Marianne's positively negative weather report

Yesterday I sought wisdom. Today I seek a giant jet engine heater to blow the foot of snow that's falling clear to Kingdom Come or to Hell and Gone. Are there such a places? Certainly, they could use a little snow for some natural coolant.

Yes, I spoke of patience yesterday---and practiced it all day long. Didn't complain. Didn't kick the cat. Didn't utter more than one cuss word. That zinger flew out of my mouth when the wind blew the black plastic from the ground where I had just spread it to lie beneath a new wooden planter I had built over this not-yet-passed winter.

Well, this morning, I've fallen off the wagon. Have almost fallen off the wet, cold ladder twice with my mop while removing an inch of snow from the satellite dish. And, I'm likely to cuss before publishing this blog cuz I'll be right back out there again, cleaning off the dish when the Internet dies for the third time in two hours.

And, yes, I've cussed. And, yes, Bill left on another morning without comment. I'm bettin' even he, the most patient human being on earth, is getting sick of it. If he's not getting sick of the snow, he's surely gettting sick of what dribbles out his wife's mouth every time a new supply comes dripping out of the sky.

I told him this morning I was just going to go back to bed, go to sleep and not get up until it's over. He chuckled.

I don't know what I hate worse about winter never ending, but there are lots of possibilities that occurred to me on my outdoor travels so far today. Two aforementioned trips up the ladder to the satellite dish have had enough discussion.

The walk to the barn with snow was cutting right into my face like razor blades and making me close my eyes---oh, that was fun.

Then, there was hay placement in the barnyard, which miraculously through the past week has thawed out. When you're wearing ankle-high boots and some of those sink holes, hidden under an inch or two of snow, happen to be calf high, it's not comfortable.

Soggy socks in wet boots is not a fun way to start the day. When you lead your horses out the door and they stop in their tracks at the sight of yet another blanket of cold snow, you at least know you're not alone in the hatred.

And, when you see them all gather round the pile nearest the gate, not even making dirty faces at each other and sharing from one flake, you know it's bad.

It takes them a while to muster up the desire to walk through those hidden sink holes where ankle-high human boots have already tread, so they cast aside all rank playing and choose to get along while making that one pile last as long as possible.

I hate the fact that all progress in the yard made the day before now lies hidden beneath the white. That progress at least gives a person reason for hope.

Then, there are the robins. I was thinking this morning about robins and if they were writing their own bird blog, what they would have to say about all this. They've been here for a month, waited it out, and it's still no better than when they first arrived.

I guess robins do have patience.

Lovestead robins have all moved from their usual hangout in the yard to the pasture along the lane where, at least they can sit in the cover of heavy spruce tree limbs.

They've also been chirping a lot during the past few mornings, and I'm betting that if one were to translate robin talk into human talk, their comments may sound very similar to mine.

I have a feeling those robins have written home to Mom and Dad in sunny Robinville, wondering why they sent them off to camp at Lovestead Snow Farm.

The letter probably goes something like this:

Hello Madda, Hello Fadda,

Why'd you send us here---what's da matta?
Did we do something really badda to make you madda?
If we did, tell us, please, we'll try to behave better next time.

Who said this was "God's Country"?
We don't think even God would want to stay here for as long as we have.

We never want to come back to this again.
We'll take our punishment, but, Madda and Fadda,
Could you please send blankets and some cans of worms?

The worm population is dismal this year cuz
they're hunkering down there really low in the dirt.
They've seen what's happening above ground,
and even the worms have a brain.

We need the blanket cuz it's cold here,
and we shiver all the time.

That lady who lives here thinks we're singing
cuz we're happy.
We do that just to stay warm. It takes our mind
off what we see and feel here every day, snow, snow, snow.

So, Madda and Fadda, we promise to be good birdies
from now on. Don't ever send us here again until at
least July cuz someone sure screwed up with the calendar.

We love you, and we're looking forward to your care package
cuz our bellies are empty and we're very sad and homesick and all that.

Much love,
Your contrite babies

So, that's probably what the robins have written, and I've written enough for this day---mainly because, before going back to bed for my long winter's nap, I've got to climb that ladder for the fourth time today----yes, during this posting, the Internet went off and half my blog did not save.

Please wake me up when winter's over; I'll be snoozing away, and maybe I'll even invite those cold robins in to join me.

Oops, I forgot. I'll have to interrupt my nap at noon because Tony, the repairman, is coming to get the lawnmowers ready. I hope he can make it here.

Only positive thoughts

"As the snow began to fall a few minutes ago on this 10th day of spring, I sought wisdom rather than new cuss words.

I found some wisdom about the virtue of patience on the "Positivity Blog." So, if snow is falling at your house, just go Google something happy, or read the wisdom I have stumbled across while thinking about walking on snow for one more day.

