Pictures of the barn fire. We’re all doing fine. Ed and I are heading into town for feed and supplies so I will post an update later this afternoon.
THANK YOU again to the entire community of Goessel. I just can’t express how very lucky and grateful we are!!!!
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I’ve been asked many times over the years about my tribe’s headrights so I thought I would do a couple of posts explaining more about them. I say couple because I doubt I would have the time to explain it all at once! LOL There’s a lot of details and some absolutely fascinating information. In fact, I just borrowed some wonderful books from my mother and will post more as I read through them.
So, are you ready for a headright lesson? Here we go. First, some interesting links.
I’ll post more as I go.
When the government created the Reservation they (the Tribe) counted themselves at just over 2,000 and they issued parcels of land at 658 acres to each one of the “original allottees”. My great grandmother was Nora D Stingley and she’s number 1972. The Tribe then created the Mineral Trust and determined that the Tribe had rights to any mineral royalties from the reservation and that those royalties would be divided equally among the original allottees. Oil was discovered soon after and everything changed.
The quarterly payments for each headright began in late 1800′s and, once oil was discovered, were outrageous – this site shows the history of payments with inflation, the years are listed by rank in amount and not cronologically. IN THE 20′s these indians were EACH receiving nearly $150,000 (by today’s standards) a QUARTER and when you figure that some of these allottees were also receiving their parent’s share when they passed …… well there were young indians receiving $450,000 (by today’s standards) or so each quarter. At one point it’s reported that the Osage Indians were the richest people in the world – and the white men began noticing.
In the beginning it was setup so that when an allottee passed away their headrights were passed to their children if they were from an indian mother but not to the children if the indian was the father. Then they started getting into percentages and things sort of went south. Finally it was decided that the allottee could leave their headright with whomever they wanted.
That’s when the murders started. Or should I say, suicides by putting a bullet through one’s head. Through the back of one’s head.
Exactly.
In fact, a Mr. Hale decided that he would just get a whole racket going and actually put out contracts on his wife’s family when he got those allottments all lined out in their wills. There was an attorney in town who “assisted” white men in finding young indian girls to marry and then strangely those girls would be mysteriously shot or found dead in another manner. One indian committed suicide by burning a car – normally not a common method of suicide.
At any rate, taxes were avoided by one way and one way only for anyone receiving an allotment check, original or inherited, you had to be declared indigent. If you weren’t indigent then you had to pay taxes. My own grandmother declared herself indigent when she inherited her share of Nora’s headright.
That’s all I have time for now but I promise to post more.
Remember my posting calling Bullshit! on Ree Drummond, Pioneer Woman? Well holy hell my Aunt Carole emailed and told that it got quoted in The New Yorker Magazine! I don’t live near a place that carries it so I asked a friend to email me a copy. I must say, it’s definitely NOT the most flattering article at Ree. The sentence about my post is on the last page, center column, at the bottom. 
Ed, Darren, Kenny, and I were all in the cow pasture, which now includes a raging hormonal bull, last night as we separated TBone and Moo out of the herd and moved them into the barn resulting in no injuries to bovine or humans. It’s a Good Thing. And now that I’m safely sitting at the kitchen table I feel it appropriate to share a few positively amazing details of the whole being-in-the-pasture-moving-cows experience.
Of no surprise to any of us, no sooner was a human at the gate than Moo shoved the babies and head butted the bad-ass bull out of the way daintily and like the lady she is, arrived at the gate ready to exit in an orderly fashion. I feel the need to foreshadow here and point out that as we opened the gate ever-so-slightly and Ed began communicating with Moo that she could come out I was shouting to empty ears, “Wait! Don’t let her out yet! TBone is clear over here and won’t be able to follow her!”
This 5 seconds of action quickly resulted in chaos of the largest proportions and took over the next two solid hours.
Moo literally jumped out of the pasture, put her mouth to the ground, and began eating luscious Spring fescue around the house. She never even looked up. Meanwhile, we all looked at each other then slowly looked at the now pissed off bull because one of his babes was eating luscious Spring fescue and he wasn’t then we looked at each other again and then looked back into the pasture to see TBone way over there on the other side of the pissed off bull.
