Kim's County Line

Broken Chords

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 17 Jun 2013 12:37:00 +0000

I'm a musician. No, it wasn't my major at college. I chose journalism after my Dad wisely suggested that being a music teacher was probably not the best career choice for my DNA.

I thank him every so often for that. He was so right. Last month, I completed my 18th year as an accompanist for the Stafford School system, most in middle school choir. Let's face it: The majority of middle school kids would much rather be in gym class than music class. As a middle school music director, I would not have survived my natural bent toward perfectionism and order in the midst of the adolescent hormones.

However, I do love music, so that's why I accompany. I certainly have no illusions that I am the most competent accompanist around. Mrs. Lighter, my childhood piano teacher, would be amazed that I am the one of the three Moore sisters who now gets paid to play the piano.

As I thought about the Lovely Branches Ministries theme for June, "Music for the soul," I remembered a time when my "job" didn't have a thing to do with my time on the piano bench. Instead, it happened in a bathroom after class several years ago. The encounter forever changed how I looked at the time I spent at school.

On that day, I ducked into the bathroom after the bell had rung. A middle school girl was there, washing her hands, but she waited until I came out of the stall and said, "Mrs., I have a question."

"Sure," I told her.

She was standing in front of a full-length mirror, pushing her long hair back and adjusting her clothes.

"What's wrong with me? Is my hair a mess today? Am I wearing the wrong thing? Do I smell?"

"No," I told her. "You look great. I think your hair looks really pretty today. Your outfit is cute."

She stopped me. "No, I really want you to be honest," she said. "Tell me the truth! When I come close to some of the other girls, they look at me and say, 'Oh, __________, get away.' Or they will turn their back, and I can hear them whispering."

I said again, "I am telling the truth. I am being honest. I want you to hear me. Even though it's really hard, you need to realize that sometimes other girls can be mean. I don't know why that is, but it is. So it's not about you. It's about their need to feel better than someone else. If they can put someone down, then maybe, for just a little bit, they can feel better about themselves.

"Try to remember it's not about you, even though it hurts."

I could not get that girl out of my mind. I remembered my daughter's middle school years. They were the absolute toughest for me as a parent (and no doubt for Jill as well). I will never forget how mean they were to one another. For several years, I saved a note that I found one day in Jill's pocket. It was from a girl who was supposed to be her friend. It said something about Jill looking like a pig in her cheerleading outfit.

I don't know why I saved the note. Was it to remind me of the power of words? Was it to remind me to really listen to my kids - whether they shared the hurts of the day vocally or exhibited it with a quiet, sullen mood?

Am I naive enough to think Jill was never mean to another girl? Of course not. I'm sure she had her moments even though my constant soundtrack with both my kids was, "Be the bigger person."

So I worried about this girl who I didn't really know. She was a face in the crowd on the risers before I heard the anguish in her voice that day. On the night of the concert, I made it a point to find her and tell her how nice she looked in her dress-up clothes. When I would see her at ballgames, I would stop and visit with her - even after she graduated from middle school and became a high schooler.

You see, I have been that girl. I wasn't the thinnest girl or the prettiest in my class or the girl every guy was clamoring to go out with.

But as I've gotten older, I've realized that most women have felt like that. Even those girls who from the outside looking in have it all - the thin girls with the perfect hair and just the right fashion flair - have that nagging feeling that they just aren't good enough.

It's been kind of a revelation for me as an adult.

But it doesn't change the hurt of a 13-year-old girl peering at herself in the mirror of a bathroom.

So, I hope she heard me - really heard me. If she did, it was worth all the time commuting to town ... practicing at home ... being annoyed at the noise ... the nervous stomach before festivals and concerts.

It was worth every second. If she heard me.

Not long ago, this arrived in my email devotional:

God has a beautiful way

of bringing good vibrations out of broken chords.

--Charles Swindoll

Christian pastor, author and educator

And I again thought of that girl. And I thought about myself. And I thought about all of we women who are so quick to be critical of ourselves.

But then I thought about it a little more. By definition, a broken chord is any chord whose notes are not played simultaneously; a chord played with separated notes. A broken chord is the way an accompanist gives each part of a choir its assigned note before we put all the parts together. Each and every part - soprano, alto, tenor and bass - is important for a harmonious chord. Through the brokenness of our lives we can become the strong chord - or cord - that God intended us to be.

2 Corinthians 12:8-10 New International Version (NIV)
⁸Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. ⁹But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. ¹⁰That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

It's in His perfect love that we are made whole, even in our weakness and brokenness.

***

Note: This is an adaptation for my Lovely Branches Ministries post for June. My friend, Suzanne's blog, will have you whistling as you work in your garden or sit on the porch with a glass of lemonade.

***

I'm also linked today to Michelle DeRusha's Hear It On Sunday, Use It On Monday. Click on the link to read what other bloggers of faith are writing about today.

A Treat for Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 14 Jun 2013 12:19:00 +0000

This cookie has oatmeal in it. It's a regular health food.

Well, maybe not. It also has sweetened condensed milk. That ingredient may be the elixir of the kitchen, but don't look at the calorie count. When you add in some chocolate chips, toffee bits and coconut, you get a dynamite bar cookie. But it's no health food, despite a little oatmeal.

I saw the recipe on the blog, Mom on Timeout. Randy loves coconut. So does my Dad. I figured they were the perfect Father's Day treat for both of them.

I love the ease of bar cookies, but while I had the kitchen heated up, I figured I might as well get a stockpile of cookies in the freezer for wheat harvest.

I made my go-to drop cookie recipe, divided the dough and made four variations. I tripled my basic recipe (find the recipe and add-in ideas by clicking the link), then I divided the dough into four parts before I added any "extras" to the dough. This time, I made:

White Chocolate Macadamia Nut (white chocolate chips and coarsely chopped nuts)
Almond Joy (Almond Joy pieces and flaked coconut)
Chocolate Chocolate Chip (About 1/4 of a cup of cocoa powder and semi-sweet chocolate chips)
Oatmeal Cinnamon Chip (I used cinnamon chips for the first time. They are in the baking aisle by the chocolate chips. I didn't think they tasted that good separately, but they were good mixed in the cookie dough with about 1 cup of oatmeal.

I didn't really measure the add-ins. I just add until I think it's about right (which I know is not very helpful for less experienced cooks.) If you're adding dry ingredients - like oatmeal or cocoa powder - to an already-prepared dough you can always add a tablespoon or two of milk to get the dough back to the right consistency, if needed. Yesterday, though, I only had to add the milk to the oatmeal cookies. The dough is a science, but there's some latitude to the "extras."

Noah's Ark animals aren't the only two-by-two matches. I packaged the cookies and bars two-by-two and have them in the freezer, ready to pull out packages for harvest suppers.

But, some of the cookies will be doing double-duty as a Father's Day gift for the special Dads in my life. Happy Father's Day to my Dad ...

Me and my Dad in 1957

and to Randy!

Randy, Jill and Brent - 1988

Coconut Toffee Chocolate Chip

Cookie Bars

From the blog, Mom on Timeout

Crust:
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup oatmeal
2 cups flaked coconut
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 cup butter, softened
1 egg, lightly beaten
12 oz. semi-sweet chocolate chips

Filling:
14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk
1/4 cup light corn syrup
8 oz. toffee bits

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 13- by 9-inch baking pan with cooking spray.

Crust: Combine butter and brown sugar in large bowl of electric mixer. Combine well. Add egg; mix well. Add flour, oats and coconut, and combine until it makes a crumbly dough. Stir in chocolate chips.

Reserve 1 1/2 cups of the dough for topping. Press remaining dough into bottom of the prepared 13- by 9-inch pan. Bake 10 minutes.

Filling: Combine sweetened condensed milk and corn syrup and mix until combined. Pour evenly over hot crust. Sprinkle evenly with toffee bits. Top evenly with reserve crust mixture. (There will be places that aren't covered. Just do your best.)

Bake 25 to 30 minutes until golden brown. Cool on wire rack. I cut them into bars while they were still slightly warm, making it easier to cut through all the layers.

I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 13 Jun 2013 12:12:00 +0000

"I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane" was the theme song dancing in this small-town girl's head as Lisa, Abby and I went through the short security line at Manhattan's "international" airport.

OK. Maybe it more "puddle jumper" than big jet plane. But we were leaving the plains of Kansas for the big city of Chicago to visit my sister, Darci, for the weekend.

