By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
When Joann and I were in high school we admittedly gave our mom a hard time about the Christmas trees that she chose. They were not quite Charlie Brown trees, but they were not the full beautiful trees that we imagined they should be. We were sure we could do better. Who could blame her, though? She was taking care of seven children and working on the farm, so there wasn’t time for a leisurely hunt for a Christmas tree. She usually picked out a tree in a few minutes in the lot next to the local grocery store. But we gave her a hard time anyway.
As soon as Joann got her license and we could drive ourselves, we found an ad in the local paper for a “Cut Your Own Christmas Tree” place and badgered mom into letting us go. I think she let us go because she wanted us to know how hard it was to pick out a good tree. We climbed in the truck and took off.
What we found was not so much a tree farm as woods that a farmer was trying to clear. We parked the truck and walked across a field to the woods. There were trees that were very mature and too big for anyone to cut down for their house, and there were the little scrawny Charlie Brown trees. We must have walked around the woods for hours that day and it wasn’t until it was almost dark that we gave up and picked the least scrawny tree. What we ended up choosing was a tree that looked surprisingly like the trees mom always came home with…..only worse. It was a sad, pathetic looking tree with very sparse branches – in other words, SCRAWNY!
All the way home we practiced our speech. When we got home, we pulled that pathetic tree from the back of the truck and took it to the back door. We rang the doorbell and waited for Mom to come to the door. As she opened the door we said:
“Mom, meet Scrawn”
“Scrawn, meet Mom”
“Mom, Scrawn”
“Scrawn, Mom”
And then we burst into laughter. We told her how it was not a true tree farm and how hard we had worked to come home with something better than what we had teased her about. And then came the not so surprising look of satisfaction on her face.
And that year while decorating the tree, I think we felt exactly like the Charlie Brown gang as they decorated their pathetic little tree. It doesn’t matter how sorry the tree, it’s the love that goes into decorating it.
These days the choices at choose-and-cut tree farms are amazing. The prices are very reasonable, and there is a wide variety of trees available. They are planted in rows and groomed over the summer. You have your choice of many pine, spruce, and fir tree varieties.
As you walk through the rows of trees, you can hear families laughing as they try to pick out the perfect tree for their home. Sometimes there’s a mitten or glove hanging on a tree to mark a possibility so it can be found again.
And after you cut your perfect tree, there might be hot apple cider or a Christmas shop to explore. It’s a great way to get in the spirit of the season.
Our favorite choose-and-cut Christmas tree farm is Summers near Middleton, Wisconsin, owned by Judy and Bill Summers. They have a large staff of friendly helpers and their Christmas shop is the best-kept secret in Dane County.
If you haven’t tried cutting your own Christmas tree, go out and give it a try. It's a chance to create a Christmas memory or two and maybe a new family tradition. And who knows, if you visit Summers Christmas Tree Farm, you might just catch Judy Summers singing a Christmas carol as she goes about her work.
Happy Christmas Tree Hunting!
Ruth
Shunpiking To Heaven Backroads Blog
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Pass the Cranberries, Please
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
This coming Thursday, we celebrate Thanksgiving – a day of gratitude and thanks for the many blessings in our lives. And at most Thanksgiving tables, there will be cranberry sauce or a cranberry salad to enjoy.
In early October of this year, Ruth and I decided to head to Wisconsin cranberry country near Warrens to photograph the cranberry bogs. We figured the cranberry harvest would be in full swing and we’d be able to capture the bright red cranberries floating in the deep blue water.
But it was a very cold morning and we were disappointed to discover that the irrigation sprinklers were running in all the bogs we passed and the bogs were totally iced over. We didn’t understand this process, but took a few photos and then decided to go into Warrens to visit the Cranberry Discovery Center.
On the way into town, a splash of red color caught my eye and I turned the car around to investigate. Hallelujah! There they were, millions of bright red cranberries corralled in the corner of the bog. I set up my tripod and began to photograph the colorful scene. As I snapped the shutter, I saw a bright red truck (cranberry-colored, of course) way off in the distance and heading towards me.
