Grinding Day!

Today, Trish's kitchen turned into Bill's venison processing center.  Earlier this year Mother Nature allowed me to take two of her critters for food.   After the intial processing, we ended up with six to eight package of meat meant for grinding, which was set off into the freezer waiting for further processing.  Well, today was the day to start the project of turn meat to burger with a newly gifted grinder attack for a Kitchen Aide blender machine.  The grinder attachment connects to front of the Kitchen Aide mixer, worked very well, until I started loading too much meat at once.  After learning the proper size of meat and how fast I could load the hopper, the grinding went very quickly.  After cleanup, which took longer that the grinding, Trish got her kitchen back, only to learn that tomorrow I will set upon the kitchen for more grinding.

A storm is promised!

My knee, this morning which doesn't bother me much, is paining today as a winter storm bears down on us in the Northern Plains!  Freezing rain, many inches of snow and the wind is to drive the moisture into every nook and cranny.  There are very few tree on the prairie to knock down the wind, so the snow is pushed into great drifts, which can be many times larger than the actual amount of snow that fell from the sky.  Prairie Home is located in on the eastern side of a small wooded lot of less than one hundred acres.  But, it is enough to protect us from the full strength of the wind.  Once the storm is to pass, below zero temps are to settle in and test our winter steel.   We survive the cold, dark winter with projects that are put aside in the warmer weather and picked back up again when Mother Nature sends Old Man Winter back in for another long visit!

Digging Irish roots!

This weekend I was scanning some old documents that my grandfather wrote many many years before.  After scanning quite of few files and uploading them to a new blog, I got a bit bored with this project and set it aside for the moment.  Instead, for whatever the reason, I opened the Family Search website to start searching data.  I know, I know, scanning and upload files isn't much different than searching data.  But, it was a change of pace and thought processes that I was looking for.  Upon opening the Family Search website, I notice that they had made some major changes to the appearance to the site.  I was hoping that they changed the search engine too... I entered the search data and was surprised with amount of data that came back.  I then tweaked the search data a bit and BANG, I found a record I hadn't found or seen before.  Upon opening the record, I verified the information I had just discover.  It was another piece to the puzzle of where George F Herrick's birth place was actually located.  George for some reason had told his family that he was born in Washington state.  In which, it could have been Port Angeles or Bellingham Washington.  I have records stating such locations, but when I tried to get a birth certificate, none are available.  Which is not uncommon, since record keeping has not been of great importance in the past.  So, I have always been, since 2001, suspect of his actual birth location.

Here is my evidence, thus far, for a totally different state for his birth.

1869  his mother is born in Freeport Illinois.
1873 his father arrives from Ireland and settles in Freeport Illinois.
1887 his parents marry in Freeport Illinois.
1892 his birth according to US census of 1900
1900 US census for Freeport Illinois, has him and his older bother being born in Illinois.  His is eight years old at this point, so I am pretty sure his parent knows his birth place.
1910 US census April, he was enumerated in Hawaii while at boot camp.  This is the first record of stating he was born in Washington state.
1910 US census June, he was enumerated again at his parents house in Chicago Illinois. This census records his birth place of Illinois.
1917 he marrys Grace R Whitfield of Chicago Illinios in Chicago Illinois.
1918 birth of his first born, Grace F Herrick in Illinois
1920 US census state his birth is Washington state. But, both Graces are born in Illinois
1930 US census state his birth is Washington state.  This is, thus far, the first evidence I have with George actually being in Washington state.

I have presented my evidence and conclude that George was born in Freeport Illinois in the year 1892.  I will continue to dig for his birth record.  I am hoping other family members who read this can shed some light to this puzzle from the past. 

What say you?

The Desert Rat

The Desert Rat

by George F. Herrick

circa 1930s

A stake of grub and a heavy pack

A desert trail and a long eared jack

No human friend, but for all of that

I'm contented to be a desert rat.

A shelter of rock and a grease wood fire

A mountain peak for my temple spire

My alter of worship a sage brush knoll

Where the Great Voice speaks to my faltering soul.

