traveling up and down the blind highway

We waited the whole of December for snow. Instead it remained brown and wet with rain. We hoped for snow to decorate the outdoors with festive winter blankets of crystals to ski on. We had temperatures in the 50’s and drying southern winds. Now after the holidays, Mother Nature has changed her mind and is blowing arctic wind towards the midwest making up for lost time. Two photos are attached below.
In Michigan, we experience two types of snow. System snow and Lake effect snow. The Great Lakes are currently ice covered over 71 percent of the total surfaces. This may sound like a lot but this is the lowest amount of ice since records have been kept. The Question is, “Where is the ice?”
Part of the answer is Lake effect snow. Winds blowing from the west or north, gather moisture from the open waters and when making shore , drops the moisture in the form of a light fluffy snow. The majority of the snow accumulates within 25 miles of the lake shore.
As winter progresses, more of the lakes surface freezes until most of the lakes are covered with a protective surface of ice, stopping lake effect snow falls. Most years, Lake Michigan forms ice on all but the deeper southern portion. The continue lake effect snow depletes the water from the bodies of water, spreading them over a large part of the land. It may take years to return the water to the lake. In passed years, the shore area has enlarged as the lake’s level have shrunk. Additionally, the Great Lakes temperature in summer months has risen to the warmest levels in years. The changing water has increased the amount of algae inhibiting light and decreasing the fish populations.
This is more than a El Nino or La Nina shift. There is a growing concern for the warming of the Great Lake basin will lessen the amount of fresh walter available to the world’s population.
With single digit temperatures expected in the next week, More of the lake’s will form ice. We will have to see if it will be enough!

STORMY WEATHER

warm wings
cold air create snow
lovely but robs lake water
snow fall slow to return to lake
alert
carolaspot@aol.com January 15, 2024

snow covered woodlot

Life on a working farm in winter is a quiet and more relaxed pace. Crops are sold. Fruit and vegetables are canned. equiptment is stored away awaiting spring.
On our dairy farm, the cows had to be milked twice a day but the amount of milk decreased in anticipation of freshing of the new heifers.
Time to repair and replace worn items. Even the animals relaxed in the longer nights. Turkeys were free to roam and find their own spot to nest for the evening. Often, they awoke sitting in a snow pile. Rising, the melted snow refroze to pull breast feathers from the chest and bottom of each bird. By the end of winter, they were quite plucked.
Geese did the same, but their feathers were thicker and coated with oil. They could nest on the snow and not suffer being plucked.
Our chickens had a communal nesting box that was covered in the hen house. To collect the eggs, we removed the top of the nest. The chickens would run outside for safety . The nesting box was three by three feet wide. The body heat, kept the chickens comfortable and the eggs from freezing. Egg collection was quickly done. Occasionally, a hen would refuse to leave her eggs. A quick push to the side or a hand under the hen was needed to retrieve the eggs.
Barn cats kept the mice out of the barn. They lined up for a squirt of warm milk straight from the cow’s udder. In the winter, John would find each cat had selected a cow’s back for warmth. They would both be sleeping when the lights were turned on.
On sunny days, the cows and goats would enjoy the bright sunshine, they would gather in the sun to feel the heat. The young steers would be fed and kept outdoors. In cold, windy weather, they would gather together in the woods for warmth and protection.
Finally, the deer would ventured out to the large hay bales to help themselves to food when food was scarce. The outside of the bale was not eaten by farm animals but it kept the interior of the bale edible til spring.
Our dog Junior loved the snow. He would tear across a field of fresh snow as fast as possible. Suddenly he stopped and flung his body on the snow. Investigation found that Junior’s feet gathered snow between his toes in larger and larger balls. He had to to bite the snow balls from the long hair on his feet.
Storms would blow across the fields from the west or north. Snow piled up and country roads closed. John would take out his snow shoes to feed the livestock and take short trips to the grocery store. On one occasion, John and his Mother were returning from church. The snow was fluffy deep and blowing. To navigate the last hill, John had to lay across the hood of the car while Helen drove. Another, time John took his snowmobile to play in the fields. There was a shallow depression in the field. The snowmobile broke the surface and sank . John was in water up to his thighs. Revving the motor, He started the machine and sped towards the farm house. Stripping out of his wet snowsuit, he jumped into the hot shower to warm his freezing cold extremities.
That evening, he still had to go and feed, milk and muck out the stalls. All in a winter’s day.

