Saturday Slight

I took the camera with me to the barn this morning. Just wanted to catch a few shots of early Saturday travels at the Lovestead.

So, here's a shot from inside the barn, looking toward our new building. You'll see Annie Dog, who now prefers to spend evenings in the barn with the horses. She's about to dig in for her morning snow cone.

That box there in the foreground is the beginnings of a planter. Our shavings come in bales, and holding the bales together are cedar boards. That's what I'm using to build my rustic planters. For now, the partially completed product makes a good spot for leaving my snow shoes. Hopefully it will be sitting on level ground and green grass soon.

I snapped shots of mud puddles, which are actually kinda pretty when coated with some late winter ice.

And, of course, our view of the back side of Schweitzer offers us daily beauty, when the clouds are gone, that is. I'm sure it's going to be a skier's delight up there today.

I'm going to hang around here and work on some projects. Bill is going to the gun show. He likes to talk to a knife maker from Big Fork, and usually he likes to purchase knives from the guy. So, I'm thinking he'll be coming home with a new model for his collection.

We'll be watching the Zags this afternoon. Don't know what the family plan is, but we've sure been enjoying our Saturday gatherings to eat and watch our team. Let's hope they finish their league play against San Diego with a perfect season and a 23-5 record. One more game next week against a Carolina team (not the big-name one), and they'll be getting revved up for March Madness.

For all the folks at the Blogfest, including my friend Florine, have a great time. One of these days I'll make it down there and meet you all face to face. Thanks to the Blogfather for starting us out on this blogging journey. I'm pushing five years at it now. Hard to believe.

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My message read "hvfnlvu."

I received a response "thxluvu2!"

A mother cannot be anything but a bit weepy-eyed and wistful as she lives adventures vicariously through her children.

As I type this, "Miss Annie Love Sandpoint, Idaho" is probably standing in line at Sea Tac, waiting to board her flight to Philadelphia. Then, after a layover, she'll fly once more--over the pond--to Dublin. By midnight tonight, she'll be walking or driving in Ireland.

What a momentous occasion this is for our family, especially for those of us who, all our lives, have known we were Irish and have been so proud to be Irish and who have dreamed of the one life adventure when we could go to Ireland.

Annie's our "forward observer," as they call it in the military. She'll tell her story for everyone through photos and words on her www.rainiergirl.blogspot.com. And, maybe one day the rest of us will get to visit the homeland of our ancestry.

I shared with readers yesterday about my "Hail Mary's" in the bath tub, and though it may have seemed flippant within the context, I, a bad Catholic, do pray from the bottom of my heart in that bath tub.

This morning there were special prayers for our Annie, that she be safe from beginning to end of this wonderful journey.

And, of course, I'd love to issue one more prayer to her---one which I've always loved and one which some day she may even come to cherish, especially after this adventure:

To Annie,

May the Lord rise up to meet you;

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face.

The rain fall soft upon your fields,

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Much love, Mom

Concrete snow aplenty.

Gorgeous good bye to February.

Groomed runs and sunshine await skiers on Schweitzer's backside.

200 Questions

I'm sitting here with a blank brain this morning. Could I write about the cucumbers, marigolds and kale and their leaning tendencies?

About all I could say is that all my little plants are leaning off to a 45-degree angle. They've been doing that for days, only because I haven't turned their pots around.

You see they're sitting on shelves next to the sliding glass door, and there are so many of them lined up along the shelves and such a good chance that if I started turning them around, one by one, some could fall off the shelf, hit the floor, make a big mess and surely die from being jolted and most likely uprooted from their safe little home in the potting soil.

Homeless plants. Now, that's a concept.

The plants will continue to lean toward the outdoor light until I move them to the green house. I do have concerns that they'll get so used to pointing one direction that it could be permanent.

Lovestead's leaning garden. Now, there's a picture.

Corn stalks, 'maters, peppers, zinnias and marigolds, leaning toward Nellie's all over the Lovestead. It could be a phenomenon for visitors to come and behold.

Yup, that's how blank my mind is as I consider what I'm going to write about in Slight Detour this morning. But leaning plants make sense, don't they? After all, they're taking a slight detour from the norm.

I also thought about "Hail Mary's" in the bathtub. Some people chuckled at the museum yesterday when I told one of them that I pray for his well being by saying "Hail Mary's" in my bathtub.

It IS the truth. What better place than the solitude of sitting in warm water and a quiet bathroom with doors shut to pray! Works for me, and since they told me long ago that God is everywhere and God can hear everything, I know he's listening. Cuz, some of the folks I pray for in the tub are getting better, and that is wonderful news.

Still, imagining anyone uttering "Hail Mary's" in the bath tub cuts quite a picture.

I was talking about those "Hail Mary's" yesterday in the museum research room while thumbing through a book about memoirs. See, I have to look like I know something about memoirs for a seminar here in the next month or so. So, I've been doing a lot of this and a lot of that to make it look like I know what I'm talking about.

My sister-in-law Mary was nice enough to send me three samples of memoirs, which, by the way, Mary, I have started reading. I like the comment, made as a disclaimer, by former First Lady Barbara Bush that what she had to say in the pages ahead was "slanted," much like my potted plants.

Yesterday at the museum, I was looking for questions besides all those I've already listed which deal with what everyone wants to know about everyone's life. I found 200 of them in a booklet dealing with people's uniqueness by Frances Marks. So, now, I'm typing them up---on my other computer.

Many are questions already on the list I've been preparing, and then there are some to add.

And, this morning I may even have a few more after I think long and hard about the vacuum in my brain.

How about:

Why do you say "Hail Mary's" in the bath tub? Don't you have a God tree for such things?

What is the weirdest outcome you've ever experienced with a leaning tomato?

What do you do when you face a computer screen on a Friday morning in late February and you have nothing to say?

Answer: You go to the bath tub, say a few "Hail Mary's" and hope something comes of it all.

There. Done.

I'll skip the bath tub, go across the living room, stand at an angle and water my plants.