A couple minutes later, the truck pulled up beside me. As soon as the man stepped out of the truck, I said, “I need a cranberry lesson.” He kindly replied, “Okay, what would you like to know?” He answered several of my questions, including the reason the bogs were iced over. He said that the water gives off heat as it freezes and as long as the water continues to run, the cranberry plants will be protected from the cold temperatures.
“So why didn’t YOUR cranberries freeze last night?” I asked. “Because I had flooded my bogs earlier,” he said. I then explained to him why I was photographing his bogs, and I told him that we have always found cranberry folks to be some of the nicest people. I gave him my card and he introduced himself as Jack Potter, fifth-generation cranberry grower. “My granddad bought this marsh in 1912. I own about 50 acres of bogs here and another 30 over in that direction (and that’s just the vines, not the dikes in between).”
He told me that Wisconsin is the largest cranberry producer in the country, supplying about 60% of the nation's cranberries.
I told him we were going to the Cranberry Discovery Center next. He said, “My wife used to be the director of the center. Before that she was an editor for The Country Today." This is a newspaper that Ruth and I read regularly. As I was leaving, he gave me permission to drive down his bog dike road where there was water on both sides of the road and beautiful fall color in the trees. See what I mean about cranberry folks?
When I returned to the car and started filling Ruth in on the conversation I had with Mr. Potter, she said, excitedly, “Did you ask him if he just got married?” “Why would I ask him that?” I said, looking puzzled. “Remember, I told you about a woman who used to work at The Country Today and then at the Discovery Center and then she married a cranberry grower?” she said, wondering how I could have forgotten that so soon.
The drive down the dike road was breathtaking and we even saw two swans floating on the water and enjoying the beautiful fall day. We drove for what seemed like a mile or so and then turned around and headed to the Cranberry Discovery Center. When we returned home, Ruth dug up the article she had read and, sure enough, it was Jack Potter and Lorry Erickson-Potter. Their wedding took place on August 28, and featured a cranberry theme.
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Jack Potter for his knowledge-sharing and hospitality. I’d also like to thank all of you who faithfully read our blog and visit our photo galleries. Wishing you many blessing this Thanksgiving season.
And, as always, Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
This coming Thursday, we celebrate Thanksgiving – a day of gratitude and thanks for the many blessings in our lives. And at most Thanksgiving tables, there will be cranberry sauce or a cranberry salad to enjoy.
In early October of this year, Ruth and I decided to head to Wisconsin cranberry country near Warrens to photograph the cranberry bogs. We figured the cranberry harvest would be in full swing and we’d be able to capture the bright red cranberries floating in the deep blue water.
But it was a very cold morning and we were disappointed to discover that the irrigation sprinklers were running in all the bogs we passed and the bogs were totally iced over. We didn’t understand this process, but took a few photos and then decided to go into Warrens to visit the Cranberry Discovery Center.
On the way into town, a splash of red color caught my eye and I turned the car around to investigate. Hallelujah! There they were, millions of bright red cranberries corralled in the corner of the bog. I set up my tripod and began to photograph the colorful scene. As I snapped the shutter, I saw a bright red truck (cranberry-colored, of course) way off in the distance and heading towards me.
A couple minutes later, the truck pulled up beside me. As soon as the man stepped out of the truck, I said, “I need a cranberry lesson.” He kindly replied, “Okay, what would you like to know?” He answered several of my questions, including the reason the bogs were iced over. He said that the water gives off heat as it freezes and as long as the water continues to run, the cranberry plants will be protected from the cold temperatures.
“So why didn’t YOUR cranberries freeze last night?” I asked. “Because I had flooded my bogs earlier,” he said. I then explained to him why I was photographing his bogs, and I told him that we have always found cranberry folks to be some of the nicest people. I gave him my card and he introduced himself as Jack Potter, fifth-generation cranberry grower. “My granddad bought this marsh in 1912. I own about 50 acres of bogs here and another 30 over in that direction (and that’s just the vines, not the dikes in between).”
