially when the commute to employment is from a rural setting. Therefore, living in a small town is a better option, if you do not have access to transportation.

Shopping Choices

Choices of grocery stores are limited in rural towns and often are not as affordable without the competition. The same goes for buying clothing. What choices are there in a small town? Why not order online you say? We'll get to that later.

Emergency Services' Delays

If you live in the rural and become ill, do you have time to wait for an ambulance that might be traveling twenty plus miles to get to you?

Living in the rural, you might be an easier target for criminal activity since they also know that law enforcement does not patrol rural areas as much as (perhaps) they should. How will you protect yourself and property until county law enforcement can assist you?

Inclement weather takes down electricity on a regular basis in some rural areas. Are your lines the last to be fixed? These are issues rural people face daily.

Internet 

Let's talk about internet options and actual working internet. Internet connectivity in my mom's area was better ten years ago than now. Today, it is a pathetic or nonexistent reality in many rural areas. You might think that the internet is a privilege and not a right, but I argue that most things in today's business world are performed through online access: job applications, online medical care and education access, just to mention a few.

All over the United States, broadband legislation is introduced and not adopted (NCSL). Profit over people, in my opinion.

Schools

Many administrators and teachers do not want to teach in the far away land called The Ruralhood. In my 29th year working for a school district, I have lost track of the number of building administrators who have passed through our doors. Some used the district as a stepping stone, some left because they wanted a school closer to home and some exited due to the noncompetitive salaries we offered at the time. The same goes for getting good teachers and keeping them.

However, the quality of education in our district has never waned. I can't speak for other rural schools, but our district through the years has provided excellent learning opportunities with up-to-date technology for both college and trade school bound students. We also have a vocational school. Not only have we kept its doors open, but in the next five years, with the support of our community, we will build a new vocational school so that our students and neighboring rural school districts' students may learn a trade.

Housing 

Housing is also a rural and small town problem. Well, let me clarify. Often rural communities and towns lack not only in quantity but quality housing options, places where humans should live. It's easier to be a slumlord in rural places. 

Final Thought 

As the rural child grows up they are faced with life decisions that includes where they will call home. Will they live in a rural area where the benefits are soul pleasing or in a city where opportunities and conveniences abound? Many of our career bound students do not return after college, which is sad, but I can't blame them. Sometimes the land of opportunity wins out over soul pleasing. I mean, we need to pay the bills.

Do you live in or ever have lived in a rural area? Did you experience any of the issues listed above?

Sources:
RHIHub
Problems of Rural Life Support the Rural Landscape Saylor Academy, 2012
NCSL: Challenges facing Rural Communities

Returning To Where We Started

I’ve said this before and will repeat; I loved living in Illinois for the three-ish years we lived there. This was actually my second time at Illinois residency. My parents (with me) also lived in Joliet, from my age of 6 months to 3 years old. There are a couple of things that I consider memories, from that time, which is interesting since I was so young. That will be a future post. 

The story of our moving day from country living to city living is featured in Trading Lives. I think I was twelve when my parents made their very happy decision to move back to the place where they belonged. I kind of had to go with them, but I had built friendships and expectations on the next school year. As a kid you go where the folks go and make the best of the new until it becomes your normal. 

Washington, IL: Family Picnic

When we were just a couple of weeks out from moving for good, my dad loaded me up with our Rat Terrier, Bluto, a few of our household and personal goods in the car and headed to Missouri.

MEMORY #1

Before we left Washington and sorry in advance for "too much information", my stomach began to hurt. I think I was nervous about traveling to Missouri, with my dad who really didn't talk to me much and staying with my grandma and cousins without my mom. At one point, I begged my mother to give me a laxative because I had not had a BM in a while. She did NOT want to do this, but I pleaded and won, if you call it winning. 

The last hour before we landed in our tiny hometown, I was ready to explode. The first place we stopped was at our neighbors house. They owned one of the country stores and ran the post office. I stayed in their one bathroom so long that both Dad and the woman of the house knocked on the door, at separate times, asking me if I was okay. Of course, when I exited the bathroom there was some teasing, and I was embarrassed.

MEMORY #2

Our little Rat Terrier, Bluto, was a mighty dog, rarely

(R-L) Me, my brother and Bluto with

his head turned. I'm probably 4 and

my brother near a year. 

 afraid of much. He was a bit energetic so the long distance car trip was not his favorite thing to do. Along the way, he became...gassy. This was not fun for the humans, but it did make my dad (who NEVER wanted to stop and stretch) stop so that Bluto could take care of business, as needed.

