Shoe trees on the Mississippi and season transition




Shoe trees along the Mississippi

  When we would visit  family here while we lived in CA, Jerry would call out, "shoe tree" as we passed by this grove of trees along Interstate 90.  I never paid much attention even though that was prior to having a smart phone or tablet to distract me while he drove.  

After  living  here all these years, I seldom pay any attention to these trees now, although they are spreading from what was a solitary tree to several.  Because they are unusual  and native to our area, at least we have never seen them elsewhere on our travels, I give you these La Crescent Shoe trees.  Another phenomena is the wide diversity of shoes, heels, boots and sizes now  adorning the  limbs, what began as tennis shoes has mutated into all styles, something for everyone.    These remain all year long, through rain, wind, snow, sleet and sun.  Less visible in the spring and summer when the trees are leafed out, they are starkly there when the trees are barren.  Likely some young individuals get a kick out of contributing to the blooming. 

 While our December weather continued  to be balmy on Saturday, I stopped to snap these photos of the shoe trees.  A cousin  going along the Interstate noticed us and called later to ask if my shoe shopping was successful.  

Close up of boots, styles, shoes, notice the Nike

Likely most people unfamiliar with our area or just passing through do not notice this native species.  There is a small turnout along this grove, but then  no other place to turn along the I 90, so likely if someone saw the shoes growing, they would scratch their head and wonder what they might have just seen?  It's a part of the river road!

The very next day we did not travel the interstate because winter arrived.  People who have lived here forever need reminders of snsnow driving techniques, lest they become ditchers.  If you follow me on Facebook you know that from these wintry wonderland photos.  The first snow of the season has arrived and we are all white.  The front rose garden has transitioned to white glow,  from this

to this

with the freshness of seasons changing dramatically.  OOps  I must retrieve that apple basket   autumnal garden flag...it has been blalmy for so long that I forgot it.

Look at the miniature Alberta Spruce to the left,  resembling
a woman wrapped in cloak and arms folded infront

The front bayberry bushes from this

To this

You have the gist of it, we are white and ready to enjoy the cleanness;
we are most fortunate here in the Coulee region, our streets and
roads are always  clear and we are not bound inside.  Unless we so choose to be. 

Moody, shoes and never say never

Dining room looking toward sun room

I have just finished dusting all the living and dining room furniture which took about an hour. I figured I'd best get a handle there as we prepare again to hit the road. Fortunately our home stays really clean, tightly and well built, little dust and no animals or smoke so this is not something I have to do weekly. Trouble is I hate domestic chores, and most of our furniture is antique and or antique like with curlicues, etc. Once in a great blue moon I don't mind, but generally I am not amused. It is then I consider hiring a house cleaner because there is so much else I would rather be doing...so I grumble along. Then I get back to my reality which is I would be very unhappy to have our treasures damaged, broken or nicked and I am fussy about having things done right...a genetic characteristic from my late aunt Jinx and late Uncle Carl. In CA when I worked, I always had house cleaners, some very good some not so and it did not matter if I used an agency or had a private individual everything was not always the way it  should have been in my eyes. When Jerry retired years before I could,  he volunteered to assume the dusting and vacuuming which is primarily what the paid help did and so he did. I ask him today what happened to that? He remarks that I am retired now too! This usually starts a conversation about how I did not retire to become a domestic goddess and we go on. He tells me to go ahead and hire someone and then I have to admit I can easily do this one room at a time when I choose, I just don't like to. Yesterday at my book club meeting one of the women said she and hubby were considering selling their home and moving into a condo because she was tired of house upkeep which led us into discussion about so many other things we prefer to do. At this point I shudder to even think of moving anywhere, just when we have the house the way we want it. Oh no, that is not in the imminent future, so I will likely continue to grumble. I  put on some Rod Stewar CD's on, turn up the surround sound, crank it up there and rock around with Rod.  

Florence, MIL in January at the SNF, her birthday celebration

Meantime thoughts about what I could be writing plague me. Lately I have been reminded yet again to not ever disdain anything I see in stores let alone saying, "well I'd never buy that or spend that much on that." I posted on Facebook these brief thoughts after taking 94 year old MIL shoe shopping Saturday, driving 30 some miles up the high way to Sparta, WI to Arenz shoe store where they specialize in the geriatric, hard to fit and all sorts of better shoes. I post one of her recent photos here as I  talk about her and so it may be of interest to see her.  Anyone who remarks that she appears to be a sweet old lady is reminded that appearances are deceiving  But I digress,  I have not been able to find shoes to fit this woman for the past several months because she has a small but very wide foot with bunions and arthritis; I have purchased and returned maybe 25 pairs of different shoes and nothing fits. I was dreading taking her as it is not a fun experience to spend time with her, but here I was driving up the highway with her, something I'd rather not do but no one else will and so here we go. No way could I persuade Jerry to go along and it is his mother, I remind him. Oh he had a handy excuse he had to haul two truckloads of cut down trees and shrubs to the dump which he can only do on Saturday afternoons. Fine.