“Huh. How are we gonna get him outta there now?” Asked one of my children, concisely expressing my thoughts.
“Very simple,” I replied. ”We just separate him out and he’ll run right to mama.”
Two hours later we had caught TBone twice only to have him run off again, moved the roundpen panels from the horse corral out to the pasture, fed the pissed off bull about three buckets of cow feed to keep him distracted, heard the screams of “RUN! He’s headed your way!” about 10 times, played rodeo clown to get him off the other person, watched my sons chase down a spooked calf like professional track runners, broken a nail (the WORST part of the whole damn thing!), learned to herd cattle with a mower (YAY ME!) watched Darren and Kenny truly earn their keep and get real good at sorting cattle, and finally trapped the little bugger.
Three amazing things happened during this process:
1. Moo never once even looked up from eating the grass and I think she actually hid behind a tree at one point so no one would notice her.
2. During all of this chaos with the calves running clear down to the other end, calling for their mamas to save them and a pissed off bull jumping and bucking with the humans, Sparky stood stock still at the gate waiting for her turn to get out. Her baby’s calling wildly to her, running scared from the humans and Sparky is just standing there perfectly still never even moving her head to see what’s up.
3. Darren and Kenny looked like young men out there helping and doing a great job of it. I know in my heart that they really are young men already but to see them in action and working with their parents as a team, well it did my heart good. I was so very proud of them! They showed no fear, watched all the action like hawks, and did EXACTLY what they were told. Even Vincent stood protected up by the house but ran around getting tools or whatever we needed. It was an awesome moment for me to see the men they’re becoming.
TBone is now in the big stall of the barn with Moo loose in there to keep him company through the night and calm him down. I’ll head out in a while and move her to the back summer pasture. Saturday little TBone has an appointment with destiny – he’s going from a bull to a steer. After that we’ll move Sparky to the back but leave the bull and calves up front for a couple of months to ensure we’re not dealing with winter calving again because it totally SUCKS. Around June we’ll move the bull back with the girls for the rest of the Summer and Fall and, if they’re not pregnant already for Fall calving, we’ll have Spring calves.
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I don’t enjoy “Teaser Spring”. Spring means that it’s 60-70 degrees out and basically pretty much nicer weather. One may need a jacket in the morning but if doing chores or the afternoon sun shines, well then it’s short sleeves all the way. So for the past few weeks everyone’s been talking about Spring and I think they’re all full of it. It aint Spring out there! The other day it was 80 then the next day it snowed and now the temps are hoovering around 30. This IS NOT Spring.
This is Teaser Spring.
The way I look at it is that if it’s this chilly and weird outside then I”m going to pretend it’s my favorite season of all, Fall. There’s nothing better than Fall! And you know what Fall means? That’s right! Fall is when the media people scare everyone into believing that there’s a pumpkin shortage and then everyone runs to the store and even though there appears to be 6 million cans of pumpkin on the shelves these poor people buy like 45 cans of it anyway. Just. In. Case.
I wouldn’t know anything about those poor people who go out and do that. Nothing at all. That’s my story and I”m sticking to it.
Anyway, since it’s Teaser Spring and I’m pretending it’s Fall, I’ve been making some yummy pumpkin baked goods and this recipe for Spiced Pumpkin Bread has topped the list for my guys. I adapted it from Coming Home with Gooseberry Patch is it is good. Fabulous even. So until it’s officially Spring I’ll keep making it. But once it’s Spring for real then I’ll move on to something else and use all that pumpkin for weight lifting or something.
You’ll need —
Mix the pumpkin, sugar, water, oil, and eggs in large bowl and beat until well mixed.
In another bowl, stir together remaining ingredients.
Add this to the wet mixture.
Pour the batter into two greased and floured loaf pans, dripping as you go.
Bake at 350 for 60-65 minutes and your house will smell like heaven. Then remove the pans and put on a rack for about 10 minutes next to the batch of breakfast burritos and chocolate sheet cake (it was a busy cooking day).