He told me that Wisconsin is the largest cranberry producer in the country, supplying about 60% of the nation's cranberries.
I told him we were going to the Cranberry Discovery Center next. He said, “My wife used to be the director of the center. Before that she was an editor for The Country Today." This is a newspaper that Ruth and I read regularly. As I was leaving, he gave me permission to drive down his bog dike road where there was water on both sides of the road and beautiful fall color in the trees. See what I mean about cranberry folks?
When I returned to the car and started filling Ruth in on the conversation I had with Mr. Potter, she said, excitedly, “Did you ask him if he just got married?” “Why would I ask him that?” I said, looking puzzled. “Remember, I told you about a woman who used to work at The Country Today and then at the Discovery Center and then she married a cranberry grower?” she said, wondering how I could have forgotten that so soon.
The drive down the dike road was breathtaking and we even saw two swans floating on the water and enjoying the beautiful fall day. We drove for what seemed like a mile or so and then turned around and headed to the Cranberry Discovery Center. When we returned home, Ruth dug up the article she had read and, sure enough, it was Jack Potter and Lorry Erickson-Potter. Their wedding took place on August 28, and featured a cranberry theme.
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Jack Potter for his knowledge-sharing and hospitality. I’d also like to thank all of you who faithfully read our blog and visit our photo galleries. Wishing you many blessing this Thanksgiving season.
And, as always, Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Is our Car Still There?
By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
Years ago, when Joann and I traveled, we tried to stay in big name hotels with elevators, luggage carts, and high room prices. We thought the beds would be better, but we were often disappointed.
We would arrive at the hotel around supper time, leave most of our gear in the car overnight, and spend the evening reading or watching TV. Then we would get up early (well, what we used to call early) and be the first people in the breakfast room. Then we’d hop in the car and head out. By this time, the sun was usually up in the sky and the lighting was already a challenge.
As the years passed, Joann purchased several more cameras and lenses, and we knew we had to start hauling all the equipment into the hotel at night. So we would load the equipment onto the luggage cart and then unload it in the room. In the morning, we would do the reverse before they started serving breakfast and then we’d leave after breakfast.
During the past three years, we have evolved to a whole new routine. Now that we leave our motel in the dark well before dawn and we don’t give up photographing until after dark sometimes, we’ve relaxed our standards. We need a bed to fall into, and if the room happens to come with a microwave, all the better since we haven’t eaten most nights before we get to the motel. While Joann unloads and backs up the digital photos from the day and cleans her camera equipment, I make us a quick supper.
And we’ve discovered how easy it is to stay at the mom and pop motels. I’m talking about those one- or two-story motels where you park your car at the door. We try to call ahead and get a room on the first floor where it’s two steps from the back of the car to the room with your luggage. And for us, luggage means lots of camera equipment, laptops, clothes bags, research literature, etc.
With this new thinking, we’ve stayed at some interesting motels. In Kentucky, we found an awesome motel for just $39.95, and that included a free hot breakfast for both of us at Aunt B’s Family Restaurant.
In Arkansas, we were in an area with no cell phone service and no towns of size around. We did manage to use a phone at a ranger station and call two nearby small mom and pop motels. One of them still had one room available for the night so we took it sight unseen. It was turkey-hunting season, and apparently the area was popular with turkey hunters. As you can see by this photo, their mammas raised them right!
Several years ago in Michigan, after capturing the last rays of light over Lake Michigan, we drove another hour and then pulled into town to find a motel. As we drove down the main highway through town, I remember thinking to myself that this was not a good section of town. It was very late and we were very tired, so we stopped at the first motel we saw with outside doors. It was a lesser known chain of motels that we had stayed at before with satisfactory results. And, hey, the sign said they had WiFi, so Joann went in to register for a room. As I sat in the car watching what was going on in the parking lot, I remember thinking to myself that we should have driven farther to find a motel in a different part of town.
The first sign of trouble was that they gave us a room in the corner and there was no way to back the car up to it. After switching rooms and unloading all our gear, we realized that the WiFi we had paid extra for didn’t exist, the outlets were so bad that a plug wouldn’t even stay in them, and the door had a very skimpy lock on it. Yikes! But we decided to brave it and catch a couple hours of sleep, if possible.
