A Sunday run

I'm feeling a bit wistful this morning. Instead of sitting here in the upstairs bedroom, looking out the windows at snow, I could have been in Seattle this weekend. In the next hour or so, at least 20,000 runners and walkers will be assembling in Space Needle land for the annual St. Paddy's Day walk/run.

I did that last year with my cousin Sue. I could say that I did it with my daughter Annie and her friends, Miriam and Rachel, but they ran. Sue and I walked most of the race, running occasionally to get out of the way of the mass of humanity coming up behind us.

We did so for 3 miles, knowing we'd be sopped to the gills when it was over. An intense, windy rainstorm refused to relent as we trudged onward on the pavement, ending up down by the stadiums and the market.

We later went to breakfast in Fremont and then headed to our respective hang-outs to throw all those wet clothes in the dryer. I came back with a neat long-sleeved T-shirt and good memories. I also distinctly remember coming back and being shocked with the dramatic snow melt that occurred here at the Lovestead over my weekend in Seattle. If only . . . .!

I had planned to participate in the run again this year, but for various reasons, it didn't work out. So, here I sit, thinking about how much fun it would be to see all those crazy Irish people in their wild and wacky green garb. Even Elvis turned Irish for a day last year and hung out with our group. I didn't have time to get his autograph; besides, it would have washed away with the rain.

Well, it may not be the St. Paddy's fun run, but Bill and I are making a more practical run today. We're heading off to Coeur d'Alene a little later to visit the Home and Garden show at the Kootenai County Fairgrounds. Seems that the Nickel's Worth ads pointed out this week that a lot of the contractors who construct metal storage sheds are going to be hanging out there today.

So, we're figuring it will be a lot more efficient to talk to them in "metal barn row" rather than calling up and checking out each one individually. We're also hoping the visit will yield information about construction costs and time needed to get that shed up and working. It will be a while before the shed can go up because of the snow, of course, but just knowing we've got the handle on it will be comforting.

We took a run to the dump yesterday---PC dictates that I call it the Bonner Country Transfer Station. We transferred our garbage, aka, "priorly owned sacks, cans, coffee grounds." I notice that the car dealers don't sell "used" cars anymore, so I'm taking a cue and calling that stuff we took to the transfer station by it's proper PC name. I noticed that the free pile didn't have too many priorly owned items to give away. Must be a sign of the recession they'd like to say we're experiencing but don't have the guts to officially say it.

After depositing our priorly own contributions to the Transfer Bank, we took a drive along some of the back roads and noticed lots more carnage which is rearing its ugly head from the slowly disintegrating snow piles. We noticed that was not a good year for that expensive white vinyl fence.

We observed that several tons of accumulating snow really does a number on that stuff as we passed by an entire stretch of someone's once-attractive property boundary, now disintegrated into dozens of individual pieces of plastic scattered along the roadside. Not a pretty sight, especially considering the dollars that went into its purchase and the dollars it will take to replace it. I wonder if they'll go vinyl next time.

I jotted a mental note of great relief that we chose not to go that route when we erected fence around our barnyard during last winter----wooden boards do much better with snow, and they thankfully keep horses in, even when the top boards are under the snow.

Bill pointed out lots of other stretches of wire fence---just like ours---needing a heap of re-stretching come spring. He also noted that Jim Taylor, our next-door neighbor, knows the secret of constructing fences for the deep snow in the Selle Valley. He puts posts about five or six feet apart. Except for a tree snag hanging over one short section, his entire barbwire fence is good to go for when he turns his cows out to pasture.

On our transfer station run, we also saw several prize mail/paperbox casualties--and a few more caved-in buildings. And, that poor mama moose that didn't make it at the Selle railroad crossing is now in complete view as opposed to a few weeks ago when only her hoof stuck straight up from the snow.

We came home, and, as usual, I kinda sighed, looking at that caved-in quanset straight ahead of us in the driveway. Later, I shoveled the snow off the ramps leading up to the deck where Bill had left them, hoping he could use those ramps for the snowblower to keep the deck clear for the winter.

That was a nice idea which proved futile during all those weeks of never-ending dumps (or should that be referred to as "moisture transfer from the sky?") Over time, the snow had piled up and frozen hard on top of those ramps. The resulting weight pushed on the ramps and the ramps pushed on the ends of the trex deck boards, causing them to bend downward. We're now hoping we can put some beams underneath to coax them upward again. Time will tell.

Lots to do, and today's run to Coeur d'Alene will help us get started with the long process of fixing all the stuff Mother Nature broke with her winter's wrath this year. Even though I'm not running in the St. Paddy's Day event in Seattle this morning, I'll still remember of the "luck of the Irish" and hope that it begins to change here at the Lovestead and for everyone throughout this winter-torn area.