Farmers and other supporters of the Canadian Foodgrains Bank gathered on October 22 for a growing project harvest.
The Boissevain-Morton-Whitewater growing project started back in 1998 just outside of Boissevain. For the first 10 years crops were grown on Eldon Stobbe's farm. "Back then it was quite a moving sight because the first year we had 21 combines at the harvest" said Stobbe.
This year trucks and combines showed up at the Del Fraser farm to harvest 270 acres of soybeans. It was a special year because the group has now raised more than $1 million dollars through the local project.
We celebrated a champion this week -- Carman Runner Jay Ort won his 4th consecutive cross country championship, competing at Spruce Woods Provincial Park. He's had quite the high school experience -- his skills have also taken him to national and international competitions, including the Youth Olympic Games in Nanjing China.
Remember the songs Galveston, Rhinestone Cowboy, By the time I get to Phoenix, Wichita Lineman....All huge hits, and all recorded and sung by Glen Campbell who, according to wikipedia, "during his 50 years in show business, Campbell has released more than 70 albums. He has sold 45 million records and accumulated 12 RIAA Gold albums, 4 Platinum albums and 1 Double-Platinum album." Glen Campbell has released his last song, and accompanying video. It's called, "I'm not gonna miss you", a recognition that the Alzheimer's disease, which he has been battling since 2011, has "won" again. The video released with the song, includes highlights of his career, and clips of Glen and wife Kim. The career-spanning video also flashes through performances, family home videos and doctors discussing brain scans with him. Glen Campbell was admitted to a special care facility this past spring. The touching video can be viewed below. Many Manitobans host an Alzheimers Coffee Break every September, or walk in the June memory walks. January is Alzheimers Awareness month
Seasons — yes seasons. The season is changing. Though we have experienced some wonderful warm and even windy days, for the harvest still going on, there at times is that chill in the air that brings us back to the reality of the calendar. We are reminded once more that time marches on.
We near the end of calving in our small fall -calving herd. The calves are so neat to watch, especially in the cool of early evening when they start their calf-racing — running along the top of the old fence-line ridges, some of the mothers mooing their disapproval of their distance of travel from them.
The work in the garden is gradually getting complete. The potatoes are dug, as are most of the carrots. There are still a few dahlias to dig and cut and dry in the sun. The onions are curing in the garage and out in the sun on nice days.
As usual there are lots of fall jobs to do in preparation for winter and freeze-up. We are doing some extra electrical work, so that our well is less susceptible to high water and will actually work when the water gets above a certain point.
We are thankful for good fall pasture, a real savior on the winter feed supply.
Last week-end was Thanksgiving week-end.
Perhaps you took some time to think what you are thankful for. If not — this idea is not restricted to a day or a week-end, but involves a life-time of daily thoughts and conversations.
At church, during our “story time” we discussed things we are thankful for.
Some really good thoughts came out.
Many of us have experienced some very painful losses in our lives of very dear people.
We are thankful for family and friends that have rallied around. This does not take the pain away, but eases the burden.
We are thankful for our health-care.
We are thankful for living in a free and peaceful country — something we will soon be remembering especially when October turns to November.
We are thankful for food and clothing and shelter, for those in service industries that help us to keep going, despite weather and equipment failures.
There are just so many things — that sometimes we may take for granted.
We are thankful for an educational system, for public schools, for the opportunities afforded us in our country, to learn.
I am thankful for new friends as well as the old faithful ones, those who offer fresh and challenging perspectives, for the chance to hear someone’s life -story, complete with all the ups and downs that we all have.
I am thankful for music, for how it touches us to the depths of our souls.
I am thankful for memory. It allows us to bring back thoughts of good times with those no longer with us — and can bring a smile even in the midst of a sad day.
A list of things I am thankful for overflows from my mind:
For our pets, whether guinea pig or cat, budgie or dog, who offer us company and humour and faithfulness.
For the soil, how it nurtures seeds and hides life in winter, gets covered up and returns once again to its life-giving properties
For those who work the land, not always an easy proposition, especially in this challenging year of farming.
For veterinarians and doctors, nurses and hospitals, for babies, children, teens, Moms, and Dads, brothers and sisters, cousins, teachers, friends, caregivers.
For those who smile at us.
Who challenge us.
Who bring another point of view to change our minds.
For sunshine, for drying winds, for warmth, for heat and insulation when it is cool.
For the support of friends, for words of encouragement that can have such power in our living.
For understanding, for compassion
For friendly waves when we pass a neighbor on the highway or street.
For coffee and conversation with a friend.
For the gift of sleep when a person is weary and in need of rest.
For relaxation after a stressful day.
For company in loneliness.
Encouragement in the midst of a bad day.
For whenever we have safe travel in the midst of busy lives.
Whenever there is healing from sickness.
For whenever we get through the downs of our ups and downs in life.
For the smallest of blessings in the every days of our lives.
For the power of gratitude to change our view of things.
For the God who gives us all and is in all.