Flaky thoughts

I don't know how intelligent this morning's blog posting will be, but since the big white flakes falling from the sky got it started, I'll issue a disclaimer: expect a little flakiness.

We've had a gradual meltdown this week, which has brought on a most dreaded time for being outside, especially on a farm.

If I were to figure a way to interview our little "Scoutmaster's Horse," Miss Scotch Heather, I think you'd get an earful of "nay, nay, nay." As a baby at her original home of Scotch Acres west of Spokane, she grew up on a slope where water will drain, not on the flat where water likes to stand.

In her "nay rather than yay" responses, she'd be referring to how she feels when I lead her out of the barn in the morning and she discovers that much more of that wet stuff on top of that icy stuff with that green stuff (used grass) mixed in for garnish.

She doesn't like putting her little white toes in the slop, and she lets me know it by doing a left turn HALT right at the barn door. I told her this morning that if she wanted to be with her pal Lefty, she was gonna have to wade through the stuff cuz I wasn't gonna pick her up and carry her.

She seemed to understand.

Maybe tomorrow we won't have to come to an understanding cuz the TV weather gods have told us to expect a winter storm today.

So, what was gained in our gradual movement toward spring will have to start all over again, and Heather can have a day off from getting her tootsies wet and dirty. Of course, I haven't asked her how manages in that barnyard, which is turning just as yucky as her morning walkway to the gate.

On this flaky day, I'm thinking about our kids who are both headed off on journeys. Could be Willie's already left or will leave later today. He'll be driving to Pocatello from Boise to cover the Idaho State Wrestling Tournament.

Our next door neighbors are headed there too. Young Terry Taylor, son of Jim and Mary, is representing the Sandpoint Bulldogs wrestling squad for another year. I think he's a senior this year, so it will surely be a special trip for all involved.

Mary and I talked the other day about the possibility of their taking Willie and Debbie's Christmas presents to Pocatello since we've never yet been able to connect after their aborted-effort during those December storms to make it up to Sandpoint for the holiday.

She offered, but I decided it could get confusing, so maybe Willie and Debbie can celebrate Christmas at Easter time.

This is Willie's busy, busy time of the year because of state tournaments, and I think he's got another full schedule ahead when the boys basketball teams meet for play-offs next week.

Anyway, I'm wishing him a safe trip.

His excursion probably won't be nearly as exciting as Annie's. On Saturday morning, she boards a plane headed for Philadelphia. From there, she flies to Dublin, Ireland. And, yes, I'm so envious my skin could probably turn as green as the Emerald Isle. Annie offered, but the timing wasn't going to work out.

So, vicariously, we'll all have to enjoy the trip. Since we have Irish stock on both sides of the family, she's received some good tips on where to spend time from when she arrives Sunday morning, Dublin time until she flies back to Seattle the following Sunday.

She's made arrangements to meet geocachers, and she's hoping to climb Ireland's highest mountain. She'll be traveling through some areas where family ancestors lived and enjoying the cities.

Knowing Annie, she'll be posting pictures, so I'm hoping to share her experiences as they come flying through cyberspace. I was talking to Fr. O'Donovan---soon to be Monsignor---the other day and told him that when he was receiving his official designation this Sunday at St. Joseph's, Annie would be walking the streets of Dublin.

He said he had just received a call from a relative in Dublin that morning----and he seemed pleased for Annie.

So, that's the flakiness of this day. By the way, the flakes have diminished in size since I started typing. Now, they're more like particles, but I'm not holding out hope that the robins will be happy today.

It's time to get off the flaky snippets and on to the rest of the day, which includes a great basketball game tonight in Santa Clara. GO ZAGS!!!

Happy Thursday.

Update: Annie has begun writing about the anticipation and the experience of traveling to Ireland on her (www.rainiergirl.blogspot.com), so check it out.

Hope springs eternal in North Idaho

We're halfway between winter and spring. That means dirty snow and a lot of water. It's difficult to find the
beauty at times, but it's there.

And, almost always a trip along the north shore of Lake Pend Oreille will ease the search.

It was a wet day yesterday, clouds covering the mountains, lots of early slop foretelling lots more slop to come.

I took a late afternoon drive to Hope and almost to Clark Fork, via the old highway where the Denton curves scared every young driver around--and the passengers even more---back through the 1960s.

Now, it's pretty quiet up there. I met just one car and had the road to myself.

The turnouts aren't quite what we see on the new highway below, but they're there, and I stepped out of the car a few times to snap some photos.

Heavy rain clouds made the photos in most cases, and I was lucky to catch a hint of sun during my drive through the area.

It won't be long before little patches of green, just emerging from the melting snow will create a whole new picture, and I'll have to go out there again with my camera.

I never tire of the duty. Spring will come soon, I hope.

Tuesday Twitterteetumble

My oh my, does the title ever fit today as we continue to watch the stock market tumble. I read in the business section of the paper this morning that it is falling at Depression-era levels.

"The stock market is more than half way to matching the losses it experienced during the Great Depression," the article entitled "Worst-case scenario" reads. "While few professional traders and economists believe we're in for pain of that magnitude, many say the market has further to fall.

"Declines are near a Depression-era pace," the piece states. "The Dow Jones industrial average lost 89.2 percent of its value between its high in September of 1929 and its low in July of 1932. As of Monday's close, the Dow has fallen 50 percent from its high in just more than 16 months.

"A rout matching the 1930s would bring the Dow, now just above 7,000, as low as 1530," the writer reveals.

Well, I guess it's time to do some serious thinking about which way to go with investments. No magic answers, that's for sure.

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I am thinking and have arrived at an answer for the school levy vote today. I've decided to vote "yes." It's been a mixed-emotions kind of decision for an old educator like me who also knows how people feel about paying those taxes, especially at times like these.

The same thought, however, keeps resonating as I have considered my decision. Education is the key to getting us out of this mess. I know there's a big can of worms in making a statement like that because the question always lies in where the money goes and how effective it's going to be in truly educating our young people.

