It seems there have been changes made to the old “Outhouse”. As with the original which now rests comfortably in back under the spruce trees, so rests the old site. If there be anyone interested in “Putting in your two cents worth” go to: http://eckermanmi.forumer.com/
Any and all comments are accepted and looked forward to, no matter the topic or content.
My Uncle Bill attended a family reunion that’s held in Grand Rapids each year, and afterwards, he always drives up to see us. It’s always a joy to have him here, and this morning was no different. This year though, he brought up a story he’s written about his childhood years, and after reading it, decided this was the best place for it.
“The Rolling Stone”
About one hundred yards North of the barn on the Kamradt family farm, there is a rather steep hill, leading to the pasture land below. This hill is deeply terraced by paths the cows made on their way, to and from, the barn. The pasture that spreads below this hill is flat and slopes gradually to the swamp to the North. In the middle of the pasture there is a large pile of stones, that I’m sure were gathered from the crop land, when it was originally cleared and placed there for convenience. These field stones are mostly smooth, having been polished by the glaciers that deposited them, eons before.
In the summers of the mid 1940’s, I was ‘farmed out’, to live with Uncle Herman and his family, while my mother worked in the canning factory. It was during this time the Caludia and I (probably accompanied by Uncle Elmer and Charlie) discovered our ‘rolling stone’. We found it in the stone pile described above. It was a rather remarkable stone. It was shaped like an M&M, almost perfectly round, about eight inches in diameter and about four inches thick in the middle. Upon finding the stone, we decided to see how far it would roll when launched from the top of the cow path terraced hill. On the first try, the stone rolled and bounced off the terraces as it went and seemed then to roll forever after reaching the smoother pasture area below. We were immediately ‘hooked’ on the experience, ran down the hill to retrieve the stone, then carried the stone back to the hill top to try it again. I don’t recall how many times we repeated this exercise, but I know it was several times before the effort exhausted us and we decided to just leave the stone lay, where it finished it’s run and returned home. The following day and many times thereafter we would return to the pasture, find the stone where we had left it, and do the stone rolling thing over and over again.
As we grew older, and more sophisticated, there wasn’t time for such nonsense, but neither Claudia nor I forgot the great times we had together rolling that stone. Whenever we would get together, our stone rolling experience would be recalled and we would end the discusssion with, “I wonder if that stone is still here, at the bottom of the hill, where we left it after our last roll”.
At the 2006 Kamradt Kousin gathering, Claudia and I again had this rolling stone conversation. I decided then that I would see if I could find the stone during my stay in East Jordan the weekend following the Kamradt reunion. To satisfy my commitment to finding our ‘rolling stone’, I drove to the Kamradt farm the following Saturday, to ask the new owners for their permission to search the old pasture area for the stone. I was warmly received and my request for permission led to telling this tale of the Kamradt Rolling Stone, to the lady of the house. She said it would be OK with her, if I wanted to do this, but would I first please look at the stones that were placed around her front yard flower garden, to see if it might be among them. I was told that these stones had been gathered from below the hill where I wanted to search.
As I scanned the many stones that surrounded this flower bed, I spied one that very closely resembled our ‘rolling stone’ and with a tear in my eye, I said to the lady, “There it is!” She immediately said, “Oh please take it then!” I can honestly tell you that I didn’t think this was the exact stone that Claudia, Uncle Elmer, Charlie and I used to roll down the hill, but I can affirm that it came from the Kamradt farm and that it is a close facsimile of the ‘real’ thing. Having looked over the terrain, from the road, where the old pasture is located, I knew it was improbable that I would locate the exact stone in this now grown over area, so I seized the opportunity and accepted the ladies offer and took the stone. I know she was elated to have made my dream come true and I felt good about my accepting her gift. Certainly no harm had been done. It strongly resembles our ‘rolling stone’, it came from the Kamradt farm and it’s the memories it represents, that are important anyway!
I went out to Doug’s today and hooked up the rest of the irrigation. I was hoping to get the 1 1/4″ discharge hose hooked up to the pump but I didn’t have the right pipe wrench’s. I need a narrow one, and I’m not sure if they even make ‘em, so I used all 1″ poly. Doug had warned me about the poison ivy but after finding a way back to the creek, and got around it, I didn’t see a problem. The problem came when the route I’d first walked, wasn’t going to be the one where the pipe went. By then it was too late, so I still gingerfooted it, and I’m hoping there aren’t any suprises in a day or so.
