Nesting instincts

Two pairs of cardinals set down in our flowering crab this morning, reminding us that this is the season for nesting. The house across the street just went up for sale, the mallards continue to tend their hiding place, and during her last visit here our granddaughter was struck by a need to create a nest in the Norwegian pine in the hopes than some unnamed species might soon inhabit it. It's hard no to get into the spirit of it all.

A classmate. Who knew?

Bob Helie was a friendly, happy-go-lucky sort in high school, always had a smile on his face, something clever to say. Otherwise quiet and thinking. Stan lost touch with him shortly thereafter. He never got to know him as brilliant. Or as a plant expert. Or a poet.

Yesterday Bob posted some advice to a friend that Stan happened to see on line. Here's the exchange:

Bob writes to someone seeking plant advice:

About that "tree foam" on your Alaskan weeping cedar... A bacteria species has entered through an injury caused by tools, or freezing split, or... and is working within creating gases that expand the interior pressure up to ten times its natural internal pressure, pushing sap and aerated sap out through pore areas.. It's called slime flux and will not cause any real damage to the tree itself...but the attracted insects to the alcoholic production may...If it begins to have a foul odor, it can be sprayed with a diluted bleach solution. Also, pull away from the base of the tree material that may harbor larvae and insects that are attracted to the sweet (to them) mixture. (Really, it tastes like chicken)(ha). Also, compacted soil MAY be causal....loosen with a claw in root areas of the tree. (It will not hurt growth of ground vegetation if you occasionally hose it away, though it may kill turf.)

 Just for the heck of it, Stan interrupted with this comment:

Bob, very impressed. I had no idea. Now. Put that into rhyming couplets.


 He immediately took the challenge. Now here's a talent. Who knew?

A friend just called me
Straight from her home.
Wondered about the
O'erflowing foam.

Running on down
Her beautiful tree.
I said "Give me a sec,
Just leave it to me.

It's slime flux my friend
Got lotsa pressure.
Aerated sap stuff
Beyond liquid measure.

Don't worry a bit
It won' do no damage.
Now let me get back to
My ham and cheese sammadge.

Skinny kayaker pulls 50 Pound Sea Bass from La Jolla Bay

Off La Jolla beach near San Diego

Rookie ocean kayak fisherman Hai Dang struggled mightily this weekend and seized a 50-pound prize from the Pacific waters off La Jolla. From a one-man Hobie, he battled the sea bass for a half an hour. Strain and exertion took its toll and he thought of giving up, but urged on by his partner and coach from a nearby kayak, he stuck with it and eventually overcame his quarry.

Tired but determined, our kayaker fights on.

Upon his arrival on shore, beachcombers gathered to ogle his catch, admiring this gorgeous specimen, once endangered, but now in plentiful supply for game fishermen willing to pursue.

Hai continues to train with a professional guide, most recently learning to break heavy surf with his light craft. Yes, he's capsized before, but not on this trip. There will be many more of these angling adventures he says. The fish was brought home, prepared and divided amongst friends, eager for a taste of this saltwater monster.

"Lookit the size of that thing, Mom!"

Family Album, Easter 2016

Dan with his nieces, Marcy and Missy.

 Easter 2016 drew a smaller crowd than usual for photos: Jennifer is with her Dundas family and Kathleen's not quite ready for portrait photography. Plenty of fun for all though, Emily showed off the 2 and a half inches she's grown since last Easter's measurement. Max continues at the U of M in a pursuit of computer science, Missy's a shadow of her former self (diet and exercise, naturally) and Marcy has been helping Dan at his downtown condo. After every one left, Emily stayed on. There are projects and nests to build. More later, of course.

Our grandson, Max Tong.

Happy Easter!

BECKY AND HER CHICKENS --  In the late 1940s, our family lived on a small acreage near Deerwood, Minnesota. Stan's older sister was apparently enchanted by the poultry and would fearlessly feed the flock, leading a parent to take this endearing snapshot and entitle it "Becky and Her Chickens."

Grandchild bait

When Homer tugs on your trousers,
you can't help but go down and get him.
He's fine with that.

When Matt and Anne went to pick out a puppy a month or so ago, the intention was to acquire a furry magnet to attract the interest of their beloved grandchildren. When Matt picked up Homer for the first time, he knew right away this was the one. The Shitzu/poodle quickly won the affections of the grandchildren, of course, but immediately stole Matt's heart as well. It was Anne who sorta let him into the bed, however, against all previous intentions. He's still there. A keeper.

