Janet's Blog

The Wounded Knee Creek flows right through the middle of the family ranch, which borders South Dakota to the north. The ranch, which is used by various extended family members for hunting and vacations, has been one of my favorite places ever since I visited there for the first time, nearly 60 years ago. Now, my grandchildren are the fifth generation of our family to explore everything the ranch has to offer, next to, over, and even in the Wounded Knee. As soon as we arrive, sleeping arrangements are negotiated--some in the main house, and others in the bunkhouse nearby. Then, the kids all beg to go down to the swing, hanging from a 150 year old Cottonwood tree that sits on the creek bank. On the Sunday afternoon before Memorial Day, Bill and I arrived a little earlier than the rest of our crew, so as soon as Bill turned on the electricity and primed the pump so the plumbing would work appropriately, we transferred the food from our cooler to the refrigerator, and headed down to the s...

My local grandchildren recently finished their homeschool curriculum for this school year and, to celebrate, we planned to go camping at Lake Minatare, located 12 miles northeast of Gering. However, since the kids had been hoping to camp on the far eastern side of the lake, our campsites were probably closer to 17 miles from home. We avoid camping on weekends, especially holiday weekends, because we've found that the campgrounds are sparcely populated during the week. That's just the way we like it. However, the weather forecast was not in our favor this time. We had planned to leave on Sunday, after church, but Monday's forecast was horrible--rainy, with highs only in the forties. That's not good camping weather unless you like to stay inside your RV, watching TV or reading a good book. Our crew prefers to spend virtually all of their time outdoors, at the beach, so we postponed our trip until Tuesday, leaving just enough time at the lake before the Memorial Day crowd ...

My eyes are green. That's not at all unusual in my family. My mom's eyes were the same green as mine, and so are my brother's. My dad's eyes were also green, but with enough amber flecks that they might have been better referred to as hazel. My sister's eyes are definitely hazel green, with so many amber and gold highlights that her childhood friends often insisted she had cat eyes. My husband, Bill, has beautiful blue eyes. All four of my children, even the adopted ones, have blue or blue-gray eyes. I thought that at least one of my eight grandchildren would have inherited my green eyes, but no, they all have blue or blue-gray eyes--every single one of them. Blue eyes are really quite rare, with only 8-10% of the world's population possessing eyes of blue. Research indicates that all blue-eyed people share a single, common, Northern European ancestor whose blue eyes resulted from a genetic mutation a few thousand years ago. Because blue eyes are recessive, a fr...

I wasn't consciously afraid of snakes when I was young. I had seen a few garter snakes around the farm and, later, in our backyard, and I was usually curious enough to take a look at them--from a distance. But when I was about five or six, I started dreaming about snakes. Actually, they weren't dreams at all; they were full blown nightmares. Sometimes, when I was in that state of consciousness right between wakefulness and sleep, my mind would play tricks on me, and I was sure I saw snakes on the floor or in my brother's bed, across the room. The worst times, though, were when I dreamed of snakes in my bed. One night, everyone in the family was asleep when I woke up screaming. Dad rushed into our bedroom, clad only in his underwear, wondering what was the matter. When I cried out about the snakes in our room, he turned on the light to show me that there were no snakes, only Danny's socks lying on the floor next to his bed. I calmed down enough to go back to sleep that ...

My daughter, Meagan's, family raises chickens. Her hens aren't laying very well right now, but when they are, the kids gather the eggs everyday and take them into the mudroom, where a couple of the kids are tasked with washing and drying each egg carefully before they are meticulously placed in cartons or egg trays, and refrigerated. The eggs can sit on the counter for a few days, if necessary, until someone has time to wash them, because eggshells have a natural, protective coating that keeps them in good shape at room temperature. In Europe, eggs are usually sold unwashed, so they don't need to be refrigerated, but in the US, most eggs are washed before they are sold, making refrigeration necessary--because who wants to buy eggs spattered with chicken poop? When young children are in charge of gathering and washing eggs, a few of them are dropped. This isn't a great catastrophe, since there are always more eggs to gather, and there is usually at least one cat or dog w...