Yes, I was the person clicking the camera as we flew. (Lisa and Abby gave me a good-natured ribbing about my tourist-y photo taking. Since they were sitting in a different row, I told them they could pretend they didn't know me.) It was too pretty to ignore. And it's not like I get this camera angle very often. For you rule-followers like me, I was using my regular camera - not the cell phone camera.

Anyway, we arrived in Chicago, where we traded our prairie skyscrapers for the real ones.

One of our first stops was Glazed and Infused Doughnuts. (In our defense, we had an early morning, and we took two days to eat them.) I loved the name and the logo. We chose a maple bacon, old-fashioned, blueberry lemon and a toffee-topped doughnut. We saw several other doughnut shops, most of them with lines. Is a doughnut trend replacing the cupcake fascination? You heard it here first.

While in Chicago, we ate lots of yummy food. (And I promise I didn't take a photo every time. Really.)

In photo above, starting at the upper right: Brunch at The Paris Club was Norwegian Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon for me. I didn't care for the oysters at GT Fish and Oyster Bar, but everyone else loved them. Our meals there were biscuits and lobster gravy, smoked whitefish quiche and shrimp and grits. The other photos are from Glazed and Infused.

Our waiter at GT Fish & Oyster Bar doubled as our photographer.

Left to right: Me, Darci, Lisa and Abby

Saturday afternoon, we went to two street art fairs. Along the way, several homes were open for garden tours. It appears I was more entranced by the gardens than the artwork. However, artists tend to prefer you not take random photos of their art. There's that rule-following thing again.

On Sunday, we saw "The Book of Mormon" at the Bank of America Theatre. Let's just say that I prefer old-fashioned musicals like "The Sound of Music" and "West Side Story." The theater was gorgeous, and it's always fun to watch the quick costume and set changes. The content was a little racy for my blood. (I was unintentionally a rule breaker at the theater. At Century II, you can take photos before the show starts. But the usher yelled at me, "No photos," as I took a photo of the stage before the musical started.)

I lucked out and was on the correct side of the plane as we flew into Manhattan on Monday.

It was a whirlwind weekend of walking, eating, talking, shopping, laughing and irritating Abby with our Sunday-night deck time when all three of us "old people" knew every word to "Hair," The Carpenters' "For All We Know" and several others songs from the '70s.

As Lisa says, "Let's make some memories." And we did.

Commuters: Of Men and Mosquitoes

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 12 Jun 2013 12:36:00 +0000

The telephoto view from Darci's deck - including the Sears Tower, now called the Willis Tower

I spent the weekend in Chicago, visiting my sister, Darci. My other sister, Lisa, was my unofficial travel agent, booking the tickets and making the arrangements for me and her youngest daughter, Abby. (More snapshots from our trip to come tomorrow.)

On Monday morning, Darci flew out of O'Hare at 7:10 for work. A little while later, we three Kansans walked several blocks away to the Blue Line, dragging our suitcases behind us. As we tried to figure out how to purchase train tickets to O'Hare, we heard the transit workers warning: "The trains are very crowded today. Expect crowded platforms and long waits."

When we got to the top of the stairs, there was a sea of people stretched on the other side of the platform. Thankfully, they were all going toward the city, and we were going the opposite direction toward O'Hare.

We watched as a train pulled to a stop. Through the windows, as the train slowed, we could see people squished together. Standing and sitting, shoulder to shoulder, we wondered how anyone else could squeeze in.

As the first train departed and our airport-bound train arrived, we saw that most of the people on the other side were still waiting.

Then, as our Blue Line train zoomed its way down the elevated tracks toward O'Hare, we saw highways that seemed more like parking lots than expressways as they, too, were clogged with commuter traffic. I said a prayer, thankful for my little spot on Planet Earth where there aren't a couple million people.

But you know what? There are a couple million mosquitoes. And I think they're all in my neighborhood. Yesterday morning, I went outside a little after 6 o'clock to celebrate being home and to watch the sunrise in solitude. I took three photos before I leaped back into the car so I wouldn't get eaten alive by mosquitoes. None of the photos will win any awards. The sky was pretty enough, I suppose, but I was too busy slapping mosquitoes to really see it.

And Monday night, there was a broken baler when Randy was ready to bale more hay than we've had in several years.(It's since been fixed, and he's back on the tractor this morning.)

We all have our challenges, whether our skyscrapers are like this ...

... or on the plains of Kansas.

And we can find beauty whether it's planted in narrow townhouse gardens ...

... or in fields of hundreds of acres.

There are challenges and joys no matter your zip code.

Herding Cats by Kinley Marie

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 07 Jun 2013 13:18:00 +0000

Herding Cats

By Kinley Marie

Meet my friend, Smoky. He is one of my Grandpa's kitties. I suppose he's my Grandma's kitty, too, but let's face it: Grandpa is the one who thinks Smoky is the cat's meow.

And speaking of meows, I got lots of practice with my meows when I visited the farm last weekend. I'll have you know that I was already advanced in animal sounds. I had my Mommy call Grandma a couple of weeks ago to tell her that I was the very first one in my daycare class to know what a cow says. Well, of course! I saw the cows and baby calves at Grandma's and Grandpa's the last time I was there. The cows must not have realized I was coming back to visit. They had gone on their summer vacation to the pasture. I know they wouldn't have wanted to miss me.

Anyway, Grandma says I'm a regular Dr. Doolittle and can talk to the animals. I don't know who this Doctor Doolittle is, but Grandma says it's an old movie where a guy talks to the animals. All I know is that I impressed my friends with my life-like meows when I went back to daycare this week.

It did take me just a little bit to warm up to the kitties. I wasn't so sure I liked them crawling on me, so I had to have Mommy protect me.

I helped Grandpa feed them every morning.

Smoky was so silly when he got in the dish with the food.

Just before we left to go back home, I got a great idea. I decided the mama cat needed a beautiful necklace.

My Daddy was packing the car, and I found this old toy from my baby days. It looked like the perfect summer accessory to spruce up a mama cat's day. I don't know why the kitties hid. But, let's face it, sometimes I wanted to hide from them, too.

Grandma says following a toddler is kind of like herding cats. That must mean it's a whole lot of fun.

Until next time,
Kinley

Grandma tried to do a video of me with the kitties. You'll have to turn your head sideways to watch it. I guess she needs more practice. I know all about that.

dscn5166 from Kim Fritzemeier on Vimeo.

Snippets and Snapshots

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 06 Jun 2013 11:39:00 +0000

It’s funny what happens when you become a grandparent. You start to act all goofy and do things you never thought you’d do. It’s terrific.

~ Mike Krzyzewski

Who would have ever thought I'd use a photo with my mouth gaping wide open as my Facebook profile? Not me. But when I was looking through the 193 photos I took when Kinley visited with her parents this past weekend, I decided it was the perfect shot. As my friend, Carrie, succinctly put it: "JOY!"

Yep. That's it all right.

Randy and I were both anxiously awaiting their arrival Friday night. Randy wanted to introduce our new crop of kittens to a girl with an outstanding repertoire of animal sounds, including a fine "Meow!"

Grandchildren are the dots that connect the lines from generation to generation.

~Lois Wyse

During this trip, Kinley discovered her own personal race track. A two-doored bathroom makes for a perfect looping path through the bathroom, kitchen, dining room and living room.

She dashed around it on foot ...

... being pushed in Mommy's and Uncle Brent's old Little Tykes car (by four different "motors," I might add) ...

... and she used the same path for her grocery cart.

Kinley loved the swing in the backyard, whether it was flying solo or hitching a ride with Grandma, Grandpa or Mommy.

I was surprised she knew just what to do with a phone that is nothing like the phones her parents have.

But she did. (Yes, we still have that kind of phone - for real - here at our old farmhouse.)

I loved watching my little girl as a Mommy.

And it was fun to bring out bigger toys from Jill's past for Kinley to explore.

I didn't take time to find a photo of Jill playing with her kitchen. But I found one from the wedding slide show of Eric playing in his kitchen, once upon a time.

A grandchild fills a space in your heart that you never knew was empty.

Anonymous

At church, we discovered several of our friends were also entertaining grandchildren for the weekend. All our own children started coming to Stafford United Methodist Church when they were itty-bitty. And here were their kids ... our grandkids.

Steve & Tami Brensing had Reagan and Rylee; Boyd & Kim Volker had Bryson and Liam.

As you can see, it wasn't the easiest thing to get a photo. I don't think we were all looking in the same direction in any one frame, though Randy and Steve get the prize for being the most consistent. But it didn't matter a bit.

Children are born.

Traditions are passed.