I do get disturbed when the leverage in passing a levy often falls on threats or actions to make people squirm. We all remember the year of split-shifting back in the 1980s when families' lives being turned upside down finally brought the voters into submission of marking the X box for "yes." This time, the threat of all extracurricular activities going out the door seems to be worthy ammunition to bring people to their senses to vote "yes."

As a semi-idealist, I've been known to say on several occasions throughout my education career and in the years since that if I'm doing my job as a teacher in the classroom, people will recognize that and automatically vote "yes." I've also been so naive as to think that programs where tangible results of student learning are seen in the practice are truly valued by the voting public and that they will stay.

Over the years, both of those idealistic notions have been proved wrong as valued programs go out the door.

Those extracurricular activities are, indeed, important. I know that from my own experience as an adviser to numerous groups. Extracurricular activities are often the carrots that keep kids in school. They also teach life and social skills that may not even receive attention if a kid just goes to school and occupies a chair in six different rooms a day.

In delving into the discussion of what's good or bad about education, there are no easy answers. Another area of concern is quality of teaching. Recently, I heard a person refer to public education as "socialism," with the specific comment that teachers all get paid the same, regardless of the quality of their instruction.

Will anyone ever figure out an easy answer to solving that dilemma? I doubt it. We're humans working with humans, and there are seldom black and white answers to distinguish one person's opinion of quality from another.

So, with these few thoughts, deciding whether or not to vote for the levy isn't any easier. I think it's a gut reaction---and don't we make a lot of our decisions from gut reactions?

My gut tells me that we need to encourage education more than ever right now, especially at a time when we're facing economic dire straits. A comment I've heard over the years always helps me in making these decisions.

The students we're educating now will eventually be in charge. We will be depending on them to steer us down the road ahead by keeping all parts operating smoothly. With that in mind, we should do whatever we can to ensure that they get an adequate education to carry on with their responsibilities and to see that we don't hit too many potholes in the road ahead.

And, with that in mind, I believe that we need to look very closely, based on the behavior we've witnessed in the last few years, at how we're going about our public education and maybe consider infusing the systems with a good dose of life skills and civics FOR EVERY STUDENT at every level.

Seems like lack of education in the necessary areas may have contributed to a lot of the demise we're looking at in this nation right now----ethics, budgeting, accountability, how to add 2 and 2 and not get whatever answer you'd like it to be for your own interests, etc.

Enough said there; I'll vote yes this time, knowing that when situations get dire and people lose their jobs, they often turn to education as an avenue toward starting a new future.

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Just got a call and realized there's one more assignment someone's asked me to write which hasn't been done. So, I guess I'd better get on with the day so I can spend more time at the computer. Seems like the more you do, the more folks ask you to do. Is there ever any end?

Have a nice day.

Monday meltdown

I've already gone out to dry off the satellite dish this morning. It's raining. That means erratic Internet service no matter how much the folks who sell you the satellite variety tell you that weather doesn't affect it. I think they get paid to keep their mouths shut.

I'm used to it, though, after nearly eight months of noticing that every time my Internet didn't work, moisture was dripping from the sky.

So, I keep a mop next to the sliding glass door for those trips outside to where I keep a ladder next to the side of the house so that I can climb up and dab off the dish, hoping for it to stay dry enough for me to finish whatever I'm doing during that session on the Internet.

I might be climbing up there again before this blog entry gets posted.

I'm happy to see the rain. That means it's warm enough not to be snow and that by the end of the day, we may see a lot less snow. I'll take the rain, if that's the case.

This is one of those weeks of finishing some projects and beginning some anew. I'm going to be working for the Idaho Forest Products Commission, writing profiles about people who work in the forest industry. This should be a fun project, especially since my husband works in the industry and he may just know some of the folks on my list.

I'm also planning to spend as much time as possible working out a plan for a memoir-writing seminar in Coeur d'Alene April 11. A nice lady and a wonderful writer/historian named Jenny asked me if I'd be interested a couple of months ago. Since then, I've asked my friend and former student Erica to join me at the seminar.

Between the two of us, we've probably written about a thousand stories, so maybe we'll come up with something helpful for all who want to write memoirs. I can never stress enough the importance of writing about one's life experiences. Personal memoirs often provide some of the richest history we can find, and if the story is not ever told, it often becomes lost forever.

This week is also the week before the big TAX MEETING with Bev, our accountant, so I've got some final details to get in order before we head down there, hand over the pile and then pray for the next several weeks as she figures out the good or bad news. There is something to be said about spending a lot of money and not making as much money----at tax time, that is.

On another note, another interminable Academy Awards program has hit the history books. I can't say that I saw it all because, of course, I was on the couch and dozed off through several segments. It lasted long enough for several naps, but I did agree with a headline this morning that suggested that the show had several weird moments.

Some things did seem weird, but what seemed most weird to me were the former BEST ACTRESSES and ACTORS looking into the eyes of their respective nominee, speaking "from the heart," then suddenly going blank and awkwardly pointing their faces toward the teleprompter to save them---thus making the recipient of their "from the heart" words look a bit awkward as they stared back.

Seems like if these people spend their careers memorizing lines, they could handle a few sentences of sincerity without the teleprompters at their own awards night.

But that's just an observation.

I also could not find any humor whatsoever in Ben Stiller's performance as a presenter. Maybe it was an inside joke, but as far as I could see, it was dumb, then it got dumber. Maybe someone could enlighten me.

It's over, and I'm anxious to see Slumdog Millionaire. I have yet to read a bad review of the movie, and some of those have even come from regular folks, so it probably deserves all the accolades it received last night.

At the risk of sounding dumb or dumber, I guess that's enough for today. We'll see if that satellite dish holds off the moisture long enough for me to get this posted.

Happy Monday. If you're in snow country, hope you're enjoying a meltdown too.

On Riding Sweet Lily of the Selle Valley

I took my life in my hands yesterday and kept it in one piece.

"You didn't take your cell phone along with you?" my sister asked last night.

No, I didn't, and nobody was there to pick up the pieces should catastrophe prevail.