The evening stars in the firmament

Speak to me when day is spent

In a language that I learned from them

Not spoken by the tongues of men.

The book of life is mine to read

It speaks not of a sect or creed

Therein is writ in prose and verse

The secrets of the universe.

I follow the trail long ages old

Toward the rainbow's end and the pot of gold

Though failure is mine for my labor spent

I am recompensed; I am content.

Cold Morning!

A cold clear morning after a frosty night!  This westward view, out the bay window, over looking the waiting garden is one of the many special treats that awaits those that care to look .  As all things that stand still during the night was coating with a layer of frost from the cold night air.  And with the rising of the sun, we are in proper position for a bright  display only Mother Nature can provide.

Writings from the past!

This evening, December 25  2010, I created a new blog to host a collection of writing that my mother had in her possession when she passed away in 2001.  These writing were created by my grandfather George F. Herrick.  The blog will be by request only and only open to family members.  On the right side of this blog you will find a collection of pages, of which one is labled "Writings from the Past".  There is direction on this page on how to enter the George F. Herrick blog.  All Herrick and Reynolds family members are welcome!

I will be posting a story a week at least until all are posted.  Some of George's writings are in pencil and are fading, so I will be retyping them on the blog for easier viewing.  Others are typed and are easily scanned and posted.



Sample;  
Our roof is old and leaky
The floor is splintered too,
Out S.E stock is soaking wet,
Now what are we to do.

The lightening struck our motor,
The compressor's on the bum,
We get our air here and there,
For each service run.

The old Ford cars are balky,
And are alway in the shop,
When the No. 5 gets started,
It doesn't want to stop.

The rest is posted on the new blog.

Bitsy Babe

1952 Bitsy Babe

My dad was in the military during WWII and the Korean War. Today, I recently found images of him posing with the aircraft that he helps maintain, a F-84 Fighter/Bomber named Bitsy Babe. This fighter/bomb was flown with the identifcation numbers of; FS-115 A.  I did try to find the flight records for the aircraft, but was only able to find a basic fact sheet about the F-84.  The picture of Bitsy Babe and my dad as taken in 1952 somewhere on Japanese soil I am sure. The F-84 Fighter played a major role in keeping the enemy's fighters at bay.

War Camp!

Yesterday, as I was wading through old family documents and pictures, I came across some photos of my time in an old prison of war camp.  Well, actually I was going through USAF Base Defensive training at Camp Bullis in 1976. Camp Bullis is just north of San Antonio Texas and part of Fort Sam Houston.  The camp has been used as a military training site from WWI through current times.  It also was  a prisoner of war camp in WWII.  We lived in semi permanent Mash style tents, where each morning we needed to shake our clothes before putting them on, inspect the inside of our boots before sticking our feet within and quickly look around the floor before stepping out of bed with bare feet.  There were many a morning, where someone would scream out because they had an unwanted visitor in their bed with them.  The reason for all this morning active was the many bitey, stinging and poisonous critters that call Texas home; scorpions, spiders, and snakes.  Each day we would patrol around the 17,000 acres or set up a defensive position and then waiting for enemy forces to attack.  The latrine was an open bay with twenty toilets in a row and across the aisle another twenty.  No privacy here!   There was an old pool that was reportedly built by WWII Germany soldier while they were encamped here.  They dammed up a creek and hand plastered a pit to hold the water.  We stayed in camp for six week, and some  stayed longer for more specialized training.  The guys in the picture are all Military Police buddies with long forgotten names.

Hoary Frost!

Hoary Frost

No, not a cheerleader for some sport team or a stripper on some pole, rather the white builded up of moisture on anything out of door on a cold morning.  Prairie Home is covered with a new coat of frost this morning.  Everything that stood still is blanketed from top to bottom making for a wonderful morning to wake up to.  The temp is hovering at zero, the skies are clear and there is no wind to speak of, so the frost remained to be seen by those of us that are up early in the morn. 

