My Second Mother's First Wedding Ring ...

She passed away in 2000. While cleaning out her dresser drawer I found a slim platinum band engraved with the initials "IMT to FK 3/10/46". The sight of it stopped me in my tracks and I sat on the edge of her bed marveling at its simple beauty. Engraved on all of it's surfaces with a delicate herringbone pattern, it sparkled as if it were studded with a million brilliant lights. It looked as if it had never been worn, and indeed it had not in more than 50 years. I knew about this ring but I had not seen it before. I didn't realize she might have kept it all these years. She divorced her first husband within a year of their marriage. She once told me he reneged on his promise to have children with her and she, an only child, could not imagine living a lifetime without children.

My second mother is how I refer to this woman who married my father two years after my birth mother's death. 'Stepmother' would never do justice to this mother who scooped me up at the age of 2-1/2 and called me her very own forever afterwards. She met my father on a blind date, fixed up by mutual friends. She said she fell in love with him after he introduced her to me. I guess we made a complete and compelling package, my dad and me, and we three became an instant family.

I slipped the ring onto my finger that day in her bedroom. It was as light as air and as lovely as my memories of her. I wore the ring for the next ten years, and each time I looked at it I was reminded of her.

Last week, after tossing a stick into the lake for my dog Moses to retrieve, I realized that the ring was gone. It had simply vanished. In that moment of loss I imagined that when I had flung the stick far out into the deep water for the dog, I had cast the ring from my finger as well. I felt an immediate and profound sense that I had lost a physical connection with my mother. My brain told me that it was futile to think I could find the ring under the water, and I sat by the shore thinking fanciful thoughts to comfort myself ... maybe a fish will swallow the ring and one day I will catch the fish and the ring will come back to me; if it is meant to be mine, the ring will return; maybe I am no longer needy of physical reminders of my mother....

My finger was naked for a week and many times each day I missed the physical presence of the ring. I still felt it's ethereal energy circling my finger and I mourned its absence. Many times I told myself that I was experiencing loss and that I must learn some constructive ways to deal with this. After all, it was just a ring. Yes, but also on some level, I was experiencing anew the loss of my mother. Ah, the old familiar feelings of loss and having to let go. I do not handle loss well, it having been a recurring theme throughout my life.

Then yesterday in the bedroom, something small and shiny caught my eye just before I swept it up into the vacuum cleaner. There, wedged in the thick carpet at the side of the bed was the ring!! It had indeed come back to me. I was flushed with relief, delight! I found myself again sitting on the edge of a bed marveling at the appearance of the ring. It must have slipped from my finger while I was tucking in the sheets but I didn't miss it until I whipped that stick into the lake. So strange... but I am comforted by the fact that sometimes what seems lost is merely misplaced. Sometimes loss is temporary, not permanent. Sometimes the sadness of loss turns into the joy of reunion. I think Eckhart Tolle is telling us that there is no loss... "When life takes away the forms that you thought were the foundation of your life, what's left? The life that needs no foundation; that is the foundation. The formless. The essence."

The First Ever Wedding Held At Jolico Farm...

The wedding of Ellen Yun-ju Jeon and Nick Mazerov went off without a hitch on June 4th at Jolico Farm. It was a beautiful wedding, as beautiful as the couple who were married here that day. Much preparation and attention to detail went into this international event - the marriage of a Korean Beauty to an All-American Guy!

They met in Korea where Nick went to teach English to Korean students a couple of years ago. They fell in love.....what more is there to tell? They decided to marry and did so, first in Korea and then here in the USA. When Nick's parents, Mike and Connie called to ask Art to perform the ceremony, we were delighted to oblige and offered Jolico Farm as the setting for the wedding. We've known Nick since he was born (30+ years) and it was an honor and a pleasure to host his wedding at our home. It was indeed an honor for Art to preside over the ceremony, as he prides himself in performing marriages that "stick".

Enjoy some pictures of the event while reading excerpts from the Judge's words of wisdom to the couple.

We are gathered here today in the sight of God and in the presence of this company to join together Nick and Ellen in holy matrimony. Marriage involves more than the joining of two hearts. It is the joining of two families.

The key to true happiness and harmony in marriage involves patience, consideration, tolerance and giving. Learn to be each other’s best friend. Work together as a team. Find what each of you does best and make that your major responsibility. Never forget to express your love for one another, not just with words but with actions. Love is the language of the heart and it is often non-verbal. May your love for one another radiate out in all directions and touch all.

