
So this Friday is like so many of my days, filled with family adventures. Early morning we are greeted by my son-in-law asking to use our van to help a mutual friend move his bee hives. Big bee hives, and the trunk of a car would not suffice for the task. Of course, use the van, put gas in it, though do not leave any bees in it. Remember we will be loading the huge van with plants later tonight.
The morning goes along with a telephone call from my younger brother while at work, asking if we had found out if we can sell Grandpa’s snake-skin belts and jewelry at the farmers’ markets. A few days ago I told Dean about this request, but I had not heard whether we gained permission to include my grandfather’s handmade snake-skin crafts at our tent. But I will follow-up with this. The next question my brother ask, “Would you like to donate your body to St. Louis University when you die?” He asked this with no hesitation, like he was asking if Dean and I can come over for dinner tomorrow night. Now, I have to take a few seconds to think why he is asking this. With my pause in reply, he interjects that this is what our 97-year old grandfather is doing, and what him and Uncle Earl have discussed doing as well. “Would it be neat for the university to do genetic studies on the Bates Family?” Steve says. “I am going to ask Rick and Marge (my other siblings), too. And maybe Rachel and Elisabeth (my daughters) will consider doing the same?” So it takes what seems like 5 minutes to respond, probably more like a minute. “It’s a good idea, and I am open to it. I always thought to donate an organ to science after I pass, but I need to consider what Dean wants when I pass. I will ask him.” Dean and I discuss briefly on the commute home from our jobs, “no immediate answer, we have time for this decision,” I add.
Then Mom calls late this afternoon asking about the weather-stripping for the front door. It appears what we installed this winter caused a suction when it rained earlier this week, that she could not get the door open. Great, she is trying to sell the house. We will be up there to take care of this weekend or on Wednesday when we assist her with her move to the villa 1-1/2 miles from our house rather than the hour’s drive we currently have. Mixed feelings altogether there.
We get home to eat a quick dinner my chef son-in-law prepared, fried fish, mashed potatoes, and a tomato-mozzerolla salad. Dean and I needed to get to the greenhouse as soon as possible as a large cell of violent storms was on the way. Dean checked http://www.wunderground.com, and it was in Warren County, one county west of us. Onward to the greenhouse to pick up a few plants for the Saturday morning farmers’ market. The radio said a tornado had been sighted in Franklin County, one county southwest of St. Charles County. Probably 30 minutes from us. The earlier rains had the ground soaked already, so we parked the van just past the barn. Dean and I quickly walked up the hill, gathered armfuls of plants, each making 3 trips back and forth. By my last trip back to the van, the sky was an eerie green with a black cell right in the middle. Lightning flashes bolts bright, and the heavy rain starts. Our Charlie Brown spruce tree was in full glow with the solar lights like it was nighttime already. It was only 7:15pm. The van radio told me a tornado warning was issued for St. Charles County, and a tornado was sighted in Defiance. Wonderful, we are in Defiance! I guarantee that black cell I saw had a tornado in it! Dean arrived with his last armful of plants, promptly loaded them in the van, and backed the van up in a hurry. We slide off the gravel road right into the slippery clay mud. That van kept sliding towards the rushing creek! Inches from it! Dean tried pulling forward, and we were stuck. Dean and I tried gravel, wood planks, and prayer. We were not going anywhere, especially when Dean accidentally locked the keys in the van. Thank God the engine was turned off! Flash flood warnings came over the weather band radio in the barn. I asked my husband to call our landlord, to see if we could start the tractor to pull the van out. No keys were available, with the landlord in another county over. We asked for the farm neighbor’s telephone number. We called my son-in-law and this farm neighbor. My son-in-law got to us with our spare van key and a smile in his voice within 30 minutes. Our rescuer! The farm neighbor was not home, 30 minutes away but would try to get to us. Dean rocked the van back and forth shifting in reverse and back forward. Mick and I pushed with all our might. A wood plank shot back and hit my ankle. Bruised, swollen, and sore but no cut. Thank Jesus. Rocking back and forth for 10 minutes, the van was out of the muddy mess onto the gravel road. Shovels put away, barn light turned out, and we all managed to cross the creek to the safety of a paved county highway. A call to the farm neighbor to say we were out of our predicament. Reports of a huge tornado touching down in the local towns of Weldon Springs and Harvester, Missouri wiping out multiple houses came over the radio. Cannot help to think we were stuck in the mud for a reason, to avoid being in the path of that nasty tornado. A muddy mess and sore, we all three were, but safe in our house now tonight. Yes, my family adventures never end. Sometimes like the whirlwinds I experienced tonight. Peace I sense. Gratitude, I have family to help when we need it, and to be with on this stormy night. St. Louis University is not ready for me yet. Stay tuned, another chapter of our family life on this blog, maybe with Dean’s family.