Hoping for everyone, even a moment of Thanksgiving, in each of your days.
Terry Klippenstein, enjoying the book "You Might Be From Manitoba IF..." by Dale Cummings
For over 30 years Dale Cummings' work appeared as the editorial cartoonist with the Winnipeg Free Press, as he gave his take on life in Manitoba. In September Dale took that knowledge and insight, and created the book -- you might be from Manitoba...IF......and then completed the sentence complete with an illustrated answer
Here are some examples:
You might be from Manitoba - IF - three pickups and a combine is grid lock.....
Or, You might be from Manitoba IF you're off to the Community Hall with a bowl of pot-luck
Dale joined the CJRB Morning show Friday and explained his interest in illustrating
Congratulations to Joanne Bos, Dianne Unrau, and Ann Evans who called in to receive a free copy of the book
For the second time in 6 months, skywatchers are being treated to a Blood Moon! Did you get a chance to see it between 5:30 and 6:30 this morning?
The Moon appeared 5.3% larger than it did during the last lunar eclipse on April 15, because of where it is in the sky...not to mention, Uranus can be seen as well, it's a twinkling blue/green star to the East of the moon....
I’m a runner. It even sounds ridiculous when I say it, but I guess it’s true.
You might be picturing a Nike ad, or maybe the cover of Runner’s World Magazine. So let’s just clear this up right here and now. There are a lot of walk breaks involved, and the speed never really gets past ‘Slow as molasses in the January that the Farmer’s Almanac is predicting.’
Once, during the final few hundred yards of a marathon, I was passed by very spry little man who, I swear, was at least 70. He zipped past me as though I wasn’t even moving, patted my back, and cheered, “Come on, let’s go!!”
The back of his shirt said, “Running with Jesus.” I’m pretty sure that had something to do with it.
When I run, I run by myself. Always. I love the solitude. I probably love the solitude more than I love the running, but still. Between family, work, home and community – alone time is a rare commodity. Almost as rare as a toilet paper roll that’s been replaced. By not you.
Another reason I like to run alone is because I’m the slowest person I know. And while I know running with a faster partner makes you faster, I don’t like the pressure.
I enter the occasional event to give myself a kick in the pants, but my racing strategy is much like that of the utility guy who needs to do some work at your house, and says, “I’ll be there between 9 and 3.”
In other words, I’ll get there when I get there. Same with me and the finish line.
Once I was out on an early morning run, it was still dark, and I ran into my brother-in-law. And he is not just fast compared to me – he’s actually fast. He offered to run with me, and said he didn’t mind my pace. But I couldn’t shake the knowledge of how painfully slow it must feel for him. I just couldn’t get past my self-conscious hang-ups, and after half a mile, I was like, “Oh, water break… you go ahead. No, really, I’m fine. Actually I also need a fake stretch break. Just go. It’s better this way. Really. OK, just git!”
He later accused me of not letting him join my ‘running group’. Haha. Funny.
I used to run with music. Every time – no exceptions. No matter how short or long. The last thing I wanted was to be left alone with my own thoughts. It was like being left alone in a room with an MMA fighter who’s been told that I just keyed his car. Yep. This is gonna hurt.
Or as Anne Lamott says, “My mind is a bad neighbourhood I try not to go into alone.”
I never wanted to go there, and I avoided it at all costs. This wasn’t just some paranoid fear of the unknown. This was based on experiences of times I’d gone in alone and been sucker punched by my worst enemy. That’d be me.
You know, just the usual, “You’re not good enough, you keep screwing up. You can’t talk to God – he stopped listening a long time ago. Look at your insides, nothing matches what you try to make everyone believe. You are a fake. And a really bad one.” Ad. Nauseum. Well I guess that last part was true.
The main problem was that I wasn’t smart enough to fool myself. Or maybe I was too smart.
I’ve spent a lot of my life with a focus on externals. As a kid, I remember sitting in church while the preacher told us specifically that it was wrong to wear big earrings. Being a teenager in the 80’s, the earring rule was especially tricky. Here I was, sitting in the back pew, trying my best to look like Pat Benatar, all the while sinning away with malice aforethought.
I don’t know if Jesus would have set earring size parameters on his followers. Even still, there were a million other ways I fell short.
But lately I’ve begun to see things a little differently. I began to see myself a little differently. And in a short story that would be too long to tell, I had an a-ha moment.
It has to do with catching a glimpse of grace. Which is more than I could describe in a paragraph, if at all.
In Philip Yancey’s book, What’s So Amazing About Grace, a pile of things jumped out at me. Statements like, “God loves people because of who God is, not because of who we are.” And, “The solution to sin is not to impose an ever-stricter code of behaviour. It is to know God.”
And also this, “Sociologists have a theory of the looking-glass self: you become what the most important person in your life (wife, father, boss, etc.) thinks you are. How would my life change if I truly believed the Bible’s astounding words about God’s love for me, if I looked in the mirror and saw what God sees?”