In the morning, we had one of our conversations as Joann peeked out through the curtains of the window (I assume to see what the weather looked like, even though it’s a bit hard to tell in the pre-dawn darkness.)
Ruth: “Is our car still there?”
Joann (laughing): “Yes.”
Ruth (also laughing): “Does it have windows?”
So, for us, motel life has gotten easier, but more interesting. By the way, we did recently stay at one of the motels whose sign appears somewhere in this story and it was a good experience. Can you guess which one? And tell us, have you had interesting motel experiences?
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Years ago, when Joann and I traveled, we tried to stay in big name hotels with elevators, luggage carts, and high room prices. We thought the beds would be better, but we were often disappointed.
We would arrive at the hotel around supper time, leave most of our gear in the car overnight, and spend the evening reading or watching TV. Then we would get up early (well, what we used to call early) and be the first people in the breakfast room. Then we’d hop in the car and head out. By this time, the sun was usually up in the sky and the lighting was already a challenge.
As the years passed, Joann purchased several more cameras and lenses, and we knew we had to start hauling all the equipment into the hotel at night. So we would load the equipment onto the luggage cart and then unload it in the room. In the morning, we would do the reverse before they started serving breakfast and then we’d leave after breakfast.
During the past three years, we have evolved to a whole new routine. Now that we leave our motel in the dark well before dawn and we don’t give up photographing until after dark sometimes, we’ve relaxed our standards. We need a bed to fall into, and if the room happens to come with a microwave, all the better since we haven’t eaten most nights before we get to the motel. While Joann unloads and backs up the digital photos from the day and cleans her camera equipment, I make us a quick supper.
And we’ve discovered how easy it is to stay at the mom and pop motels. I’m talking about those one- or two-story motels where you park your car at the door. We try to call ahead and get a room on the first floor where it’s two steps from the back of the car to the room with your luggage. And for us, luggage means lots of camera equipment, laptops, clothes bags, research literature, etc.
With this new thinking, we’ve stayed at some interesting motels. In Kentucky, we found an awesome motel for just $39.95, and that included a free hot breakfast for both of us at Aunt B’s Family Restaurant.
In Arkansas, we were in an area with no cell phone service and no towns of size around. We did manage to use a phone at a ranger station and call two nearby small mom and pop motels. One of them still had one room available for the night so we took it sight unseen. It was turkey-hunting season, and apparently the area was popular with turkey hunters. As you can see by this photo, their mammas raised them right!
Several years ago in Michigan, after capturing the last rays of light over Lake Michigan, we drove another hour and then pulled into town to find a motel. As we drove down the main highway through town, I remember thinking to myself that this was not a good section of town. It was very late and we were very tired, so we stopped at the first motel we saw with outside doors. It was a lesser known chain of motels that we had stayed at before with satisfactory results. And, hey, the sign said they had WiFi, so Joann went in to register for a room. As I sat in the car watching what was going on in the parking lot, I remember thinking to myself that we should have driven farther to find a motel in a different part of town.
The first sign of trouble was that they gave us a room in the corner and there was no way to back the car up to it. After switching rooms and unloading all our gear, we realized that the WiFi we had paid extra for didn’t exist, the outlets were so bad that a plug wouldn’t even stay in them, and the door had a very skimpy lock on it. Yikes! But we decided to brave it and catch a couple hours of sleep, if possible.
In the morning, we had one of our conversations as Joann peeked out through the curtains of the window (I assume to see what the weather looked like, even though it’s a bit hard to tell in the pre-dawn darkness.)
Ruth: “Is our car still there?”
Joann (laughing): “Yes.”
Ruth (also laughing): “Does it have windows?”
So, for us, motel life has gotten easier, but more interesting. By the way, we did recently stay at one of the motels whose sign appears somewhere in this story and it was a good experience. Can you guess which one? And tell us, have you had interesting motel experiences?
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
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