Thank you, Henrik Edberg, for providing my morning remedy to the scene outside my window. I am feeling very patient. Here is what Henrik has collected for my personal wisdom fix.


“God bestows upon one man genius without patience and upon another man patience without genius. The relative achievements of the two are often surprising.”
--Walter C. Klein

“Patience is the companion of wisdom.”
--St. Augustine

“If I have made any valuable discoveries, it has been owing more to patient attention than to any other talent.”
--Sir Isaac Newton

One of the most helpful qualities a person can have if s/he wants to grow is to be patient. With patience and persistence you can overcome pretty much anything.

But why is it hard to be patient? And how can patience help you out practically in life?

Here are seven timeless thoughts that may give some answers to such questions.

1. Social programming can stand in the way.
“How can a society that exists on instant mashed potatoes, packaged cake mixes, frozen dinners, and instant cameras teach patience to its young?”Paul Sweeney
Everything is moving fast in today’s society. Instant gratification is default setting in many minds.

I’m not saying this to rail against today’s society. I’m just saying it to give at least a partial explanation why patience is hard to understand and use to your advantage.

Social programming doesn’t pay much attention to patience. It wants you to do more right now instead. And after a few years here you may want to have more things right now. And the thought of delaying gratification may seem a bit… weird.

2. With patience you’ll get it.

“He that can have patience, can have what he will.”
--Benjamin Franklin

This may not be such a popular thought. People may not want to hear about it.
Still it’s what every successful person has had. They chipped away. Practised day in and day out.
It often looks like they have some massive talent when they become successful. That might be the case. But people may not see all the years of hard work that came before that big break. Or they don’t want to see it and instead rationalize it as “huge talent”. That way they don’t have to think about the fact that they also have the option of putting in all that work. And that they that way could perhaps someday even outdo the dreams they have right now.

It’s easier to just put it down as huge talent. And keep dreaming about quick fixes and magic pills.

3. Don’t give up yet.

“Patience is necessary, and one cannot reap immediately where one has sown.”
--Soren Kierkegaard

“It’s not that I’m so smart;it’s just that I stay with problems longer."
---Albert Einstein

Since society tells us to look for quick fixes it’s easy to make the mistake of giving up to soon. After you have failed perhaps 1-5 times. That’s the “normal” thing to do. But what could have happened if someone just kept going after that? And for each failure learned more and more about what works?

I think people often make a mistake of giving up too early. Your mind probably has a reasonable timeframe for success. This might not correspond to a realistic timeframe though.

It’s useful to take a break from advertised perspectives and let more realistic perspectives seep into your mind. Learn from people who have gone where you want to go. Talk to them. Read what they have to say in books or online. This will not give complete plan but a clearer perspective of what is needed to achieve what you want.

Now, that’s not to say that you should never quit. But it can be helpful to keep going on your current path for a while longer.

And that’s not to say that you should do the same thing over and over in exactly the same manner. It’s better to do and get an experience. Take the lessons you can learn from that real life experience. And then adjust how you do things as you try again.

4. It gives you an advantage.

“Nothing gives one person so much advantage over another as to remain always cool and unruffled under all circumstances.”
--Thomas Jefferson

While other people fly off the handle, you can remain cool and patient. While other people give up after trying a few times, you keep moving. While others run in circles chasing the next quick solution to their problems, you stay steadily on your path.

5. It’s a form of protection.

“Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold. For if you put on more clothes as the cold increases, it will have no power to hurt you. So in like manner you must grow in patience when you meet with great wrongs, and they will be powerless to vex your mind.”
---Leonardo Da Vinci

This is a wonderful point. With patience wrongs or failure will not feel like the end of the world. They no longer hold such a a large emotional power over you that you just give up. You know that if you just keep going and perhaps adjust how you do things then your life will improve.

6. Build it.

“Patience can’t be acquired overnight. It is just like building up a muscle. Every day you need to work on it.”
---Eknath Easwaran

“We could never learn to be brave and patient if there were only joy in the world.”
--Helen Keller

The more you can remain patient the easier it gets. It’s a muscle you build over years of time.
As Keller says, life can teach you to become more patient. During the rough parts of life you often have no choice but to be patient. These are the times that will especially strengthen your patience muscle.

When we are young, we get much of what we want instantly from our parents and other grown ups. As we become adults we learn that people won’t give us everything we want anymore. If we want to have the things we really want we often have to learn to be patient.

Otherwise we may time after time wind up in a loop where we get things we kinda want right now to cover up the real wants. This can bring dissatisfaction after the initial buzz of newness dissipates. A vague knowing at the back of our heads. As we consume more right now to make that uneasiness go away.

