Innholdsfortegnelse for September 2018 i Country Extra

It is not every day that a person gets the opportunity to see and set foot on a supervolcano, especially when you live on the East Coast. On Sept. 4, 2010, my wife and I toured Yellowstone National Park and arrived at the area called the Mud Volcano. Gas steaming from the vent reeked of rotten eggs, but the area had a beauty of its own. I like this image because it takes the viewer on a journey from the boardwalk in the foreground to the main point of interest, Dragon’s Mouth Spring. It’s a reminder that our land is constantly changing and that Mother Nature never fails to surprise us.…

“Sometimes it’s good to just take a walk and soak in the beauty of God’s wonderful creation.” JENNA STEVENS Conway, South Carolina When I was pregnant with our first child, Indiana sweltered through its hottest summer in decades. The weather was stifling, but I had to weed our flower bed. Outside, I attacked the weeds with a vengeance. I had to pause after only a few moments to catch my breath. Just then I heard a bzzz sound. I looked over and my jaw dropped. A yellow and black cloud was rising from an ominous hole in the ground and heading my way! Hornets! I leaped to my feet and waddled away like an overstuffed duck! But I wasn’t fast enough. One hornet stung me on the…

Several years ago I told my son Henry, then 7, that screen time was going on lockdown. He was upset at first. But I strategically followed up those words with, “We’re going camping,” and that pacified his devastation pretty quickly. Henry loves everything about camping, fishing included. We woke up early the first morning, grabbed our modest tackle along with leftover hot dogs for bait, and hiked up to Bruin Lake. We caught a few small sunfish and rock bass. “I got one!” Henry yelled as he reeled in his trophy. There was another dad with a couple of kids around Henry’s age, and they alerted us to the monster circling the dock. We hooked the nearly 20-pound catfish until it snapped the reel right off our pole and swam…

In a farming community, it’s customary to wave “hello.” This waving often happens along idyllic rural roads where the traffic is friendly and might consist of tractors, pickups, combines and maybe a horse and buggy. As one vehicle passes another, each driver goes from slow to slower for a gentle, easy encounter. How well you know the person determines how you wave. I have a system I call the Farmer Finger Wave. If you follow along and understand the levels, you’re guaranteed a 100 percent return. It’s great fun for the whole family. LEVEL 1 The Nod This wave does not involve the hand. The nod says, “You waved at me, but I don’t know who you are, so I’ll be polite and nod in acknowledgment”—much like the way a…

1 BLUE RIDGE SCENIC RAILWAY BLUE RIDGE, GEORGIA HEAD TO THE EDGE of the Chattahoochee National Forest and look for the quaint village from which the train takes its name. Gather at the historic depot, built in 1905, and grab a seat on a vintage railcar for a winding route along the lovely Toccoa River. The 26-mile round-trip journey transports passengers to the charming sister cities of McCaysville, Georgia, and Copperhill, Tennessee. Fall foliage season for the railway is Sept. 28 through Nov. 12, with trains running once daily Sunday-Thursday and twice daily on Friday and Saturday. Four-hour excursions include a stop in McCaysville to eat lunch and browse local shops for antiques and crafts. Before getting back on the train to return to Blue Ridge, make sure to have…

“My favorite thing about my job is knowing that I can take lumber from these old barns and pass it along to future generations.” The thought was a simple one: I would do what I loved, and then share that love with others. Boy, how that snowballed! I live on a farm, and I’ve always admired old barns. Haylofts fill my mind with memories. I also have a passion for gatherings and sharing meals with my family. I knew the market for quality farm tables was a good one. But to sell them, I had to make them. How hard can it be? I wondered. Fast-forward three years: I now run my own business, Reclaimed Barns & Beams. With the help and support of my family and a small but…

As the DC-10 made its final approach to the Honolulu airport, I caught a glimpse of Hawaii’s Pearl Harbor. I could see the pristine beauty of a land once ravaged by evil. My thoughts wandered back to that day in 1941. I was only 7 when Pearl Harbor was bombed, but I could tell that something truly dreadful had happened. I was sad and worried because I didn’t know what was going on—emotions that resurfaced on 9/11. After the Pearl Harbor attack, my older brothers joined the military. One earned a Purple Heart, carrying scars until the day he died. Another, his ship sunk by an enemy submarine, floated adrift in the freezing water of the Atlantic for three days before being rescued. And one more was caught in enemy…

Seymour, Indiana, was our family’s favorite spot for camping, and that was where we were headed Labor Day weekend in 1948. The area was scenic, with beautiful hills and roadside stands selling apples, cider, pumpkins and sorghum. My uncle owned 40 acres with a creek that was deep enough for swimming and with plenty of wood for a fire. As we traveled the dusty gravel road to our camp, all four of us kids (Lucille, 14, Joe, 11, Tony, 3, and 8-year-old me) were captivated by the farm animals in the fields we passed. Most of all, we were fascinated by signs on the fences declaring “Bad Bull.” We lived in the city, so the only scary animal we had ever seen was a squirrel that chased Joe onto the…