The love continues.

Sharon Bibby

The Great Debate

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 05 Jun 2013 12:00:00 +0000

Is rhubarb a fruit or a vegetable? That was among the thought-provoking discussions we had around the breakfast table this past weekend. Jill, Eric and Kinley were visiting, so I made Rhubarb Muffins with Cardamom Crunch Topping.

Kinley wisely chose to stay out of the debate.

For the record, rhubarb is a perennial plant that is now classified as a vegetable, though it's used most often as a "fruit" in recipes. Technically, it's more herb than vegetable or fruit from what I could learn from an internet search. Until the 1940s, it was considered a vegetable in the U.S. It was reclassified as a fruit when U.S. customs officials, baffled by the food, decided it should be classified according to the way it was eaten.

Jill doesn't ever remember me using rhubarb in a recipe before. I'm a little surprised by that, but I may be guilty as charged. I don't know why, since I have good memories of my Grandma Neelly's rhubarb pie and Randy's Grandma Ava's Rhubarb Crisp.

After my guests left, I pulled my tried-and-true 4-H recipe box from the cupboard and dug through the handwritten recipes.

Not the actual recipe, but it shows my lovely recipe box!

There was one that I'd labeled Ava's Rhubarb Crisp and another was Rhubarb-Pineapple Crisp. Both have a buttery, oatmeal and brown sugar topping. And, I must admit, it's been years since I made either one of those recipes. I think both Grandmas had rhubarb in their gardens, so using it for springtime desserts was a practical - and tasty - choice.

I don't know why it was that I clicked on A Farmgirl's Dabbles' recipe for Rhubarb Muffins. Maybe it was those Grandma memories when I had my own granddaughter coming to visit. Then I saw that Smith's Market in Hutchinson had "homegrown rhubarb" advertised on a giant sign in their window. So I bought some.

It was a tasty return to rhubarb, I do believe. Enjoy!

I cut the rhubarb finer than this for the muffins. This was just for illustration purposes.

Rhubarb Muffins

with Cardamom Crunch Topping

From A Farmgirl's Dabbles blog

1 large egg
1/2 c. milk
1/4 c. vegetable oil
1 1/2 c. flour
1/2 c. sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/8 tsp. nutmeg
1 1/2 c. chopped fresh rhubarb

Cardamom crunch topping:
1/3 c. raw sugar
1/4 c. flour
1/2 tsp. cardamom
1/8 tsp. salt
2 T. butter, at room temperature (not melted)

Preheat oven to 400°. Spray muffin tins with nonstick spray or use muffin liners.

Muffins: Mix egg, milk, and oil in small bowl. In a large bowl, whisk the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and stir. Do not overmix. (I did overmix, even though the recipe told me not to. The muffins still tasted fine. They just weren't of a suitable quality for fair judging. And I hid the holes under a layer of butter in the photo. True confessions time!)

Fold in rhubarb. Spoon into muffin tins and let rest a few minutes while you prepare the topping.

Topping: In a small bowl, mix all topping ingredients, using a pastry blender to combine. Sprinkle mixture evenly over muffin batter.

Place pan in oven and bake until golden, about 18 to 20 minutes. Let rest in pan for 5 minutes before removing to wire rack to cool. Serve warm or at room temperature. The muffins are best the day they are baked, as that is when the topping is the crunchiest (but we liked the leftovers just fine)!

Notes:
** I did buy raw sugar to use in this recipe. However, I think you could easily substitute brown sugar. It just might not be as crunchy. As I said, we liked the leftovers fine. It had good flavor, even though the texture was different the second day.
** I doubled the recipe and put part in the freezer to use for harvest, knowing that the topping wouldn't be as crunchy. (See above.)
** Since it's currently available, I chopped up leftover rhubarb and put in it in the freezer for more baking adventures. Maybe I'll have to make Grandma Ava's Rhubarb Crisp the next time Jill comes to call.

***

Today, I'm linked to Ashley's What's In Your Kitchen Wednesday. Click on the link to check out what's cooking in other food bloggers' kitchens.

Ode to Sesame Street

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 13:16:00 +0000

Remember that song from Sesame Street where they ask, "One of these things is not like the other?"

I'd say these two are quite a bit alike.

The photo at the top is Jill. Unfortunately, her mother was not known for labeling photos with dates. But Jill is probably about 3 in the photo.

The photo below is of Kinley this past weekend. She is 17 months old. Do you see the family resemblance? Yeah, we do, too.

Here's Jill with a baby doll ...

Kinley had fun with a baby doll this weekend, too. (The shopping cart was the same; the dolly was not.)

Just to give a bit of equal time, I found a photo of Kinley's Daddy that we used in the wedding slide show.

What do you think? Do you see a little of him in Kinley, too?

Grandma may have taken 193 photos this weekend. So there just might be another photo and story (or two or three or four) to come. What a fun weekend!

Rain Reigns

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 31 May 2013 13:35:00 +0000

Into each life, some rain must fall.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Thank goodness, Henry. Thank goodness. We were beginning to wonder after two-plus years of drought.

A total of 4.25 inches of rain fell on the County Line from Wednesday night into Thursday. We farmers would like to order rain like we order a Diet Coke. Maybe we didn't need the Big Gulp size all at once. But it sure helped quench our thirst for moisture.

As we drove down the County Line last evening, Randy and I couldn't remember the last time we'd gotten 4-plus inches of rain all at once.

We were fortunate. We just got a Thomas Kincaid sunset illuminating storm clouds on Wednesday night, while North Central Kansas got tornadoes and hail.

We got plenty of wind, but not as much as my brother in Pratt County, who had an irrigation system overturned, as did a couple of his neighbors.

I realized after I looked at photos I took Wednesday night that I should have set a much quicker shutter speed. But the wheat field definitely demonstrated its dizzying resemblance to waves on the ocean during this time that "real" photographers call "the golden hour."

Randy says the rain was ideal timing for filling wheat heads with grain.

However, in some places, the rain and wind knocked over wheat, giving the field a look of bedhead after a rough night of tossing and turning.

But it was like that only in areas of the fields.

This year, we'll have some wheat drowned out by mudholes. And that's OK. For the past two years, there have been no mudholes at all.

The ladybugs seemed to like the moisture Thursday evening.

(I also found some ladybug larvae. I saw a photo in The Hutchinson News last Sunday and was surprised when I found one in our field, too. I don't think I'd ever seen that before. See photo below.)

The rain didn't just benefit the wheat crop. It also gave a boost to the corn ...

... and it helped fill waterways like Peace Creek and replenished grasses in pastures, where our cow-calf pairs are grazing this summer.

It gave an extra boost of growing energy to our alfalfa fields. A guy who checks oil wells in our area has been talking to Randy about this field south of our house. Randy planted it three years ago. With the lack of rain, we haven't ever gotten a good crop of alfalfa from it. However, Carl is saying that this is the year he'll get to see big windrows of hay and then lots of bales. We hope he's right.

Kansas truly is the Land of Ahs on a day after a rain.

Sightseeing In Our Own Backyard

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 30 May 2013 11:37:00 +0000

We don't want our cattle to be tourists at the Quivira National Wildlife Refuge. Several cow-calf pairs are at their summer "vacation" home, munching grass in a pasture that borders the refuge.

However, we hope to leave the tourist excursions for the humans.

The Quivira National Wildlife Refuge really is our neighbor. It consists of 22,135 acres in Stafford, Rice and Reno Counties.

People in Orlando don't go to Disney World. Those in San Antonio don't visit the Alamo until they have out-of-town guests. San Franciscans don't go to the Golden Gate Bridge unless they need to go across it to get where they're going.

Those of us who live in close proximity don't always take advantage of tourist attractions in our own backyards. So, Randy and I decided to take an afternoon drive several weeks ago. It's likely greener now. Sorry I didn't get the photos posted back then. Still, even with a brown backdrop, the refuge is a beautiful place for an afternoon drive.

Though water levels are still lower than normal because of two-plus summers of drought, the marshes are rebounding after the late winter snows and early spring rains.

Near the confluence of the Rattlesnake Creek and the Arkansas River in central Kansas, water remains the great driver of a diverse complex of salt marsh and unique native sand prairie community that is Quivira National Wildlife Refuge. The combination of these productive habitats as well as the refuge's mid-continent location continue to attract millions of birds needing to replenish essential reserves and to find protection in the mosaic of largely open grasses, sedges, rushes and water.