Winter Chores

Rise early
lantern in hand
open barn door, snores from within
cows moo softly, fed, each to milk parlor
before dawn
Carolaspot@aol.com January 7, 2024

I have always celebrated New Years Eve, but not in the traditional manner. As a child, I tried to stay up for the ball dropping but in the morning, I found I was tucked into my bed.
When I was in my teens, I was a babysitter in demand. I was booked for New Years Eve weeks in advance. After the children were settled into their beds, I would look into the larders to find treats left for me. I discovered the delights of tonic water and chocolate ice cream. It was not as sweet as pop, foaming over the top of the glass, I felt grownup. Sipping the concoction, I watched Johnny Carson. The couple thought I was drinking gin and tonics, until I mentioned my snack.
In college, I had a real date for New year eve. We had a late dinner at Webers restaurant. The prime rib was cold and the staff hurried us to finish quickly.
After college, I was invited to small parties at friends homes. I didn’t like to drink, I was tired of refusing drinks with alcohol. The noise and smoke made my eyes burn.
My first husband enjoyed going out for a special dinner. Because we had to order special transportation, we had an early date. Mike drank and I would have to undress and tuck him into bed. I would return to the Tonight show and the ball drop.
My second husband John, worked for the post office. He would often have to work on New year day. He and I would be in bed long before the ball dropped in Times Square. John’s mother, Helen, stayed up with several of Ruth’s friends to shoot off poppers and make noise at 12 o’clock. We never hear a sound.
Now as empty nesters, we will open a bottle of sparkling juice to toast the new year and we remember the past year. With John’s heart surgery and stroke, I will be glad to turn the page on 2023 and welcome 2024.
Closure

Cloudy skies hide the closure of another year.
Seasons passed as recollections blended with memories,
good and sad.
Conflicts at home and abroad.
Warming trends.
Killing of innocents.
I grow weary of it!
But I still hope
For 2024.
To be kinder,
share with strangers,
to be a peace with ourselves and nature..
I say farewell to the past.
Look forward to a fresh leaf.
Waiting to hold the next chapter.

carolaspot@aol.com January 1st, 2024.

This year there is only a day between the candle of Joy and the candle of love. This week embraces saying “Yes!” to daily tasks and requests. Saying yes with joy and no regrets. Hard for me to do. The example of Jesus becoming man to live and die for others is a hard act to follow. Mary, Jesus’s mother, was able to live and die in union with God’s will.
In my life, I have only come close to this joyful yes one time.
I was in my mid-twenties. I was a teacher of mentally challenged girls at a residential school run by the Daughters of Saint Mary of Providence. Living at home, I had limited opportunities to meet men socially.
On my 26th birthday, I was shepherding a group of girls at Mass. I started to cry as I prayed to understand what life path I should follow.
A voice neither male nor female filled my mind.
“Before your next birthday, you will be married.”
I was astonished.
“How can this be?”
” I have no relations with a man.”
“Have faith.” was the reply.
Looking back, I felt a little foolish but the belief was strong and direct. I have never forgotten it.
After that day, I allowed myself to be open to others and opportunities that were presented in my life. I taught catechism to eight graders. Joining a community theater group, I found friends of all ages. A girl friend invited me to travel with a single group to take the train for a long weekend in Toronto . Most of the group were retired, except for my friend and a man in his thirties named Mike. We palled around to see the sights and Mike became my husband the next October, two weeks before my next birthday.
Other memories have faded from that time but the incident in the church and voice remains a vivid memory.
We were married almost ten years. The child I was promised and longed for came with my second husband, John. Saying yes was the hardest and most joyful path I could take. I still ponder what if I had not said yes to God’s call?

Brilliant
by Carol Farnsworth

Vivid
Sparkles in sun.
streaks of morning glows bright.
Earth created, rivals the stars.
embers.

Bright thoughts
Placed in phrases.
weaving a word picture.
unique to the poet’s process.
breathing.

Nights chill,
fog lifts, dew kissed.
Warming hands, sparks a poem.
Though blind, dawn’s light touches me with
brilliance.

Brilliant an acrostic

Bathed in moonlight, Mary shifts on the donkey.
Raising his eyes Joseph spies a rough stable set into the hillside.
Issuing a sigh, Mary is lifted from the beast’s back.
laying the cloaks in the straw, Joseph prays.
“Lord, Keep Mary and the child safe.”
“it is all right Joseph, He will soon be here.”
Angels sing , announcing the Good News.
Noel echos across the hilltops and heaven.
” This day a Savior is born”

Each day we welcome Emmanuel into our hearts anew.