After about 10 minutes you can turn them out.
Enjoy!
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Some years ago my mom and her twin sister started making crafty stuff – indian dreamcatchers, native american dolls, beaded bracelets, all kinds of stuff. These two look-alikes would load up their vehicles and travel around Kansas and Oklahoma to set up booths at powwows and craft shows and they would come home loaded with interesting stories. Stories like the one about the flight attendant.
Yes, really!
You see one of their other sisters (there’s 6 girls and one lone boy in the bunch – that makes for a LOT of aunts!) was at a tradeshow of her own and saw these necklaces made with a really cool thread that’s actually impossible to describe. But my aunt took it to the twins and said, “Surely you can make something like this? They were selling like CRAZY at the show!” Mom and my aunt took it apart, found the thread, ordered it, and sold it to a flight attendant who then wore it on a flight. That’s really when the Necktize craze began.
This flight attendant got a few compliments on her unusual necklace and, because she knew how to get more, sold the one right off her neck. Then she sold the others that were in her carry-on bag! Then she called the twins and said, “I’ll take a couple hundred of those suckers and get ‘em sold for you while flying the friendly skies!”
And she did.
Mom kept telling me how many hundreds of these Necktize she was working on and I, because I’m always thinking, immediately thought she should incorporate to make herself more attractive to a friendly takeover. OK, not really, but maybe some day. But I did agree that putting up a quick little site with pictures and a paypal ordering address would be easy and fun to do, a way for customers to come back and order more for gifts or just different colors.
So that’s what the twins did. They set up Necktize.com and have been busy ever since. How cute are these?
I love this color for Spring!
But I think this is my absolutely favorite and the one I wear the most.
These make great gifts and they’re only $10. Sweet! Go check ‘em out.
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Folks I’ve got to tell you that my little world has been absolutely ROCKED in the past few months, and that’s saying a LOT! LOL Between my mama (stepmom Lydia) teaching me some authentic mexican dishes, buying Amazon OUT of used Gooseberry Patch cookbooks, and Christy Jordan – well my life of cooking in kitchen will never be the same.
Christy Jordan is over at Southern Plate and y’all she is the real deal. Whether you’ve been cooking for years or you’re a newlywed bride looking to learn some dishes for your man, you have just got, GOT, to get her book Southern Plate: Classic Comfort Food That Makes Everyone Feel Like Family. That’s the link to the book at Amazon and I wish you’d just go there right now, stop reading this, and get the book – it’s going to be the best $15 you’ve spent in long while. I’m that serious. In fact, if there’s a single member of my family who doesn’t have it, please let me know because the next time you see me I’m going be handing you one. This is THAT good of a cookbook!
When the book arrived I set it aside and took it to bed that night so I could browse through it before falling asleep and let me tell you something, I teared up on the very first page and hardly stopped as I read each and every recipe in that book like it was a freaking novel! No, I’m NOT kidding! I’m probably violating about 12 different copyright laws and several federal regulations but just read her dedication page……..
This book is dedicated to everyone who came before me. Thank you for loving as hard as you worked, for passing down your wisdom in hopes of future generations benefiting from it (we have), for doing the right thing even though half the time no one noticed, and for knowing that the meals most worth eating aren’t those garnished with sprigs of parsley or served on fine china, but those made by someone who loves you and eaten around a table filled with family and friends.
And then her intro, the very first line…….
I’ll be the first one to tell you that I’m no one special, but I come from some awfully good people.
How humble is that? But there’s more just down the page…….
No one would have known how my parents used to pretend to be busy in the kitchen while my brother and sister and I ate, waiting until we were done to eat what was left so they could make sure our bellies were full.
I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me. Anyone who’s come from poverty, been through hard times, or has precious children themselves will be so incredibly touched by the heartfelt words alongside these recipes. I’m not lying, you need this cookbook.
I began marking the recipes I wanted to try and I’ve already made several of them but I was impatiently waiting for an opportunity to mix up Aunt Sue’s Pound Cake served with Mama’s Custard Sauce. Well the opportunity came during Spring Break and even though the kids weren’t home, I made it anyway and stuck their portions in the freezer. I love me some pound cake y’all and this is hand’s down the best one I’ve ever tasted in my life! And someone please just shoot me now for not making a custard sauce ever before. Why? Why has no one told me about the most wonderful sauce ever to see creation?