Life is not easy. There are many challenges ahead of you. Learn to find strength in each other. Respect each other’s space and permit each other room to grow. Remember, you are sharing your lives here on Earth but each of you is an individual. You are not the property of one another but free spirits, children of our Divine Father. Do not place your happiness in the acquisition of material wealth for this is an empty hole that will not ever be filled. Our Divine Father always gives us what we need. Rather, make kindness and sharing your goals in life. Help those who are less fortunate. Be of service to all.

 Do you Nick, take Ellen to be your wife, to love her with all your heart and soul, to forsake all others, to love her in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, to put her needs before your own, to be kind and gentle to her for as long as you both shall live? If so, say "I do".

Do you Ellen take Nick to be your husband, to love him with all your heart and soul, to forsake all others, to love him in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, to put his needs before your own, to be kind and gentle to him for as long as you both shall live? If so, say "I do".

Then, so as Nick and Ellen have pledged these sacred vows of marriage, one to the other, in the presence of God and this company, by the powers granted me by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I declare you are, this day, husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no one put asunder.

  

LET'S PARTY!!!!

hors d'oeuvres

.... Champagne Punch & Cocktails for all!

A brief rain shower refreshed the crowd, which sheltered under the porches.

...until dinner was served on the patio!

The gorgeous flowers!!

....the lovely setting.

The Chef du Village - (the village headman!)

....the honored guests.

The happy couple!!

More honored guests!

Happy parents of the bride.

Cutting the cake ....... yum!!

...and they lived happily ever after!

Busy days of spring 2011...

Old square nails, snail shells, white Macaw egg & Robin egg

 

 

I came in from weeding around the Daylily border on the shady side of the house on the first nice and sunny day we had here in a long time and started this blog post. It's taken me 2 weeks to finish and publish it before my self-imposed deadline of the last day of May. Friends have been calling and emailing asking for an update. Well, here it is!

Temperatures have really been heating up here these last weeks. I had my hair buzzed short last week as I just couldn't stand the humidity from the constant rainy weather, mist and fog that we've had all spring. We've not had any late frosts once the nights started to get above freezing and the fruit trees went through their blossoming without any problems. The pear and apple trees all have small fruits forming now and are leafing out nicely. Our garden is all planted. Honestly, I don't think there is room in there for even one more plant! Everything is up and growing already. We put in 18 tomato plants that Art started from heirloom seed in early March. They all survived the transition to the outdoors and are doing great; some even have blossoms on them! Our potatoes are up as well. We put in Yukon Gold, reds and some Russets for baking and french fries. We put in several types of small round squash like 8-Ball Zucchini, a yellow pool-ball sized summer squash called One-Ball, and one that is supposed to be square and blocky called Piccolo . I bought the seeds from Territorial Seed Co and we're anxious to taste them! I also got some seeds and planted some Moon and Stars Watermelon. This is a midnight blue watermelon that is supposed to have yellow stars on the skin with one large yellow moon! The flesh is red and sweet, but I can hardly wait to see the unusually colored fruits. Other goodies out there are the usual radishes, lettuce, spinach, arugula, basil, parsley, cilantro, peppers, eggplant, beets, carrots, kale, onions, garlic, cucumbers and Brussels sprouts. I've probably forgotten some things as it is a very full garden patch.

Our newly sown grass came in lush and thick this spring around the new patios after we replanted it 3 times! Art just mowed it for the first time this week and took down the temporary fencing we had up to keep the dogs off of the seeded areas. After so much mud, we finally have quite a nice lawn. We've been spending a lot of time moving plants around in the perennial garden. When the concrete guys built the patios, we moved a lot of the plants back away from the edges of the gardens so they wouldn't get bulldozed under. Well, we're moving some of them back to the bare edges again but also bought a lot of new plants to try out and also to fill in the bare spots. The good thing is that with all the rain we've had, including some incredibly hard and long downpours, we have had NO water in the basement! So the new drains are working just fine.

We had the new three story chimney built and just this week installed the new wood heating stove in a corner of the kitchen. The stove is an American made Avalon Arbor and a real beauty! Though it looks black in this picture, it is cast iron with a porcelain ceramic finish in an espresso brown color. The shiny ceramic makes it easy to wipe clean and prevents the cast iron from rusting. This is a highly energy efficient wood heating stove that re-burns the smoke before it is allowed to escape up the chimney. We plan to use it as an adjunct to our Tarm wood hot water furnace so we don't have to run the oil furnace to supplement the heat from the Tarm when temperatures are very cold. We burn over seven cords of wood in a heating season. With the cost of fuel oil at almost $4.00 a gallon, we don't want to use much of that if we can help it!