carolaspot@aol.com. Dec. 23, 2023

The name Gaudete is latin for rejoice. It is the name of the third Sunday in Advent. The vestments and the lit candle is rose colored to remind that Christmas is near. We are told to rejoice. Holiday activities and shopping escalate. In my family, my mother had preparations for Christmas well in advance. The problem was where to hide the gifts? One year, I found wrapped gifts under my parents bed. Santa was smart enough not to label the recipient. I was left to shake several packages while keeping an ear out for Mom’s footsteps.
My brothers and I would put our gifts to give away under the tree as soon as the tree was up. Day by day, we checked the number and owner of each new gift. On Christmas morning there were more boxes from Santa.
When I was young, I remember hanging socks on the mantle. An orange, unshelled nuts and a small gift were found in my sock. One year, I received a babies milk bottle that refilled with white milk. I spent a good 45 minutes feeding each of my dolls.
I don’t recall when we no longer hung socks by the fireplace. I was sad to see the tradition stop. Once as a young preteen, I took an over the knee knitted sock and hung it from the bureau in the hall, outside my bedroom. I was surprised to find an orange, some nuts in the shell and a small gift of several lip glosses. I can imagine Santa chuckling as he filled my sock.
My parents hid larger gifts at my grandparents houses. I never did find all the hiding places.
Just before Christmas, my mom would lock herself in her bedroom. She was off limits except an emergency. The locks on the bedroom doors were push button. Craig showed me how to unlock the latch with a straighten bobby pin. We were careful to not move the gifts from their original positions. We were sure that Santa kept careful notes of any deviation in the position of each gift.
Growing older, I now look to my nieces to remind me of the magic of the season. Recently, we sent presents with Brian for my three and six year old nieces. Photos were sent showing the two girls playing with paper dolls of a boy, girl and two dogs. Their mother watched in a chair nearby. Late , they were read the story of the angel named December. The joy and intense play reminded me of the reason for the season. Wishing you many moments of sharing time and play with your family.

Rejoice

Recent snow fall promised playtime in the new snow.
Each child smiled as they donned their snowsuits.
Jubilant at the promise of outdoor play.
“OK, no play until breakfast is done,” mother stated.
I trooped back to the kitchen to have breakfast.
“Carol, You need your boots and mittens.”
Every day is a holiday when it has snowed.

The second week of Advent is about the messenger. Recently I was listening to a Podcast about our life’s travel creating ripples in all we do. As a child, I would throw rocks into a body of water and watch the ripples form and expand outward. They slowly moved out of my vision.
“Mom, where do they go?”
“To the far shore to touch another.”
Not only do we send out ripples but the people we meet, even briefly, send out ripples that impact us. This happens each day along our journey.
Another image to consider, we are standing on the shoulders of those who have gone before us. Our experiences are influenced by family, friends and even strangers.
I referred to my great aunt as, “Squirrely Pearl.” I thought she was mean and cross with my brothers. As I matured and helped Aunt Pearl in her later years, I learned that she had lost her husband, Gus, at an early age. They had no children. Pearl may have been overwhelmed with five active children. When I would drive her to shop for groceries, Pearl was an interesting engaging person. She could retell many stories of growing up in Canada.
The most ripples are felt in interactions with our spouses. Listening and repeating the information you hear, can avert miscommunication.
“Honey, I can’t find my phone.” Is better that saying, “Did you take my phone.”
The former can start a conversation. The latter can lead to an argument.
I have try to listen, feel and contemplate before acting. In our busy lives, this is not always easy to do. I try not to answer before I think through the situation. I may even ask if we can put off a reply until later that day.
When meeting people in a store or on the street, I smile and try to look at their face. A nod or “hello” sends and receives a ripple of recognition of a fellow traveler.
What message are your actions telling others? What do you perceive their reactions are telling you? We can make a difference, one person at a time. A small stone thrown into a pond creates ripples that will help or hurt. Create ripples of kindness.

Ripples

“Carol, don’t throw those snowballs at your brother.”
“But Craig started it.”
” Throw the snowballs in this bucket.”
“That’s no fun!”
” Whoever fills their bucket with snowballs can help me with the fireplace.”
My throwing improved as I vied for the coveted place on the hearth.”