It's downright stupid for a nearly 62 year-old woman to climb on a coming 4-year old mare and take off for a ride down a country road. Might not sound like a big thing, but most horse folks will agree when the mare is basically green broke and hasn't been asked to do anything for four months besides eat, my actions yesterday were stupid.

Nonetheless, I came home alive, free of blood, sweat, aches, pains and any tears, so I'm feeling pretty good about the afternoon ride on Lily. And, I feel really good about Lily. She's a keeper.

It was a stunningly beautiful day, all day long. I had cleaned house and gone to town for groceries. It was Gonzaga game day, and the Tibbs and Filipowski crowd were coming to watch the 8:30 match-up between Gonzaga and Pepperdine. I finished my preparation by 2 p.m., so there was time to enjoy being outside.

Bill had already taken off for Fisherman's Island on Lake Pend Oreille with the dogs. He took with him the specific details about a geocache there, where most of the year would require a boat. The lake is still frozen, and that's where a lot of ice anglers hang out, so he knew he could walk to the island.

Lily watched me walk from the driveway to the barn, with a longing look on her face. Lily loves attention, and I knew she'd be happy when I selected her from the trio of attention-loving horses in the barnyard. Saddling up was on my mind, but I still wasn't too sure if this was a good idea, especially being alone with no one to pick up the pieces, should she dump me.

The more I groomed her, the more I wanted to ride. Giving her foretop, mane and tail a nice combing, I reached the point of no return. It was going to happen. Out came the saddle and blanket.

Over to the barn wall, I walked for the snaffle bit and training reins. Lily grabbed the bit willingly, although I knew she wouldn't be happy cuz I hadn't warmed it up. Horses don't like cold metal on their tongues.

The next obstacle would be walking to the driveway past the gauntlet of screaming barnyard mates. After all, the old witch who keeps them on the run was leaving home, and herd-bound youthful underlings can't deal with such a thing.

You'd think they'd be happy.

Once in the driveway, I decided the barn shoes were gonna have to be the footgear of choice. It was just too muddy to go get my good boots; plus, I had a horse in hand. I tightened the cinch, grabbed the stirrup and lifted my left leg, which did not even come close to the stirrup.

Lily grew over the winter.

That meant going back to the barn and finding something to stand on so I could get on. The small stepladder was the only reasonable tool. Lily didn't like my bringing it next to her side, but after a couple of "whoa's," she stood still and I climbed on.

The feeling was supreme, and we hadn't even left the barn. She walked out, fiddling at her bit as those young Arabians kept screaming and racing the fence. She walked on through the driveway. I stayed on. We turned on to South Center Valley Road. I stayed on.

She kept walking, and the young 'uns kept screaming. The first hint of youth from my big powerful mare appeared quickly and kept moving alongside on the road to Lily's right.

Her shadow.

I don't think she's seen her shadow very often, and it had her concerned. Still, we inched our way down the road. Gary Finney's big mare and foal would not be in the winter pasture, so I knew we'd be okay past his field. She hesitated from time to time but kept going forward, surely wishing that shadow would quit mimicking her.

The best part for most of the ride was that I was still on her back. Down toward Eva Whitehead's place, she got some ideas. It wasn't fun to fiddle with the bit anymore, so let's crow hop. That was fun---a couple of times, and she made a couple of protest noises, but we kept on going.

When I saw some people and dogs walking down the road a ways, I decided we wouldn't push things on this ride, so I turned her around. She was naughty for about a minute, crow hopping once more and prancing for about 200 feet. That was the only time I really wondered if I had made a BIG MISTAKE by taking her out without any groundwork.

Suddenly, she stopped the prancing and settled down into nice ground-covering walk. The rest of a ride was a breeze, and I felt like a million dollars sitting atop that big pretty mare who was behaving more like an adult than a green colt.

No need for a cell phone to call 911 from the middle of a mud puddle.

As we came within view of the Lovestead, and the barnyard screamers saw us, they continued their chorus. Lily could have cared less, and I was thanking her profusely for giving me a pretty good ride for the first day out in 2009.

She enjoyed her grain and her grooming, while I enjoyed the thought of many good rides on Sweet Lily to come.

2-robin Saturday and Dirty Hairy Days

Yup, there they were in the sky above about 6:30 this morning, heading south overhead as I went to get the papers. I saw two robins with red breasts. I don't know where they had been or where they were headed, but they were definitely doing their harbinger work.

I didn't mind that they chose not to take a landing at the Lovestead. Any self-respecting, intelligent robin would take one look at our mounds of concrete snow and know for sure there are better birdports somewhere else. They'll be back.

This farm is a robin's roost, for sure. That's one of the first things I noticed when we moved here nearly three years ago. Once spring and summer come, on any given day, I could probably count up to three dozen of them wandering the grounds, digging up worms.

For now, though, they'll have to search elsewhere for green grass and ground thawed enough for them to find some big fat juicy breakfast.

We are blessed with another beautiful day today, although it's a bit frustrating. We're in that transition mode where cold nights mean frost in the morning and warmer afternoons mean mud. It's the dirty season, for sure.

I walked around on my errands yesterday with a big patch of dirt on one pant leg, thanks to the world's dirtiest car and that ridge of wet mud along the running board. Catches you every time you step out or in to the car. Once you notice the mud dubbing, you have to allow it to stay cuz trying to rub off wet mud makes an even bigger mess.

Muddy pant legs and world's dirtiest cars, however, are not limited to just us. They're everywhere, and they're going to continue to be everywhere until winter decides to completely vamoose and spring takes over and dries things out.

We still have break-up on the roads to face. So far, the only rutted road I've seen out in these parts is a section on Hickey Road over to the east. We'll have plenty more before it's over.

And, speaking of dirty things, yesterday I decided to groom horses. I cross tie them at the opening of the barn, where the warmth of the sun meant discarding my jacket after a few minutes. I started with Lefty and ended with Lefty.

One round of rubbing out ground-in dirt and loose hair was enough. I was eating hair, I was rubbing hair off my clothes, and I was thinking that if I did this with three horses, I may look like a woolly woman by the time I headed to the house.

