Finding fall happiness

Unlike his opinionated and vocal wife, Bill's not one to express his thoughts too often. In fact, back in Louisiana, they called him the "judge" because folks never really knew what he was thinking. He told me once, long ago, that when he's happy, mad or sad, he acts pretty much the same way.

Well, 34 years of marriage have given me a few times when that claim has veered a bit from the norm.

Bill's genuine enthusiasm soars when he talks geocaching or fishing. I saw him openly sad the day our beloved Casey or "Baby Horse," as Bill lovingly called him for 17 years, died. I've also been able to rev up a few rare moments of anger from my hubby over the years.

Nonetheless, he remains pretty stoic and hard to read most of the time.

So, this morning when I told him the plants outside did not get bitten but definitely got nipped, he asked me how the rose was doing.

"Which one?" I asked.

"That one next to the kennel. I'll hate to see that one go," he said.

His comment made me happy, giving me a hint that he DOES notice and appreciate the garden bounty. I know her dad's comment will also make Annie happy because she gave us that rosebush when we moved into the Lovestead two years ago, and it has flourished, popping out a whole summer's worth of gorgeous blossoms like those in the photo above, which was taken this morning. The rose will live on for at least another week because we have a nice splash of Indian summer ahead.

And, that makes me happy.

Which brings to mind an article I read in this morning's "Travel" section of the Spokesman-Review. A Washington Post reporter named Scott Vogel went to Denmark to find out why the Danes were voted the happiest folks on Earth. He even put up a sign in a public gathering place asking why. He got lots of answers--ranging from the beer, to the country's middle-class focus, to irreverence toward authority, and even their cozy candles that exude a sense of warmth.

I also learned in this piece that we in the United States are the 16th happiest nation in the world. I don't know if that makes me happy or sad.

What I do know, however, is that I've been enjoying an inordinate amount of happiness lately, and I'm hoping it continues. Much of our happiness in this area is regulated by the seasons, and right now, we're at absolute perfection: beautiful autumn days in the 70s and 80s (this week).

Also, many of the emotional burdens saddling me down for the past year have been resolved---the loss of two horses, the winter destruction and the work that followed it. Most of the lawn and garden work is now under control, and, thanks to help from her doctor and our dear family angel, Cis, my mother is doing better than she was a couple of months ago.

So, I have been able to embrace the happier aspects of life, and, believe me, they've been abundant of late. For example, who could not bask in the beauty that comes with fall weather? I snapped some of that beauty on my way to Thompson Falls yesterday; it appears in photos below.

I laughed and visited with dozens of friendly and fascinating people for four hours yesterday during my book signing in Thompson Falls. Sandy, the store owner, had worked overtime, with cookies and invitations, to steer people into the store.

I met a lady whose mother used to keep house for our parish priest, Father Dooley. That was a long, long time ago. I enjoyed lots of laughs with the mailman and the jewelry instructor from Kalispell.

The mailman, Michael, was Catholic, so I told him he should enjoy the story in Pocket Girdles of my childhood mail pilfering and the subsequent lying by omission in my first Confession. I figured he had a good sense of humor when he and Janet, the jewelry instructor, walked out the door with the naked Santa.

I met lots of Sandy's good friends and listened to tidbits from their lives and their travels. I heard about family birthday parties, complete with green toenails. Folks told me about grandkids on the way and a big buck who eats the neighbor's roses. The afternoon provided a potpourri of happiness while centering around my reason for being there, to sell some books. In one case, I felt honored to be the first-ever author to autograph a book to a lady who needed some laughs because of being a new widow.

The hours driving to and from the book signing were happy, as they always are with any trip along HWY 200, where rugged and pristine Western beauty reigns supreme during all seasons.

Coming down Jacobson Road, on the way to East Shingle Mill which connects with Selle Road and finally South Center Valley Road, where I had ridden my bike just two nights before, I once again almost literally pinched myself because of my continued disbelief and awe that I really live in the Selle Valley, where the rural existence is evident and intensely appreciated by all its residents.

I don't know why we Americans are ranked 16th in world happiness, but I do know that I don't have to put up a sign to ask what makes a lot of us happy. It's all around us, and maybe, just maybe those of us fortunate enough to live in the rural pockets of God's Country might be sitting on the high end of the data.

At least, we can make that claim as long as the nice weather holds and that lovely rose out there by the kennel keeps blooming!