Dear Readers — hello? Anybody out there? I see it’s been two months since we last talked, and, well, I’d thought that I’d reached the end of this project: Two Old People Buy a Farm. (Not that we aren’t still old, and still farming.) Be that as it may, I find that writing is a hard habit to break. And we are still very farm-challenged, and Larry just backed the tractor into the fence, and the freezer doesn’t work and all the ice cream melted. So, if only to keep a record of this adventure, I have booted up the lap top and greet anyone who stumbles across my world-famous blog. (Ha)

I’m speaking to you from the kitchen island of our little-farm-house-with-apple tree. The new microwave chimes a pleasant tune, long after the coffee has been warmed and the appliance turned off. This could become annoying! Last week we visited the Verizon people in Portland and purchased a “jet pack,” a little miracle that lets us have internet here at the farm.

These’s a lot to tell you, but first I need to back up a month or so and start with the Scheffler’s visit. The first guests to spend the night, it was a kind of shake-down cruise. The railing still not up across the second floor space (open to the first) or down the stairs, a night the upstairs bedroom seemed to dangerous to offer our Germans. We tucked them in to our bedroom on the first floor and said goodnight. We had, however, neglected to warn them about the locking system on all the interior doors, so poor Epi became the unwitting subject of my first blog story of the summer.

It’s dark, he’s in strange territory with only the bark of a coyote or screech of an owl to break the night silence. (As opposed to the crash of garbage trucks emptying a bar’s collection of bottles, the laughter of the bar’s patrons going home, a car alarm, you get the picture.) So Epi tiptoes into the bathroom and quietly shuts the door. When he tries to leave, he finds that he has locked himself in. But how did he do that? He turned no lever or handle. The under-cabinet lights go on by motion detection, perhaps the door locks in the same way? He turns out the light. No. still locked. He considers the window. It is just the ground floor, but the window is far too narrow to provide escape. Upstairs, we snore in oblivion to our guest’s rising discomfort. He calls to his sleeping wife for help. Of course she has no idea, but together they manage to discover the tiny lever on the knob plate which is so easily tripped by accident. All is well, Epi can return to bed, their giggles subside and they fall asleep.

Perfect. Ursel is my “third sister” and together we all, Viehls and Schefflers, set off on a cruise of the Inland Passage to Alaska. While I was not born under a water sign, and do not particularly find myself at home on a boat, we did have an amazing trip, another in our series of adventures across the planet.

But now, time to return to the subject of this project. At the moment, Larry is outside fixing a system of hooks and cord to fashion a clothes line. This being the subject of much hilarity to people, most people that is, who find the convenience of a clothes drier driven by electricity more than adequate for all laundry needs. No need to go all Laura Ingalls Wilder and make life as difficult as possible. Oh well. I make no apologies, and my family will appreciate the sun-dried sheets to come.

Speaking of electricity, Larry has a site which has informed us that our solar panels on the barn have generated 2516 kWh, which is equal to removing 10 vehicles, having planted 43 trees and has saved 1320 kg of Carbon dioxide production. Not quite sure how all that computes, but it sounds pretty good! Conservation at work on the Hundred Acre Wood!

To catch up, the next visitors to arrive were Jenny and Co. The railing up, the guests in the guest bedroom, the grandkids up in the “Chick Room” over the garage. Jenny and Alli and I picked apples and made apple crisp. Very L.I.Wilder, we farm women in the kitchen. “Yes, but did you get the recipe on line?” one of my skeptics asked. Ah. Fair enough. No, we didn’t have our little jet pack at the time, but all bets are now off.

The kids, after a quick tutorial, drove off in the Ranger, the ATV which doesn’t, at the moment, have a name other than the generic. Will? You’re up, buddy. A name? They were gone for a couple of hours exploring, escaping, and when they shut it down to wander along the creek, and couldn’t get it restarted, they just texted dad. Kids today!

I had to leave for band practice the next Morning, but everyone else stayed back. Yes, I was jealous, but the situation was of my own making. Larry and Tom and Will cranked up the tractor, name of Buck, and set about correcting a lapse in the perimeter security of the farm. The fence along the road where Mark unloads and loads his calves wasn’t rebuilt, leaving a two-tractor wide gap. There are uncounted numbers of old farm gates scattered about the property, so the guys found a couple, somehow balanced them on the tractor, or dragged them along the road (?) and wired them together. Great fun, I think, for all of them.

Enough for today. Sorry, but I can’t send photos this time. My photo library is stored off line and I left that lovely device in Portland. Don’t have connecting cable for my iMini or phone, so this is a text-only post. Will do better next time!