Well enough jabbering, let’s get to cooking! Now since Christy’s never published this recipe online, I didn’t think it appropriate that I do that either so I’m going to leave out the proportions and maybe that’ll be the kick-in-the-seat-of-the-pants you need to GET THE BOOK.
You’ll need –
Mix the batter in a special super-secret manner which only those of us with the book will know.
Pour it into the pan.
Bake at a temp and for as long as the book says.
Then turn it out after cooling (or not, if you had the book you’d know!) onto a cake stand.
This sucker is HEAVY! Look at how dense it is.
For Mama’s Custard Sauce you’ll need —–
My redneck version of a strainer over a small pitcher
Heat some of the ingredients and if you had the book you’d know which ones!
Temper the eggs.
Add them to the pan.
Cook for a certain amount of time until it’s thick but still pourable.
Pour through your redneck strainer.
Allow to cool, cover with your lid and stick it in the fridge to thicken even more (mine was a tad too thick but I waited too long while it was cooking because I was answering the phone and taking pictures).
Then you take a piece of that pound cake.
And you dollop on some of this sauce.
Then you thank your lucky stars for Christy Jordan and her family stories in the best cookbook you’ve ever laid hands on.
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Looks like someone’s put on a bit of winter weight.
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Let me tell you a story. Way back in like 1996 I delivered my first child and became a stay at home mom. Let me clarify, a stay at home mom working with a VERY tight-so-tight-it’s-painful grocery budget. I knew that in order for this arrangement to work I was going to have to learn to cook everything from scratch and cook it well because there’s one thing about my husband and that is that the man can seriously eat. I’m telling you what, Ed likes his food and he likes a lot of it but it needs to be good food, not just anything slapped together. Not only that but I had a little one to please and three stepchildren coming on weekend visits plus I constantly invited family over. In short, there was always something cooking in my kitchen and I’m pleased to say that most of the time, it was pretty darn good.
Well I was always on the lookout for new recipes and so when my dear Aunt Joy (Grammy’s sister) told me about Taste of Home magazine, I checked a few out from her to be sure it was worth spending some of my grocery budget on to sign up for a subscription. It was. So I did. {But I was going to get my nieces all subscriptions this year so I bought one at the store and it’s CHANGED! Oh no, it’s awful now, don’t get it.}
Well I would read those newly arrived magazines and just soak in every delicious recipe. Sometimes Ed would point one out to me and suggest it for the weekend family dinner or something but I’m telling you, they were almost all just wonderful. And then I saw the recipe for Peanut Butter Cake. A double layer of thick, dense peanut butter cake with chocolate frosting swirled over the whole damn thing. But not just chocolate frosting because in between the layers it said to take some frosting and mix it with chopped up peanut butter cups. How can that just not be heaven-on-a-plate I ask you?
Well I made it once. Once. Everyone loved it, just loved it and I decided that it was definitely a keeper. And then I got pregnant, we moved to Newton, I purged my magazines, and a tornado known as my-middle-child-Kenny arrived in our home so pretty much nothing has been organized or easily found since then.
I’d lost the recipe.
For years, YEARS, I have searched this house in every box, book, binder, attic, drawer, everywhere and I’ve never been able to find it. I went so far as to email Taste of Home and begged them to tell me the issue it was in so I could get it off ebay or at least tell some of the folks who said they had years of magazines sitting around but no such luck. Well recently I was moving some old binders that I’d left upstairs on the shelves in Vincent’s room when it was my office and I noticed that one of them had some printed out recipes from a time when I belonged to an online forum with a group of mom’s. ”Didn’t I post that peanut butter cake recipe in the forums one time?” I wondered. So I fingered through the pages and there it was.
I yelped.
