The Native Iowan

Where are we… Golly! I think its September, almost October. Damn! Where did all the fun go? Time flies when you’re having fun, and time has flown.

I started this last Sunday, five days ago…

A luvely, warm, spring afternoon.

Got a lot going on. Hans is showing up sometime today. Invited him to come for beer, beast n beans. Beans on the stove. Beast soaking in oil n salt n pepper. Beer? Yes, please, thanks.

This life as a retired olfart is rather demanding.

One of things I have written about in the recent past is the amount of walking we do here. We do several klicks/ miles of walking most days. We walk to check on the herd, open and close gates, fetch various n sundry from any one of the four storage sheds. When we fence we walk the same fence-line numerous times dragging out wire, tensioning, pounding staples in, etc. We’ve laid over 2ks, over a mile of fence since we moved in.

The walking has made me very happy and much healthier than I was before we started this farming-stuff.

Today Joe decided we’d go up the hill and see what we can see. We took the 4×4 buggy out the back way and drove it a-ways uphill before we had to abandon it. The hill was simply too steep. So we shut the buggy off and started climbing.

I would rate the grade at an average of at least 45 degrees and maybe as steep as 60 degrees in some places. It is grass covered rubbly ground. Small rocks, larger mini boulders make for difficult treading. Like walking on marbles.

So we trudge n slip up hill. I pant and blow and suck wind like a wheezy bellows. We take numerous breaks. Climb a bit, pant n enjoy the view, climb a bit more.

As I age I spend a lot of time in the past. I spend a lot of time recalling times past. Recollecting and remembering in a nostalgic manner. And I do recall a time when I could trot up hills like this without getting winded. Without panting and puffing and nursing my bum knee.

I remember a chilled spring morn in North East Iowa trekking cross country with Hal Rowe. Covering mega-miles through country side to reach the bluffs that make that region famous. Then climbing up and down the bluffs all day. Exploring and enjoying the world as a youthful, uninjured, unimpaired guy.

We were young and beautiful those days. Still immortal, still bullet-proof.

Not any more. I’m over 60, Joe is over 70. When Hal and I trekked across NE Iowa in 1978/79 we were still babes. My recollection of that day so many years ago has no reference to pain or anxiety or being out of breath.

I think of that day as I hang on a small tree and pant. I lean on my walking stick and feel the sweat drip down my neck. The sun is warm, the air is cool, I am sweating. The climb up thus far has been difficult going. We’re only about half way and I am thinking this was not a smart idea, no, this climbing up n up n up may have been less than a stellar decision.

But we can’t go down the way we came. Its too steep. It is steep enough to be treacherous and though my old knees do the uphill thing reasonably, well the downhill gig is foolish at best.

So we rest a bit, enjoy the view and move on. Climb a 100 paces or so and pause, catch my breath, move on.

A fair amount of evidence of deer hanging around here. You can see their trails, note their scat and find the occasional rub or dig. Same with the kangaroo. Though their traces are smaller.

We summit and find a higher hill to our west and hear the cows down below to our east. Prudence guides us over toward the farm.

We started this enterprise following the advice from the previous owner. She had said that there was a road along the boundary line. We’d started this trek aiming to find said ring-road. Now we obviously did not find the said road on the outset of this adventure but once we gained the summit and explored a bit we indeed found the road. It started up hill from the opposite side as we started out on. Which meant we had easy going down hill.

So we look around. Find the boundary fence. Note the “almost service road” beside it.

It has been a few years since anyone has been up here.

This area is not very useful for our farming purposes. There is little feed for the live stock. Mostly woodlands. Good habitat for for many a’ species. We’ll leave it be. Save it as a nature preserve.

Its main magnificence is the God-given view that allows one to see well out to sea. I check and note 1600ft altitude.

Since that day we have done a mountain of work here on the farm.

And life is very good.

I am enjoying the farming soooo much that I have not been watching the Bluewz/newz.

I recall a while back the New York Times published an anonymous letter tot the editor.

I thought that this was a low, even for the NYT.

Now a lady decides the Justice nominate Kavanagh jumped on her when they were high school kids.

OK, sure, abuse is abuse no matter how old, but, please, lets allow some common sense into the room.

I’m not going to make a case but the fact that a) an anonymous op-ed/ opinion is not newz or even worthy of print. And b) a 35 yr old childhood situation does not belong in the arsenal of politics.

All I can say is “Wake UP”.

And I just luv the idea that all white men are guilty of being white men who protect white men.

Their accusers appear to me to be made up of a large percentage of white women.

Can I just say “Fuck OFF”.

You don’t know me. Don’t judge me. It really pisses me off. Is the world’s general population that fucking stupid to fall into childish generalizations and stereotyping?

And the beat goez onnnnn…