Home Again after an Extra Long Weekend

We left Woodsong around 10 last Thursday morning and headed south. We watched as the roadside grass turned ever more green. Because previous winter trips to the South included some of the coldest softball games we ever endured, we’d thrown coats into the back seat of the car. When we arrived at Lafayette, Louisiana, we found ourselves in the land of live oak trees and where alligator and quail are on restaurant menus. Roses, pansies, and tulip trees were blooming, and coats were never necessary.

This was the closest to us of softball games on Oregon’s schedule this year, and we arrived there Friday in time to briefly see granddaughter Geri Ann before the Ducks began play against the Ragin’ Cajuns. Our daughter-in-law Vickie was already there, and soon Bryan and Tara with the three Archibald boys arrived also. Aidan, Maddux, and Payton were so excited to see their “Auntie G,” who was just as thrilled to see them.

In the first game, we were able to see Geri Ann hit and play in the outfield and then come in to relief pitch. It was a good game though we lost 3-2. At supper that night, Maddux was prepped to eat his first crayfish; and despite his reputation as the family’s picky eater, he pronounced it very good and shared with whoever had the nerve. Gerald and I ate gumbo although different kinds. Before our visit there was over, I’d eaten chicken, crab, crayfish, and shrimp in my gumbo. I’d heard of jambalaya in the song most of my life, so I had to sample a bite from Tara’s plate. After supper, we all gathered for a family visit in the hotel lobby before good nights were said and we went our separate ways although Aidan managed to snare a bed in Vickie’s room.

We were back at the ball park by mid morning and watched our only win over 7th ranked Lafayette 6-3. Cheridan Hawkins pitched most of the game and added nine strike-outs making her total this season 42, which is why she is 19th in the nation for strike-outs. This broke the Cajuns undefeated status to 8-1.

Our third game that afternoon against LLU had us losing again by one run: 5-4. This 30th Louisiana Classic with three teams had a different format from what I’ve previously attended anywhere. Very soon we were playing our fourth game--this time against Central Arkansas. Geri Ann pitched, and we won 8-0 in six innings.

As usual after the games, we went to the team’s restaurant choice to meet up there with the family for a final meal together. I really liked that establishment’s rustic decor, and I especially enjoyed the long wait before our table became available! (Much more fun than eating peanuts and throwing the shells on the floor!) On to the side of the dining rooms was a colorful country stage with a Cajun band in front of a small dance floor surrounded with benches for sitting as we waited to eat their locally famous Creole food.

When we entered, a little girls’ softball team was actively engaged in a combination of gymnastics, horseplay, and dancing, and I think our music lover Maddux was already out there with Geri Ann. Later Aidan joined them; and finally over his protests, Auntie G enticed Payton to join in the fun. Many older couples were obviously regular customers, and it was pleasant to watch their expertise at country dancing. Perhaps the most skilled was one young man with a cowboy hat that had circled the seated crowd commenting to us with thick speech that I could not understand. He found a partner near the band that I assumed he had danced with before, and they were so good it was a joy to watch.

None were cuter though than Oregon freshman Cherish Burks and her baby sister. Little Leah at eleven months had provided us with smiling beauty all weekend. She could almost walk, and everyone was expecting her to take off by herself any time. Perhaps she wanted to save those first steps to show off for her daddy when she got back home to California. I speculated she was such a pleasant child because her mother too was always smiling. When Leah was tired, she would take her bottle and go to sleep in her mother’s arms or in her buggy as her mother pushed, but always she had an audience because she was so engaging and so pretty. I may have watched her as much almost as the teams on the field. Well, on the dance floor, she was in her element. Those little feet that moved so well if someone held on to her arms as she walked were now stepping high in perfect rhythm. She also had a steady supply of partners picking her up and carrying around with the music. Just as cute were twin brothers, who were probably two since they were steady on their feet—too steady at times. (Watching their dad or mother race to intercept them as they would dart toward the opening into the main restaurant provided some humor.) Watching them interact with little Leah was so sweet as children always seem delighted to see someone else their own size.