7. Be patient with yourself.

“Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering you own imperfections but instantly set about remedying them - every day begin the task anew.”
--St. Francis de Sales

This is a very important thing to keep in mind when it comes to personal development and life. Because things will not always go as planned. You will fail. You will bail out because of fear. You will become confused. You will do things you know you shouldn’t have done. You will probably do these things more than once.

Don’t beat yourself up about it for two weeks or three months. Or give up.
Be patient with yourself. And get back up on that horse and back in the saddle again tomorrow.

Springing backward, gravely speaking, et.al.

March 29 morning scene at Lovestead

We enjoyed our spring--yes, we did.

Now we're getting ready for the next chapter of winter. And, that's all I'm gonna say about that because you don't want to read my thoughts.

Yesterday Bill and I went to the Porthill area near the Canadian Border to do some geocaching. It was an overcast but nice early spring day.

I remembered another day years ago when we went that direction only in reverse. I've never forgotten the images of that vast valley with grass nearly two feet high along the roadway blowing in the breeze.

I'll also never forget my first view of Porthill Cemetery that day. Memorial Day is a good time of the year to visit cemeteries because spring glory is at its height and nostalgia of lost loved ones reigns supreme.

Well, yesterday wasn't quite like Memorial Day, but still it was nice and nostalgic. I was amazed at how many familiar names now appear on relatively recent grave stones in that quiet country cemetery.

A walk through a cemetery gets one to thinking about mortality and where life's end will leave us lying for eternity.

For the resident at Porthill who loved geocaching, he certainly doesn't have to worry about lying there forever all alone. He'll always have visitors, checking out their GPS settings, thinking about one of their own who loved his sport enough to take it to the grave.

One Port Hill stop took us to a roadside attraction where the Wild Horse Trail and its highlights are aptly explained for visitors who take the route.

Our final stop took us across the valley to Smith Creek. After a not-so-popular five-mile drive up the Smith Creek Road into snow, snow, snow, Bill got an unsubtle hint to turn around and come back down to the valley and dry ground. There would be snow enough, he was told.

And, this morning, he knows that for sure.

Happy Spring, wherever it is.

Earlier this week from our sliding glass door. Schweitzer peeks above the mist.

Mountain view

The 49th parallel, just feet from the Porthill Cemetery.

I stepped inside Canada yesterday without my passport and without the Border guards asking me questions.

Besides being "KowboyK," Korry Covert was also a geocacher. One of the geocaches on Bill's list of finds yesterday was inside the flower pot. Who says geocaching can't follow you to the grave?

World's largest contiguous hops operation in the Kootenai Valley near the US-Canadian border

Saturday Slight

They promised us an inch of snow. They didn't deliver, and I'm SO SAD. Ha. Ha. This week, for once, the bad weather forecasts haven't materialized to quite the degree weather forecasters have promised us. Today is off to a good start with a lot of clear sky and no freezing overnight. So, it's a good Saturday.

North Carolina moves on in the dance, while the Zags fly home. I saw a photo on Huckleberries Online this morning that sums up exactly why so many of us love that team. After losing to North Carolina last night, rather than hanging their heads, the players lined up and saluted their fans. It's been a mutual admiration society for many years and will continue to be that way.

North Carolina was good, and that's an understatement. They seemed almost superhuman last night as nearly every shot dropped in the basket. They made few errors, and their team talent runs deep. They deserve to move on, and we here in Zag Land salute them in their bid to win the NCAA tournament.

As for the ZAGS, we'll let them rest as we move on to other pursuits which won't keep us glued to the television set. That's the way it should be in spring, summer and fall when you live in North Idaho.