Silly hen!

Just prior to sundown, I went out to check on the chickens, put down some feed, gather up the afternoon eggs.  If all the chickens and guineas are inside roosting, I close up the coop for the night.  However, sometime one or two are late to go in.  Most often I can just guide them and close up.  With the temperature falling, I really wanted to make sure they all were in.  Well, I found three of the mixed hen roosting on the frame of an goat pen. I told that there is no way they were going to camp out, not tonight!  So, as I started to herd them to the coop, they decided to play a game of ring around the goat pen. We did this until two flew to the coop's roof and the other desperately tried land on a long died stalk of giant ragweed.  I gathered that one quickly and off to the coop with her.  The other two were going to be a challenge.  The silly birds refused to walk on the ground with new white stuff all about, but for some reason the snow covered roof of the coop was OK.  I got a long pole and was able to usher one of the chickens off the roof and inside.  The other, the last one, decide we were going to again play a game.  After a few trips around the coop, she changed the rules and flew up into the large pine that over looks the pen and coop.  There was about 40 minutes til dark, so I left her be in hopes she would see the errors of her ways and get inside.  After a great pork roast supper, I was back out to lock up for the night.  The silly bird is still in the tree.  I fear she is a goner, for the night air is heading for zero and maybe lower.  As I end this post, I peeked at the thermometer.  It reads 3 above!  Hang on silly hen! Hang on!

Remembering!

I don't know why! Or why now, but my thoughts are racing towards memories on my grandmother Edith Reynolds.  It has been a busy day here today as I finished off a major database move from one server to another.  Lots of updates, broken links, users not able to log in and now I am taking a break as the phones are quiet... This is when my grandmother came to mind and I don't know why!  I didn't know her very well at all.  I did meet her in the spring of 1968 when she came to visit us in Arkansas.  I don't recall her voice, her appearance or her eyes, it was such a short visit there just wasn't time.  I do remember that she could recite the alphabet backward faster that I could forward.  She taught me to spell Mississippi with humpback, dotted and crooked letters.  She tricked me into a game of  "Who could count to one hundred" the fastest!  She said start and off I started counting as fast as a 12 year old could.. 1,2,3...21,22,23.  But! But, she wasn't counting yet... I got to 90 and she rang out 10, 10, double 10, 45, 15. And then declared that she won...  Sitting there confused, she had me add up the numbers... we laughed!  She was with us for three or fours days before she passed away. She had seen me as a baby and a boy, as we traveled with the military to an oversea duty station and back.  She, however had not met my youngest sister to this point, who was now about 6 years old. Grandma made sure that she was able to see us all again and then left.  The only other memory I have of my grandmother Edith R. Reynolds is, she loved the song Old Rugged Cross, which was played at her Wake.  We laid my grandmother to earth in the Edson Cemetery in Lowell Massachusetts. One of these days I will revisit my grandmother and tell her that I love her.

Did you know....

Do you know who Passaconaway is?  I bet the answer for most is no! Passconaway is an anglicized translation of Papisse Conewa which means Son of Bear.  He was the Sachem of the Pennacook tribe of the New Hampshire and the Massachusetts area back in the 1500's.  Passconaway is one of the most important Sachem in the Americas, but few have ever heard of him.  It was his people that kept the early Pilgrims from starvation and from being over run by the powerful Mohawks.  For some time, the Europeans and Pennacook lived in peace, traded goods and knowledge, until the Europeans started to get land greedy.  

Back in 1899, the Improved Order of Red Men of Massachusetts erected a bronze statue of this great sachem, which others theft upon.  My first introduction to the sachem was 1968 when we laid my grand mother, Edith Ruby Heaney Reynolds to earth.  I was a 12 year old at the time. My elders (aunts and uncles) told me about the sachem's statues, that stands in the same cemetery where my grand mother rests; Edson Cemetery, Lowell Massachusetts.  They said that we are related to the sachem through my Great Grandmother; Elizabeth Anna Waters Reynolds.  Thus far, I haven't been able to prove this link at all, but it is an interesting story and possibility.  The sachem's statue over the years has been vandalized; tomahawk, spear, hand and other parts carried off to no regard at all who he was and what he did in life.  I can only imagine that on some bookcase somewhere a green patina hand, or spear standing in a corner collecting dust. And no more a thought!


