Janet's Blog

It was the first official day of fall when Levi and I headed to the ranch, up on the South Dakota state line, near Gordon. My family has been congregating there to hunt and vacation since long before I was born. Most people would think the ranch is in the middle of nowhere, and they would be mostly right.  Click here to read more about the ranch. This time, Levi and I were on our way to see my Mom and Dad, Uncle Gary, and my sister, Laura, and her husband, Kent, who had come to cut firewood and get the place ready for the fall hunting season in November, when many of the family's hunters will return to hunt the mule deer that are so plentiful on the ranch. It didn't matter that the weekend was predicted to be a rainy one, but the amount of rain mattered, so I checked the unpaved roads carefully to see how much gravel was on them, just in case it rained a lot. I didn't want to get stuck when it was time to drive home! We arrived just as the sun was setting, although

The evidence is all around us: the warm days of Summer are coming to an end.  The days are shorter, and cooler in the mornings and evenings. Mid-afternoon temperatures may soar into the 80's or even low 90s, but those temperatures are fleeting. By sundown, the air feels cool and, sometimes, the night breezes are downright cold! Tuesday's balmy breeze turned into a raging gale. When the September wind velocity nearly equals the speed limit, we know that Fall, with its blustery breezes, is just around the corner. I thought twice about opening my car door to step outside  into the bone-chilling gale so I could snap this picture. The corn fields are beginning to take on a golden sheen. It won't be long before the area farmers start their corn harvest. The south side of Scotts Bluff National Monument provides a beautiful backdrop for this cornfield. But here in the Nebraska panhandle, I've noticed that most farmers complete their harvests alphabetically

After Victoria and I spent some time, a few weeks ago, looking for the leak in our pond, and after attempting, without success, to fix the leak, I broke down and ordered a brand new pond liner.  Click here to read about our first attempt to fix our leaky pond. It had been eighteen years since we first installed our pond liner, so I suppose it was time for a new one. However, I was pleased to note that the new liner has a 20-year warranty, and an 80-year life expectancy. Either way, this should be the last time we have to replace the liner in this pond. Since our community no longer has a place to buy pond supplies, I ordered the new liner from Amazon. It arrived in two days, as promised. Then, the following Saturday, Victoria and I started to work. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. It took the better part of two days and four someones: Bill, Victoria, Levi, and me.  Victoria started the first morning by cleaning out several five gallon buckets. (For some

Mr. Jackson was my seventh grade English teacher--and my eighth grade teacher, as well. A World War II veteran, he was gruff and set in his ways. Looking back, I suspect he may have suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He certainly never made any effort to get to know his students personally.  I don't remember that he ever smiled. I don't remember his first name, either. I'm not sure I ever knew it. None of his students would have ever thought of calling him by his first name, not even outside of school. To tell the truth, we were all more than a little bit afraid of him. Mr. Jackson lived in an apartment in Fairbury during the week, but spent weekends at his home in Lincoln, 70 miles away. He wore a full, dark-colored suit and tie to school every day. I don't think he ever removed his suit coat. He stood by the classroom door most days as we filed silently into the room, but he rarely greeted any of us by name. We found our assigned seats quickly--alphabet