We are planning to throw a wedding here at Jolico Farm on June 4th and we are in countdown mode here with final preparations taking up much of every waking moment! The gardens are finally taking shape. We've planted many new perennials and filled out the borders with colorful geraniums. A new Eden Climbing Rose bush has replaced some old never-blooming Wisteria on one side of the arbor. Hopefully the Eden Rose will like that spot more than the Wisteria did! It should be a wonderful occasion and a beautiful happening. I hope to have pictures to share in a couple of weeks when all has been put back in order, so stay tuned.

Meanwhile, Moses, Art and I are SO happy that it's finally spring!

It's All About The Money... Thoughts On Earth Day 2011

How much money would you sell out for? How much money would it take to induce you to sell the gas rights under your home, knowing that the process of extracting the shale gas will probably pollute your well water with poisons, render it undrinkable and contaminate it with toxins for 1000 years? The surface would smell of methane leaking through cracks in the ground. No bank would grant a mortgage for you to sell your land with a gas well on it. But my question is, how much money would it take for you to agree to allow a gas company to move onto your land, knowing that this will happen?

The Earth is a living entity, not just rocks and dirt. It is alive. It suffers just like we do when it is tortured by uncaring, greedy, rapists who seek to suck out the riches in exchange for killing life on the surface. Does that sound a little too over dramatic to you? Many people are eager to trade their piece of Mother Earth for money. They will readily agree to make a quick buck in exchange for the ultimate destruction of their property. That tells me that they care less about the Earth than they care about the almighty dollar.

How fickle are we humans...how greedy...how careless with our covenants? We do not own the Earth any more than we can own the air or the sky or the planets. We are trustees, stewards. We have the fiduciary responsibility to pass this Earth on to future generations in a condition that will allow them to live here, grow their food here, and draw clean water here. Anything less is a crime against nature and God.

On this Earth Day, 2011, I pray that we come to our senses before we have traded away the mostly precious gift with which we have been entrusted, for a handful of beads. God gave us a gift of 86,400 seconds this Earth Day. Have you used one to say 'thank you' for the beauty and sustenance of Mother Earth?

It's A Dog's Life. . .

Readers will know that Mimi is a black Standard Poodle who is the BFF of our white German Shepherd Moses. They will also know that Mimi spends more than a little time at our place throughout the year. She has been here with us to share blizzards, heat waves, wild thunderstorms in the night, dog days in August, spring flowers blooming and harvest moons. She often spends several idyllic weeks in a row with us. Other times she may only stop by for an afternoon hike and some dinner.

Mimi and Mo share the same schedule. They eat the same food and divvy up the two dog beds that are a permanent fixture in our bedroom. They each have a couch in our living room and they know exactly which couch is theirs. They nap together, bark together at the mail-lady, run and play and chase the barn cats together, enjoy the lake together. And like a long-married couple, even their er.. um.. bathroom habits coincide…

In our house, we cannot casually utter the ‘Mimi’ word. If her name accidentally crosses our lips, Moses immediately takes up his station at the lookout window and will wait the entire day for Mimi’s expected visit. The same is true at Mimi’s house. Mo’s name cannot be casually spoken unless a visit is in the immediate offing.
Of course, the highlights of their days here on the farm are rambling hikes that take us across hills, woods, fields and streams. Oh, the wondrous smells and sights this land contains for two high-energy canines as they race ahead to explore the many mud puddles, stands of burr-filled brush and miles of rabbit and deer trails on our daily expeditions!

The terrain is ever changing. The crops grow tall and conceal wildlife for dogs whose natural born inclination it is to flush and chase. Toward the end of their nose-to-dirt, zigzagging runs, we arrive at the lake, its cool, pure water so refreshing to drink and stand in, belly deep… perhaps even a swim is in order today. Who says that being treated like a dog is a bad thing?

Mimi and Moses would like to remind all humans that it is unlawful in Pennsylvania for owners or keepers of any dog to house the dog for any period of time in a drum, barrel, refrigerator or freezer regardless of the material of which the drum, barrel, refrigerator or freezer is constructed. Also, it shall be unlawful for the owner or keeper of any dog to fail to keep the dog confined within the premises of the owner, firmly secured by means of a collar and chain or other device so that it cannot stray beyond the premises on which it is secured or under the reasonable control of some person, or when engaged in lawful hunting, exhibition, performance events or field training.