Provided by
Edson/Westlawn Cemetery
2010

The good news is that the statue of the Great Sachem, Passaconaway has been restored this year 2010.  Though an incorrect depiction of the a Pennacook of the time, it is still a good thing.  It's a good thing to remember our past and those who made it possible for the rest of us.

My Friend!

Yesterday a friend had to put her dog down and know very much the pain in the heart that can be. I know she will get through this in time, but will never forget.  Roni you will get through this, the pain will subside, but the brain will always remember.  And do remember Antsy...

The thought of her pain got me thinking about my own buddy that I had to lay to earth just a few years back. This morning with Britt in my thoughts, I went looking for the memorial I wrote about him.  But, I couldn't find the website where I posted it.  My daughter, being the wonder person she is, had a copy.  The following is the memory I wrote the day after laying Britt to rest.
___________________________________________________________________
RIP Britt

I layed my friend to rest yesterday, August 26, 2008. I am not going to get into the why's of it. I would rather speak to what a good friend he was and is. Britt was my friend from the time I brought him home in May 1998. In just a few days the guy learned his name and not to pee in the house. I don't think I have ever known such a smart dog in all my life. Britt was a Brittany. Some know the breed as Brittany Spaniels, however they not spaniels any more than a mule is a horse. The breed orginated in Brittany France many many years ago. Here they crossed a spaniel of somekind with a pointer of somekind and got this hard working, intelligent dog that had quality from both breeds. Spaniels and Pointers are both hunting dogs as is the Brittany. They all have a ton of energy, which should not be confused with hyperactive. Now, Spaniels hunting by flush the game out and Pointer will lock up in a point, showing the hunter where the game is hidden. Brittany hunt in the same manner as pointers, thus a number of years ago, maybe 15 years by now, the spaniel part was dropped off of the breeds name. Thus Brittanys are just Brittanys. Enough said about the history of the breed.

Britt was a large dog, somewhere around 65-70 pounds. Yes, that is large for a Brittany. None the less, this guy could run all day and about 26 miles an hour and maintain 15-20 miles an hour for miles.

We never did a lot of hunting together, rather Britt was just my friend. At one point in his life, he was a snow plow manager. He would make sure I plowed the snow just right from the long snow bond driveway we had. At another time, he was a beekeeper. Though I have to admit he didn't care for the bees that much, but he would watch to make sure I did it right. Most often that was from the safety of deck. Isn't that just like a manager! He was a barnyard manager, keeping the raccoons and deer out of the yard away from the chickens, ducks geese and fruit trees. Yes, he was a chicken farmer too.... he didn't like the geese or the turkeys though. He thought the turkeys were weird as they thought they were dogs. They would follow him around the yard, much the way a puppy would following his human.

Britt was the father to twentyfour sons and daughters that out there somewhere with their families. He also helped to raise two cats.  Britt was the type of dog that took most things in stride and trusted that I wasn't putting him into harms way. I remember the first time I took him to be groomed. It was actually his son Duke and Britt that needed the grooming. Duke freaked out... where Britt just stood there, allowing the groomer to do her thing. He would occasionally make sure the groomer was doing it correctly, but mostly he just stood there with the majestic look about him. He was the same way whenever we would go to the vet. He often received comments on how well behaved he was.. not just from the vet, but from the other pet owners too. I can not take credit for this... this was just the way it was with Britt. Just about everyone that met Britt would comment on what a good dog he was.
One of his most favorite things, besides a doggy treat, was to ride in the truck. Britt loved to ride, at one point in our lives, we lived out of a mobile home that had more hole than roof, so he spent the nights with me swatting skitters and trying to stay dry. And during the daytime, he would ride with me to work. There he most happily spend part of the day in the truck...yes with the windows open.. waiting for me to come out on a break. We spent breakfast, lunch and dinner together everyday for almost two years. These days we spent together were the best, though our living conditions were not.