For visitors, each moment is unique -- the smell of the moist earth and salty air, the primitive call of a crane, the whispering bluestem, the cacophony of geese, the early steps of a snowy plover chick or the discovery of a subtle pattern or design in nature.

From the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

Draft Comprehensive Conservation Plan & Environmental Assessment

In May 1955, the Migratory Bird Conservation Commission approved the establishment of the Great Salt Marsh National Wildlife Refuge to recognize two unique, historic salt marsh and salt flat areas, the Big Salt Marsh and the Little Salt Marsh. In 1958, the name was changed to Quivira National Wildlife Refuge after the Spanish term for the area.

The Spanish word "Quivira" is a form of the Native American name, "Kirikuru," which is what local people called themselves when the Spanish explorer Don Francisco Vasquez de Coronado visited the region in 1541 in search of the fabled Seven Cities of Cibola. Instead of gold, he found grasslands and wildlife. After his expedition left, only a few trappers and explorers came to the area until the mid-1800s.

The General Land Survey was conducted in the region in 1871, evaluating its suitability for farming and grazing. One surveyor noted:

Section 17, T22S, R11W (2 miles weest of what is now the Migrants' Mile area): "All pure sand without any vegetation. All hills and hollows. Constantly drifting. Worthless."

The first European settlement in Stafford County occurred in the 1860s. By 1876, a few people located near the Big Salt Marsh. A company was organized for the purpose of manufacturing salt, which was soon found to be unprofitable. Homesteaders began using the marshes and grasslands for pastures, hay land and cattle production. Besides agricultural uses, the salt marshes were used for commercial and recreational waterfowl hunting after the turn of the 20th century.**

The Refuge is a stopping point for migratory birds. But you can see lots of other animals during an afternoon drive, including deer.

We got an up-close-and-personal look at this turtle who had taken a break along one of the roads at the Big Salt Marsh. It looked like he'd had a rough life, with his shell showing some wear and tear.

For more information about Quivira, visit their website. There's a Visitor's Center located at the south end of the Refuge, overlooking Little Salt Marsh. Normal hours are Monday through Friday, 7:30 AM to 4 PM, but it is sometimes open on weekends during spring and fall. Call the Refuge, 620-486-2393, during weekly business hours to get any updates on operational hours. Quivira is part of the Wetlands and Wildlife Scenic Byway.

One of my Quivira sunset photos from 2010

** Historical information was taken from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Draft Comprehensive Conservation Plan & Environmental Assessment, a 263-page document.

Ties That Bind

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 29 May 2013 12:12:00 +0000

As I nestled the pink geranium next to Gloria's gravestone, a red-headed girl and her brown-haired sister stood watching. Gloria was my late father-in-law's younger sister. On Monday, we gathered around the Fritzemeier stone at the Stafford Cemetery, carefully placing metal stakes in flower pots to batten them down in a stiff Kansas wind. No one in our little Memorial Day group knew Gloria. She died in 1954, a year before Randy was born.

But, as the unrelenting gale whipped Emily's red hair and pulled it from her ponytail, I thought about the threads that visibly and invisibly link us all together. Most of the photos I've seen of Gloria are black and white. I think her senior picture was probably tinted, as was the fashion in the 1950, but it shows her red hair and big smile.

My late father-in-law, Melvin, talked about Gloria's red hair. He, too, had red hair, but he often joked that it didn't stick around for long. He started going bald while still in high school. None of Melvin and Marie's children inherited the red hair. It wasn't until Emily was born that the family had a new generation of redheads.

But our visit to the cemetery was less about Gloria than it was about carrying on a tradition that was important to Melvin and Marie.

Later, Randy, Amanda and Emily (as well as Kathy, Dave & I) gathered at a soda fountain in downtown Stafford where Gloria and Melvin likely shared ice cream cones once upon a time. Not long ago, the marble bar and assorted fountain parts were dug out of storage and refurbished as a centerpiece for the new Stafford Mercantile. On Memorial Day, it was just another thread connecting past to present.

It was the same way at the Iuka Cemetery, as I laid flowers on the graves of my Dad's dad and his little brother, Gary.

It's been 70 years since my 79-year-old Dad had a father here on Earth and even longer since his brother died. I don't put the flowers on their graves to honor them as much as I do to honor my own Dad.

Those threads from the past inevitably stretch toward us. It's good to remember.

That seemed to be a theme everywhere I went last week. I was our church's lay delegate for the final Kansas West Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. In January, Kansas West will join Kansas East and the Nebraska Conference of the UMC in one big Great Plains conference.

The conference in Hutchinson was the last of its kind. During one of the sessions, Mary Lou Reece, the wife of Bishop Scott J. Jones, showcased an 1892-era quilt. It had belonged to the Rev. Augustus P. George, who was a Methodist circuit-riding preacher from 1880 through 1892. The quilt was presented to Rev. George to commemorate the places in Southwest Kansas he served from 1883 through 1892. He eventually retired in 1908 and died in 1917.

It's a crazy quilt, as unique as the congregations who stitched it together with different fabrics and threads. Those pioneer woman likely used scraps from their own dresses and from the curtains that brightened their simple homes. After a long day of tending children, working in the garden, making meals and hauling water, they may have sat near a kerosene lantern or a glowing fireplace to piece together the fabrics and add embroidery stitches and lace. The quilt squares are from Dodge City, Spearville, Garden City, Johnson City, Bucklin, Ness City and 14 other towns, including those long faded from memory.

One of those towns was Nonchalanta, which was a post office and trading point in Ness County. It was located 15 miles southwest of Ness City on the Atchison Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad. In 1910, it had a population of 69, but it included a Methodist church. Nonchalanta's square caught my eye because of the yellow cross featured there and because of the name.

Click on the photo to see a bigger version of the collage

There's nothing "nonchalant" about this quilt. George's descendents treasured it for more than a hundred years and kept it carefully preserved in cedar chest and mothballs.

Now, it's getting new life. George's great-grandchildren presented the crazy quilt to the Kansas West Conference. It will now be on display at the Great Plains UMC Conference office in Wichita.

During one of the conference worship services, we sang one of my favorite "new" hymns, "Hymn of Promise." (New is relative. It was written in 1986.) It says, in part:

From the past will come the future
What it holds a mystery
Unrevealed until its season
Something God alone can see.

That's true ... whether you're talking about families or churches or communities. It's the ties from the past that bind us together ... the threads that connect us ... the bits and pieces that come together to make the whole. That's worth remembering.

***

I'm linked today to Jennifer Dukes Lee's Tell His Story. Click there to find out if you're smarter than a 5th grader and other important "stuff" about faith.

Clearing the Fog

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 24 May 2013 12:03:00 +0000

The fog was like a wet blanket as I walked down my country road one day last week. If I'm honest, it matched my mood. My feelings were hurt, and my spirit felt the heaviness of the morning.

I really didn't want to walk. It's like that sometimes, when your feet feel as heavy as your heart. But I did it anyway.

As I was walking, the sun started to filter through the clouds and cast golden light on the horizon. Slowly, but surely, the light penetrated the fog. The Light was doing the same for me.

Instead of focusing on the darkness, I began looking with eyes wide open to the beauty. The miniscule dew drops looked like diamonds as they clung tenaciously to the wheat heads.

Moisture gave a luster and freshness to the flowering shrub in my backyard.

Soft sunlight illuminated the pasture fence that seemed to stretch forever as it disappeared into the morning fog.

And wouldn't you know it? An email devotional showed up at about the same time:

Choosing to be positive and having a grateful attitude is going to determine how you're going to live your life. Approach the day with a joyful attitude. A positive attitude is one of the greatest spiritual gifts. Help us remember to praise!

From a Guideposts email devotional

This week, as I watched coverage from the devastation that tornadoes brought to our neighbors to the south in Shawnee and Moore, Okla., it's easy to feel that "fog" pull me down again. But there is so much light - if I look hard enough. I could see it in the tired eyes of the emergency workers. I saw it as teachers hugged the students they had protected with their own bodies as the storm roared overhead. I could hear it in the brave words of people who have lost everything but the clothes on their back, but who were just thankful to be alive and who vowed to rebuild.

I see Light as delegates to the Kansas West Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church gather in Hutchinson. Today, there's a special offering being taken for UMCOR (United Methodist Committee on Relief), and every penny goes to victims. If you'd like to donate $10 immediately, text RESPONSE to 80888. Or to give online, click on the following link:
https://secure3.convio.net/gbgm/site/SPageNavigator/umcor_donate.html?type=1002&project=901670

We are not alone. This is happening all over the U.S. as people's hearts, hands and resources reach out to those in need.