Will Spring Ever Come?

Icicles cling to the pines on the last day of March, 2011. "Out Like A Lion" this year, winter still resides in the high country of Pennsylvania in the waning days of March. The nightly news warns of a Nor'easter for the east coast of the US, with up to two feet of snow expected in New England on April 1st. We will get a taste of that here, too. We are all April's Fools this year!

More disturbing is the radiation being discovered in milk, in the air and in the ground. Its unique signature, Iodine 131, reveals that it blew in from Japan, fell on the countryside and was consumed by cows. Humans are at the end of the food chain, so this poses a 'tip-of-the-iceberg' problem for America and ultimately for the rest of the world.

The fight for freedom escalates in the Middle East with the struggle in Libya keeping us riveted to the talking heads. That part of the world seems so far away, but we are inexorably tied to them by our insatiable thirst for oil. Do we really care about the terrorized people there, or is it the price per gallon of gasoline that gives this such worrisome prominence on our news?

Here in the high valleys, the snowmelt reveals bare, frozen ground. The sun gives the illusion of warmth and the promise of greening grass. We wait, our pale faces turned towards the bright, cold sunlight. The landscape resembles a desert, despite plentiful moisture. It is the grip of cold that will not allow the warmth to seep into the ground, into our winter-weary bones.

We busy ourselves with the ritual repairs of spring; nailing up the sagging gutters, rolling out the deep ruts made by the snowplow in the soft berm of the lane, replacing the lagging solar tracker motor loosened by the incessant buffeting of the winds, replanting the grass seed that didn't grow when we planted it too late last fall. We fuss over the tender eggplant and tomato seedlings that will bear the succulent veggie fruits of summer. It's too early yet to bring out the patio furniture, the chairs where we will sit and bask in the summer sun, the tables where we will dine alfresco on grilled delicacies and fresh produce.

We make plans for the next warm day. We should think about bringing out the planters; think about giving them a good scrub and filling them with soil in preparation for the flowers we will grow. We get out the push-broom and brush the muddy dog prints from the walkways, sweep up the falling pin oak leaves where the swirling wind has heaped them into piles in the sheltered corners of the house.The barn cats sit hunched on the picnic table, taking shelter from the biting west winds, alert for a brave chipmunk, vole or field mouse to venture close enough to provide them with fresh meat. We all wait patiently for spring.

The Ides of February .........The Dead of Winter

"Fleetwood"

Twenty years ago, in a fierce blizzard on the day after Valentine's Day, we lost a very special 2-1/2 year old German Shepherd Dog to canine epilepsy. Fleetwood suffered his second seizure on February 15, 1991 and within minutes he lay dead on the kitchen floor. In the blinding snowstorm we drove his body to the veterinarian for a post-mortem. The vet told us that Fleet was as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside. He could find nothing wrong that would have caused the seizures. It was just a horribly unfortunate occurrence that caused Fleet's death. Epilepsy is supposed to be treatable, not fatal. After his first seizure, we had been advised not to start him on medications, that he may never have another seizure. We were advised to just wait and watch and see. Forty days later, just as we were beginning to relax into normalcy, just as we were daring to let out a cautious sigh of relief, Fleet succumbed during seizure number two.

Sol Ajax, or 'Red', a Tennessee Walker. Direct grandson of Midnight Sun.

Fast forward nine years to February 15, 2000. On this cold, snowy Tuesday morning, when I looked out the kitchen windows I did not see the familiar figure of my 34 year old Tennessee Walking Horse standing in the doorway to the barn. As I made our breakfast, I kept glancing out the window to look for him. Art also grew worried and decided to go out and see if Red was OK. A 34 year old horse is a very old horse. By now Red was our 'only horse', as his buddy of 25 years, Art's horse Prince, had died peacefully in the pasture the previous year at the age of 29 and Red had been going it alone ever since. Art was gone for a while and I grew more anxious. When he returned, I knew something was wrong. He told me that Red was lying down in the straw bedding and that he couldn't get up. At 34 most horses have arthritis and Red was no exception. He could still see and hear but he had very few teeth left with which to chew. We had previously switched him to pelleted food which doesn't require much chewing. I headed out to the barn with Art. We tried so hard to get him to rise to his feet, using bribery and strong coercion. Then we let him rest a bit while we called our neighbors to come and help. They came, four burly farmers, but with all our combined might, we couldn't get RD on his feet again. He had lost his oomph. We called the vet, who came early that evening. Red was near the end of his strength at that point, so we gave him that blessed relief that only we can do for our animal friends. My beloved horse became the second casualty of the Ides of February. We buried him next to his buddy Prince, in the horse pasture overlooking the valley they called home.

