Sometimes a memory.....

...will appear at the most unusual time;  take "klinkers" for example:  we were talking about the beautiful homes that were damaged when a dike broke from heavy rains and the muddy water followed the natural channel down to the river.  The homes were built on the flood plane under a level of trust that the  dike would hold, forever.  Then I remembered how the fruit cellar would flood each spring because the water table was so high and Mother would have to put on the knee-high rubber boots and step on cinder blocks to get to the jars of fruit.  Then my mind wandered up the cellar stairs to the back porch and then the furnace room, to the coal bin, remembering my dad shoveling coal each morning to feed the furnace and then the furnace itself.  The heavy cast iron door had a round wire handle and when open would make you reel with the blast of hot, flaming klinkers.  Then I remembered the marble maker (at least that is what we thought it was).  It was discovered by my brother in an old shed somewhere.  The two long metal handles came together at the end with two small round casings that fit together like a waffle maker.  Clay was dug up from a deep hole out in the garden, a little ball was formed and put in the mold.  I remember my brother placing the marble maker in the klinkers for a period of time and ending up with a nice little hard ball.  The only other thing that I know about klinkers is that they have to be discarded on a regular basis and can be used like gravel to fill holes in the farmyard and that you never want to walk on them in bare feet!

One, Two, Three, Four, Five!

Number One had a front door just waiting for me to paint fire-engine red.  It didn't matter that the stove only had one burner that worked, a vintage refrigerator and small freezer totally closed off with frost.  There was one tiny bath, two bedrooms, the one in the back was moist and a little moldy, and the one in the front had a twin bed covered with one double mattress.  In the winter, The oil stove barely gave out enough heat for the small living room and kitchen and had nothing left over for the rest of the house.  We saved money for our first electric blanket and donned knitted caps, warm stockings, flannel pajamas and left a small trickle of water running in the bathroom sink so the pipes wouldn't freeze.  Who would imagine that newlyweds could be so happy?

Number Two:  New, with the latest floor plan - two bedrooms - one a nursery - and moved in place by a diesel engine truck.  The trailer house sat within 10 feet of my sister's kitchen window.  I rocked my new baby in the living room, canned my first peaches on the stove, and tried to be happy with the advice, suggestions and corrections given by a well-meaning mother, father, sister and brother-in-law.  My husband could see that pursuing a teaching career in other town and making it on our own might be favorable to the security of farm life and living so close to family.

Number Three:  We lived on Tall Avenue - in a duplex, at the end of the most prestigious street in town.  We moved in around the locals - the best of the best and made life-time friends.   We learned valuable lessons, hung diapers out on the line, struggled with finances, and tried to serve wherever we could.

Number Four:  A new sub-division was developed, the bank provided the funding, we picked the kitchen cupboards and carpet, planted fruit trees, raspberry bushes, asparagus and a garden.  We welcomed a little  girl into our family and then another little boy.  We were a family of five and we filled our days with laughter, frustrations, accomplishments, disappointments, spilled milk and ended up with years of memories.

Number Five:  Do dreams really come true?  The minute we walked through the front door we knew!  It was the first of many sweet feelings that helped us with the struggle of moving so far away from friends and family.  We weren't born here but we got here as fast as we could!  Expanding here, taking down a wall there, adding on and taking off for years and years and years.  Each venture added a new sense of satisfaction and beauty to our home full of love.  Our number five has allowed untold opportunities for all of us - happy lives beyond our wildest dreams.        

Slice of Heaven

I don't know why it feels this way, but it makes me giddy to be here.  I have this passion to pick all of the wild sunflowers I see and decorate every room with mason jars and orange/yellow bouquets.  The morning air is crisp right before the sun peaks over the hills.  The sounds are simple; the rippling brook, the twittering of small birds, the bleat of a lamb and the occasional sound of a car in the distant valley below.

Back in the country kitchen the fly swatter stays handy but it is all a part of the charm.  I am inspired here.  My mind is full of paintings I would like to create and stories I would like to tell.  I find evidence of my former life when the days were carefree and I could jump and climb and explore without the stiffness of age.  I note Mother's pickle crock displayed high up on the shelf, the old metal canisters for flour and sugar in the corner and her small bedroom chair that she used to sit on, roll up her silk stockings and secure them to her garter belt each morning.  It makes me smile to think of my mother wearing a cotton dress each day to do her housework and prepare three meals a day for her dairy-farm husband and family.  Oh, how things have changed in the world.  Even in the later years, like many other women, Mother traded her stockings and dress for pants and comfy tops.

