Sunday November 18, 2007

If it should ever happen that you are driving along a back road and you see this sign, you should immediately follow the arrow.

We went out there yesterday for some grains for our Thanksgiving dinner, but you can go there any time and enjoy it. Their restaurant specializes in beans and corn bread, but they make a fierce turkey sandwich with sprouts on their own whole-grain bread, cinnamon rolls as good as homemade, and cobbler you would not want to miss.

We’d spent the morning at grocery shopping and housework and (in my case) computer work and (in the boys’ case) computer games, and we really enjoyed the drive. We listened to the football game (we won) and admired the blazing autumn leaves and reveled in the crisp air.

It’s about half an hour from our house to the mill. The mill is named for the creek. The creek is named for a man who made a treaty a long while back.

This water-powered grist mill has been here since 1832. It has had some adventures in that time, you can be sure, but they still grind stuff with the water wheel. 

Kids can hand-grind corn and buckwheat with stones to get the concept, so it makes a great homeschool lesson, but it is also just fun. If you are not in the mood to watch the millers or grind grains, you can also sample their baking and their relishes and things.

We were even able to find a train whistle for #2 daughter’s class. The boys speculated about what she might plan to do with it; we don’t know, but we were glad to have found one for her.

 The restaurant has a wall of underwear. Sort of undies through the ages.

 There is also a lot of taxidermy to admire. Turkeys, mostly. There is a little vignette of two turkeys sort of dancing, and there are flying turkeys and turkeys standing around glaring balefully. They are probably glaring at you because you are eating turkey sandwiches.

A few days ago, #2 son asked me my opinion of taxonomy.

I think taxonomy is important, and I have a lot of thoughts on the subject, and was giving him an enthusiastic answer when I realized that he was looking dubious.

It turned out that he had meant “taxidermy.” Not the same thing at all.

I teased him about it approximately 23 times yesterday, as we admired the turkeys and ate our turkey sandwiches.

It is best not to think too much in this kind of situation.

We had iced tea and root beer served in canning jars, which makes for uncomfortable drinking but looks rustic. 

Then we went downstairs to buy our grains. We got white whole-grain flour and 7-grain cereal and various other things in cotton sacks.

Next we went outside to feed the geese.

 It seemed possible that the geese might have gone further south for the winter, so we went to check before we got the corn for them.

They were there. We put a quarter in the gumball machine full of corn and got a handful for the geese.

When the kids were small, this was one of the high point of the visit for them. The geese would come over to eat the corn and the kids would move toward them and then squeal and run away.

Not any more, of course. My boys are handsome, well-behaved young men. At least they were yesterday. They leaned over the fence and watched the geese, which were hanging around being gooseish.

I suggested calling to them.

“Here, geese,” we could have chirruped. “We have some corn for you.”

They would, I thought, run right over in anticipation.

The boys treated this suggestion with a sort of tolerant scorn. That is, they had completely blank faces to indicate tolerance, with slightly wry mouths to indicate scorn without any actual rudeness.

“They’re eating leaves,” #1 son said pityingly.

“There might be seeds on ground,” I suggested.

The boys were disappointed by these geese. “Geese are stupid,” they said.

“Famous for it.” I said

“And they bite, too.”

“Famous for it.”

 So in the end we just tossed the corn onto the ground and left.

It is possible that the geese were laughing at us, and that they ran up gleefully to eat the corn as soon as we left. But probably not. Probably they are spoiled geese, surrounded at all times by good things, so no single incidence of corn is very exciting to them.

We headed home after that. The football game was still on, so we got to listen to that as we drove.

I don’t understand football, and it is worse on the radio. The boys understood it, and they were shouting “Yes!” in growly voices and stuff like that, as they do at live games or when watching on the TV.

I tried to imagine how it would be if it had been something I actually understood — ballet, perhaps.

“And there’s the pas de bourree and an entrechat quatre — NO! It’s an ENTRECHAT SIX! AN ENTRECHAT SIX!”

Well, we had fun, and I have a really good hot cereal for breakfast and everything for the holiday baking. #2 son and I also have a horrible allergy attack. I am allergic to poultry, myself, and then we were outside a lot. The anthem today is a measly Up With People kind of thing, so it doesn’t matter much about my singing. Today’s main challenge is the bells piece. I brought the music home, but couldn’t figure out any way to practice it, since I am only responsible for three notes. I just have to do my best, that’s all.