Lefty was surrounded by a carpet of his dirty hair when we finished. And, I'd sampled enough strands of the stuff that I decided that was enough for one day. I came to the house, changed jeans and shirt and headed for town. That's when the car took over on its dirt assault.

There's no winning this time of the year, so we just have to grin and bear it and go squish a lot while walking down the road.

The good thing about this time of the year is pictured above. Cukes are coming along nicely, as are my tomatoes, marigolds, snapdragons and finally, the peppers.

Thanks to the ladies at All Seasons, I learned last weekend that peppers can be persnickedy about germinating. I already suspected that fact with several pepper-planting failures in the past, but the experts confirmed it.

They told me that pepper seed loves warmth and more dirt than most other seed. They suggested putting saran wrap on the pots and putting the pots in a really warm place. Combined with the heat, the saran wrap creates humidity, thus fooling those stubborn little seeds into full-fledged germination.

Well, it worked. One by one, I've been removing the saran wrap and moving the pots from in front of the wood stove to the window shelves. Cuz one by one, little green sprouts have been appearing. The ladies said once they're up, they'll be fine.

Bill and I had a good time at Eichardts last night. Usually we can't get in, not because we're too young, but because the place is always packed. Well, it was crowded last night, but a couple of tables opened up not long after we walked inside. While waiting, we both got lots of visiting in with Sarah Roop and the two Molly's.

All are former students, and all lead fun and interesting lives.

Once at the table, Sandy Compton (also a former student 40 years ago) joined us. We talked hiking and buying locally. Sandy's really in to the latter, and I think he has a point---rather than expending so much energy lamenting the national and world state of things, why not do something where we actually have tangible control.

Support local efforts and do it in a big way. Seems reasonable and it seems like it's an option where we can actually see the fruits of our labors. And, as one who wants to some day market my farm produce, I like the idea.

Enough of that. I've gotta get out there to the barn and then figure out how to make the best of this beautiful day.

Happy Saturday and GO ZAGS---now 20-5. I've heard from some critics that they have a lousy coach, but somehow I'm finding that a little hard to believe.

A celebration of family and forest legacy

Bill and I felt honored to be among the gathering at Western Pleasure Guest Ranch last night as the Wood family officially celebrated their being chosen for the Forest Legacy program.

For four years, the family and representatives from several entities have worked together to provide a compelling application for the program, which guarantees and endless ending. That is---the land involved in the program, in this case several hundred acres of timberland in the family's Gold Creek holdings can never be subdivided.

Jim Wood expressed very eloquently last night the ranch beginnings back in the early 1940s when he and his family moved to Gold Creek from Colorado, with $650. Of that $500 paid for the stump ranch; the rest his dad used to carry them through the winter.

From that beginning, a family corporation of great magnitude and diversity has sprouted and thrived. Decades of vision, cooperation and admitted blood, sweat and tears have produced one of Bonner County's phenomenal agricultural and economic success stories.

Thanks to the Forest Legacy designation, Jim and Virginia have five children and oodles of grandchildren and great-grandchildren who will be able to enjoy that same land, as will more generations to come.

It was a joyful evening, filled with fun, wonderful visiting, heartfelt speeches, good food, music and a sense of how family and forest go have such profound meaning.

Congratulations to the Wood family as this year's Idaho selection for the highly competitive program.

Jim Wood's new cap tells the story of the Forest Legacy program: cows and trees, NOT condos.

We listened to some good, down-home music, compliments of family members and sleigh pilot extraordinaire.

The Wood family hosted this delectable meal of prime rib and the trimmings, prepared by Josh Da Vita.

This willing, well-oiled team took us for a lovely sleigh ride through beautiful timber country in Gold Creek, which will never be subdivided because of the Wood family's selection for the Forest Legacy program.

Wood family patriarch and matriarch, Jim and Virginia, married 61 years.

No whining here

Virginia Wood with Crystal and Don Gunter

The evening was all about the future for this little guy and a whole lot of other young 'uns in the Wood family.

Minutiae

Nuttin' particular on my mind today. Just a lot of little stuff, so I decided to use a word I seldom utter as my title today. It's funny how we see those words used by everyone else but us, and we feel like it would be a bit pretentious to suddenly inject them into our conversation.

Sorta like my wearing a dress to go shopping at Yoke's. Folks might just be taken aback from such a sight, and I can assure you it would not feel natural.

Which brings back some minutiae I'm thinking about today. I'm thinking about a picture I'm going to post with Tiger Wood and his new addition, a baby boy. It's nice that Tiger has a good looking family, but when you see the picture, you'll know that something else impressed me more.

I told Kiwi last night that she had a look alike, and that her twin lives with the Woods. Bill said this morning that Tiger's dog probably isn't a working dog. To which I said, it probably herds golf balls rather than coffee cans.

Moving on, I've posted a couple of photos below, and, yes, I'm looking as odd in these pictures as I would if I were walking through Yoke's in that hypothetical dress.

These photos came from a time that we had no choice----from grade school clear through second year of college. We had to wear dresses or skirts every single day, no matter how bad the blizzards were.

How many remember those zip-up boots with the fur on them that rubbed your legs raw in the winter time? Awful memories, to say the least.

Well, anyway, my former student Kathy Conger brought some photos to me last night at the Women Honoring Women meeting. She and her husband had gone to a sale for Mary Lee Piatt's estate. Mary Lee worked with Ross Hall and took most of the school pictures when I was in high school.

Kathy picked up a batch of them and recognized a face or two. So, she's been in the process of dispersing them to folks who might appreciate them. Of course, I couldn't resist posting a couple this morning. My, do they take the mind back to the good ol' days at Sandpoint High, where I loved most everything-----except wearing a damn dress every day.

Thanks, Kathy. I hope a few people reading the blog today recognize either themselves or someone they know. We lived in a charmed time back then, and it's always fun to go back, either through photos or stories.

Guess that's enough minutiae. I think I know how to spell it; now I feel a little more comfortable using it----in fact, a lot more comfortable than I'll ever feel wearing a dress.