carolaspot@aol.com

We are experiencing the shorter days before the winter solstice will occur on December 21. It will be nine hours and nine minutes of light between sunrise and sunset. The end of the old year and the beginning of the new signals the lengthening of the days. Even in the coldest days, one can detect the smallest of buds forming on the ends of tree limbs and bushes as they prepare for the coming spring.
As a child, I remember this time as four weeks of Advent, a time to prepare for the celebration of Christmas. My Mother would wait as long as possible before turning on the heat for the winter. We would often have a fire in the fireplace. I would watch a branch or piece of wood to see when it would catch on fire. We chose a section of the fire and would see who’s section would catch fire first.
We would wait, observe and be alert to changes in the fire. The warmth and light was a welcome respite from the cold darkness. At this time we lit candles to mark the weeks before Christmas as a time of quiet anticipation of change. Even as a small child, I marveled that one lit candle could shine to dispel the darkness. The closer to Christmas, the more candles were lit, increasing the warmth of the flames glow.
On our table, we had a dish of cut evergreens in a water filled bowl. The greens were pressed into a florist foam. In the center a white statue of Mary was positioned. All around the bowl, there were small candle figures of angels, santa and snowmen. although they were candles, they were never lit. They circled the bowl, facing out as if they were guarding the centerpiece. Two long tapers were on either side of this display. The candles were red. The candle holders were squares of clear acrylic with a one red rose in the base of each candle holder. I wanted to break them open to retrieve that small rose.
The first Sunday of Advent starts the time of hope. In the turmoil of these time, we need to be reminded of the promise and hope that light will overcome the darkness. Warmth will scatter the chill of our lives.
Whether you are a believer or not, take time to contemplate nature at rest and anticipating the warmth, light and growth in the coming spring.
I use this time to put my physical and spiritual house in order. Cleaning out the old cobwebs and readying for the new year.
When I was partly sighted, I was reminded to not stare at the ground. The white cane will find obstacles. Look around at those around you. cultivate a half smile expression to greet the world. Look for people that may need a kind word or a smile. Take the spirit of hope and spread it to your community. This is your gift. It will return to you sixty fold.

It is better to light a single candle
than to curse the darkness.
Though I can not tell the difference.
I feel the warmth of another’s hello.

We can be wrapped in ourselves not to see
an angry mother,
the crying child
to hold the door for another older person.
I smile whenever I am out in public.
I never know who is around me.
It may be Christ in disguise.
carolaspot@aol.com
December 4th 2023

This week in my poetry workshop, we were asked to write a poem about a chair. We had five minutes to make a start. Our homework was to rework the poem and send to the small poets group.
The chair I selected was a red vinyl rocker that was in our t.v. room. It was the chair that both of my parents vied for to watch television, read the paper or sew.
This rocker, calmed a child after a nightmare. Lulled a baby to sleep after an evening feeding, or a backrest for a child to sit on the floor between dad’s legs to get an ear massage. Early memories included a pedestal ashtray for cigarette butts. It was removed after younger brother Brian was found to be eating the butts in the ashes.
Later, the rocker was reupholstered with a golden velvet fabric. It moved to the new home across the street. It still had a prominent place in the den where the t.v. was located.
When mom and dad passed, the rocker was not claimed by any of my siblings. It showed hard use. The velvet was stained with many nights of eating while watching the news and sports. The arm rests were worn. The back fabric was stained from dad’s hair tonic. It had seen better days.
My husband, John, put the old rocker in our basement for a project to work on. I volunteered to help with removing the old covering fabric.
I found three sets of staples noting three different fabric covers . The red vinyl was really a leather. Another fabric was under this layer. There were three layers of coverings. We removed all the old staples and straw stuffing then tightened the joints of the frame.
I found there were flat wooden arms on the original rocker. The many nicks and staple holes would give the piece a distressed look when finished with a coating of varnish.
The frame was tightened , varnish applied and a new rolled stuffing was applied for the seat and back. now we needed fabric to complete the rocker.
We went to Hobby Lobby to peruse the fabric selection. We chose a blue plaid that would be a good choice for many rooms. We didn’t need the chair so we ask my brother Craig and his wife Karen if they could use the rocker. They took the rocker to their summer home on Beaver island for the guest bedroom. Lauren , their daughter in law, used the rocker while nursing the grand babies. Thought the grandchildren are no longer babies, the rocker waits to welcome a guest to rock and look out over Lake Michigan.

musical chairs
Around the chair, We race..
soft center
worn arms waiting
bouncing up and down
on Daddy’s foot
Shrieks of laughter,
Holding onto the wood edged back
Red vinyl worn smooth from rough play.
a rocker full of memories.
Cast aside for the junk.
A man remembers.
takes the chair home.
Strip to it’s core.
Glued, new covers, stuffing.
Repaired for a new generation’s lullabies.