The pump is suspended 8″ off the bottom of a clear, fast running creek which should help with the irrigation heads. For a while there, the pump kept sucking up bottom and the filters on all the heads kept clogging up. After 2 consecutive trips out to clean the screens, I went back to the pump and cinched it’s location off of the bottom.
We had been transporting the water by vessels of their design, but not their function and it was slowing things down a bit. Mark and Jerritt would drive one of the vehicles up to the house and fill it up there and then back again with the water. One nice thing about that method though is the use of water soluable fertilizer added to the tanks.
All of the seed types have germinated and the Rape seems to be outgrowing everything else. Today I measured the plants and the Rape is 6″ high, and the next best is Chicory at 3″. The cover is lush thick, but it should be, we planted an acre’s worth over 1/3 acre. It’s also deep forest green and it’s likely to stay that way, we still have a couple bags of 32-0-0 to apply as well as Millorganite; to keep the critters at bay. Doug’s taken walks around the perimiter looking for deer print, and has found alot, but none of them have crossed nor walked into the crops yet.
I’ve looked up this “Rape” in Wyman’s Gardening Encyclopdeia haven’t found a thing. Does anyone out there know what this stuff is and where it comes from?
I spoke with Doug yesterday and he was remarking on the increase of deer traffic he’s been observing since the growth began on the food plot. In the first days after planting, there were two deer whom walked across the area, and none crossed the road to get there. Last week, he sighted 4 one afternoon, 7 two days later, and 5 two nights ago. He said this morning that Becky watched two good sized animals walk across the road to get to our plot…which thickens.
He also said that once on the plot, they would get a sniff of Millorganite, shake their heads and then walk off. This hopefully will continue for another week or two. The crop is 8″ high now and we’re about to put an application of 32-0-0, which should really perk things up. Once the smell of that wears off, we’ll let them feed for a week and then put on another heavy dose of Millorganite. By the time that leach’s into the soil, they’ll be lined up nuts to butts for miles along the runways.
Tomorrow, Mark and I are heading out to hook up the irrigation system and water it all.
Saturday I helped a couple friends of mine retrieve their car that had hit a deer, down near Birch Run. It turned into a bit of an ordeal and by the time I got back I was feeling pretty rough. What I wanted was to lay down and sleep for a couple hours, and what I needed was to set next to a campfire and watch it.
When I got back to the campsite, I figured I’d start a fire first so there’d be some coals for dinner that night, and then lay down for a while. I loaded the firepit up with some dry maple and picked up my box of kindleing and lit it. My “Box of kindleing” is a small tank of propane attached to a torch nozzle. There are two 20th Century items every camper should have with them; a propane torch and a battery operated air pump. I get some strange looks from campers when they see me out there with a torch and a blower, but I have heat before they do. Anyway, once I got that fire going I started feeling better so I added some more wood and had a seat.
This was the first time in a number of years that I’ve had to re-start a campfire. Usually, once I get it going, it stays going until I douse it with copious amounts of water just before I leave. Whenever I look for wood when I’m camping, I definetly get some dry hardwoods for cooking, and then I look for some nice knarly pieces that can’t be split. After that, I find a couple green pieces to add at night. Just before I give up for the night, I’ll add one large chunk alongside a green one. My dad told me once “Like love, no log can burn by itself”. By morning, the green one has turned into a bed of coals that’ll start the breakfast fire. This time though, I was using one of those steel cylanders that are in the State Campgrounds, and it didn’t survive the overnight downpours. In the U.P. the rains are ten times as bad, but the fire’s on the ground and the water can get away. This time the coals where almost soup.
Once I got that fire going again though, I felt much better but fell sound asleep and missed the whole thing. I’ll bet it was a beauty.
Hey everybody. I’ve been camping with Mark for the last week or so, so my duties here have slipped a little, and to catch up:
Sheridan Ann Zipp was born to Don and Carolyn Zipp (Don, of Pincherry fame and lineage) on June 3rd at 2:25pm. She weighed 5lbs, 4oz and 18″ long.
I saw her last week and she’s adorable, much better looking than her dad and favors her mom.