And, on this Memorial Day weekend as we remember those who sacrificed for our country and those family members who were so important to our heritage, we can find light, too. Have a safe and blessed weekend, everyone!

Hatfields and McCoys

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 23 May 2013 11:24:00 +0000

It's the Wheat Farmer vs. the Corn Farmer. I don't think it's the modern-day version of the Hatfields and the McCoys. But, come planting time, there was a slightly different outlook on weather conditions.

At my parents' and brother's farming operation in Pratt County, corn is king. Our 350 acres of dryland corn pale in comparison to the cropland they have allocated to dryland and irrigated circles of corn.

Randy was happy to have his corn planting interrupted with rain because of the benefits to the 2013 wheat crop and to our drought-strained pastures. At the same time, my brother was ready for some uninterrupted corn planting. I guess it's the difference between a Wheat Farmer and a Corn Farmer. (In all fairness, Kent is thankful for the moisture, too. He just would have liked to order it like you order a Diet Coke at the drive-through. Aren't all farm families like that, if we're honest?)

Wheat is still our primary crop at the County Line. But this year, we have added a new crop to the rotation. We planted corn for the first time in our 32 years of farming together.

In recent years, there has been some dryland corn planted in our area, but wheat is the dominate crop. For most in this immediate area, irrigation is not an option. Our proximity to Quivira National Wildlife Refuge and its salt marshes is not ideal for quality ground water for irrigation.

Corn was a primary crop in this area when it was settled. The 6th Biennial Report of the Kansas State Board of Agriculture of 1888 reported that corn was the main crop for Stafford County, covering 48,030 acres. Oats were grown on 10,849 acres, while the winter wheat crop totaled 8,717 acres. Pasture ground was tallied at 13,446 acres. Other crops in 1888 were millet, spring wheat, rye, Irish and sweet potatoes, sorghum, castor beans, cotton, flax, hemp, tobacco and broom corn. Swine outnumbered cattle in livestock. (Information taken from Stafford County History: 1870-1990.)

So, in some ways, I guess we are returning to Randy's Stafford County farming ancestors' roots. However, the corn planted today is much different than the varieties planted 125 years ago.

Today, many farmers plant RIB corn (refuge in a bag) - whether it's irrigated or dryland.

The green-colored seeds have a different genetic make-up and are treated with a different insecticide than the pink-colored seeds. The pink seeds are a refuge for several different insects in a field, giving them a habitat to satisfy EPA rules. Before RIB technology was available, farmers had to plant so many acres in a field to a corn that wasn't resistant to the bugs and the rest of the field could be resistant. With RIB technology, farmers can plant it all at the same time, without changing seed and figuring acreage requirements.

Our planter was set at 18,200 corn seeds per acre. Each $280 bag had 80,000 seeds and plants 4.4 acres. One bag of certified wheat seed costs $15 and plants a little more than 1/2 an acre. A bag of milo seed costs $100 and plants 14 acres.

This year, instead of planting milo as our row crop, we planted corn. There's a potential for higher yields (or so My Farmer says. I don't think he is just justifying the purchase of a corn header for the combine). There is more drought tolerance built into dryland corn seeds than previously available.

Additionally, corn is Round-Up ready, and milo is not. We have been having trouble controlling weeds in milo. If there are weeds and grasses in the corn, we can spray with Round-Up without harming the growing plants.

After a planting period filled with more rain delays than a college baseball season, all our corn crop is up and growing. Time will tell whether this new approach will be profitable on the County Line.

Memorial Day Picnic Salad

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 22 May 2013 11:34:00 +0000

Jill helping decorate graves in 1988 - Age 2 1/2

On Sunday, I'll join my parents for our annual Memorial Day pilgrimage to several Pratt and Stafford County cemeteries. Then, on Monday, Randy's sister, Kathy, and family will be here to decorate graves for that side of the family.

Back when I was a little girl, my Grandma and Grandpa Leonard from Sublette came back to their home county (Pratt) to make the trip on Memorial Day weekend. My Grandma's flowers were usually from her own garden and carefully arranged in cans which my Grandpa had spray-painted a dark green.
(There she is in the background with my Grandpa in 1989. Brent, 1, is with my Dad, and the young-looking guy in the middle is Randy.)

Maybe you don't think about a cemetery being a joyful place. But when I see the joy in these two little girls' faces, I can't help but think that the ancestors whose graves we were visiting had to be smiling as the little girls danced. (Read more in my 2010 blog post, Dancing in the Graveyard.)

Dancing in the graveyard - Jill & Paige - 1988

When I was a little girl about their age, we sometimes gathered at Lemon Park in Pratt for a picnic before our car caravan to the cemeteries. My Great Aunt Helen and Great Uncle Mike and their family would often meet us there. As a child, I loved getting together, eating homemade favorites and playing on the playground equipment until it was time to go and place flowers on graves of ancestors, some of whom I remembered and some who had died long before I was born.

At the time, I was blissfully unaware that preparing a picnic meal while also getting flowers ready for Decoration Day was more work for Moms and Grandmas. These days, we usually let a local pizza parlor do the cooking for us. And that's OK, too. But, if you have a picnic or a potluck to attend this Memorial Day weekend, this Cornbread Confetti Salad could be a contender.

I last made it for a funeral dinner at church. It makes a large amount, which is great anytime you need to serve a crowd. Enjoy!

Cornbread Confetti Salad

From Taste of Home magazine

1 pkg. (8.5 oz.) cornbread/muffin mix
2 cans (15.5 oz. each) whole kernel corn, drained
2 cans (15 oz. each) pinto beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (15 oz.) black beans, rinsed and drained
1 pt. grape tomatoes, halved (or 3 small tomatoes, chopped)
1 medium green pepper, chopped
1 medium sweet red pepper, chopped
1/2 cup chopped green onions (bulb and green tops)
10 bacon strips, cooked and crumbled
2 cups (8 oz.) shredded Cheddar cheese

Dressing:
1 cup (8 oz.) sour cream
1 cup Miracle Whip
1 envelope ranch salad dressing mix

Prepare cornbread according to package directions. Cool completely; crumble. Set aside.

Combine dressing ingredients; set aside.

In a large bowl, combine corn, beans, tomatoes, peppers and onions. Refrigerate.

Just before serving, add corn bread, crumbled bacon and cheese to the bean mixture. Pour dressing over all and toss to coat. Makes 20 to 22 servings.

Notes: I used both low-fat Miracle Whip and sour cream. Instead of preparing my own bacon, I used a package of already prepared real bacon bits found near the salad dressings. It was more expensive, but it worked well and saved time and mess.

The original recipe added the cornbread to the beans ahead of time. I prefer not having the cornbread, bacon and cheese soggy, so I add those just before serving. However, the leftovers were still good even with all the ingredients combined.

If you are serving this at an outdoor event, be sure and have a cooler ready for the leftovers.

Here's another potluck salad good for a Memorial Day outing:

Marinated Vegetable Salad

***

I am linked today to Ashley's What's In Your Kitchen Wednesday. Click on the link to see what's cooking with other food bloggers.

Advice for Graduates by Kinley Marie

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 21 May 2013 12:42:00 +0000

Madison with Great Grandma and Great Grandpa Moore

Advice for Graduates

By Kinley Marie

Amanda and grandparents Woody & Nadine Logback

I learned a new word this week: Graduation. It is a big word for someone like me. From what I can tell, the people who graduate wear funny hats.

I know all about funny hats because my Grandpa is always putting silly things on his head. He looks much sillier than the girls who were wearing their caps and gowns.

Anyway, I went to a party for one of the graduates I know on Saturday. Amanda, who is my Great Aunt Kathy's and Uncle Dave's oldest daughter, graduated from Rose Hill High School on Sunday. The week before, my Great Uncle Kent's and Aunt Suzanne's daughter, Madison, graduated from Skyline High School. My Great Uncle Bruce's and Aunt Nina's daughter, Anna, also graduated from Corrie ten Boom Academy last week.

Whew! That is a lot of graduations. Thankfully, I didn't actually have to sit through any of them. But, I've heard that graduations are a time for advice. I am glad to offer what little I have learned in my time here on earth. I am, after all, fast approaching 17 months of age.

First of all, I would advise the graduates to stop and smell the roses.

If no roses are available, they should stop and smell the geraniums. You should notice the pretty stuff in life.

And if you get a chance to hang on to the pretty stuff, go for it. It will make you happy. (Until you get in trouble for pulling off the petals. I think it's probably worth it anyway.)