I will always miss the way he would look at me when ever he was trying to communicate a need of his. Whether it was water, letting him out, food or to just to pet him... He would just lay his chin on my knee and look up at me with those big brown eyes. He had other communication skills too. He would grunt in the morning, expressing his need to go out, when I wasn't moving fast enough towards the door handle. Often the grunting would sound like a monkey grunting.

Yesterday, I had to say goodbye to my friend. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. To look into his eyes for the last time, knowing that soon he would not see anymore. As with everything in this dogs life, he took this to in stride. If there is another life I hope we met again and continue our friendship. If not, Britt will never be forgotten. He will live in my memories for the rest of my days as few or as many as that might be.

Britt I miss you!

Ancestors



August and Rosalie Fenske

 I 've been working hard as of late getting back into my genealogy.  I have recently discovered new branches of the tree, knocked down a wall, and started a scanning project of 100 year old photos.  My guess is that most to the family have not seen these photos and its time they did.  I am scanning the images in high resolution for maximum affect.  I will be posting the photos on Flickr or some other web gallery to share with family members.  This, I hope, will allow easy access to the photo for all family members that want a copy or print a high quality photo.  Stay tuned for upcoming post of the gallery creation and postings.

Cuckcoo

From somewhere within the dark places of my mind, I remember being inside of a large cuckoo clock, where there were hundreds of clocks ticking, ticking, ticking!  No, this is not a night mare, but a memory from my childhood some forty years plus ago.  Today, as I was rambling through document and working my family genealogy, I came across (again) and old post card of the Worlds Largest Cuckoo Clock, which I thought I had missed placed.   Yes, this is the clock I remember.  This is the clock that was talked about, back in the day, around the dinner table or in the living room.  I don't recall the actually conversations or where it actually took place, but I do recall the clock being talked about and I remember it was so cool to walking into a working clock.  Cool, may not have been my word of choice back in the 60's, but it works for now.  Back around 2003 is when I initially came across the post card. Upon looking up the address on the web, I found the owners of the clock.  Soon after writting to them I recieved a reply back in the form of an updated post card.   I thought, and still do, that it was very fanastic that I receive a reply in the new card.   Some forty years seperation in time, but the clock still stands. 

Caribou

Two Rivers
Lake Bronson MN

  No not the deer like creature that roams the arctic regions of the world or the Minnesota based coffee house, but rather Caribou Minnesota.  Where is that you ask?... Well, let me tell you! Look to the top of a Minnesota map, find the part that extends into Canada... turn west along the border about 60 miles or so and there is Caribou.  What you can't see it, here some help... The town doesn't exist any longer but for a house or two and an old Church.

Garter snake

This past weekend, Trish and I took a road trip north 86 miles into Minnesota territory that the deer out number the people that live there.. actually the garter snake out numbered the actual people that we saw.  The Garter snake is a friendly sort and is very beneficial to have around.  We saw many snakes on the roads warming themselves in the sun.  This mornings temperature started off in the uppper 20's.



St Nicholas Church
Caribou MN

 So, what was this road trip all about?  Well, we went looking for three very old buildings; a church, a 1860 trappers cabin, a school house with chalkboard still attached to wall.  Unfortunately we found only one.  The church was easy enough to find.  A small bright white church nestled amongst the tree just south of the Roseau river.  The roof has three dome peeks with crosses attached.  Next to the church, immediately to the south by just a few feet, the cemetery lies.  Within the cemetery are some very old head stones dating back into the 1800's and the most recent of 1983.  To my understand, most the of parishioners are living in Canada; http://56755.blogspot.com/2010/09/caribou-pilgrimage.html .

Rusty away!

