Sunday, November 9, 2014

The last night in Minnesota

I've stalled as long as I can, but winter is coming to Minnesota tomorrow night and I've got to go! The weather has been pretty good, even hitting 70 last week, but the temp has been slowing dropping, the wind has been blowing 30-40 mph for several days now and a nasty cold front is heading this way. Winter Storm Watches and Warnings have been posted for South Dakota and Minnesota, snow amounts of up to 12+ inches possible in some areas with blowing and drifting. I've got most everything packed up and ready to go, there are just a few things to finish up early tomorrow morning then I'll hitch up the camper and get while the getting is good.

I'm happy with what I got done this year considering that I didn't get here until August. The vintage Shasta is tucked away in the cleaned out granary, and the "new" 1968 Holiday Trav'ler camper is here. The 30'x50' shop is actually clean, furniture projects stacked in a long row down the center, the north wall lined with heavy-duty shelves that are filled with stoneware, glass items and other stuff from the house that won't be damaged if mice get into it. I completely filled the large dumpster and it's been hauled away, and I gave away 5 or 6 truckloads of "stuff". I canned applesauce, chicken broth and vegetable broth, hamburger, carrots and chicken. I didn't get as much done in the house as I had hoped, but again I didn't have a ton of time to work on it. I hauled several pieces of furniture to my older daughter's in Sioux Falls, including the floor-to-ceiling wall-to-wall bookshelves that I delivered yesterday.

On the trip north earlier this summer I said that Bubbles, my ancient Great Dane, was coming home to Minnesota to die. She had a good summer, we got to enjoy numerous bonfires, she got lots of attention from the neighbor when he came to check his cows (he rents my pasture), and we walked the land where she roamed when she was younger. As the weather got cooler she started going downhill, and on Oct. 31 she stopped eating. I called the vet, and Bubbles got to go for one last ride in the truck. Dusty, my daughter's Golden Retriever, had died a week earlier. He was no spring chicken himself at 9 years of age, but we thought he had a few good years left so his death was quite unexpected. The two friends are buried beside each other near the bonfire pit, about 40 feet from the house where Bubbles was born 10 years ago.

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