Some things in life are easier. You can even do them pretty much by yourself. You should figure out what those things are and do them the very best you can.

Some things are a little more difficult. People may have to give you a little push. And sometimes they have to catch you, too. Be thankful for the helpers in your life.

Some things are just too big to do by yourself. And it's OK to ask for help. Sometimes it's more fun to do things with the people you love.

Greeting cards and graduation speakers are always telling graduates to reach for the stars. I think that's pretty good advice.

But sometimes you'll reach for things and, for the life of you, you just can't quite reach them.

And that's OK. Ask for help. Try again. And learn from the experience. You probably learn more after you fall down than if you do it perfectly the first time. At least, that's what my Grandma says.

While you're reaching for the stars, be sure and bow your head and say your prayers, too. That's the most important thing of all.

***

A message from Grandma: Prayers for those devastated by the tornado in Moore, Okla. There are no words.

These Boots Were Made for Watching

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 20 May 2013 13:21:00 +0000

These boots are made for "watching"

And that's just what they'll do.

One of these days these boots

Are gonna help sort cattle, too.

Last week, I sent out my apologies for appropriating Bryan Adams' Everything I Do, I Do It for You as my Barnyard Ballad of the Week. Today, my timeless tune is Nancy Sinatra's These Boots Are Made for Walking.

These boots, however, belong to Miss E, our sometimes cattle helper. And her boots were made for watching as we gathered, sorted and hauled cow-calf pairs last week.

These boots were also made for running ...

For climbing ...

And for counting baby calves ...

Miss E's boots got to witness the arrival of baby calves and their mamas to summer pasture. Her trailer included the little brown calf she had claimed as her own. Here was "her" baby when Miss E helped us work the calves on March 20 ...

... and as it arrived at the Rattlesnake Pasture on May 15.

Those boots stood by as the mamas, babies and bulls came out of the pens and took their first look at the pastures where they'll spend the next few months.

Miss E's boots also got a piggyback ride or two.

Can you tell that my tennis shoes were not afforded that same luxury?

Instead, they walked through that mud puddle, where Randy had to come and rescue me from sinking. (Yes, he told me I should go over the fence. I should have listened.)

But my "cattle shoes" lasted through this tour of duty. We got all the pairs moved last week to three different pastures. The cattle's arrival at the Rattlesnake Pasture was delayed by design. Most years, we move cattle to that pasture May 1. Because of the drought, the pasture's grass reserves have been depleted. So we took a third fewer pairs to pasture and also delayed the transition by two weeks to give the grasses a little more time to grow.

My shoes were made for walking

And that's just what they'll do.

One of these days these shoes

Are gonna be too trashed to use.

A little equal time: Arrival at the Ninnescah Pasture

Everything I Do, I Do It For You

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 16 May 2013 11:27:00 +0000

As Mr. Bull looked longingly over the fence at the "ladies," a sound track looped through my mind. With apologies to rock crooner Bryan Adams and his Everything I Do, I Do It For You, it became the Ballad of the Barnyard, at least in my mind.

Look into my eyes, you will see

What you mean to me

Search your heart, search your soul

And when you find me there

You'll search no more ...

And, as the bulls fought for supremacy while we sorted mamas and babies before their respective rides to pastures, the verses just kept coming ...

Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for
I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more
You know it's true
Everything I do, I do it for you, oh yeah.

The bulls got their own private limousine (well, trailer) ride apart from the ladies and babies. Kinda of like rock star status. (Eat your heart out Bryan Adams!)

When we arrived at the pasture to the south of our house, Randy pointed the way to Mr. Bull's harem. (When I posted this photo to Facebook, a non-agriculture-based friend asked if pointing is how we get cattle to go the way we want. It's a very good question. I wish it were that easy. Nature does the pointing when you're talking bulls and cows. But this was just a case of Randy attempting a little humor after a morning of sorting cattle.)

Anyway, all imaginings of a sexy crooner immediately got left behind in the poopy trailer as the bull began his own song. With his high-pitched call, Our Romeo ended up sounding more like Peewee Herman instead of a seductive, smooth-as-silk bass like Barry White and his Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe.

It was the same high-pitched call for the bull who arrived at the Ninnescah Pasture. I wanted to tell them both that I thought they'd have better luck attracting the ladies if they went for a more robust sound, perhaps emulating Luther Vandross and his Always and Forever.

It seems to work for them though. Or it better. We want lots of little baby calves running around next winter.

Sometimes, Barnyard Lotharios leave behind their calling cards. We don't have a Charolais bull. But a neighbor does. This little guy doesn't look much like his coal-black mother, does he? I suspect he's the spitting image of his Daddy, who is now long gone. However, we don't have a purebred cow-calf herd, so he's joined his contemporaries in the pasture.

In recent years, we've had one Hereford bull and four Angus bulls. Each year, the bulls go through a version of a "job interview" with a check-up from the veterinarian to make sure each is able to perform his appointed duties.

When Randy is looking for a new bull to add to our herd, it's not just a beauty contest, though looking for correct conformation for each breed is one factor in the decision-making process. Randy also looks for bulls that produce smaller birth weight calves, but whose progeny have higher 205-day weaning weights and yearling weights.

Yesterday, the little Charolais calf and its 2013 "classmates" returned to the scene of the "crime" at the Rattlesnake Pasture. Let's hope his Daddy doesn't exercise his visitation rights again this summer.

Bananas Foster Bread

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 15 May 2013 11:45:00 +0000

I am picky about the bananas I eat. I prefer a little green tinge to the bananas I consume for breakfast or a snack. Randy is less discerning. (Read less picky, if we're honest.)

But, I still seem to end up with bananas ripening on the counter, 90 percent of the time. So I'm always in search of new ways to use ripe bananas. Is it any wonder that banana bread recipes seem to jump out at me on blogs? I don't think so.

I saw this recipe on Ashley's Kitchen Meets Girl blog. She's the Wichita blogger who hosts What's in Your Kitchen Wednesday, and I've never found a "dud" when I've used her recipes. (That's why I am so particular about the recipes I share on Kim's County Line. I don't want someone who tries something from here to have a bad experience. If the recipe isn't good, I don't share it here.)

This recipe also appealed to me because it has flax seed. Now I'm not one to believe in "miracle" or "trendy" ingredients, but a little extra nutrition in a sweet quick bread can't hurt, can it? I also substituted white, whole wheat flour for the all-purpose flour in this recipe.

Ground flax seed. I purchased mine at Smith's Market in Hutchinson, but it's available at a bulk food store or health food store, as well as larger grocery stores.

The recipe also called for Greek yogurt. Greek yogurt is the new "IT" ingredient, but I didn't have any in the fridge. So I just substituted light banana cream pie yogurt, and it turned out great.

Enjoy!

Bananas Foster Bread

Adapted from Kitchen Meets Girl blog

1 1/2 cups mashed ripe banana (about 3 medium)
1 cup brown sugar, divided
6 tbsp. butter, melted and divided
1/4 cup dark rum, divided (see below)
1/3 cup banana yogurt (or Greek yogurt)
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups white whole wheat flour (or all-purpose flour)
1/4 cup ground flax seed
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp. ground allspice
1/3 cup powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray loaf pan(s) with cooking spray. You may use one 9- by 5-inch pan or three smaller loaf pans, depending on your preference.

Combine banana, 1/2 cup brown sugar, 5 tablespoons of butter and 3 tablespoons of rum in a non-stick skillet. Cook over medium heat until mixture begins to bubble. Remove from heat; cool. (If you don't cool it, you could end up with scrambled eggs when you do the next step.) Place banana mixture in large mixer bowl. Add yogurt, remaining 1/2 cup brown sugar and eggs. Beat with mixer at medium speed.

Combine flour, flax seed, baking powder, baking soda and spices in a small bowl. Add flour mixture to banana mixture; beat just until blended. Pour batter into one 9- by 5-inch loaf pan or three smaller loaf pans which have been coated with baking spray.

Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour for large loaf or 25-30 minutes for smaller loaves. (Be sure and check the loaves to make sure they are done. A toothpick inserted into the center of the loaf should come out clean. All ovens are different). Remove from oven; cool 10 minutes in pan on wire rack. Remove bread from pan and place bread back on wire rack to cool completely before icing.

For icing: Combine remaining 1 tablespoon melted butter, remaining 1 tablespoon of rum and powdered sugar. Stir until smooth and well blended. Drizzle over cooled bread.