After signing the guestbook, we were off to find the trappers cabin.  The directions that were given gave us the sense that finding the old cabin was going to be some what easy too do, but after a few hours beating the bush and driving down old roads and passing through a few gated pastures... we found nothing but empty stomachs and an old Chevy truck rusting away in the Minnesota weather. 



Back to the church for a picnic lunch, which Trish was so kind to prepare the night prior.  We talked over the directions for the school house and headed out!  Again, what we thought were easy directions turned into miles of driving and talking for the only living people we saw in the Caribou area.  Two young men working on putting up a new barred wire fence.  A mire 800 hand pounded T-post were set the day prior, and now they were working on the wire.  My arms immediately started aching when the 800 T-post were mentioned... I have pounded my share of fence post, but never 800 in a day.  I still ache today as I write this blog and thinking about the possibility. Now, in the process of looking for this old school house, we wandered up onto an old falling down hunting camp, a shack and an old wagon of some sort, that was used at one time as a bunk house.   Both had seen better days.  Check out the old axles...



Old Wagon



We ended the day slight disappointed about not finding the school house and cabin, but the day was not a total loss.  We did find the old church.  I posted the images I took of the church yesterday morning and today I find a request to have them added to a worldwide organization that is trying to find and document all churches name St. Nicholas.  If you would like to read the request and see their web pages... Click on St. Nicholas.

A quiet morning start!

Its a quiet start to the day. Its 35 degrees this morning, the sun slowly gaining a foot hold of a dark sky, turning it blue. The bluster winds of yesterday are no more, instead quiet trees greeting the morning light as the sun rises to brighten my day.... I hope for you a day filled with the wonders of Mother Nature and you stop long enough to realize you are apart of her world!

First Frost!

This morning the old thermometer read 34 degrees for the first time this fall.  There is nothing like the first couple mornings of brisk cold air to renew one primeval spirit.  Upon exiting the house, on my way to the chicken coop for morning watering and feeding, I noticed the car windows had a thin layer of frozen dew and each step bought a crushing sound to my ears.  Yes, even the grass had a thin layer of the frozen cold stuff.   About half way across the yard the geese spotted me.  They are normally pretty talkative in the morning, but this morning was more like; "Hey! Who turned off the heater?".   The Guineas too, were more talkative from their lofty perch on the coop's roof.  Geese looking up at me, the Guineas looking down at me, egad I'm surrounded! The Guineas are roosting in a tall pine next to the coop, which offers a good amount of protection.  But my guess is that they will elect for the warmth of the coop soon. Now the chickens, they are more quiet than the rest, after all they were in the relatively warm coop.  Only Rudy the rooster is noticeable from the outside. As always all the birds are eager for the morning feeding.  There is quite a bit of geese chatter, chicken clucking and whatever the Guinea sound is called....then its Rudy that breaks the setting with a crow and the chase of one of the hens. He's ready to mate, but they are not.  Once fed, they are then turned out on the grass, whats left of it, for the day.   The morning sun is coming up now and the warmth of its rays are unthawing (for you Trish) the frozen dew that fell over night, releasing a fog that hangs upon the awakening world.  All is peaceful at my prairie home!

Waters or Watters! Muddy waters indeed!

A while back I found my great grandmother in 1910 US census living Lowell Massachusetts with new husband and my grandfather (a boy at this time) and his sister Flossie. For whatever the reason, it wasn't until this past month I decided to request a copy of the marriage certificate from the state of Massachusetts. I was hoping there would be more information on the certificate than just the union of the two. So, after gathering the proper information and time frame of the marriage, I sent the request to Massachusetts. I was told to expect a long wait for the return on any documentations. Happily, I received the certificate in just over four weeks. Not long at all for government work. Anyway, I hit pay dirt and more confusion, at the same time, about my great grandmother's nee, in which this blog post is about.

Skeeter Barrier update!

This is day three to the testing of the Mosquito Barrier product I blogged about earlier.  I first need to mention that my mixture was wrong, I posted that I mixed one ounce per gallon, where it should have been three ounces per the instructions of the bottle.  So, my mixture was one third the strength it should have been.

