It seems I have not had much to report along the lines of homesteading.There's food to put up and away but time has been a rare thing here.I feel as if the clock is ticking out a tattoo the goes like this, "Rois,the fruit is ripe,don't forget the pickles,tick tock" Somehow I have found a mental space that lets me just ignore the clock and keep on the other tasks at hand.School starts soon,getting the boys ready for that is the deadline I must reach for now.Pretty soon here the school bell will drown out the ticking clock. Then I can come back to life as an Urban Homesteader,to work like the busy ant preparing for winter.
Chance has been steadily working on the the finishing details of our coop.One little hint I will drop,a small one until the big reveal, hand cut wood shingles are going up on the roof.I went out to check in with him last night and Chance asked me this question, "What would your Grandfather think of my coop?" Ah shucks, now that man of mine has made me sentimental.....
My reply to Chance " He would have loved it" Grandpa has been long gone and I still miss him dearly.Grandpa would have adored Chance and the man he is.I told that last bit to Chance and he just chuckled."But it's so fancy and it's just for a bunch of hens"replied Chance.
I think Chance thought that just because my Grandpa was a farmer and had been a cowboy before he married that things just need to be serviceable. Chance never got to meet Grandpa so he dose not know that he was a tender man who was often mistaken for a rough and ready fellow, kind of like Chance himself, a gentle giant.(Grandpa was no giant tho' he was only 5'6" and shopped in the boys section.)
So today I find myself longing for my Grandpa.I would love to share a lunch of Green Onions dipped in mayo and just pulled baby carrots, a lunch we shared in the summer time.Or how about hours and hours playing that goofy game"Operation"? You know the one where you poke the tweezers into the cardboard man and if you bump the sides the whole game buzzed and rattled. A long ride through the country side bumping along in Grandpa's truck.I still think of Grandpa when I see a blue and white Ford truck.To hear Grandpa say to me "Well,I don't know about that" with his North Dakota softness to it; mixed with my Grandmother's Norwegian influence of long O's. Oh ja, sure you betcha, Grandpa I miss you today.