Note: I know some people would prefer not to use the alcohol and that's fine. You could substitute 3 tablespoons of milk and add some rum, butter or vanilla flavoring. FYI: In the bananas foster mixture, you are heating the mixture so that the alcohol cooks off and just the flavor remains. In the icing, you may substitute rum, vanilla or butter flavoring.

***

I am linked today to Ashley's What's In Your Kitchen Wednesday. Check out all the other yummy links for tried-and-true tested recipes.

Here are some of my other favorite ways to use ripe bananas:

Byers Banana Bread

This recipe is my go-to banana bread recipe. I've made it dozens of times, as my tattered Byers United Methodist Church recipe book can attest.

Coconut Banana Bread

Reese's Peanut Butter

Banana Bread

It's a Bird ... It's a Plane!

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 14 May 2013 12:35:00 +0000

I have a heads' up for you on the 2013 wheat crop.

Really, the heads are up.

That's not the only thing that was up this weekend. So was a cropduster, who sprayed our wheat fields with fungicide Sunday morning. We were on our way to church, so I didn't have time to stay and watch for very long. The pilot probably didn't need an audience anyway.

It would not be an occupation for me. I like a little more space between the plane and the ground, thank you very much.

The pilot was applying Tilt, a fungicide, to our wheat crop. Usually, we have the Kanza Co-op apply it with a ground rig, but this year, the ground was too wet because of our recent rains (another 0.70 inch total last week on top of 1.60 inch the week before. Just so you don't get the wrong impression, we are most definitely NOT complaining about the moisture!). The co-op contracted with a cropduster to make aerial applications.

The fungicide provides good protection against leaf rust and stripe rust, which decrease yield. It's a preventative measure - applied before there's a problem - rather than a curative application.

In several years of field trials at Kansas State University, the application of fungicides between the flag leaf and flowering stages of wheat development resulted in a yield boost of 4 to 14 percent.

It's kind of a calculated risk: Will the cost of the fungicide pay off with a better crop? Only time will tell. After some calculations, Randy thinks if the fungicide saves 2 bushels of wheat per acre, it will pay for itself.

A foliar fungicide application will not make a 40-bushel crop into a 60-bushel crop, but it will prevent a 60-bushel crop from being reduced to a 40-bushel crop by foliar disease.

Bob Hunger, an Oklahoma State University wheat disease specialist,
and Jeff Edwards, an OSU Extension wheat specialist

So, is your bag of flour safe after farmers spray fungicide on the developing crop? Yes, as long as farmers follow the restrictions on when to apply it and how long after the application the crop is harvested.

Believe me, farmers and their families want a safe and affordable food supply, too. We buy bags of flour at the store. We buy that loaf of wheat bread and feed it to our families.

There is still a lot of time - and uncertainty - between now and harvest. We've probably already had some yield loss from freeze damage. Weather, hail and disease could conspire against us, too. But, as usual, my farmer is a glass-half-full kind of guy. So, he's betting that the investment will pay off.

(For larger photos of the cropduster, click on the photos.)

Wanted: A Left-Handed Camera

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 13 May 2013 11:45:00 +0000

I am ambidextrous. I write left-handed. I eat right-handed. I shoot or throw a ball left-handed. I prefer using right-handed scissors.

I am fortunate because I can use both hands fairly interchangeably. But let's face it: The world is designed for right-handed people.

Most days, I don't even think about the fact that a camera is designed for right-handed use. But when you want to use your right hand to click a camera at the same time you're using the throttle on a 4-wheeler, it just doesn't work.

Go ahead: I'll wait. You try holding a camera (or your camera phone) and taking a photo with your left hand by clicking the button on the right-hand side of the camera.

So ... true confessions. I had to come to a stop on the 4-wheeler to take a few photos of the cattle drive the other day. Don't tell the boss 'cause I don't want to lose my sweet job on the "Japanese horse." I am usually the blocker at the road, getting the cattle to turn the right direction.

My usual view from my usual cattle-turning post - Photo from another cattle adventure

It is definitely easier to take photos with that job. But it's not as much fun, especially when the hubby does the harder part - like getting off the other 4-wheeler and walking around the feed bunk to get the mamas and babies moving in the right direction and so we didn't get stuck in the wet corral.

In an ideal world, cattle would just head down the road and stay there. But, just like humans who are tempted by tasty goodies, the cattle head off for the yummy stuff - at least in their eyes. Those fields of bright green wheat were just too hard to resist - kind of like frosted sugar cookies for me.

It took some vigorous "hey, hey, heying" and "tailgating" to get them to leave behind the tender morsels and head for the corral at Jake's house.

I don't have photos of the actual sorting. It's impossible to take pictures and get the mamas and babies separated. It's even harder than taking photos with your left hand! So, once we got them separated, we loaded mamas ...

... and babies for their separate ride to the pasture.

They arrived at their destination - a pasture near the Quivira National Wildlife Refuge. Hopefully, they won't want to become tourists and leave their "digs" for a look at the neighboring wildlife.

A Father With a Mother's Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 10 May 2013 12:13:00 +0000

Thanks to Morgan Hildebrand for allowing me to use her chick photos from Priority Ranch, Stafford, KS. Check out her blog, Priority Ranch and see more photos of the chickens and other animals they raise on their farm.

... How often I have longed to gather
your children together,

as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings ...

Matthew 23: 37

The animal kingdom at our farm doesn't include hens and chicks. But as I read those words from Matthew 23, I think back to my grandparents' farm. Each spring, they would purchase baby chicks and put them under heat lamps in the brooder house until they grew big enough to survive without the extra pampering. When I was a child, I loved seeing those little balls of yellow fluff huddled together. I loved touching their downy feathers. They weren't nearly as cute when they grew up to be hens, and we had to move them out of the way to get to the eggs in the hen house.

Photo by Morgan Hildebrand, Priority Ranch

But even as I remember the pecking and racket of the hen house, I think about it a little differently now as a mother and grandmother - and I as read the words from Matthew.

While most often we hear about "God the Father," the Matthew 23 verse gives us that maternal essence of God.

The birthing process is God’s idea. He’s maternally given birth to the universe, birth to our planet, and birth to us. Most importantly He’s given us re-birth. Simply stated, He is Father God with a mother’s heart. Waiting to wipe every tear; sitting up with us through the night; and listening to our troubles—solving them while we are yet speaking.

Christian Author Susan Watkins

Each year, I am mystified by motherhood as we work with our cow/calf herd on our South Central Kansas farm. When we move the cow/calf pairs to different corrals or pastures, we separate the mamas and their babies to keep the babies (and the humans) safe.

The mamas don't realize we are doing it for a purpose. They protest - LOUDLY - when they are on one side of a fence ... and their babies are on another.

They bellow at the barn because they know their babies went that direction on the way to the trailer. Then they move the protest to the fence and watch as the trailer leaves them behind.

It's always amazing to me when it's time for the mamas and babies to reunite. The babies barrel out of the trailer in search of their mamas.

It doesn't take long before the "lost" is again found by each mama and welcomed home for a nuzzle and a snack.

And isn't that how God seeks us? Our Heavenly Father has a mother's heart.

He seeks us when we're lost. (Luke 15: 3-6). He numbers the hairs on our heads (Luke 12: 6-8). He rejoices over us. His thoughts about us outnumber the grains of sand (Psalm 139). Isn't that just like a mother?

Happy Mother's Day to my Mom ...

Me and my mom, 1957

and to my daughter. She did the important job of making me a grandma.

It's a pretty wonderful job description! I think there's a little Grandma in our Father God, too!

Kinley & me at the Topeka Zoo - April 2013

***

Since 1988, I've shared Mother's Day weekend with Brent's birthday. Happy Birthday today to Brent! He's celebrating today by working a Morehead State University baseball game. As far as I know, there won't be any Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle-inspired cakes in the press box. But he did get homemade Chex mix in the mail from me.

***

Be sure and check out Morgan Hildebrand's blog, Priority Ranch. Again, I thank her for allowing me to use her chick photos. We have our share of cattle and cats here on our farm, but you'll want to see the menagerie of animals that live at Priority Ranch and the people who care for them. Click on the link to "visit."

***

This is a version of my Food for Thought blog on the Lovely Branches Ministries website, where the theme this month is "The Mystery of Motherhood." My friend, Suzanne, talks about the power of a positive Mom on her blog, Heart and Home Matters.

If you're anywhere near Stafford, you'll want to visit the Taste and See Coffee House, also a ministry of Lovely Branches. Click on the link for hours of operation.