MEMORY #3

As a child, anytime I stayed all night with anyone other than home, I missed my mom terribly. Until my parents, two siblings and a truckload of furniture and things arrived at our house, I would be staying with my grandma. Staying with my Grandma Sadie and the three cousins was fun, but I was so homesick for my mom. They were so excited to have me stay and spend time with them that I told no one of missing my mom. 

My Uncle Charles, his wife Glenda and their children lived with my grandma and ran the farm. My uncle was leaving the army when my granddad died of a heart attack. Grandma couldn't run a farm on her own so Charles moved in. Later he would marry Aunt Glenda and their five children would grow up there. My youngest cousin was actually a couple of months older than my son.  

Ultimately, my family moved back into our farmhouse, near both sides of our family. Bluto got to explore wherever he wanted--a much better life than in the city. Throughout the years, I felt sad for kids who did not live near grandparents and cousins. I understood the gift I'd been given. Not all family members are people you want to live near, but living near the "roots" of your family gives a glimpse into your own identity. A cool thing.

Teresa

Cherry Tomatoes: After the rain

What can you do when you're in between computers and writing from an iPad is not your talent?

Answer: Finish up a draft and publish it OR tell the story of my cherry tomatoes when it rained this summer.  Here it is:

It rained. My cherry tomatoes got a shower. I think they liked it, but who can tell.

The End!



The Unlife of Gardens

Nature is alive and well on my 3/4 of an acre. Recently, I read that nature doesn't like voids. This is true for my property. If I clear or clean out anything, nature is already working behind the scenes to fill it up again. Today is not about the living, but about the unlife in my gardens.

Mr. Gnome - Some say he is creepy. I think he is wonderful.

This wire owl I've had for years, but didn't know what to do with it. This year, I decided to repurpose my thirty year old mailbox post and shelf, attach the owl to it, fill the owl with a hundred solar lights, and place it in one of my gardens. This setup looks cute by day and but by night is a glob of eery light in a dark yard.

Live frogs and turtles are welcomed here, but also fake frogs and turtles.

HEADLINE: Metal Daisy grabs her fifteen minutes of fame by photobombing Miss Phlox and Miss Lily's photo.

That's all. Just a little unlife in my gardens.

A steady pace...

and a little slimy is the Missouri snail, at my place.

  

Designer Halloween?

What is as stressful as helping your child make an original Valentine's Day card box for a school party, a box like no other child will have, something formed in your child’s mind that might win a prize? It’s a Halloween costume!

Halloween is just as stressful.

Back in the day, I either made my children’s costumes or made part of it to go with whatever they purchased to wear. I made parts of their costumes for economic reasons, but I guess Dr. Lovely Daughter imagined her costumes were a result of designer couture. With Halloween approaching, she reminded me that as a child she felt sorry for the kids who had to wear the thin nylon costumes for Halloween. She felt that the purchased outfits did not measure up to hers.

You just never know what's going on in a child's mind.

Fast forward to the present. My Halloweens are easy peasy these days. All I have do for Halloween is... 

• buy candy and...
• try not to eat the candy before the trick-or-treaters arrive, except,...  

my trick-or-treaters are four grandkids (two these days) and a couple of other kids who show up. I have no idea who the other kids are. They are different children each year and are usually a couple of random kids accepting candy from a random stranger who has her porch light on. Nothing wrong with that idea, I guess.

The low attendance numbers at my door could be blamed on a city wide candy giveaway, the Saturday before (or on) Halloween (depending), where the kids dress up, visit safe stations of reputable businesses, organizations and churches and all at one easy location. I guess I have to be okay with that one. 

Here are a couple of pictures of my babies and their costumes from Halloween past.  And if you're wondering, the first picture (above) is of me in 1990. The bank that I worked for asked that we dress up for Halloween Day. I couldn't afford to buy a costume and my kid's Halloween stuff so I made my vampire dress and bought  cheap makeup and hair powder. I look very little like the young woman in that photo. Instead of putting gray in my hair today, I... well never mind.  

This Halloween was in 1987. My son wore his (authentic) karate uniform. I made his mask and hood. We bought the toy nunchucks. My daughter is a kitty cat. She wore her dance leotard and tights. All I did with this costume was buy the mask and attach pipe cleaners to the mask for whiskers.  

Fast forward three years to 1990 and here are my beautiful (cough cough) kiddos. I will not tell Dr. Lovely Daughter that I'm pretty certain she's wearing one of those thin nylon dresses in this one. As I look at this photo, I've never been so scared of my children. :) 


Trick or Treat!!!

Halloween and a Brown Paper Sack

You might have seen this photo before, on one of my blogs, and read the title thinking that my post is about this photo. It is not! Was this click bait? You decide while I tell my next story.