Happy Thursday.

SHS Cedar Post staff: 1964. Can you identify anyone?

Sandpoint High Pep Club: 1965

If the worst is yet to come, I think we can handle it.

I just listened to a video on the Yahoo news. The guy sat there and urgently pontificated what a change Americans must adjust to over the next few years. No new cars. Kids have to go to state schools instead of the upscale places. No jewelry. Wearing last year's clothes.

Hmmm. I did get a new necklace on Valentine's Day from my sisters. It was a J.C. Penny product, and it had to do with sisterhood. It meant a lot, especially knowing that Barbara and Laurie each wear one too. There's something about the sisterly bond that's pretty cool, so I love wearing the necklace.

Other than that, my jewelry needs are pretty basic.

New car: our Jimmy has 130,000 miles on it, and Bill has spent a little over a thousand dollars on it, getting some major fixes which have allowed it to run like a dream.

All that money meant nothing yesterday when I almost totaled the Jimmy, driving down our country road.

In the driveway, I switched off the 4-wheel drive. I was going to Bonners Ferry, and knowing me, I would have forgotten and driven the whole way in 4-wheel drive if I hadn't noticed the little light on the 4-wheel switch.

Within seconds of turning on to South Center Valley Road, the car was choosing new routes. First, Taylor's pasture, then south like our original destination, suddenly straight toward the light pole next to the Kauble's driveway. It was surreal, to say the least.

I had no control over its chosen route. I quickly flipped the 4-wheel switch to the "on" position. I have no idea if that did any good, but when it missed the light pole (well off the road and past the snow bank) and ended up facing north, I took a deep breath, thanked God and drove out of the snowbank.

When I returned, the road was covered with sand. Could be some other folks had a few slipping and sliding problems too.

Anyway, that car runs just fine except in 2-wheel on ice.

Bill has also been taking our 1989 GMC pickup in for repairs. It belonged to Buck Merritt at Merritt Bros. mill in Priest River. It was his company pickup, and I'm sure it received excellent maintenance.

We've had it for about ten years, and it's performed well for all our needs over the years. It needs its steering wheel tightened (lest Marianne heads down the road, and it would rather head toward a light pole), and it needs its driver's side door fixed so it can be closed all the way.

Money spent repairing these two rigs, we figure, is money well spent and a whole lot cheaper than spending the same amount we spent on our first home and ten acres for a new model. So, we're okay with not buying a new car or truck.

Last year's clothes: I did buy some turtle necks a while back, and that WAS last year. I am fortunate to be retired, and when I do have to dress up in "going to town duds," last year's models do just fine, cuz my dress-up situations are always in different towns. I'm not like Oprah or Katie Couric where people might notice if I wore the same thing twice.

Plus, a lot of those clothes are comfort clothes. I feel good in them, so I don't mind not adding to my wardrobe. I am going to have to get me a new pair of flannel-lined jeans for next winter, cuz the comfortable pair I insist on wearing every day (wash them at night), are getting pretty faded, and I did spill a little paint on them a couple of weeks ago.

I don't have kids going to college, but my kids did go to state schools, and I've never thought for one minute their education was one bit inferior to the kids who got to go to the big-name universities. That's an opportunity for those who can afford it, but surely not a necessity.

I remember once a student at our lowly Sandpoint High School who made a statement worth pondering over and over. He had come to Sandpoint High from one of the nation's top ten high schools at the time. He was an outstanding student. He went on to Johns Hopkins University and may still be there working in research.

"It doesn't matter where you go to school; it's how much you're willing to put into it that makes the difference," he said, and repeated often. He believed that the opportunities that he had found at comparatively Spartan Sandpoint High School were just as good or better than where he had attended before---a place with all kinds of techno trappings.

The man on the Yahoo news video also mentioned food and how people were going to have to concentrate on getting the best deals for eating----he said Trader Joe's and Wal-Mart are winning the competitive food battles right now and other high-priced places are tanking. He says more hamburger, less steak.

Guess we're okay there, cuz we did purchase a bunch of hamburger from our neighbors across the street, and there hasn't been a day I've lived that I haven't loved a good hamburger every bit as much as a juicy steak.

The man also mentioned that Americans have started saving their money now---in a tone that sounded almost dire. Huh? Haven't we been told that all our lives?

Well, it seems the problem is that Americans have been spending with money they really don't have, and now that they're not spending with money they really don't have, times are tough. And, now that they've learned to start saving their money, that's turning out bad for the economy. I'm scratching my head on this one because it does seem a bit enigmatic.

Still, as a person who well remembers being poor for most of my life, I've always felt a confidence that being poor trained me for life. We grew up doing without. We worked hard for every penny. When we did receive anything of material value, we appreciated it rather than looking upon it as a throwaway.

We learned how to work and we learned a work ethic.

I always say, "from bag woman to bag woman," I can handle it. It's a bit facetious, yes, to suggest that I would even consider the choice, but I feel well-armed, thanks to lean times, to take it on should it happen.

I believe there is a silver lining to the economic woes we are enduring and will continue to face. We'll learn to appreciate what we have, and we can return to a few of the ideals and ethics that kept this country strong for so long.

The pendulum could swing, but for now, we need to look for the lessons of having to change our ways and we need to capitalize on them.

To hike or not to hike; that is the question

Here's a case where "three" could be a crowd. I told them that. Still, they signed me up.

Bill and I talked about the July 22 Mount St. Helens hike yesterday. Once again, I warned him that he and Annie probably would be better off without me. They could actually enjoy the hike up to the rim of Washington State's volcano if I stayed home.

Let's just call this a plan in progress. They decided on this adventure before Christmas, and since then, there's been much talk, much planning and much study.

Ever since Day One of the planning, I've said, "Don't count me in. You know I'll make your hike miserable."

After all that admonition, you'd think they'd learn, especially after past experiences of taking me along on hikes that go straight up and come straight down.

I complain.

I hurt.

I hold them back.

My name is still on the roster.

