Saturday Slight

~~Pumpkin Month is here.~~

No frost on the pumpkins yet.  It looks like we'll need some frost to turn them yellow.

For now, I'm just glad to have raised some pumpkins for the first time in three years of trying.  

I was beginning to wonder if our Selle soil wasn't pumpkin friendly, but that one seed I planted this spring spread its good will and vines all over my manure-pile garden.

I think there are at least ten pumpkins of varying sizes (no size-prize winners, for sure), so I'm looking forward to the day when they're bright yellow and ready to place on the deck and in the front yard.

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It's a gorgeous Saturday morning.  Bill is planning to cut wood today and then do some fishing.  I'll probably mow the lawn and pull out some more garden plants which are no longer producing.  

This is, indeed, the messy season where pretty stuff turns brown and leaves cover up a newly mown lawn.  

I told Bill I'll probably mow twice more before putting the mowers to bed for the winter.  The winds every day this week have created a bigger-than-usual mess, so mowing is in order today.  

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Willie covered the Post Falls-Lake City high school football game for the Spokesman-Review last night.  His story looks pretty good in the print edition.  

It was obvious that the final story line could not be written until the very last seconds of the game.  Lake City won by one point after decided to run for 2 instead of kicking after a touchdown. 

Great for Lake City, and equally great for the story writer.  Well worth the wait when a last-minute effort wins the game, providing some colorful material for crafting a quick story.  

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I see from this morning's paper that next week is National 4-H Week. Such notices always serve as  reminders of some wonderful and miserable times in my youth----all character-building, of course.

Mother and I were visiting with Myrt Burnett yesterday and talking about the good ol' days down at the old fairgrounds when Myrt's kids and Mother's kids were 4-H'ers.  

Mother was reminding Myrt of Marianne's cow Millie, when I broke her off and said, "Myrt knew all about my cow Millie.  She was one of those ladies sitting in the bleachers laughing at me whenever the judge would watch Millie drag me around the arena and finally say, 'Tie your cow to the fence, please.'"

That happened annually when I took Millie in for fitting and showing.  And because it became such a regular and "entertaining" occurrence (for some but not for me), the Cow Belles would always gather in time to watch and laugh.  

I forgave these ladies long ago, but still always let them know just how disgusting and uncharitable I thought they were with their chorus of giggles as my big Hereford cow humiliated me once more.

All in all, however, misery aside, my seven years of 4-H experiences provided me a framework for just about any success I ever had. 

So, I always tack on "eternal gratefulness" to the frequent humiliation experienced during those years of "trying to make the best better." 

Or, in my case, should I say "worst better"?

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The sun is calling.  Happy Saturday.