Our 14' x 24' Gazebo, reduced to toothpicks

Fast forward to last Tuesday, February 15, 2011. Art and Moses came in from their daily walk down to the lake. Something about Art's demeanor didn't seem right and I asked him if anything was wrong. "Good news and bad news, honey", was his reply. He knows that I absolutely hate to hear that! "OK, give me the bad news first", is my standard come-back. He told me that the gazebo roof had collapsed under the weight of heavy snow and the 60 mph winds we had the night before. He told me he thought the gazebo was ruined. I was stunned, as it seemed we had much heavier snow last winter! Down the hill through the deep snow I went to survey the damage and to take some pictures. I really wasn't prepared for the devastation I saw. As we stood surveying the wreckage, I asked him, "So, what's the GOOD news?"  He replied, "At least I don't have to paint it anymore!"

So February has become to me, a month of death and dying. We seem more vulnerable in the month of February, more diminished with less strength of spirit. It takes a toll; makes us feel that if we can just hang on a bit longer, its grip will loosen and we can escape into the warmth of renewal for one more year, one more springtime.

"Tuffy" ~  Romark's Jolico Tuff Guy

Next week, February 22 will mark nine years since we lost another of our beloved dogs, who we had aptly named Tuff Guy. Tuffy had a genetic condition called 'mega esophagus', which meant that his esophagus resembled a megaphone, large at the throat and tapering down to normal size towards the stomach end. As the dog ages, this condition causes food to lay in the esophagus, which progressively forms a deep pouch that holds ever more food. We worked with Tuffy for over two years to keep him from having attacks of vomiting after eating that often led to aspiration pneumonia. He had several severe episodes that almost killed him. But he was true to his name, a real Tuff Guy. Also, we were not yet willing to let him go, so we continued to aggressively treat his episodes and made many trips to the vet. He pulled through every one of them. He was such a wonderful, loving boy, we really hated to lose him. I prayed to God, "Dear Heavenly Father, please give our good boy Tuffy a normal German Shepherd life", which I felt should properly be 12 years. "Divine Father, he is such a good boy, he deserves his 12 years. Please God, grant Tuffy his full 12 years of life." Well, Tuffy's 12th birthday came...and went... and he lived on for another 3 months! But eventually came the inevitable final episode. He had an aspiration pneumonia and lay in the veterinary hospital, sedated for a week. Every time they tried to lift the sedation, Tuffy would devolve into another attack of violent vomiting and he lost ground very fast. After all, he was 12 years and 3 months old, no longer a young, resilient dog. I had another conversation with God and thanked him for answering my prayers and letting Tuffy have his proper quotient of dog years. I told Him that we were ready to let Tuffy go. As with Red, we were there with Tuffy when his final moments came and he died in our arms.

Driving home from the vet's, as we tearfully recalled Tuffy's life with us, I came to a stunning realization. The date was February 22, 2002. It was exactly 12 years ago to the hour that we had picked up Tuffy as a puppy and brought him home to live with us. God had indeed answered my prayers in a very special way. He had given Tuffy exactly 12 years with us. Our Divine Father sent us a very powerful message, one that He wanted us to make no mistake about. Heartfelt prayers are often answered, though perhaps not in the way we prayed them. We may not be given exactly what we pray for. We may instead be given exactly what we need.

Messages From The Bees......

"If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe then man would only have four years of life left. No more bees, no more pollination, no more plants, no more animals, no more man."  Albert Einstein, (1879-1955) Theoretical Physicist

Original artwork by The Girl Who Paints

A young friend of mine sent me a painting she had made of a bee. I thought the bee had a thoughtful look on her face, and that made me want to tell the story of why the bees are concerned, and why we should be too.


The honey bee is one of the earth's most important creatures. Beside making honey, they pollinate over 80% of the world's crops. They live in complex societies. A single hive may contain as many as 80,000 bees, which together build the hive, gather food and feed the next generation. They find flowers to gather nectar by merging many sources of information including the position of the sun and the subtle nuance of a flower's scent. When they come back to their hive, they waggle out a dance to tell the other honeybees where to find the flowers.