Watching all this made me almost disappointed to be called to our table for food. (A screen in that room, however, let us hear and see the band and an even larger group of senior citizens circling the floor.) The meal was good and everyone was happy. That is until Geri Ann had to join the Ducks for the trip back to their hotel. Because the Archibalds had to return to College Station yet that night in order for Aidan to play baseball the next day, this was a final goodbye to Geri Ann. The team left, and Maddux sobbed. And soon Payton was sobbing also. Gma Vickie solved Maddux’s grief by inviting him to spend the night and go home with her the next day, so he was able to see Geri Ann again on Sunday after all. Bryan and Tara quickly figured out a solution for Payton, who would soon be fast asleep in their van going back home. At age nine, Aidan is very committed to his sport. And we heard that he pitched a very good game,

The next day many of Oregon’s younger players were on the field against Central Arkansas, and the score was even more lopsided with a 19-3 score in five innings. After the game, we were busy saying goodbye to Geri Ann, Vickie, and Maddux and getting on the road to Dickenson, Texas, so we did not stay to see Central Arkansas play the host team.

We arrived at Gerald’s special Air Force buddy’s home with the help of our GPS. I found out after we returned to Woodsong that I had mistyped one number in Gerald’s cell phone, so Ray and Gladys had been unable to reach us. (I am still confused about that because I know I checked it after I hurriedly typed it in a personal message on their Facebook page, but I guess I goofed.) We had a great two-hour visit while the guys reminisced and Gladys and I got acquainted.

We met their granddaughter and two great granddaughters temporarily staying with them. Camie, the younger of the two great granddaughters was 19 months, and she had a head of lovely soft black curls and a beautiful face. Gladys brought her into the family room when she woke from her nap, and she was all smiles for us strangers even though her mother and sister were not there right then. She too entertained us showing us how she walked with Gpa Ray’s shoes and sharing her doll and toys. After watching Leah and her, I began to wonder if babies don’t cry anymore.

It was hard to leave, but we needed to hurry on to Gerry and Vickie’s house in College Station. We were looking forward to it because we knew Gerry would be in a great mood. He had been with A&M’s softball team at the Mary Nutter Classic in California that weekend and had come through undefeated against all the great teams there. We had a good late evening visit and got re-acquainted with Chloe, Chance, and Nelly—their house dogs. (The bird dogs are exiled to a friend’s ranch during softball season.) Erin and Josh had been there dog sitting for Vickie all weekend, but they returned earlier in the day to their respective places. (Erin to her apartment to teach the next day and Josh back to Fort Hood.) We enjoyed sleeping in the bedroom decorated with all Erin’s softball awards and mementoes. however, and that made us feel like a partial visit with her. We are still looking forward to meeting Josh.

The next morning I slept late while Gerald and Gerry ran around, and I came downstairs to the smell of bacon and sausage and the sight of another beautiful baby—this time a little boy named Trent that Vickie cares for part of the day three times a week. He could pull himself up, but does not walk yet. His curls were blond. He is their sunshine, Vickie explained. He proved my theory that modern babies must no longer cry. At nap time, Vickie would put him in his crib, walk out of the room, and he would go to sleep until nap time was over. Nor did he wake up crying but all smiles. We enjoyed meeting him and watching him play contentedly with his toys and all of us. Soon after his lunch, he took another nap. We ate a late lunch with Gerry and Vickie and packed our bags. We were all out on the front lawn saying our final goodbyes when the Trent’s mother and little sister came to pick him up.

We traveled late on Monday to be further on the way home the next day. The grass was even greener than in Louisiana. And redbud and other shrubs were flowering by the roadside. There was sometimes even a hint of green in the dark limbs of the trees in the wooded areas. The starkness of the bare limbs was often broken with large balls of mistletoe.