Florence,MIL, among her other issues like dementia does not hear and so conversations are not possible. At least in the car I can turn on music which she can't hear whilst she continues to talk about whatever is going through her mind. Honestly I miss my relatives who though aged were pleasant company. Downtown Sparta is an interesting old dairy farmland town with several stores still operating.   I fantasized that after we bought shoes I could buzz by the Quilt Corner but that was not to be. Here is just one link to Sparta, WI if you are curious http://spartawisconsin.org/

Getting her fitted and convinced about the kind of shoe she needs took over two hours. We endured her ramblings about not being able to wear hose anymore, no kidding and now she doesn't go anywhere so she does not need to dress up and cannot wear dress shoes, etc..and of course she had to regale the sales lady with her  current bowel movements and lack there of.  Why does she  feel her bowels are of interest to everyone?  It has always puzzled me among other things why she would wear shoes that did not fit her feet, something I have never understood as foot pain is not tolerable to me. Once in CA during one of their frequent visits when FIL was alive, I had shoes  to donate to the thrift store because they hurt my feet , so they could not have a place in my closet. She was visiting at the time and took those shoes, despite that they did not fit her.  You get the idea I do not have fond memories of and with this woman and sympathize with all who endure MIL's.

The saleslady was very patient and assured me it was not a problem as she is used to this with the elderly, but even she was stretched to her limits. When we arrived I explained to the sales lady this would be difficult because MIL does not hear and so speak loudly and then her dementia is likely to result in any response.. related or not to the question.

Of course MIL, whose finances are managed by Jerry,  inquires as to the price of everything and her thrifty (aka cheap) side begins to surface. I personally do not care what the shoes cost so long as they fit and give her the support she needs; I am giving up my Saturday and we will get shoes for her else mayhem may emerge from me. I tell the saleslady to not divulge high prices because the old lady will balk like a mule and then I will have driven all this way for naught. I tell her to say everything cost $50 and even that is too high to MIL who still talks about and wears the one good pair of shoes she owns. That is a pair she bought with me five years ago and paid $100, she claims the only time in her life she spent so much on shoes, I have heard this story over and over and over. Besides I was there when we entered that last store in the mall that day after being in each store  that sold shoes and wasting three hours;the charming young man who waited on us convinced her to buy the shoes.  Hallelujah, I could have hugged him.  He flattered and appealed to her vanity somehow once again demonstrating that she is  susceptible to any man who talks a good line.  This is another strong  theme in her life story.

When Florence finally agreed to a decent shoe after trying on 18 different pairs (after which I  quit counting and sighing) and wandering around with her walker looking at every shoe including ones she never would have worn in the past let alone now I felt like celebrating! Not having a bottle of wine with me, I knew I'd have to wait till I returned home. Neither did I have a flask along to take a nip!

My new SAS golden sandals

But now I get to the never say never part of this post.  I admired the sandals the saleslady wore in black patent leather and asked what they were. Turned out they were SAS, a quality brand that used to be made in Maine but now are made in Texas. I see in the SAS display the sandals  in gold leather and know it is the shoe for me. If the shoe fits, go for it.   I have had a fascination with gold shoes all my life; recall my post about my first pair of "golden slippers" as a child, a present from Aunt Fran.  If you are curious, you can visit that post at    http://patonlinenewtime.blogspot.com/search/label/Fran%20Amerine

I ask for these sandals in my size and when I try them on I know this is heaven for my  feet and must have them.  The sole reminds me of the Birkenstocks I wore in CA as it molds to fit the foot.  There are two buckles, one adjusts the toe strap and one the side.  The sales lady and I have a good laugh reminiscing that these type of sandals were once known to us as thongs, but today we cannot say that in "polite company"  as thongs now are underwear. 

Well to wrap back to the title, just last week I was in a Herburger's department store and noticing that many  well known shoe brands including Clarks are offering flip flops,  rubber  like shoes that can be bought at WalMart for $15 tops but these major brands are priced at $40 on up.  I thought to myself, "who would pay that for rubber flip flops?"  I also felt smug that I would never do that.  But here I am on Saturday of the same week, forking over $139 for my new golden SAS.  Well at least my new shoes are not rubber and I am loving and living in them all summer.  After all, I deserve these and more for spending the day with MIL.  Back home, Jerry gasps at the price and shakes his head saying, "next time take along a flask and have a shot, it would be cheaper!"  He is amazed at so little leather for so much money and comments that his boots cost less and have easily  10 times more leather.  But I remind him, these were made in the USA, not China and  I deserve these and more!