Sadly it seems that the bees are disappearing. Over the past 30 years, various diseases and predators affecting bees have spread all over the world. Their environments are being manipulated by humans, resulting in the breakdown of their societal order. Stressed to their breaking point, the bees are leaving. 


In many cases commercial bees are so domesticated, they can no longer live without human support. They are stored in air tight containers where diseases like viruses and funguses and pests like mites grow, destroying the hives from the inside out. They are artificially fed sugar-water and trucked about in big rigs, traveling thousands of miles in short periods of time, in order to pollinate crops for commercial farmers. Aside from the continual exposure to a hundreds of insecticides and pesticides, constant relocation creates enormous stress on the hive activity. And wild bees are disappearing too.


Bees are showing many symptoms that reveal a fragile state of health. Some bees cannot find their way back to their hive after leaving it. Others are rejected when they return because they are not recognized by the rest of the group.


Newer insecticides introduced in the 1980s are neurotoxins, which are applied when crops are sown (sunflower, soy, etc.) and serve to protect the crops against various predators. Studies are showing that these toxic chemicals remain on plants throughout the growing cycle, right through the flowering period. The nectar eaten by bees also contains chemical residues that are deeply harmful to them. Because of this, honey production has dropped by a third generally, and by up to 90% in some areas.


Bees have to fly farther and farther distances to gather pollen because their supportive environment is disappearing. Cities and suburban areas are growing. This has a disastrous effect on bees in particular because, while most pollinators pick up the fertilizing spores by accident while trolling flowers for nectar, bees collect pollen for their young.


But, the strangest part of the missing bee mystery is the most interesting. There are no dead bees to be found. There are a few dead soldiers scattered on the ground, but millions and millions of bees are gone. They are not in the hive, at the hive, or close by. Many abandoned hives are full of honey. So where did they go? Perhaps the honeybees had enough of our interference. Perhaps they know what man has done to them and they just prefer to fly away. 

 

(Some information for this blog post was shared from "Organic Principal Web Magazine" http://www.organicprincipal.com )

My Mom The Foodie.....

According to Wikipedia, the word "Foodie" was coined in 1981, but my Mom's single-minded pursuit of all things food certified her to be termed a Foodie way back in the 1940's. Yesterday would have been her 87th birthday but she passed away at the age of 76. 

She was a force to be reckoned with, a larger than life presence at any gathering, a take-charge woman who could feed a crowd on a moment's notice from the in-stock contents of her refrigerator. She would read cookbooks like other women read novels! She believed in having plenty of everything on hand. You could find food stored in almost every closet in her house, even in the trunk of her car. She was generous to those who had nothing and also to those who had everything. Her greatest joy was to crowd as many people around her dining room table as could squeeze in there, serving them as many dishes as would fit down its bowling alley length. She would emerge from the kitchen, sweat glistening on her face flushed bright red from the heat and her efforts, her arms laden with delicacies. She reveled in the gush of compliments over her foods, smiling broadly, "Eat, don't wait for me! Enjoy it before it gets cold!"

Growing up her oldest child, it fell to me to help prepare for these frequent "company" dinners. "Maxine, you dust and sweep the living room and dining room and set the table! Come back as soon as you're through because I have another job for you!" Once when I was around 12 years old, I complained to her that I felt she was having all the fun doing the cooking and baking while I always got stuck with the dreaded housework! She thought that was hilarious and used to repeat that line to her friends when they marveled at the tastiness and complexity of her meals. "Can you imagine", she would say. "Maxine thinks I have all the fun and she has to do all the work, just because I asked her to dust and sweep and set the table!" She got mileage out of that story for the next 40 years.

Aside from dining out, her favorite activity was grocery shopping. Raising six children and three foster kids took strategy and budgetary finesse. She was always an astute coupon-clipper and a saver of Green Stamps. A shopping trip to her was not complete until she had walked the aisles of at least four grocery stores, lists in hand, eyes darting along the shelves. If an item was worth buying, it was worth buying a dozen. Not one to skimp on the important things, it was her firm belief that her family should have the best food, the best shoes and (for us girls) the best brassieres!

As she grew older, she would begin her preparations days ahead of time. She tired more easily and it became more difficult for her to whip up a large meal single-handedly all in one long orgy of cooking. So she marshaled her forces like a general on the battlefield, making lists of things to do in a final count-down to the feast. She salivated while creating her menus. She cooked dishes days ahead of time, filling her freezer with casseroles with notes attached admonishing us not to touch before Thursday or Saturday!

