somethin’ fishy

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how do you get a fish to smile?

cj and i took a drive so that we could take a walk someplace different
than down the nearest road.  we went a few miles into town where there
are sidewalks and stores (even though it was memorial day and most of
the stores were closed).  as we walked we found the pet shop to be open.
i had my little camera with me and didn’t think the fish would mind too much
if i took their picture. 

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farm . the one word carnival

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etymology
~ farm (n.)
c.1300, “fixed payment (usually in exchange for taxes collected, etc.), fixed rent,”
from O.Fr. ferme “rent, lease,”
from firmus “firm.”
Sense of “tract of leased land” is first recorded early 14c.;
that of “cultivated land” (leased or not) is 1520s.

drawings found here
the one word carnival is hosted by peter pollock
and the word this week is “farm”


i don’t really have any farm stories of my own, but, my sister does.
she grew up as a small town girl in illinois and ended up on a farm in
wyoming.  her husband grew up on a farm there, and went back
to farming after they were married for a few years.  they had three
boys, so you might imagine that there was always a new story.
i do know that it is not an easy life, yet, it is very different than
any other type of life.  in the summer, there is plenty of work to be
done, so no such thing as summer vacation.  everyone must be
up early and right out, back in for a breakfast around nine, then
back out again.  supper is usually after dark, and then straight to bed.
summer is usually when i would visit, so i got lessons on setting
water and other such things.  i heard about sad things that can
happen with accidents and broken marriages and loss of life.
i heard funny stories of things the boys would do.  i sat at the
cafe in town (that is not open anymore) and would hear all the talk
about the weather from old men in overalls.  i saw wheat fields
golden against a big blue wyoming sky and a crop of corn that
became nothing after a five minute hailstorm.
.

memory

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from stories told
i remember you
from freedoms i hold
i remember you
from songs you sang
i remember you
in war still fought
i remember you
with the Love that comes
through my heart
i remember
.

art

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This photo is a print from a stamp that i just made.  To make the stamp i used a dense rubber block
made especially for carving.  This material is much softer than wood or the usual linoleum block.
To do the carving i used tools that are made for wood carving.

This summer i have planned to spend a week at girl’s horse camp doing art projects with the girls.
horse camp is held at my sister in law’s place in Indiana.  It gets hot and humid during the summer
months there, so it is necessary to be doing a few things in the shade with the girls so that they, and
the horses, have time to cool down a bit.

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eggs, grain and grandma

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These eggs are pretty.  Not?

Eggs remind me of my grandma.  Let me explain…

My maternal grandparents had a grainery which was a short walk from their two story
white farm house.  They also had a white shed that had little cubbies for the hens to lay their eggs.
As a small, tow-headed girl with time to wander, i would always go into the chicken’s building
when we would visit.

Memory leaves me with the sight of nice looking chickens sitting on their nest, and i was afraid to
bother them because i thought they might peck me.

What i would like even more was to play in the grainery.  There were sacks full of grains stacked
in a room of wooden poles and beams and a wood floor.  I remember the beautiful delicate light and
the most wonderful smell of the grains.

In the summer there was a special treat to be had in my grandma’s garden.  I would find the green
tops of her carrots and pull out a couple of small thin ones, take them over to the pump…work the
handle a few times so that i could wash them off with the cool water and then eat them.

Last time i saw her house was a few years ago.  My cousin lives next door and grandma’s  house has
been sold.  It is now an office of some kind.  It was a sunday, and so i couldn’t get inside to see it.

Part of me wants to have one of those days back, to be able to go and see my grandma.

~
Below is some information that i found online this evening.  here

Ben HOLTKAMP
The above named is a native of Germany, having come to this country with this parents when seven years of age. After their arrival they settled on a farm near Aviston. After working at Breese, Ill., and St. Louis, Mo., for some time he returned to Aviston at the age of twenty-two and embarked in the threshing business with his brother, Henry HOLTKAMP, and Henry GROEHNE.
Ben Holtkamp's Saw and Grist Mill
In 1893 the subject of our sketch acquired the interest of his partners and with John SCHULTE, started a saw mill and also continued his rapidly growing threshing business. Another change was made in 1907 when Mr. SCHULTE conducted the threshing industry while Mr. HOLTKAMP operated the saw mill. At this mill is manufactured sawed lumber. In addition, Mr. HOLTKAMP operates a grist mill, grinding corn meal and ground feed. He also runs a cider mill and a molasses mill. A special brand of picket fence is also manufactured. The products of these mills is largely disposed of to home trade. He also operates an aviary, having fifty stands of bees, which produce annually about 2,500 pounds of comb honey which is largely shipped to East St. Louis, Ill., for sale.
Mr. HOLTKAMP has a beautiful residence adjoining the mill property in which he and his estimable family reside. He was married October 30th, 1888, to Caroline FOPPE, of Germantown, which union was blessed with seven children, five boys and two girls, all of whom are still living with their parents.



~
Ben Holtkamp was my grandpa Henry’s father.  It appears my grandpa was named after 
his uncle Henry.  I already had the information that Ben and Caroline had eight children.


My grandpa, Henry Holtkamp, and my grandma, Cathrine Marcus, had seven children,
one of which was my mother.  I assume that Henry and Catherine lived in the same house
that Ben and Caroline had lived in previously, and where little Henry grew up.