How stupid is that? I KNOW! But I did. I let out a whoop and a holler and told Ed that I was making that peanut butter cake he loved so much. Ed then looked at me like I’d lost my mind because he can’t remember if I’d told him we won the lottery so how the hell could he remember a freaking cake I’d made 15 years ago. To be honest, I kinda see his point, but anyway, I rushed into the kitchen and I had all but one ingredient – the peanut butter cups, and I figured we could skip those just this once.
I’ll shut up now and get to the good stuff! You’ll need –
Sift the dry ingredients TWICE
Beat eggs & sugar in the mixing bowl, turn it on high, walk off for about 5 minutes.
Add the butter and mix well, then add the pb and vanilla, mixing well after. On low speed, add in the milk and flour alternating between them, in three additions.
Divide into your two cake pans and bake for 25 minutes. Cool on wire racks for about 10 minutes.
Slide a knife around the pan and turn them out to cool completely.
At this point my camera battery died so that’s about it for pictures. LOL
For the frosting you’ll need –
Mix all the ingredients except pb cups until smooth. Remove 3/4 C frosting and mix with pb cups in a small bowl and use as the filling between the layers.
Pure heaven people! Pure heaven! Please make this for your family. Please, please, please!
Unfortunately, this was pretty much the last time I saw this little masterpiece….
Guess I’ll have to make another one.
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Some farmers own the land they work and some get paid to work a piece of land while others get a “crop share” as their payment. We’re lucky to be surrounded on the sides bordering our little farm by some kind and hard-working farmers in whatever their capacity. These farmers have been patient with me over the years as I ask them the stupidest questions about farming that you could possibly imagine. They laugh and sort of look at me funny, then most of the time, proceed with a nice little lesson.
Thank you, farmers, for doing that.
Well during the winter things on the prairie can start looking pretty bleak. Everything’s all dead-brown colored and without a lot of trees or mountains or anything scenic, it’s awful hard to get in an optimistic mood that things will ever be green, lush, and beautiful again. For this reason I always ask Ed to be sure and start putting the round bales of hay in the south pasture for the horses right in the view of my kitchen window. That way I have beautiful scenery to look at all winter long, regardless of the natural landscape because the horses will be one of two places during the winter – in the barn or at the hay bale.
But the north view doesn’t fair as well. As I look at the quad windows 50,000 times a day while in the kitchen and dining room, I get a lovely view of our driveway and just past that we keep a bonfire-pit ready so there’s a chance Ed might have some stuff ready for burning piled up there. After that it’s just a real small little field and then our property ends, butting up to a large acreage of farmland owned by a lady who lives out of state. The farmer who works the land lives several miles up north in Lehigh and he, like all farmers, rotates the crops in this field between beans, corn, milo, wheat, and a year off for rest.
I don’t mind beans because all the neat rows look beautifully green as they come up but being such a short season crop, well they die off real soon and then they sit there drying on the vine for quite a spell until he harvests them. Corn is the same to me, it looks really great as it grows and I envision that movie Field of Dreams with the tall gorgeous stalks of corn as far as you can see. But then the stalks die and they make noise when the wind blows as I ride the horses by which spooks them and then I start thinking about that movie Children of the Corn and, well, nothing good ever came of that. Then there’s milo which I dearly dearly love and have to say is my favorite viewing crop because it’s gorgeous the whole time it’s green and growing and it’s still beautiful months later when it alerts everyone that summer is ended and it’ll soon be my favorite season, Fall. The brilliant shade of rust against the green stalks is almost too much for me in the Fall and that’s when I love riding down these country roads the best. So I really do love it when he plants milo.
Then there’s wheat.
Kansas is wheat country. Hell we even have the “Shockers” (from “wheatshocks” down at Wichita State University. I do love to see the waving fields of wheat as it grows from a brilliant green then dries into fields of 14 karat gold. Unbelievably gorgeous. But that’s not my favorite part.
My favorite part is very selfish. My favorite part of the farmer planting wheat is this –
Every time I walk by those windows I get to see this view. Sometimes I even stop for a second to look in at the cows or get a closer look at the field.
It’ll be Spring soon. The wheat’s assuring me. Yay! And I’m every-go-grateful to him for planting wheat.
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