We drove an hour or so before we stopped for breakfast on Tuesday to break up the drive. I believe it was in Arkadelphia that we stopped for lunch at a local barbecue place that claimed fame for having catered 10,000 folk at one gathering! As we traveled north, the green grass became more splotchy, and finally by Missouri, it was mostly brown again. There were large fields of bright green winter wheat, however. Once we saw a rice field covered with water and ducks. Then we were on Interstate 57 after stopping at Boomland for rest and cheap gas. We picked up our accumulated mail at the post office when we arrived in Marion just before it closed. After a bowl of chili at Pulleys, it was back to the farm and carrying in luggage. I sent text messages to our four kids that we were home all safe and sound. Made the coffee for the next morning and attended other details of living. I think Gerald checked the Internet. We fell in bed early for a good night’s rest and woke up to snow coming down outside our windows.

Things Are Good at Woodsong

Although most of the small flock of wild geese left us, two stayed on. They and Ian are swimming happily around the lake. Ian is so pretty with his soft fluffy white feathers and bright red beak, so it is easy to distinguish him from his playmates. Although we have not had much snow, the fields around the lake are spotted with it as is our island, so it is difficult to see Ian except when he is in the lake.

We are sure he has created a snuggly nest of some sort on the island although we have not attempted to enter his territory and find it. He obviously likes it better than at our house. And that is fine. Gerald saw him over on the over side of the lake the other day and hurried over to take some food to him—but he had vanished to the island before Gerald got there. That too is fine. It is good to know he has grown able to take care of himself. And it is good that he seems very happy with his new friends. Now he does not have to be sorry he fought with his brother and had to find a new home!

Softball season has started, and so last weekend we were tied to Gerald's computer watching A&M's games,which were filmed.Then Gerald would switch channels back and forth to see Geri Ann's Oregon games if they were on at the same time. Right now the Ducks are shown on a not-very-satisfactory game tracker. We were very glad her mother was there to help her celebrate her birthday on Friday and to see her first home run of the season on Saturday. Gerry had to see it on someone's camera, of course.

We did celebrate Valentine’s Day. I spent most of the day at Katherine’s house since she was without an aide. Gerald had planned to take me to dinner, so he came by and took me to my favorite restaurant for my favorite meal and gave me a break from care giving. I had grabbed a bright red jacket as I left our house, so I donned that to add to my outfit and look appropriate for the holiday.

We forgot the next day was President’s Day until we found out neighborhood kids were out of school and we received no mail. Cardiac rehab was open despite the holiday, so I got my afternoon workout as usual as I do three days a week.

In the bits and pieces of time I have, I am continuing to work on my history of my great great great grandfather “Cedar Billy” Martin of Bedford County, Tennessee. That is my recreation right now. Of course, I am also trying to follow the news about the election as much as possible. Recently I started reading an Alice Walker book that I have owned forever, but it has stayed untouched on the living room coffee table for a week or so.

One of Gerald’s main activities lately has been teeth stuff. We went to Paducah last Thursday as his local dentist said he needed an oral surgeon to repair a root canal troubling him. I envisioned all sorts of possible trouble and went along to drive him home if necessary—but he drove both ways. He did not get the tooth repaired, however. The root was cracked, so the dentist planned to put the cap back on so he would not be toothless until the local dentist pulled it. Gerald persuaded the dentist to go ahead and pull it while it was all deadened. That greatly speeded up the process for getting a new tooth added to his dentures. The gum looked terrible when we came home from Paducah, but Gerald was pleasantly surprised for it to be almost healed by the next day. Tuesday the impression was taken, and today he has the new tooth added to his dentures. He is smiling naturally once again. He has also found time to keep the wood stove burning in his shop, empty the waste baskets all over the house to add to accumulated waste paper container in the garage which he either buried or burned, wash both his pickup and our car, and today he hosed down our garage floor before he did some business in town. Oh, yes, he fixed his own supper as he does if I am at Katherine’s house during the supper hour.

News Flash! Ian is Alive!

After Gerald tucked Ian into his stiffed straw crate, Gerald went to bed Monday night thinking this new goose was comfortable and safe up against the house under the roofed patio. Waking up before day break Tuesday, Gerald was soon out there to say good morning to Ian—and Ian was gone. He searched and looked everywhere; and although there were no feathers, we had to figure a varmint had carried him away and eaten him. When there continued to be no sign of him anywhere, Gerald resigned himself to calling Ian’s human and telling her the quick sad ending to Ian's life at Woodsong.