carolaspot@aol.com Nov.27th. 2023

Giving back to our communities has been ingrained in my family from a young age. We were encouraged to preform chores for grandparents and older neighbors at no charge. I swept garages, washed dishes and drove my great aunt to the grocery store. Now I donate time and money to needy causes. One organization I have given to for over 40 years is the local blood bank. I have been blessed with the universal blood type, O negative. I try to donate every time I am well and my iron is high enough.
I have not donated for the past two years. I had a stroke then i broke my wrist and upper arm. I kept my fingers crossed as I signed up to give at our church last Sunday.
The blood bank had changed names and protocols. I wasn’t able to check in before the appointment. Fortunately, I had a worker that had helped me in the past. Testing my iron first, I tested good to go.
The blood collection was in a mobil bus. Carefully, climbing the steps I found the bus cramped and noisy from the generator and people. There were four donor stations. Two men were waiting their turn. They loudly discussed sports teams. I couldn’t hear the instruction my nurse was giving. I knew the drill and was soon bleeding into a pint bag.
While I waited for my husband, I nibbled on cheese crackers and drank a cup of cranberry juice.
All went well. I left the bus a different way.
John and I decided to stop at the local grocery store on the way home. Walking up and down the aisles, we put several items into the cart. John stopped to tie his shoe laces.
Standing in line to check out, I felt hot and dizzy. I was able to ask John for a chair. He thought I had to tie my shoes. Slowly, I slipped to the floor. The angels were with me that day. The woman behind in line was a retired nurse and used a walker with a seat to get me to the car.
“Keep your eyes open”
The clerk in Starbucks, filled a cup with water. She added a top and a straw.
“Keep drinking!”
“Look at me.”
I replied,”Your mean.”
Yes, I’m a mean retired nurse.”
As I lay on the floor, the only person I focused was that mean nurse. I wanted to sleep and she wouldn’t let me.
When I had drank enough water, I slowly stood up by holding on the the nurses walker. “Sit on my walker so your husband can roll you out to your car.”
I held onto the truck’s door and lifted myself into the seat. Another clerk brought the nurse’s groceries to her car, putting them and her walker in the back seat.
May we all look for opportunities to help the strangers among us.

Slipping away

First you are standing.
Dizzy, hot.
knees buckle
I can’t stop.

A voice , a hand,
kind words,
I start to stir.
Eyes open
I climb the cart.
wobbly legs,
thankful for the stranger
Thankful to depart.

carolaspot@aol.com November 20, 2023

Grandfather Clifford and his sister Margaret were born in the United States. The younger children, including Uncle Bill were Canadian citizens. Great grandfather Turnbull was a farmer in the Delhi area of Ontario. Relatives from Michigan convinced Walter and his wife to try farming in the thumb area near Lake Huron. They traveled by wagon and boat to reach the United States. After several years, the family returned to Canada with two small children in tow. They settled in the farming around Delhi. Grandpa raised tobacco as a cash crop. Other crops and livestock were kept to feed the growing brood.
Uncle Bill was fiercely proud to be a Canadian. Cliff was as proud to be an American. There were many discussions over the benefits of each country. During W W II, Bill joined the army. He spent most of his enlistment in London, England. His unit worked with the newly discovered radar. The radar gave early warnings to the populations of southern England of a bombing raids coming from Germany.
Cliff was too old to enlist. He did his part by wiring a large portion of the Detroit area for electrical power. After the war, Bill moved to Michigan to run one of two electrical stores. Bill finally moved back to Canada in the late 50’s.
The two brother could not agree on the merits of each homeland. Both men were trained electricians, working the ships of the Great Lakes, before wiring farms , factories and private homes.The two brothers wired most of the buildings in a three county area around Detroit.
Bill had two sons, Doug and Bob. Cliff had one son, my dad Bruce. The three cousins remained close, despite being separated by a border and 121 miles. Most of their summer vacations were spent working on their Grandfather’s farm in Delhi, Ontario.Being boys, they got into trouble.
“Bruce, Don’t jump out of the hay loft into a hay pile.”
“Doug, this time, gather the chicken eggs without cracking them.”
“Bob, crawl out from under the barn before you get stuck.”
The cousins would go skinny dipping at the end of a long summer day. In the morning and evenings, they would help bring the cows into the barn to be milked. It was a wonderful way for three city boys to learn the ways of farm life. Doug became a teacher and a high school principal. Bob bought a flower shop in London Ontario, spending many years as the largest florist in the area. Bruce went into business with his father, Cliff. Cliff did the electrical wiring while Bruce sold large appliances from their two stores. Recently, one of my nephews has moved to Canada and became a Canadian citizen, The ties with Canada continue.
This past week both countries had celebrations, Veterans Day in the U.S. and Remembrance Day in Canada. The day starts with two minutes of silence to recall fallen comrades in the armed forces. The day is remembered by my family as the day my mother was born in 1918 the ending date of W W I. With current conflicts in our world, it is important for each of us to remember the past and not repeat it. There is more to bind us together than what separates us as a people.

carolaspot@aol.com. November 13.2023