Of her children, I carry on her love of cooking for a crowd, but never as gallantly or with such complete enthusiasm, joy and delight. Those extremes of human emotion in the presence of food belong to a very few exceptional devotees like my Mom. Just writing about her makes me hungry...

Judge Arthur K. Cook - Somerset Daily American Newspaper......Sunday, January 2, 2011

Sunday, January 2, 2011 7:45 PM EST 

By JUDY D.J. ELLICH
judye@dailyamerican.com

 

Arthur K. Cook picked up the box of Kleenex and offered it to the testifying witness. She just began to tear, but the district judge was ready.

He is on the fifth box of tissues for this year.

“It is very emotional,” he said about what goes on in his courtroom on a daily basis.

Presiding over hearings at the magisterial level can be complex, challenging and critical to the community. Cook loves it. The more difficult and demanding the case, the more the former businessman enjoys it.

Cook will soon begin the last year of his third term in the Somerset magisterial district office. He will not run for a fourth term.

He still loves his work and would be happy to serve a couple more years. However, state law has a mandatory age limit of 70 for district judges. He would reach that age before the end of a fourth term if he ran and won.

He is announcing his retirement now because he wants to give those who want to run for the position more time to prepare.

“I have compassion and empathy for anyone running for election,” he said.

Cook doesn’t want to be “selfish.” He wants voters to have the ability to independently pick their next district judge, who realistically will probably serve them for at least two terms, or 12 years, he said. Cook explained that if he ran and won, after two years, he would have to step down and someone would be appointed in his place.

He believes retiring early is the fair and decent thing to do.

That is the way he has ruled from the bench for the last 17 years. It is how he chooses to live his life.

Fairness and treating people decent is paramount, Cook said.

“It is to the heart of my soul,” he said.

He defines fairness in his courtroom.

“It is not only allowing each person to express their view points, but to make sure I understand what their view point is and also understand each person involved in a situation sees their own truth and to them that is the real truth.”

He has learned much about human nature as a judge.

“I look from the bench at the victims and their families and I see their faces and how terrible they look. Then I look from the bench at the defendants and their families, and I see the same look,” he said.

He quotes an eastern philosophy that he has adopted.

“There are no bad people; there is only bad behavior.”

Cook spends time talking to the defendants, encouraging them and giving them life advice.

“I learned from my own experiences and I share that,” he said.

Cook often does that with the attorneys and courtroom visitors between hearings. He is known to converse about many wide ranging topics such as eastern philosophy, protecting the environment and how machines work.

He likes to laugh. But when he is working, he sits and listens, often with his chin in his hand, scribbling down notes or occasionally asking questions.

“I care and it takes its toll,” he said. “Every day a little bit more is chiseled out of me.”

When Cook first became a district judge he slept very little. He ran cases and his decisions repeatedly in his head. He sleeps well now.

He is proud of his staff and what his office has accomplished over the years. For example, after being a champion of credit card payments for defendants for nearly seven years, it came to be, and has proven to be a time and money saver, he said.

He will miss the election process.

The first time he ran for office, Cook’s campaign staff consisted of himself, his wife, Maxine, and a lifetime friend.

His win was one of the rare ones. He had everything going against him.

He was not a member of the state legal bar. He was not certified. He was going into battle against a well-entranced incumbent. Yet he managed to win both party primaries and went on to beat the incumbent. He credits his staff of two and divine intervention.

After he won, Cook had to be certified — and fast. He had to take a month-long intensive legal educational program and pass it.

“I had only one shot at it,” he said. About 40 percent of his class did not pass, but Cook was not one of them. He was officially a member of the state minor judiciary the day he took his first oath of office.

As far as what happened to his staff from that first election — he is still happily married after 42 years to his best friend, Maxine, who he said is everything to him and she is beyond brilliant. As for his life-long friend, Cook recently officiated at his wedding.

“I am truly blessed. I am the luckiest guy I know,” he said.

Over 17 years District Judge Arthur K. Cook’s office has:
* Processed nearly 200,000 cases
* Conducted nearly 38,000 hearings
* Collected nearly $22 million in fines and court costs
* Performed the county’s first video arraignment

Last Day of 2010........End of a Decade

2010 was a year of shifting change; an active year, one of blessed and quiet solitude, of slow but steady growth, a year of loss and gain. Many things happened in 2010 but I can recall nothing bad. I take this as a sign that my heart and mind are open, happy and full of wonder at the glorious light-filled life with which I have been blessed. I am most grateful for Arthur, (my soul companion throughout the ages, my best friend and husband of 41 Earth-years), for my loving family, my caring friends, my faithful pets, all gifts from God, who I know loves me beyond measure because He gave me all of you.