Category Archives: neighbor
A Weekend Day In My Life
I had so much fun putting together a few words and photos for the WordPress “Day In My Life” photo challenge yesterday. That post focused on my weekday life. Please read that post: https://deannagreensandgardenart.wordpress.com/2013/04/03/a-day-in-my-life/
My weekend is somewhat different. I am not focused on employee wellness, but plant wellness! I want to share another small collection of words and larger collection photos to describe my other life. To simply say “green” describes my weekend day. “Green plants” to be exact. I love plants. I grew up with them, and cannot live without them. A few other essentials are identifying bugs; a walk to the greenhouse over the creek after visiting at the barn with the farm neighbors; herbs to make my dishes taste delicious; and lemonade, to make life sweet!
Wet Weekend
Saturday morning we awoke to rain! This is an occasion as we have been in a severe drought since last spring. The 14 inches of snow we received in the past 2 weeks, melted to 4 inches of liquid according to the rain barrel at the greenhouse. Now with this rainy weekend, we received another 2 inches. River barges started moving on the rivers again after sitting idle for 2 months. The melted snow running into the northern streams have made their way to the Mississippi, Missouri, and Illinois Rivers. Creek beds have filled once again in Missouri. The 2 creeks on Boone Hollow Farm were running with a cold rush, a soothing sound to the ear. I walked the plank to get over the creek and up the hill to the greenhouse. We cleaned the barn while the rain watered our earth. Late morning the rain subsided, and finally the sun peeped out of the clouds. A chainsaw was used on old trees near the barn, trying to avoid storm damage to the outbuilding and roads. Working alongside the half-full creek bed, I lobbed small limbs. I hauled the twigs to the huge bush pile down the gravel road while the tree frogs croaked “its spring!” Honey bees and flies buzzed about the warm afternoon air. Nature’s critters tell us.
My brother wanted to bring my grandpa out for a visit. This was their first visit to Boone Hollow Farm, so a countryside adventure for both this fine Saturday afternoon. Cellular telephone service is hit or miss, so I hoped they heard my directions okay. I explained several times before, “we are between Chandler Hill Vineyards and the Daniel Boone Home off Highway F, look for the huge barn on the right side.” Our labrador, Midnight chewed on sticks and chased after two barn cats up the larger trees while I cleaned up the limbs. He would follow with such enthusiasm walking near the gravel path alongside the wheelbarrow. But when a white SUV pulled onto the gravel road off the highway, and he recognized the sound of the vehicle. It was my father’s old SUV, and in it was two of Midnight’s favorite persons, Grandpa Earl and my brother, Steve. Grandpa took care of Midnight as a young pup. This overgrown Christmas gift became my father’s hunting companion when Midnight was too much for my 97-year old grandfather to handle. Now Midnight is Steve’s duck and goose hunting companion. Midnight ran to greet his buddies, and stayed at their sides their entire visit. Grandpa could not make the walk up the hill to our greenhouse, and it was too muddy to get a vehicle up there. So that will have to be their next trip to Boone Hollow Farm. But the farmer chat while the elder sat on the farmer neighbor’s bushhog was so refreshing like that spring rain heard in the creek bed. It backed me up 45 years ago, when jaws jabbered during the farm visits in Franklin County, where my Grandpa and Uncle Lloyd made their father’s farm into a weekend get away for their families. That circle of life again, Dean and I making a weekend refuge for our family now. And Grandpa was able to enjoy it after the weekend rain.
Housebound or Reclused

These late winter snows create survival tactics to say the least. For me with my cold allergy, severe side effects could take my life. So I take precautions, carrying extra gloves, hat, sweatshirts, boots, blanket, and epie pin if we ever have a vehicle breakdown. Of course good snow tires and vehicle maintenance is a must. We have the kitchen fireplace and fire wood in case the furnace would go out.
My mother lives an hour north of of us in Pike County. Pike County is always 10 degrees cooler than St. Charles County, and produces more severe winter storms. We received about a foot of snow the past 10 days, where Mom’s neck of the woods received two foot of snow. Her neighborhood is just outside of the town of Bowling Green. All her neighbors are older like herself, though Mother has a heart condition which keeps her indoors during extreme heat or cold. Normally she has senior assistance come to her house twice a week, but this past two weeks it posed a problem for the agency to get to their clients. I called Mother every day or two, checking on her. She kept saying I am fine, I have food, drinking water, medicines, and a warm house. But she failed to see what her mental and soul health needed. Survival tactics also mean taking care of the inside person as well. Since father’s death in October, Mother is lonely and still mourning. A computer, TV, or novels go only so far. The human voice and human presence heals.