Chicken on a Beef Day

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 08 May 2013 11:23:00 +0000

It's Mother's Day week, and women should celebrate life's little victories, don't you think? I'm certainly no Superwoman. I wouldn't look good in the costume anyway, so it's just as well.

We got more of the baby calves and their mamas moved to pasture this week. (More on that later.) It went well, despite a close call or two when I let a couple of calves get around me while we were sorting. Thankfully, Jake is younger and quicker than me and got the gate closed before the babies escaped into another pen, where we would have had to start the process all over again.

But, even though I spent all morning outside, I still got a new recipe on the table for our noon meal, along with a lettuce salad packed with fresh veggies. Even better? It got good reviews, and there were plenty of leftovers. Bonus!

Though my cattleman prefers beef, he will eat chicken. Since my time was limited, I opted to use frozen chicken breasts rather than grilling a steak and using the pasta as a side dish. Because I had less than 30 minutes, I cooked the chicken breasts via the microwave, putting some pesto on top of each breast to give additional flavor and moistness.

We ate the pasta dish warm for our noon meal, and that's Randy's preference. I have eaten some cold for subsequent meals, and that's good, too, If you're looking for a good pasta salad or side dish for Mother's Day, try this Chicken & Bowtie Feta Pasta - with or without the chicken and served warm or cold. Moms love options, don't we?

Enjoy!

Chicken and Bowtie Feta Pasta

3 chicken breasts (see below)*
1 12-oz. package bowtie pasta (farfalle)
3/4 cup prepared pesto
1/2 pint cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
1 cup crumbled feta cheese
Salt, to taste
Freshly-ground pepper to taste
Olive oil or additional pesto as needed

* The original recipe didn't call for any meat. However, I added chicken to make this a main dish meal. Since I had limited time, I put three frozen chicken breasts in a 9-inch-square baking dish and covered with a little prepared pesto. I covered with plastic wrap and then cooked in the microwave until the chicken tested done. Cooking it in the microwave with the pesto kept it moist and gave it good flavor. I then cut the chicken into bite-sized chunks to add to the completed pasta dish. You could use leftover grilled chicken, too.

Cook pasta in boiling water until al dente. Drain and run under cold water to stop cooking. Mix pasta with pesto, tomatoes and feta cheese. Mix in prepared chicken. Season to taste with salt and pepper. If needed, moisten with additional olive oil or a little more pesto, especially if you need to reheat to serve again.

Serves at least 6, main-dish-sized portions. You could also serve this as a side dish or a salad. I liked it both hot and cold. Randy preferred it served warm.

***

Today I'm linked to Ashley's What's In Your Kitchen Wednesday, a place to share all sorts of yummy food for anytime of the day. Check it out!

S'wheat' Harvest? Time Will Tell

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 07 May 2013 12:20:00 +0000

The bright blue sky and beautiful clouds against the green wheat made for a picture-perfect day in Kansas.

What a difference a year makes! The wheat field photo above was taken late last week. The one below was taken April 30, 2012.

Last year, the wheat was fully headed, and we were on our way to the earliest harvest ever, along with record temperatures for the spring. We started wheat harvest on May 26, Memorial Day weekend, last year.

It won't be early this year. The rule of thumb is that harvest will begin about 6 weeks after the wheat is headed. That hasn't happened yet.

Last week, Randy checked wheat fields after the latest round of freezing temperatures. When he broke open the stalks, he found some heads that were white and mushy, indicating freeze damage. (Click here for more on our own brand of wheat "surgery.") However, he also found heads that looked like they would continue to grow and produce grain for Harvest 2013, like the one shown below.

He says he is cautiously optimistic. (It seems to me he is always optimistic.) We did get an additional 1.60 inches of rain last week, and, as the old farmer saying goes, "Rain makes grain."

He hopes that there's a slow transition into summer temperatures. The wheat heads will fill better if it doesn't shift gears from freezing to 90 degrees over the span of a week or two.

The 2013 Winter Wheat Tour participants have pegged the Kansas wheat crop at 313.8 million bushels, well below last year’s actual total of 360 million bushels and the five-year average of 341 million bushels. They crisscrossed Kansas last week and made 570 stops at wheat fields to make their prediction for Harvest 2013. The crop is suffering the most in western Kansas, where drought and freezes have combined for a knock-out punch for some fields.

Another farmer saying? "A lot can happen between a prediction and harvest."

Be Still: Spring Photos

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 06 May 2013 12:41:00 +0000

"Be still and know that I am God."

Psalm 46: 10a

Pastor Jeff used just one Bible verse yesterday. Actually, he used half a verse.

It's only eight words.

It doesn't sound complicated.

You'd think it would be easier.

But it's more difficult than you'd think to turn off thoughts ...

... that scatter your heart and mind in as many directions as a dandelion in a puff of spring wind.

From Max Lucado:

In the midst of your daily storms, make it a point to be still and set your sights on Him.

Let God be God. Let Him bathe you in His glory so that both your breath and your troubles are sucked from your soul ...

Be still. Be quiet. Be open and willing.

***

I'm linked with Michelle DeRusha's weekly feature, Hear It On Sunday, Use It On Monday and with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story.

The Most Exciting Two Minutes in Sports

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 03 May 2013 13:22:00 +0000

"And they're off!"

It's Kentucky Derby weekend, and I'm probably paying more attention than usual. On a very cold day in January, we visited Churchill Downs in Louisville. It was one of our stops on the whirlwind tour of Kentucky, as we traveled to visit Brent in Morehead, KY, two hours away. We got our own private, behind-the-scenes tour of the grounds. Our tour guide took us into the suite where the Queen of England watched the Kentucky Derby. (I don't think that was a regular part of the tour, but the guide was cold, too.)

I'm going to have to DVR the Derby this year since we are host/hostess for a wedding for the daughter of friends. (Happy Wedding Day, Erica - Brent's birthday "twin.")

My Mom has always liked watching horse racing. I remember Saturday afternoons in the spring, watching the three races of the Triple Crown on the TV in our family room. I think horses must be in my Mom's blood. Her grandfather, Charley Neelly, was a farmer in Pratt County, but he made extra money by trading horses. He owned a total of 11 race horses during his lifetime. He also liked good driving horses. (Information from a family history written by my brother, Kent Moore.)

My Grandpa Shelby Neelly is the 2-year-old (far left) in this 1906 photo.

Racing in Louisville dates back to 1783 when races were held on Market Street in the downtown area. Churchill Downs was established after 26-year-old Col. M. Lewis Clark traveled in England and France in 1872-1873. After his return from Europe, Clark began development of his racetrack which would serve to showcase the Kentucky breeding industry. The track would eventually become known as "Churchill Downs."

We also toured the Derby museum, and I was especially interested in a display which featured a John Deere tractor.

A lot of people don't realize how much goes into really taking care of the track ... I live and die this. I live and die the weather.

Butch Lehr

Churchill Down track superintendent

While wagering and odds are beyond me, this Kansas farm wife can definitely understand the dependence on the weather. Another panel said this:

When the horses are running, the track must be watered, conditioned and properly graded so that animals don't trip on uneven ground. As soon as the weather gets warmer, preparations begin again for early March when the horses will return to the Downs. ... There are no artificial surfaces at Churchill Downs. As track superintendent Butch Lehr says, "We're kind of proud of our track."

We didn't see any racing. The top photo was a huge video screen in the museum.

There may be rain during the 139th Derby this year. And I've been thinking about the workers who will have to do all in their power to keep Verrazano, Hunch Bet, Revolutionary and 17 other horses and jockeys safe as they run for the roses. (I have a feeling that Randy's favorite horse this year will be Charming Kitten, despite odds of 40-1, because of his affinity for felines.)

Since our tour of Churchill Downs and of Keeneland Race Track at Lexington, Randy has been watching the racing channel as it's rained here this week, waiting for glimpses of places we saw and experienced. (Who knew we got the racing channel? Not me, but of course, my channel flipper found them!)

I'll probably DVR all the pre-race festivities, hoping to see some of the landmarks we toured earlier this year. And I'll be silently saluting the people behind the scenes, getting on their tractors and doing the job without fanfare or accolades or multi-million-dollar horses. They must be kindred spirits.

For the record, the Derby may be the "most exciting two minutes of sports." But it takes 3 hours of television to properly cover it. At least I can speed through the commercials.

It's like being a concert pianist. You can't think about the hours of study and the tears, the disappointments, the frustrations. Otherwise, you would never do it. You can only think about the day that you are on the stage.

Carl Nafzger

Hall of Fame horse trainer