Now, with that said!  All areas that were treated are still repelling the skeeters.  Its a pleasure to walk outside again and not feel like a pin cushion.  The areas not treated are terribly over run with those blood sucking creatures of the dark shady places.  I have to laugh.. the legend of hanging garlic at the door to warn off vampires is apparently true.

To see the initial post about the Mosquito Barrier product click here!

Iron Range Trip - Chisholm Mn

My stay in Chisholm Minnesota was in all places, a place called Chisholm Inn.  A very comfortable stay indeed.  I would recommand staying at the Inn if in the Chisholm area.  It is just off  US Highway 2.  I would think a fall trip to the area would make for a very nice and relaxing road trip...Can you just image the falls colors!  Checkout some of things to do here...area attractions.

This image is just across the highway from the hotel.  Its an old pit mine that has or is filling with water.  Don't know if it is all rain or if a spring was hit.

Iron Range

Not keeping with my blog theme, I post this about the trip I am currently on.  Wednesday last, I set forth to the east of Minnesota, where I stopped and turned around in Virginia.  Which is one of the many cities up here in the northeastern part of Minnesota called the Iron Range.  I am stopped in Chisholm, from here I branched out to two job sites, one in Buhl and the other Hibbing.  All are range towns.  Chisholm is home to the 85 foot tall Iron Man.   Talk about steampunky!  Yes, that comment was for you Trish!  Tomorrow, I head for Grand Rapids, to yet another job site.  Along the way, there are a number of stops I plan to make, so I can capture a few more image of this region.  Stay turned.

Dorothy Minnesota

Trish and I were out on a early Saturday morning drive.  We started down the Pembina trail which follows for some time the shore line of the ancient Lake Agassiz.  We were on our way to a farmers market in Mentor Minnesota.  As we drove south we came upon Dorothy Minnesota.  There is only a few homes, an old elevator and this old church; St Dorothy, that remain in this once thriving little town.   The town came into being in the early 1900's as the Northern Pacific Railroad came through on its way to Red Lake Falls Minnesota.   Sadly, the town of Huot Minnesota, which is just to the south about five miles, was bypassed by the railroad.  The town of Huot slowing moved to the new site of Dorothy.  The existing church in Huot, St Aloysius, closed and the St Dorothy church was built and open in 1919. 

The priest, Father Bossus, at the time celebrating the regaining of his eyesight through surgery erected a shine to Mary Mother of Jesus at the Huot site.  The shine is said to be used to this day.

To read more about this area;

Red Lake County Historical Society

Skitter and the AC

This past Monday night Trish and I started watching a movie in the bedroom, which was a bit humid and warm... No, not for that those reasons!  Get your mind out of the gutter! Anyways, I turned on the lamp near the bedroom window to see the controls on the AC. Naturally, I select the high setting!

Not thinking anymore about it, I left the lamp on and we started watching the movie.  It wasn't too long afterwards that we were getting attacked.....attacked by hundreds of skitters.  They were apparently attracted to the light and were able to find their way into the house through small gaps between the window frame and the AC to find us... We spent the next hour or so, swatting and vacuuming up the skitters.... Some were very very small and others as large as the image below!

The next night, as I walked into the bedroom, there is a slight odor of something dead.... I followed the odor to the AC. Looking thoroughly through the inside parts of the AC I found nothing, so I went outside to check.  I half expected to find a mouse or bat, but not the mass of thousands and thousands of dead skitters, flies and June beetle bodies inside the AC.   Apparently, the lamp attracted and the AC's fan dispatched them .  There so many corpses to create enough of a smell to attract many attending flies seeking an easy dinner....

After a half hour of flushing with water, the dead bugs were gone and the odor was much less, which a bit of Pine Sol help fix the remaining odor.... Never, did I think that so many dead skitters would create such a stink......

The skitters are so thick this year, they clogged my AC!

These two photos were taken of the inside of the AC.  And this is after I had already flushed out the AC a day or to prior.