Annie knows better than anyone how much fun it is to take Mom on a hard hike. She took me on New Zealand's most beautiful day hike, the Tongariro Passage near Taupo on the North Island.

Well, that day was not beautiful, nor was the hike.

We endured 40 mile per hour winds on top with blowing sand and snow---no view. We walked through craters of snow. We walked straight up rock steps. When we walked about three miles downward, having to torture already burning knees with each step, I wondered if I was ever going to get to the end of the trail.

While I was suffering, very visibly so, Annie was trotting ahead of me, then trotting back, then cheering me on, "Come on, Mom, you can do it." I swear she walked the 12-mile crossing twice during that hike and hardly showed a hint of exhaustion.

I was the oldest old fogey on the bus that took us there, and I was the oldest old fogey who had to catch the bus eight hours later---or stay on the mountain. Miraculously, I finished in time, even ahead of some 20-something youngsters from other countries. I think the fact that some of them were sitting and resting and puffing on cigarettes may have given me an edge.

Since the New Zealand hike, Bill and I did an 11-miler one day a couple of years ago up by the West Fork cabin. I lived and didn't really complain too much.

I don't know if I'm going on this summer's hike, but I'll keep my options open. So far, Bill has reported rather bleak stories about the accommodations; still, he has made them, with me in mind. He also told me yesterday of a nearby resort that touts great fun for the kids on a water slide. When he went to the picture, it showed a kiddie slide with a kiddie pool, much like the $9 plastic pool we bought for the doggies.

He says reviews of where we're supposed to stay vary, with some people reporting that the toilet is in the middle of the bedroom. Now, I'm trying to envision that taste of luxury.

He says the reservation folks claim they have wi-fi and that it does reach out for a ways. Tell me how wi-fi goes only thirty miles. I thought it was the worldwide web.

I told Bill to just leave me alone when it came to telling me every detail of the trail and every detail ever known to man about Mt. St. Helens. See, Bill likes to focus 100 percent, and maybe a few percentages more, on upcoming pursuits.

That's why he's smarter about a lot of things than I, the journalist, who likes to know a little bit about a lot of things.

He promised me yesterday he would not inundate me with daily updates between now and July on plans for the big day. Instead, my Boy Scout husband suggested he may start a blog about the adventure, and I could read it whenever I have the hankering.

I told him that would be a good idea. Now, I must say that Annie inherited a few genes from both of us. She's focused on the Mt. St. Helens trip for sure, but she also likes to learn a little about a lot of things.

And, right now, Mt. St. Helens is on the second or third burner cuz she's going to:

No, not Disneyland.

Annie's going to Ireland the week after next, and after that, she'll be running a marathon in Vancouver, British Columbia.

So, Bill will have to do solo for a while on "BEING PREPARED" for Mt. St. Helens.

In the meantime, I'll just keep considering the idea and pondering

the concept of going straight up and straight down for 10-12 hours that day and convincing myself that it will be good for my body and my soul.

Maybe thoughts of the kiddie pool afterward will give me the proper attitude.

Monday Guess Where

A sunny morning turned gloomy by afternoon yesterday, and that feeling of the "dead zone" of winter took over. I spent part of the afternoon dozing off on the couch---very unusual cuz I spend enough time at night dozing off on the couch while trying to watch TV.

Bill came home from church and a meeting, ate his usual five-course lunch for Sunday afternoons. That means several trips to the Schwan's boxes, heating up stuff in the oven, cleaning the plate and getting ready for the next trip to the freezer.

It's all topped off with one or two helpings of Schwan's ice cream goodies.

Anyway, once his extended lunch ended, we got in the car and went to see the herd of elk having their extended luncheon. No Schwan's products, though. Just hay provided by a resident of the area where the elk hang out on a nearby mountain.

The day never got better for photography, but I took pictures anyway.

So, today's assignment is to figure out where.

The shot above used to be downtown ????? USA?

Have fun. Enjoy the holiday!

Afternoon buffet at the . . .

Elk convention

Count the deer: a longtime family staple. This great late winter-early spring activity for our family dates back to 1954 when my mother and step-father Harold were married in March. On their honeymoon, they took along a camera and some binoculars (left somewhere in a motel room) and snapped hundreds of shots of deer blending in to the yucky, mucky hillsides or within the brush.

Our assignment during all future slide shows was to pick out the deer in the picture. Easier said than done.

We also took on the activity of Sunday drives past yucky, mucky hillsides, counting the deer.

Yesterday's little jaunt was no different for Bill and me.

"THERE'S A DEER . . . no, two, no three, oh . . . six, and so on."

So, I guess we can celebrate 55 years of this lifetime sport.

Now, where ARE the deer, in the picture, and where's the hillside?

Just Sunday stuff

I finally figured out that the computer was causing the problems with my camera yesterday. After rebooting, everything between camera and computer seemed to be cool.

Anyway, here's a sampling of goodies from the Bread Basket Bakery north of Bonners Ferry, near Three-Mile Junction on Hwy 95.

Mother and I didn't plan this, but the deal is that after a certain hour, the baked goods are half-price. So, I paid $13. for all these scrumptious items.

So far, a couple of slices of bread, two cinnamon rolls and most of the pie have disappeared.

We took the shoo fly pie over to my sisters' house last night where we joined our neighbors, the Filipowskis, their friend Bill; my mother, and my sisters for eating and watching basketball.

Coach Mark Few's ZAGS are now 19-5 after hanging in there with a determined University of San Francisco team, short-handed due to suspensions of four players. As the announcer kept repeating, on Valentine's Day, San Francisco showed heart throughout the game, and they showed that they could compete without the services of the four players who refused to follow rules.

It was a great game, even though Gonzaga is still suffering from mental mistakes.

And, the shoo fly pie---it was a hit too. It's good stuff, but you don't want to cut off too big a slice cuz it's rich.

It's a quiet Sunday morning, and I haven't mapped out the day's goals yet, but I know I'll be watering lots of little cukes, 'maters, marigolds, bell peppers and snapdragons. One group of pots is supposed to have daisies, but I'm not so sure those aren't weeds growing. I'll give them a little more time before ripping them out and replanting.