So anyway, lately I’ve been running without tunes. On one hand, there is a bit of adrenaline that kicks in during Irene Cara’s Flash Dance or Survivor’s Eye Of The Tiger. Or my favorite go-to for a burst of speed, AC/DC’s Thunderstruck. And by burst of speed, I mean negligible increase.
But lately during my runs – even the long ones – I’ve been okay, have even embraced, venturing into that neighborhood that is my mind, my thoughts. As it turns out, I was never alone.
It’s official. My blender and I are, what you might call, mortal enemies. I know we’ve had some uncomfortable moments. But lately the ‘accidents’ have been occurring so often, that I really don’t think I can blame myself anymore.
In fact, I’ve come to the conclusion that this machine might just have a mind of its own. A personality, really. And it is decidedly not benevolent.
It’s becoming quite apparent that when my blender shows up for morning smoothies, it arrives with ill will, like some culinary version of a Stephen King character. Except, instead of a car, it’s my kitchen machine. I’ve named her Martha – after the most formidable kitchen force in the universe.
I have to back up a bit, and provide some history so that y’all know that this is not me making stuff up.
This blender is actually a machine with a mixing bowl and blender. It all began with an innocent batch of chocolate chip cookies. I mixed the wet ingredients and had just added the dry, when the phone rang. I never had a chance to attach the lid (insert ominous violin music).
As I chatted on the phone, I spotted one of my kids, maybe 5 years old at the time, wander up to the mixer. I watched the events unfold as though in slow motion. Her eyes inspecting the machine, a burning curiosity clearly written on her face. But with the phone to my ear, and my unhelpful linear brain, there was nothing I could do. I was paralyzed as I watched her little hand reach up to the on-knob, with its perfect shiny numbers, just begging to be turned…
And then…. POOF. It spun to life, and a mushroom cloud of flour, sugar and chocolate chips spewed up into the air, hit the ceiling, and settled over the kitchen like volcanic ash.
As my daughter and I stared at each other, our facial expressions were slowly overtaken by the sure, sad reality that there would be no cookies. And I knew exactly who to blame. Martha.
When I asked my daughter why she had turned the knob, she simply said, “I wanted to see what it did.” Of course you did, my Angel.
Martha knows our weaknesses.
To be fair, I suppose I should go even further back to a time that one of the kids – actually it was the same kid – was making her own smoothie. She added all the frozen stuff, poured in the milk and put the lid on. She might have forgotten to attach the blade section, and basically poured milk directly into the motor. Martha never really sounded the same after that. I suspect that had something to do with her ummmm, temperament.
I recently got a different blender. It’s ancient – avacado green. But like most appliances that were built in the olden days, it works really well. As long as you don’t mind the slight burning smell as it starts up.
This morning, in my usual cloudy stupor, I added all the smoothie ingredients, and poured in some milk. As I was rummaging around in the cupboard for the lid, I came across – you guessed it – the blade and entire base section. Which I had not attached to the pitcher. Sigh…
I just stood there, staring at it with my usual deer in the headlights non-response. **Side note, I have no quick thinking – only quick speaking. Which is not nearly as useful. When I see an actual deer in the headlights, my one and only reaction is to close my eyes, and cover them with my hands.
One of the kids ran over with a bowl and was like, “Tip it over into here!!” All I had come up with was to try to quickly lift it and get my hand under there as everything poured out. Kind of like a really bad reverse version of the table cloth trick.
So, I don’t really know how to end this. On the one hand, I’m tempted to give up on early morning gadgetry – THE COFFEE MAKER DOES NOT COUNT SHAME ON YOU FOR EVEN THINKING IT.
But that would mean either giving up my morning smoothie, or trying to blend ice, spinach and frozen bananas the old fashioned way. Wait a minute – is there an old fashioned way?
No. There isn’t. Why not? Because my grandparents didn’t throw their breakfast in a machine so that they could slurp it on the drive to work and at their desk.
They made a full course meal and then sat down to eat it.
So anyway, I think I’ll try this again. Maybe add a few cleverly placed stickie note reminders for myself. Something like, “Do you ENJOY scraping spinach off of the floor and cabinets?” Or, “Do you HAVE TIME for a minor mental breakdown before work today?” Or perhaps, “How do you FEEL about yourself when you curse in front of the children?”
Martha will not get the best of me. I’ll have my fresh, delicious, healthy smoothies. It’ll take a little more than a few messy kitchen mishaps to ruin my morning routine. And besides, the kids hear worse language at school anyway. ;)
The 2014 Killarney Growing Project harvest was another success.
Farmers and supporters gathered at their field about 18 Kilometers north of Killarney just off of Highway 18.
Nine combines, grains trucks, volunteers and close to 60 supporters turned out for the annual harvest. Money made from the crop goes to the Canadian Foodgrains Bank to help with its projects around the world.
Manitoba Co-ordinator Harold Penner was at the harvest and pointed out the Killarney group has been a long and steady supporter of the fooodgrains program.
The day included a noon luncheon, some musical entertainment and then the harvest.
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