Thursday evening, I decided Dean and I would go up to see my mother on Friday morning after we got the van packed and our banking done for our trip to Kansas City. A funeral wake Friday evening, and a graduation party on Saturday afternoon were the plans with Dean’s family. I asked my mother to come with us, though she declined. I am so glad we went to my mother’s home. She was snowed in, housebound. Two-foot snow piled high on the gravel driveway, mailbox, garage, and sidewalk to the front door. When Mother opened the door, she looked old and reclused to me, almost did not recognize her, and she me. It scared me and made me sad. After helping Dean clean the sidewalk off, while he finished the rest, Mother and I talked. Mother said she must have made a mistake, and should have come down to St. Charles County with us last week. After digging our way out Friday morning, we went into town for a couple of errands and ate lunch at one of her favorite local cafes. Mother just bought a villa a mile away from our home, plans to move there in June. But June is three long months away still, maybe three or four more snow storms away.
Make a visit to your neighbors and family, no matter what age or condition they are in. Their soul depends on it. “Words mean more than what is set down on paper – it takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning”. ~ Maya Angelou
Are You A Locavore?

Are you a locavore? Congratulations, if you! Others may be asking, “what is a locavore?” Here is the paraphrased dictionary definition to this 3-year old word: One who eats local foods whenever possible, typically foods grown, raised, and produced within the consumer’s 100-mile radius. I am a locavore. And whenever possible I shop local for most of my other consumer needs. So what are the top 5 reasons to buy local foods and goods? #1 You boost the local economy. #2 You know the integrity of the product you are buying, if you know the farmer or producer. #3 With most foods, you will have a longer shelf life. #4 With herbs, vegetables, and fruits, you know the produce was harvested within a day or two for better nutritional value, not weeks or months ago. #5 You have encouraged “green practices” with less fuel usage with less travel of the product.
For me, it is all about the food! One of my many passwords is “arugula4me”. Each time I enter this password, it reminds of the fresh arugula that will come from Deanna Greens And Garden Art 1/4 acre plot at Boone Hollow Farm in a few short days. I am salivating just writing about it! Dean loves the way the word “arruugulaa” rolls off my tongue, the only time I sound like I am from Italy. Do you have a farmers’ market in your neighborhood? What do you buy from your local farmer(s)?
Bumpers, Biscuits, Beer, and Buds
Our weekends at the greenhouse include our 81-lbs labrador, Midnight since his adoption on Christmas Day. His long, lanky legs run after the bright orange bumper I have tossed in the brushy fields 10 or 20 times. About the time Midnight gets settled laying in the sun for some rest, the farm neighbor Leo pulls onto the field road down the hill near the barn in his jeep hollering and honking his horn to announce his arrival. This scene reminds me of this children’s book Sheep In A Jeep I read to my children and read now to my grandchildren. 
Midnight knows Leo’s voice, and anticipates dog biscuits and a jolly greeting from our farm neighbor. Two or three dog biscuits are tossed out the jeep window, with Midnight perfecting his catch everytime. Beer is a part of this scene as well. Leo welcomes everyone with his can of Stagg beer in one hand and a offer from his supply in his other hand. What I remember about Stagg beer is my Grandpa and great-Uncle Lloyd’s abundant supply of this beer during the family gatherings at the Bates Family Farm in Beaufort, Missouri forty or fifty years ago. I wonder if my cousins have carried on the tradition? Stagg beer must be having a comeback, because in more recent years I have not seen it in the stores or at gatherings until Leo. Anyway, Budlight is one of Leo’s offerings, as well. I can do Budlight. It seems Boone Hollow Farm has produced more than fruit and vegetables. Best buds after bumpers, biscuits, and beer …
Your Fence or Wall?

Robert Frost wrote a poem called “Mending Wall”.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
“Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
He is all pine and I am apple-orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
“Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down!” I could say “Elves” to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
This poem says much, which can be condensed with the old Czech saying, “Do not protect yourself by a fence, but rather by your friends.” I would rather have friends than fences and walls, wouldn’t you? So much strife and bitterness amongst people, and the violence is horrible. Dean & I have a place we go where fences are not necessary, except clever ones to keep the deer out. It is Boone Hollow Farm in Defiance, Missouri. It is where our greenhouse takes home. There are no fences or walls to divide the lots between tenants, we each just know where our own spot begins and ends. Even our dog, Midnight knows. Caring and sharing is the attitude, so refreshing. I anticipate a great growing season, growing herbs and vegetables as well as friendships in this community.