When we moved from our rural town in Missouri to Washington, Illinois, my mom was so protective of her children that it often got on my child nerves. Of course, I thought I knew better than she did. I mean all of my friends roamed the city, and they were still alive.

Sometimes, it takes growing up, and maybe having your own children, to appreciate your parents and all of the things that they did for you. Funny how that works.

(You can read about my rural to city move in Trading Lives, if you wish.)

One Halloween evening, dressed in our purchased masks, my brother and I were allowed to grab a brown paper (grocery) sack and go trick-or-treating, outside of our neighborhood. I don’t remember Mom or Dad tagging along with us, because we were with a group of neighborhood kids, but maybe they did. They might have been walking our sister around, if she was old enough, but my guess is that Mom took her around our own neighborhood. Here's another reason I don't think Mom or Dad was with us. Mom told me to keep an eye on my brother that night. I was around 10 1/2 years old (I think),and the brother would have been seven. Dear Readers, keeping an eye on him was like trying to hold onto a tadpole in water. I often failed. He was in perpetual motion always and NEVER listened to me.

That night the streets and sidewalks filled up fast with kids out to find candy. We must have been limited to the three block area that led to my elementary school since I don’t remember going any farther. The streetlights showed the way for costumed kids who roamed, giggled and yelled trick-or-treat. I had one panic moment when I lost sight of my brother. He had slipped away, folded into the night of Mardi Gras style Halloween-ing. Soon we caught up with him and his little friend knocking on a door.

One of the houses that we stopped at that evening set off my creepster meter. We knocked on the door. A man opened it and told the group that he would not give us treats unless we did a trick for him and his wife first. (I can still see the living room in my mind.) The man motioned for us to enter and my brother immediately dashed inside the room, like they were old friends. One of the more sassy kids in our group challenged the man, saying that trick or treat didn't mean that we had to do a trick for candy. It meant that if he didn't give us candy, then we could do tricks on him like toilet paper their trees and other things that I can't remember. The man belly laughed. He was amused, but repeated his request. We do a trick and we would get our candy treats. Then...our entire group of kids filed into their small living room. From one to another, down the line, my “candy colleagues” did their tricks. Some whistled. Some hopped on one foot. Others sang songs. For the life of me, I don’t remember doing anything and maybe I didn't. I was super shy. However, I do remember getting a regular sized candy bar out of the deal.  

Through the evening, we ran from house to house, carrying our containers of candy. At one point the large brown sack that some of us toted became too full to carry. Some of us ran to our houses on Hamilton Street to grab another bag and return where we'd left off. We only hit a few additional houses after that and it was time to go home.

I will be honest and tell you that I don't know if these are the costumes we wore that night, but this picture was taken while we lived on Hamilton Street. I'm the troll in the back. Troll dolls were really "in" at that time. I think my sister was wearing a spider man mask. My brother's mask might be a werewolf. I'm guessing.

Back at home, I remember dad saying the candy needed to be looked at before we ate it since some people were now putting razor blades in candy bars and apples. It was a sad day to hear this news. I immediately thought of the creepy man who gave out great candy bars after the performances, but kept my creepster meter to myself. A kid can't say too much to adults when there is candy involved. My mom told us to share our haul with our baby sister. I never minded sharing candy with her. She was little and sweet. At some point, I dumped all of my collected candy on the bed. 

I don't remember even considering razor blades as I ate a bunch of candy that night. The apples were no problem either since I didn't eat even one.

What a haul!

Laura Ingalls Wilder and more pictures

Summer 2018, I visited Mansfield, MO (again) where Laura Ingalls Wilder lived with her husband Almanzo and their daughter Rose, on Rocky Ridge Farm. I visit the homes at least once a year, sometimes two. I'm obsessed with the author of my favorite books. This last summer (2018) I revisited the Wilder grave sites in a local cemetary. You can find that post prior to this one.

The new museum pictured here was dedicated in 2016. I was there. Very exciting. I normally start my visits at the museum which is downhill from the farmhouse then walk to the first house. 

Here are a couple of pictures from this summer's visit. These are of the outside of the museum.

The precious family in this photo (also visiting) gave a more authentic feel to the place in their normal everyday attire. I love the natural flowers growing on the slope of the front yard. You can't see it, but the family is standing on a sidewalk that winds around to the top and takes you to the front door, just in case you can't climb the stairs in front.

Another picture of the museum, below, same angle.

I left my car in the museum parking lot and trekked up a small hill to the farmhouse site. 



It's a beautiful uphill walk that winds around the yard.  

And there she is, the Wilder Farmhouse. A beautiful home, handcrafted by Almanzo and Laura. They both lived long lives in a place that they loved and built together. 

More next time on my visit to the Laura Ingalls Wilder sites in Mansfield, Missouri, USA.