Since Sebastopal geese cannot fly, I did fantasize that maybe Ian’s story would be like some lost dog stories I have heard when weeks or months later, dogs showed up at their owner’s home. I wondered if this kind of geese could have a homing instinct that would take him walking across fields and woods and roads and ponds and lead him back to his human and to that brother he had picked fights with. Someone had written me how social Sebastopal geese are, and I felt sorry for him being so lonely and hoped we’d get a phone call from his human saying Ian was back home. But I did not really think that was going to happen. We have had too many sad experiences with the varmints eating our geese when we tried to keep tame ones on the lake. Several years ago, we gave up trying, and we just enjoy the wild geese and ducks when they happen to visit.

However, what happened is even better than a call from the distant neighbor. Gerald just came into my office smiling and said, “Ian’s alive.” He explained Ian was on the other side of the lake with a flock of Canadian geese. I was quick to rush out to the family room to take Gerald’s binoculars and enjoy seeing Ian preening himself beside his fellow creatures and not looking at all lonely. Gerald was shaking his head in wonder as he had made many trips around the lake since Monday morning looking for this lost goose. I continued watching as Ian joined the ten or so Canadians to swim happily with them. Gerald had already gone to phone Ian’s human with this happy and unexpected news.

We have to assume that Ian had found refuge and was hiding out on the little island Gerald built summers ago. Its purpose was to provide a safe place for our geese, but it proved unsuccessful as animals swam to the island just as the geese did. Gerald’s worst goose story, however, was watching a proud mama with new babies in a nest right under our bedroom window. While I was in Freeport with our daughter, he was on the phone telling me about it. Suddenly a hawk flew down and snatched the mother goose and killed her in front of his eyes. He hurried off the phone and took the baby geese and remaining eggs down to his brother Keith’s farm to put in an incubator there, but that image is still in my mind even though I only heard it over the phone. That and all the other sad stories had made us assume Ian was gone. Keith.our poultry expert, figured a coyote carried Ian off.

I don’t know how long this new flock of wild geese will stay here, but right now Ian has company, and I am glad. His human was right. Ian likes our lake and is able to make the adjustment. Long live Ian!

Ian, the Sebastopol Goose

A phone call yesterday from a distant neighbor added some excitement to our day. (In the country, we are inclined to call people neighbors even though they may live miles away.) We had met the neighbor a few years ago when searching for one of Gerry’s dogs, which had run away. When the dog showed up at her house, she had taken care of it and phoned us. Yesterday she was the one with the problem.

She explained to Gerald that she had three geese—two boys and one girl goose. The two boys were fighting, she said, and she needed to remove one. She thought one boy goose would enjoy our lake and would we accept him to live there?

Gerald said yes, and she brought the boy goose named Ian to Woodsong. My thought was that Ian would fly back to her house; but come to find out, she explained he was a Sebastopol goose and cannot fly.

Gerald went up to the attic he built in his shop and brought down a dog crate formerly used for Erin’s dog when visiting us. He and the neighbor took it down to the lake and filled it with straw for Ian. She put out some of the goose food she had brought in a coffee can, but she assured Gerald that Ian would be able to sustain himself with nature’s bounty. She had thought Ian would love our lake especially since at her place he only had a child-size plastic pool to play in. Well, Ian must have found the lake overwhelming, and he choose to follow them right back up the lawn on the lake-side of our house. When they came inside, Ian kept walking around the patio looking in our windows at his former caregiver, who assured us Ian knew his name.

So Gerald brought the crate with straw up to our covered patio and placed Ian in it there on the patio with the crate door wide open. I assume they explained it to Ian and encouraged him to go down to the lake later. Ian stayed there in the crate, and the neighbor left suggesting Gerald call her in a few days. When Gerald checked the crate at bedtime after he returned from a Super Bowl supper and family party with Mary Ellen’s kids, Ian remained seemingly contented there.

First thing this morning, Gerald went to check this Sebastopol goose, which he had looked up on the Internet and found was a German goose with soft fluffy feathers good for pillows. (I wondered if we might need to send DNA to Ancestry.com to make sure he was not really Scotch.) Alas, Ian was not in his crate and Gerald could not find him anywhere as he walked around the house. Finally, at the other end of the patio on top of a compressor that serves some sort of purpose for our house, Ian had smartly enounced himself all cozy with heat from the compressor. .