This place isn't mine, it belongs to another.....someone I love and who also loves nostalgia.  That is why I find little bits of my life here and there.  I have never been afraid to be alone here, even at night with all the scary sounds.  My heart is lifted as I sit on the porch, facing west, and experience another beautiful sunset.  I feel so lucky to look out into the meadow in the early morning and late evening and see something truly magnificent and special.  It is peaceful here, my spirit is renewed and I have an overwhelming desire to express gratitude to my Heavenly Father for allowing me to experience this wonderful slice of Heaven.  

Ten Little Toes

I can remember it - just like yesterday; the nurse, carrying a small, tightly-wrapped bundle into the hospital room....and handing that bundle to me....then walking out!  There I was, all alone with this little moving bundle!   I remember the labor pains, the excruciating hours but how did this happen? What was I thinking?    I know that my young husband was in the hospital somewhere but right then it was just me and this tiny, breathing, human being - a little gift from God - a little miracle.  I didn't know what to do!  After a little bit I decided that no one was coming back and no one was watching and so I slowly began to pull back the small receiving blanket until there they were.....ten little tiny toes....I counted them just to make certain.  He also had fuzzy hair on his ears (now that was a little bit of a concern because I remember reading in "Ripley's Believe It or Not" about humans with excessive body hair who lived out their lives in the traveling circus.)  However, I prevailed and discovered the most beautiful baby in the world - all 6 pounds of him.  And then it dawned on me that he belonged to us!  He changed our life forever, he is ours forever!

How can I articulate our time with him and his beautiful wife these past few weeks?  I can't!  I just know that like the scripture in the Third Epistle of John, Verse 4 "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth".   What a special gift and privilege to spend time, once again, with my my little ten-toed miracle....my first-born.....now a man....honoring and blessing our lives.

Forced Into Simplicity

Some may think that it would be easy to sit on the back of a motorcycle and do nothing but it takes a great deal of personal stamina to get on day after day after day.  The first day you think that you are going to do all of these personal things that you never have time to do such as reading, memorizing, thinking, but......the wind blows and tears the pages, the mind wanders and memorization fades away, the scents, sounds and scenery distract and the helmet gets heavy, the clothing gets restrictive and the seat (even with a gel pad and bum beads) gets terribly uncomfortable.  After a restful evening, a swim at the motel pool and a nice evening meal you feel refreshed and renewed but....the next day you must face the helmet, the head skin, the sunscreen and the ever-present cords; cords for talking, cords  to keep warm, cords for music.  At some point one must decide how to handle this forced solitude and forced simplicity.  One must find the beauty in all of it or one will be totally miserable for the whole of it.

The smells are amazing....the blossoms from the alfalfa fields are sweet and honeysuckle-like.  The homes and farms and barns are fresh and rival any folk-art painting.  The wildlife offer unexpected treats along the way.  Today we spotted a doe with two fawns bounding closely behind as they crossed the road.  We saw the sign that read "Watch out for mountain sheep" and there they were.

It takes discipline to try and accomplish something with all of one's free time but it takes courage to put your trust in the driver and to just allow the fleeting thoughts to come and go and to be pleasant and cheerful about the whole riding experience.

Huckleberries and.......

Huckleberry pancakes, shakes and ice cream have been the treats along the way through Washington state.  Having been spoiled by the coastal beauty of the San Juan Islands it has been difficult to leave it behind.  The pines became less dense and more dry as we passed over the Cascades to eastern Washington.  Sagebrush and dry grasses became the norm but gradually the pristine rivers turned into beautiful lakes and the lush pines returned as we traveled into the panhandle of Idaho state.  Who knew that Sandpoint, Idaho was so beautiful?  The homes, cabins, boat docks and ramps along the lake shore were a surprise and full of beauty.  My memory from being here years ago that these places in northern Idaho were backward logging towns has now made an abrupt change.

San Juan Island

Oh my.......peaceful, tranquil, unbelievable....our place on the veranda of the Highland Inn on the San Juan Island of northwest Washington state.  The sounds of the gulls, an occasional sound of an eagle or Peregrine falcon and the little sounds of the native birds adds to the ambiance.  We have been up since daylight watching the ships, fishing boats, sailing ships and occasional yaught pass up through the Strait of Haro.   We have learned that there will be a buzz of activity if any pods of the orca whales are spotted.  At first we were glued to the view of the clear and glass-like waters but now we understand that there will be no spontaneous viewing without warning from the spotters along the coast of the island.  We were delighted with the small island deer and watched a young fawn munch away on a snipped rose that had been tossed to the ravine below.  She looked up and watched us without fear and slowly nibbled her way through the bushes and pines.

Did I mention the steam shower, warming towel rack,homemade cookies, fresh fruit, burning logs on the fire and fresh flowers everywhere (vase of roses by the bath sink, orchids growing in pots by the soaking jetted bath and breakfast nook window seat)?

Husband gets lots of hugs and loves and kisses for this little piece-of-heaven treat.