My heart is full of love for all, and I want to wish you a Joyous, Healthy, Loving 2011!

Concrete..... Solid Stuff!!

Concrete trucks..WOW! They are BIG and LOUD and HEAVY!! Laden with 10 cubic yards of concrete, each will weight between 35 and 40 tons. You don't want one of these on your driveway or sinking into your lawn, either! A construction wheelbarrow full of concrete can weigh nearly four hundred pounds. Trying to push that up a slight grade is grueling work. Our job required 3 delivery trucks, each holding a full 10 cubic yard load. After the initial grading, leveling, ditching and installation of drains and shale, our contractors poured the main patios on one day, and poured our new sidewalks and porch steps on day two. The cement that binds concrete is made primarily of limestone, the most abundant mineral on earth. We are fortunate to have a limestone quarry just a few miles from our farm, so our concrete is considered a 'local green' product, requiring minimal fossil fuel expenditure to both mine and deliver it. I especially like the fact that, unlike asphalt, it produces no toxic runoff. In the month since the concrete was poured, we've had two significant rain events, each one delivering over 2" of precipitation in a 24-hour period. We are gratified to see that all the underlying drains are working as they should, removing many gallons of runoff that would normally have ended up in our basement! 

This project was two years in the making. With the downturn in the economy, there are fewer concrete contractors in our area, and those who are still in business are overwhelmed with the available jobs. So, although our excavating contractor had us scheduled, we had to wait until the concrete guys could give us a week of their time. Fortunately it all came together before the snow flew, but just barely. Just as the dry summer weather ended, the autumn became wet and soggy causing annoying rain delays and muddy, saturated ground. It was a fight to the finish, but Matt McMullen Concrete, LLC came through for us! The grass seed went in just before the weather turned foul in earnest, but the seed never had a chance to sprout as the nights have been too cold to support germination. This means we will have mud until the grass begins to grow next spring. So be it.... But, a huge thanks to the Matt McMullen Concrete Clan from Gallitzin PA!! Here's a link to their website. www.mattmcmullenconcrete.com

 Patios and drains finished..now just hope the grass seed germinates before 
winter sets in..........NOT!!

 Voilà!! Complete with new gates for the dog pen.


HAPPY 100TH BIRTHDAY UNCLE OSCAR!!

November has been a busy month for us. Early in the month we attended a 100th Birthday Celebration for Art's Uncle Oscar Hoffman in Gaithersburg, Maryland. Uncle Oscar's children, Barbara and Howard and their families, hosted a wonderful luncheon in his honor. He won't turn 100 until January 1, 2011, but due to the unreliability of winter travel, we celebrated two months early. Oscar was alive for both World Wars and he served overseas in WWII. What is it like to be 100 years old? Always a man of few words, Oscar is quite underwhelmed by the significance of being alive for a century. He is the oldest and last surviving only brother of Art's mother's 3 siblings. We wish him continuing good health and recognition on the "Today Show" Smucker's Jelly Jar on his birthday!

AUTUMN PHOTOS, 2010

Geese feeding in the cornfields before continuing on their fall migration.

Mimi, Art and Mo....

 Sheeder's sheep in the distance enjoying the 

last blades of fresh grass.

A glorious pre-sunset sky and silhouette of our farm buildings 

at the end of our walk.

THANKSGIVING, 2010

We are thankful the bad weather held off as long as it did for us, as other parts of the country have already had their fill of winter. The snow began, as predicted, on Thanksgiving Day this year, not an unusual occurrence for our neck of the woods. Brother Hank and his wild Pitt Bull/Lab Maximus arrived on Friday after Thanksgiving. Mimi The Poodle has been staying with us while her people have been in Florida for the holiday, but Moses was in his element shepherding his favorite cousin and girlfriend during their 2-night sleepover. We had our Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday this year. This too has become a tradition with my brothers over the years since our mom passed away in 2001. Of course, the weather always plays her role. This year the snow made an appearance and the ground looks to stay covered for the foreseeable future.

Harold and Janet, my brother and sister-in-law.

Reunion for brother Hank and high school friend, Jim McNaul. They hadn't seen each other for 30 years!

As the snow continues to pile up, the dogs are dressed in their Anti-Hunter regalia, as their daily 'Walk-ies' (pronounced with GREAT enthusiasm) are as regular as the postman here at Jolico Farm.