Rand Elness -- 1939-2016

Long, long ago, before there was rock and roll, our parents performed a sacred concert series, leaving family behind on their extended tours. Pre-schoolers Stan and Solveig were often dished off to a couple of Lutheran sisters, Ruby Korkowski and Josephine Elness, married to farmers near Brandon and Garfield, Minnesota.

Mama Jo and Simon Elness had three children, among them Rand, who later studied music with our mother. Solveig’s lifelong attachment to this adopted family drew her to a recent memorial service in California, marking the passing of Rand Elness. She filed this report:

Rand's parents, the late Simon and Josephine Elness, at their Garfield, Minnesota farm

Picture Rand Elness growing up in a house built by his father at the top of this long driveway, with much younger parents than shown here.

Rural life in the 1940s meant that Rand often rode to school on a horse behind his older sister Karen. His mother would ensure that Rand had opportunities and experiences. But becoming a Cub Scout at age five created a problem for his family: Who had time to drive Rand to the evening meetings?

Simon Elness solved the problem by attaching blocks of wood to the pedals and otherwise modifying the farm truck to accommodate it to a little boy. And off Rand drove to his scout meetings miles away, even on dark winter nights.

Early driving was required for efficiency on the Elness dairy farm. Jerome, six, looked forward to his first time driving the tractor for the harvest. But he had tonsillitis and inconveniently had his tonsils removed. Therefore, his younger sister Karen drove the tractor. Jerome was not happy about that.

Karen turned to us and said she had always admired how Jerome could drive the truck on a certain "cross country" path through ditch and creek. She tried the same route and got stuck. She still feels chagrined about this at 82 years old.

Jerome said, "Oh, I got stuck too."

"You DID?????" wide-eyed Karen asked.

Jerome's daughter Beth reached out to her aunt, "Let it go. Don't you feel better? A load lifted?"

Indeed. So many stories of children driving on the Elness and Korkowski farms. I remember Mama Jo taking me to visit her sister Ruby, and there was my brother Stan, driving a Farm All, proud Al Korkowski standing by.

Karen's little daughter Kiki was a bit intimidated by Great Uncle Al's size and gravelly voice, but came to terms with him through card games, an even playing field. Their favorite was cribbage, and that game provided a form of communication even after Al's stroke and inability to speak.

Here is Rand in 1960 in Denmark. 
Distracted by topless Danish sunbathers, he crashed
that bike into a tree..

Intersecting the long driveway to Rand's childhood home was a driveway to the Elness "home place." Simon's two brothers and sister Christina lived at the home place. Christian and P. Imos were true Norwegian bachelor farmers, who socialized by sitting with guests at a round table, silently passing and reading farm magazines.

After aunt and uncles died, Rand received his share of an inheritance and determined that the appropriate use of it was to purchase a red truck, which Rand named P. Imos. From then on, Rand always had a red truck.

There are of course more stories, all good. It was the way a memorial service should be, a gathering of people sharing with each other a more complete understanding of the deceased. Personally, I was happy to confront Jerome with my great disappointment. When I was five, he left to be a missionary in Hong Kong. I was sad, so Jerome told me he would come back and marry me. I waited. He never came back. Turns out, he had forgotten!!! Jerome congratulated Bill, I forgave Jerome, and it is all good again.

More to come,

Solveig Sam Sosie

Prairie tech

Digital technology enhanced this tiny photograph found today in Erling's memorabilia. The farm equipment had been
lined up specially for this rare photo, (note the binder in the background) reflecting a pride of ownership.

During his teen years (1925-1935) Stan’s father, Erling Rolfsrud, operated this McCormick-Deering iron-lugged tractor at home and on fields several miles from home. “I would drive to the distant fields in an old Model T truck (which had a home-made cab of wood) and work there all day,” he wrote on the back of this photo, “bringing along a lunch for mid-day. We first had a 10-20 horsepower tractor, then later a 15-30 horsepower. I was alone all day with the plowing. Seldom the sight of another human. No radio or communication of any kind.”
What Stan’s father could not know, of course, was that he was tilling soil that covered the Bakken Shale, which has since brought untold wealth to western North Dakota. He died in 1994, long before fracking technology made possible the full development of these oil fields.

No. 3

Photo by Stan Rolfsrud

Cold but calm weather brought our diligent roofers back early this morning to complete their contract to re-shingle three roofs in our neighborhood association. If past experience is any indication, the roof will be complete by 5 p.m. tonight.
Meanwhile, it may get warm enough to swing a golf club.