Hmmmmmmmm

 

A long, long time ago

I can still remember 

How I used to come here to post in style.

And I knew when I had my chance

That sometimes my wording would enhance

Your day and give you a smile. 

But life got in the way and it was only because a Twitter friend, Goblin Katie, mentioned how she wanted to be told ghost stories that I came here to get the link to my grand ghost story of July 2016. "Oh yeah," I recalled. "I used to write here, a lot." 

Much has happened in the three years since I last posted. I always meant, throughout 2017, to get this caught up, but busyness doesn't always translate into productivity. 

I still own this domain so no one else can take this and run with it. I'm still writing. There are a number of irons in the proverbial fire, at the moment. 

This morning, I was in Iowa, helping my mother fix a log-in issue with her computer. I was out there for less than 20 hours. It seems somewhat dumb to drive that far to fix her computer, but there was more at stake than the computer. I hadn't seen her since June of 2018. Again, there's that life getting in the way of things. 

It was the perfect time to travel. The days were warm and sunny. This morning, the smell on the breeze. You know how some candle companies have what they call "Fall" or "Harvest"? Nope. There is a smell I cannot adequately describe on the breezes in October in Iowa. There is the aroma of ripe corn and soybeans waiting to be harvested. There is the smell of earth. And there is an indescribable smell of clean. You can't get this in a candle. I stood there, as I loaded the car, just breathing in the air. I could stand there for hours just smelling that. 

I'm back home, preparing for the week ahead. It will be busy. 

Perhaps I shouldn't be such a stranger to my own blog. Perhaps I should take my own advice and write. Perhaps you shall see me more often. 

I have stories to tell. 

Beverage:  Dr Pepper

Deb

Stream of Blog-scienceness

I'm currently all alone in the office. I went back to Iowa yesterday to get a remote monitoring device up and running. It refused, much like a teenager telling you how their day at school was. So, that particular machine was pulled and replaced with one that has decided life in the field is better than life on a steel shelf unit with a tag that says, "Modem refuses to work".
After that, I drove to a meeting at Starved Rock State Park.

I love July and August purely for the smell away from the city. Oh sure, when Zeke mows the lawn I just sit on the deck and breathe deeply. But you haven't lived until you're driving down a 2 lane road in the country and you take a deep breath. You can smell the corn. You can smell the earth. You can smell the...

my dad always called THAT the smell of money.

But that particular smell is fleeting and you're back to the smells that, to me, remind me that I'm alive. Fresh cut hay. The Mississippi River. A dusty gravel road. Yankee Candle has all these scents but they don't have those and they never will. Are you going to pay $24 for "Dusty Gravel Road"? "Clean Linen" is nice, but it doesn't smell like sun-baked sheets left on the clotheslines over a hot August noon.

I can probably go home in an hour as I have overtime and the one phone call I was waiting for has come in. I have other things to blog about. I made a list while waiting for the remote unit to call in.

Beverage: Dr. Pepper

Deb

Knee High by Fourth of July

"There's a bright golden sun in the meadow. There's a bright golden sun in the meadow. The corn is as high as an elephant's eye and it looks like it's climbing right up to the sky."

It rained today and the sun came out which turned outside into a bit of a steam bath. This is corn-growin' weather. Ample moisture, brilliant sunshine and warm temperatures combine to make it grow 3-4 inches a day.

When I was growing up, the phrase "knee high by fourth of July" meant you were going to have a good crop. Now days, with hybrids, pesticides and herbicides, if it's not chest high by July 4th, something is seriously wrong with your corn. This shot was taken between Sabula and Maquoketa and is typical of Iowa corn.

I'm an introvert. All that means is that I get recharged when I'm away from people. Extroverts get recharged when they are with people. Growing up on a farm, in the summer, my favorite place to recharge my batteries in August was the corn field. It could be 98 walking out to the field, but you dive into the rows and the temperature drops a good 10-15 degrees. I would lie down on the ground, on my back, and look up at the sky. You could smell it. You could almost hear it growing.

There are times, when life gets maddening, that I sincerely wish I knew someone who would let me lie down in their corn field. No cell phone. No computer. No "modern life" with me. Just the smell of August in a corn field. Troubles would certainly seem less invasive after spending a couple hours lying on the ground looking up.

Beverage: Belhaven Scottish ale

Deb