The Alternative
So much of our thinking and planning seems to align to conventional practices. This is in every area of our lives, relationships, career paths, foods we eat, medicines we take, what we spend time with or on, the house we live in, so on and so on. Break throughs in sciences seem to tell us that some old practices have been the best practices all along. For instance, the present interstate highway system we have has caused major traffic congestion in the cities, and kept local commerce from growing. The lecture I attended at Washington University last week where John Norquist gave the alternative. Tear down some of those interstates in the city. Allow secondary arteries, the urban streets to be available for travelers to slow down and visit the city, create more jobs, circulate more commerce, allow pride in the citizens to show off their cultures. Maybe more walking and biking will be encouraged with sidewalk systems. Hooray for out-of-the box thinkers! St. Louis City and County are looking into this option. What do Milwaukee citizens think about the similar project that took place in their city?
Then there is the Slow Food movement. (There is that word “slow” again.) This started in Europe, Rome, Italy to be exact as a direct statement to the fast food construction plans for a McDonald’s back in 1986. According to founder and president Carlo Petrini, “everyone has the right to good, clean, and fair food”. That means quality, flavorful food, it is natural form, and produced and tranported in an ethical manner at a fair price. A person who eats locally, is called a locavore. Slow Food includes local food. (There is that word “local” once again.) Foods grown, produced, and consumed on a local level will support local folks, right? So this is where Deanna Greens And Garden Art resides. Local!!! I cannot wait to get those beds raised and plant some organic seeds for herbs and veggies. We hope to sell more seedlings to local farmers, and herbs to local farmer’s market folks next spring. And Dean & I will consume lots of our own homegrown veggies. Veggies are the alternative to pre-packaged, processed grain products. Herbs are the alternative to salt and synthetic chemicals the food label lists. Check out the book Wheat Belly by Dr. William Davis from your local library and see what today’s wheat and corn are doing to our bodies. Or Dr. Davis has his own blog: www.wheatbellyblog.com. An eye opener. Yes, an alternative diet, yet what we ate like before WWII. Old practices return.
Dean and I personally shop local as well. 95% of our Christmas gifts are bought locally. Wine from Chandler Hill Vineyards and foods & crafts from local artisans. I hope you supported Local Saturday in your community a couple of weeks ago. Last weekend we slowed our pace down, savored a local beer and satisfied our palettes while listening to local music at our neighborhood joint, the St. Charles Coffee House. www.saintcharlescoffeehouse.com. What is your favorite local eatery? In our travels, Dean & I look for those local joints, and we may visit yours!
Urban Farmers & Their Markets
EarthDance Farms is a non-profit organization that grows farmers as well as organic veggies and herbs. I participated in their freshman program last growing season. This program is what spurred my husband and I to purchase a greenhouse and created Deanna Greens And Garden Art. The farm is in the heart of the urban culture of Ferguson, Missouri. But while farming in the middle of a field, you feel like you are miles from the next neighbor. The female staff at EarthDance Farms are featured in a recent article “Organic Farming Attracts Women”. Please read about their adventures. http://magissues.farmprogress.com/MOR/MR07Jul12/mor008.pdf magissues.farmprogress.com. Here is a EarthDance Farms photo taken at the Ferguson Farmers’ Market, as urban and farmer you can get at one time. Visit there one Saturday morning! http://fergmarket.com/
Purple Haze Carrots and Other Veggies
This record breaking summer heat and drought is making for miserable working conditions for Missouri farmers. Dean & I are a part of the local agriculture scene, though we farm more for organic promotion, recreation, and creation purposes. For the farmer who is required to be outdoors all day and everyday, it is disheartening to see your crops dry up and wither in the sun. My friends at EarthDance Farms as well as all the local farmers cannot seed any more carrots, beets, and beans for a fall crop because the earth is rock hard, and the seeds cannot germinate without rain. I miss my favorites: purple haze carrot, candy cane beets, and tender bush green beans! Please pray for rains, several rains for Missouri and our neighboring midwest states. We need God’s divine intervention.
Deanna Greens and Garden Art’s tropicals and houseplants such as bird of paradise, hibuscus, banana trees, spider plants, red leaf philodenrens, arrowheads, rabbit foot ferns, and asparagus ferns love this heat and humidty as long as they are under our shade trees during the day and have plenty of water. We water everything twice a day when it is over 100 degrees, which means almost everyday for the past 6 weeks! Our oldest daughter took care of the plants, cats, and house while we vacationed in cooler Minnesota. We were so thankful for a much needed break! Now onward to the Saturday markets and the rebuild of our greenhouse.