Still hoping to fulfill the neighbor’s fantasy of Ian enjoying our lake and the wild geese flying in and out, Gerald again took Ian with the crate and food and placed them lakeside. Will Ian find comfort and pleasure there? Are his feelings hurt by being abandoned by his human? Does he regret fighting with his brother—the other boy goose? Will he come back up the lawn tonight to sleep on the compressor? Our experience with Sebastopol geese has been limited until now. We will find out perhaps if the varmints that have foiled our attempts at goose husbandry in the past have their way with Ian.

P.S. I wrote this in the morning, but by lunch it had started snowing. Gerald had relented and brought this new fowl back to the covered patio. Then worrying because Ian had not taken the proffered sustenance since arriving here, tonight he fed and watered him on the patio, which he had not planned to do. Who thinks I am correct that Ian will be back on that compressor in the morning?
Ian, the Sebastopol Goose

A phone call yesterday from a distant neighbor added some excitement to our day. (In the country, we are inclined to call people neighbors even though they may live miles away.) We had met the neighbor a few years ago when searching for one of Gerry’s dogs, which had run away. When the dog showed up at her house, she had taken care of it and phoned us. Yesterday she was the one with the problem.

She explained to Gerald that she had three geese—two boys and one girl goose. The two boys were fighting, she said, and she needed to remove one. She thought one boy goose would enjoy our lake and would we accept him to live there?

Gerald said yes, and she brought the boy goose named Ian to Woodsong. My thought was that Ian would fly back to her house; but come to find out, she explained he was a Sebastopol goose and cannot fly.

Gerald went up to the attic he built in his shop and brought down a dog crate formerly used for Erin’s dog when visiting us. He and the neighbor took it down to the lake and filled it with straw for Ian. She put out some of the goose food she had brought in a coffee can, but she assured Gerald that Ian would be able to sustain himself with nature’s bounty. She had thought Ian would love our lake especially since at her place he only had a child-size plastic pool to play in. Well, Ian must have found the lake overwhelming, and he choose to follow them right back up the lawn on the lake-side of our house. When they came inside, Ian kept walking around the patio looking in our windows at his former caregiver, who assured us Ian knew his name.

So Gerald brought the crate with straw up to our covered patio and placed Ian in it there on the patio with the crate door wide open. I assume they explained it to Ian and encouraged him to go down to the lake later. Ian stayed there in the crate, and the neighbor left suggesting Gerald call her in a few days. When Gerald checked the crate at bedtime after he returned from a Super Bowl supper and family party with Mary Ellen’s kids, Ian remained seemingly contented there.

First thing this morning, Gerald went to check this Sebastopol goose, which he had looked up on the Internet and found was a German goose with soft fluffy feathers good for pillows. (I wondered if we might need to send DNA to Ancestry.com to make sure he was not really Scotch.) Alas, Ian was not in his crate and Gerald could not find him anywhere as he walked around the house. Finally, at the other end of the patio on top of a compressor that serves some sort of purpose for our house, Ian had smartly enounced himself all cozy with heat from the compressor. .

Still hoping to fulfill the neighbor’s fantasy of Ian enjoying our lake and the wild geese flying in and out, Gerald again took Ian with the crate and food and placed them lakeside. Will Ian find comfort and pleasure there? Are his feelings hurt by being abandoned by his human? Does he regret fighting with his brother—the other boy goose? Will he come back up the lawn tonight to sleep on the compressor? Our experience with Sebastopol geese has been limited until now. We will find out perhaps if the varmints that have foiled our attempts at goose husbandry in the past have their way with Ian.

P.S. I wrote this in the morning, but by lunch it had started snowing. Gerald had relented and brought this new fowl back to the covered patio. Then worrying because Ian had not taken the proffered sustenance since arriving here, tonight he fed and watered him on the patio, which he had not planned to do. Who thinks I am correct that Ian will be back on that compressor in the morning?