1. TOUCHING TRIBUTE My friend Adam lost his battle with cancer a few days before I took this photo. He loved capturing the beauty of nature with his camera. KALLIE KANTOS International Falls, Minnesota 2. SO MUCH TO SMILE ABOUT John Tanner of Proctorville, Ohio, is very proud of his grandson, Tanner, and his barn quilt, which he made and hung all by himself. GERALDINE TANNER Chillicothe, Ohio 3. WHAT A HOOT Imagine our surprise one cool fall morning when we looked out the kitchen window to see this tiny northern saw-whet owl sitting in our crabapple tree! JOHN HENDRICKSON Clipper Mills, California 4. HARVEST HELPER Tradition is being passed from one generation to the next—if you look closely, you’ll see a boy sitting on a man’s…

The bell rang out: clang, clang, clang! The teacher rang it one more time: clang, clang, clang! Miss Minnie smiled at the children as they walked to their seats, each carrying a lunch pail and books, and wishing to be anywhere but here on this day in September. That’s how I imagine the first day of school began more than 100 years ago at the one-room schoolhouse in North Clymer, New York. Many generations of children came through these doors. Most of them stayed in their hometown and became successful, upstanding residents by using the skills they learned in that one room. Though the number of active one-room schools has dwindled from 199,000 in 1919 to about 200 today, there are efforts to save these old buildings. Nancy Wester-burg, the…

There’s no limit to what you can do with jars. They are versatile, fun and easy to use. In my home, jars can be found in every room. Not only do they keep essential items conveniently close at hand, those with tinted glass add color to a shelf or window. I collect clear jars in unusual shapes and sizes. They are intriguing and practical, and I can’t resist packing them with possibilities and memories. My jars hold cotton balls, Q-tips, soaps, bath oils, kitchen utensils, spices, nuts and cookies. On the farm, jars make growing seasons endless. Inside them I capture the sweetness of summer peaches and apricots, then fall apples, pears and other favorite fruits and vegetables. This country icon is more than just a durable container. I fill…

“The only thing that interrupts the silence is the rooster crowing or goat kids calling for their mamas.” It seems like we had to take a long trip and travel around the world before we finally found our home and settled down in Wagoner County, Oklahoma. The journey started in England, where I was born, when I met and married Jeff, who was from rural Ohio. He had moved to Manchester to help start a church in 1998. I met Jeff in the first two weeks he was there. We married about 18 months later, in 1999, and in 2003 we took off and were barely home for close to two years. We traveled through Asia, the Middle East and Europe before returning to England, where our daughter Sofia was…

A HIDDEN TREASURE The Big Lost River in Idaho trickles past fiery trees at dusk. In years without high levels of snowpack and spring runoff, it truly is a river without water—and it rarely flows for more than a few months. LIVING ON THE LAND This old rustic barn on a Washington ranch could likely tell some fascinating stories of watching cowboys mend fence and work with their horses. On a September day, the landscape gleams in the sunlight. TAKE THE BACK ROADS Sunflowers, cornstalks and the earliest hints of color on maple trees signal the end of summer in Mosquitoville, Vermont. This tiny spot, about the size of its namesake, is located on the historic Bayley-Hazen Military Road. Built between 1776 and 1779, the road stretches 80 miles from…

For several years, a humble church in Blackland sat empty until two kind and caring ladies took it upon themselves to restore it. Patsy Johnson and her daughter Mitzy Johnson Mills, both teachers and musicians, bought the Little Blackland Church near Booneville, Mississippi, and went right to work making it a welcoming place for the community. Those who have seen and enjoyed the restored building are certainly amazed! Built in 1933 from the remnants of a historic house of worship in the Methodist Episcopal Church, South branch, it is especially dear to the Johnson family. Patsy, who grew up in Blackland (“I know every crevice and everything that’s ever happened here,” she says), was a member of the church before it became inactive. Patsy and her husband, Ralph Johnson, were…

Fowl Language A first-grade teacher was reading the story of Chicken Little. She came to the part of the story where Chicken Little tries to warn the farmer. She read, “Chicken Little said, ‘The sky is falling! The sky is falling!’” The teacher asked the class, “And what do you think that farmer said?” One girl raised her hand and replied, “Holy cow! A talking chicken!” JOHN SCANLAN Hilton Head Island, South Carolina Math in the Moon Our granddaughter Katelyn, 3, was visiting one evening and we showed her a half-moon in the sky. At home a day or two later, her dad did the same thing. She said, “The other half is at Mimi and Papa’s house.” RITZ LANGEHENNIG Lubbock, Texas Find the Needle Knock, knock. Who’s…

I hike the Crag Crest Trail in Grand Mesa National Forest as many times as I can. And this year I have the added joy of holding the hand of Anden, our youngest grandson, while he bravely clambers over knee-high rocks and stands on top of them with a giant smile. Songs push us forward: “I think I can, I think I can ...” jumbled with “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” Anden, 3, is a willing student of the beautiful Colorado countryside, and he enjoys hiking and exploring the wilderness. What a gift to see nature through his eyes! I get a feeling of pure joy watching him throw a fishing line to help Papa reel in a really big—or maybe a little—fish! I also love hiking and fishing with our other…