Today I'm going to drop in some kale seed. Like shoo fly pie, it will be new to my palate, but I've been told it's good.

Busy week ahead with a column to write about our beloved Fr. O'Donovan, soon to be Msgr. O'Donovan, a speech to give on Tuesday to the Lutheran ladies in Bonners Ferry, a Women Honoring Women meeting Wednesday and a visit to Western Pleasure Guest Ranch on Thursday.

That one includes a sleigh ride and prime rib. Tough assignment, but I think Bill and I will enjoy the evening.

Happy Sunday and hope you're enjoying the three-day weekend.

Check out the moose below.

Not the greatest photo but still a documentation of visitors. These guys were BIG. They looked like they've wintered well, also. I had just mentioned the other day that we haven't had the moose visits nearly like we did last winter. The next morning, these two came through the Lovestead.

And, when they visited last winter (snow was too deep), they weren't standing in the woods---they were in the driveway or near the barn. One even stood outside the garage door and bristled up with a nasty face for Bill when he looked out to see what was stirring up the dogs.

These seemed like laid-back moose without too many cares in their world. In addition, they were nice enough not to destroy the fence.

Saturday Slight

I wonder how many times in our lives we'll ask ourselves and then answer our own question. Is this technology worth it all? Yes, when it works.

This morning I have a digital camera which refuses to send photos to my computer. The one message I get is "One moment please." Well, that was several moments ago, three changes of batteries, taking the cord out, reinserting it, turning the camera off, turning it on.

One moment please!

Well, to heck with that.

I had pictures---not very good ones---of two giant moose who paid a visit yesterday. I could tell there were visitors when Lefty stopped eating and stared over toward the woods while I was walking to the house. I looked the same direction, and, sure enough, a huge, dark creature stood near the fence looking back at me.

It seemed in no hurry so I went to the house, grabbed the camera and came out to take pictures. That's when Kea decided she needed to tell the visitor where to go. I called her back and moved closer snapping photos, knowing the moose would blend into the trees.

Still, there's something in our souls that tells us to take pictures no matter how bad they're going to be. Bad pictures lend credibility to stories. Good pictures put folks in awe.

As Kea came back to the yard, still barking, I noticed movement. Another big creature had been blocked from view by our large flower bed. It trotted toward its friend. Then, both stood and stared as I walked into the first pasture and clicked. Finally they plodded along their way.

And, I had bad pictures.

I have good pictures of another phenomenon of yesterday's Friday, the 13th. Actually, nothing went wrong throughout the entire day. The sun was brilliant, I was able to get a hold on several writing projects by noon. So, I called Mother.

Be ready in 45 minutes, I told her. We're going up to Bonners and check out that Mennonite bakery. She was finishing a crossword and said she just needed to put on her shoes. So, I drove over in half an hour instead of 45 minutes.

"You're already here," she said, "I'm not ready. I'm putting on my eye brows." Guess she forgot that when we spoke on the phone. Anyway, eyebrows, shoes and all, she scurried to head off on the afternoon drive.

Well, I'm sick not to be able to show my photos of the goodies purchased from the Bread Basket Country Store and Bakery. My goodies included a shoo fly pie (my first ever experience), three gigantic, light, adequately frosted cinnamon rolls and a loaf of white bread. Mother picked up a trio of pecan rolls and a loaf of bread.

Then, we drank coffee, and I made faces of great approval with every mouth-watering bite of the a large fresh donut, chased by a gingersnap crafted and baked to perfection. They were moments of eating delight as we sat amidst a roomful of satisfied customers enjoying the same.

Dorothy and Darrel Chupp own the bakery while Sharon and Norv Skivseth own the adjoining store which features bulk foods, jerky, wooden toys, trinkets and such. Dorothy was nice enough to take a few minutes from working in the kitchen to visit with us.

She and her husband came to Bonners Ferry nine years ago from Due West, South Carolina. Darrel grew up in South Carolina while Dorothy hails originally from Pennsylvania. A trip to visit a sister drew them here as did the hunting opportunities. Darrel told me they opened the place Dec. 9 and have no regrets. In fact, they're already planning an addition.

From the looks of the busyness I saw with people coming and going, I can see why.

Folks were coming in for a bowl of homemade soup. Some took slips from the counter and marked the ingredients for their sandwiches-----turkey, ham, roast beef, (add 75 cents for bacon), swiss, cheddar, provolone or colby cheese, sprouts, lettuce, tomato, onions, mayo, mustard or ranch on honey wheat or white bread---fresh baked, of course.

Dorothy told me they even have Wi-Fi there, which prompted me to say that next time I'll bring my laptop, so I can record some of the sights, sounds, aromas and flavors, straight from the bread basket---and I can do it live.

Anyway, it's a must-visit place. They're not open on Sundays and Mondays, so remember that, but they're easy to find---one moment north of the Three Mile Junction on the left side of HWY 95.

Mother and I totally enjoyed our visit, and Bill totally enjoyed his Valentine's cinnamon roll this morning. Last night, we dug into the shoo fly pie, warmed it up and sampled it with French vanilla ice cream. DELICIOUS!

Well, I'm still looking over at "One Moment Please," and I'm wondering just what it will take to get that camera and this computer to speak to each other. What a thing to pull----on Valentine's Day no less!

As I type my blog posting, Bill is getting stuff ready to take the fairgrounds where he will join Silvy, the local mapmaker, and talk about one of his loves---on Valentine's Day and all days of the year----geocaching. He gave me a yellow rose for planting outside later in the spring. Along with the rose came a card---a singing one----with Sonny and Cher teaming up---back when they were married---to "I've Got You, Babe."

Well, I've got Bill, and this is the 35th year for us to celebrate Valentine's Day---lot longer than Sonny and Cher lasted.

So, on this Valentine's Day, we at the Lovestead send LOVE (ya know it comes in so many varieties) to all of you out there. And, I hope you enjoy it for one moment and for many moments to come.

Meanwhile, I've got to have a talk with my camera.