Our good times are beginning, and we'll be all ready for another season of "Go ZAGS" come November. For now, we're proud of them and we thank them for their continued gift to their admirers across the Northwest and the country.

~~~~~~
The demographics show that Facebook users over 50 have tripled in just the past few months. I read a feature in the Spokesman Review this morning about Facebook, and that was just after I told Bill that younger brother Jim's face appeared as a friend of one of my newest Facebook friends. So, of course, I invited him to be my friend.

Talk about going full circle. If Jim hadn't had cartoons under the banner of "Slight Detour," I never would have started a blog. He left www.slightdetour.com about a year into the blog, and I kept going. Now, we've reconnected on the latest Internet phenomenon to attract curious folks wondering what this Facebook stuff is all about anyway.

I was one of those, and I remember chuckling a lot when people would ask me how to find my "BLOB." I think the population now has the "blog" idea down, and I think huge numbers have joined the movement. I, too, wondered what Facebook was all about and why anyone would want to spend any time reading daily mundane details about others' lives, but I joined anyway.

At last count, I had 273 friends on Facebook; that's pretty much since Christmas, when my "older" friend Betsy Walker asked me to be her friend. Since then, many of my contemporaries have joined and have asked me to be their friends.

According to the newspaper piece, Facebook started at Harvard and was pretty much limited to college students. Then, it moved on to the teeny bopper set, and now its fastest growing age group comes from the Baby Boomers, like me.

I cannot really describe yet what keeps me interested, except for the thrill of each new day when new faces show up and ask me to be their friends. I also have grown to like the voyeuristic aspect, which encourages users to write a sentence or two about what's on their minds. Their responses all appear on the home page when you first sign on.

I always go there first and then switch to my personal wall, where I see comments below my latest twitters. Last night I asked for Facebookers to think positive about the ZAGS, and from across the country came three or four comments, including one from Keith who lives in South Carolina just across the border from the Tar Heels.

This phenomenon does tend to grow on one. And, to see friends with local connections like Denise Huguenin, Gina Emory, Nancy Renk, Merriam Merriman, Ann Gehring, Gale Hamby, et. al. joining in on the fun makes it all the more fulfilling. I'm fortunate also in that my Facebook friends include lots of former students and several members of my family.

Again, I'll use the microwave analogy: I always wondered who would ever need a microwave before buying my own. They seemed a bit frivolous. Now, I wonder how I ever lived life without one.

We move through this life always wondering about the strange new phenomena that seem to make those around us just a little bit crazy. Then, we try them ourselves and wonder why we waited so long. That's how it's been with computers, with signing on to the Internet, with using email rather than the telephone, with maintaining a "BLOB," and now with the newest craze, Facebook.

We move on, and if we embrace these things rather than resisting them or pooh poohing them as if they're dumb, our world opens up to yet another dimension that makes life oh so interesting.

So, I'll end with a blob twitter for the day: I'll be checking my Facebook later today and looking to see if you'll be my friend. After all, it's a happy crowd, and the more the merrier!

Thank you, it's Friday

Thank you, God and Mother Nature, for shining down on us yesterday. It was a lovely, invigorating day, not to be wasted, not to be taken for granted.

At the Lovestead, fencing and making reservations for a big trip topped the agenda. There was more---watching Dan and Terry Wood's house project two pastures over to the north. Yesterday was the day the house moving crew came to put the structure on its foundation.

Dan, his brother-in-law, Mark Johnson and crew have worked diligently for several weeks preparing the spot and building a foundation where the house will permanently reside and provide a lovely residence in the middle of beautiful open fields for Dan and Terry.

I purposely fixed fence at the high end of our lane so I could watch any dramatic action at the Wood's house site. Throughout the day, it was obvious that site preparation was continuing as heavy equipment operated and people busily walked around the area.

At 5 p.m. it looked as if the long-awaited move was starting. The big yellow truck, which had brought the house to Selle last fall from it original spot on Schweitzer Cut-off Road, had moved from its winter parking spot to the south end of the yellow house. I heard the motor rev up and saw some movement.

I called Bill, who had come home early, and told him to get over there---the house was moving. Well, it went forward just a few feet and stopped. We watched for several minutes as people walked from place to place, apparently doing a lot of observing and planning for the next segment of the project. A steam shovel scooped out some more dirt, and the house stayed in place.

It's still in the same spot this morning, so we could see some dramatic action over there today. Only problem for me is that I finished that fencing project, and I'll have to make several trips that way to watch.

We still have hundreds of feet of goat wire and flimsy fences around this place. Last fall three strands near a section along the lane that had miraculously kept the horses in the second pasture gave way.

I was responsible for that mishap. I had walked out into the pasture with the whip and had twirled it a time or two to show my friend Rose Marie how pretty my Arabs were when they pranced through the field. Well, they pranced right on through the wire, removing all semblance of a fence.

So, yesterday I found a spool of woven wire, tall enough and long enough for that very section. I loaded up hammer, fence pliers, staples and clamps in the wheel barrow and headed toward the spot for several hours of work. It was good work in that wonderful sunshine, though, and for once, I finished a project that actually looks like it will do the job and keep the horses where they belong.

Later, I also felt great satisfaction in being able to stretch three loose wires on another segment of fence along the lane. It's easier said than done to fix the fence after snow bogs it down all winter, but those fence pliers and their leverage provided me enough power to get those wires up where they belong.

Yesterday was also good for more lawn, rock and log raking. I even took a walk through the hayfield. That brief adventure turned soggy, however, when I was just ten feet from reaching the gate to the woods.

I thought I was home free and that I'd made it past the area where deep water is hiding beneath the snow. Just as that confidence made me smile, one foot sank clear to the ground. Cold, cold water surrounded my boot and pant leg. I fell to my knees.

When that happens, you know you're in for more cuz you've got to get out of there. That means taking more steps which will nine times out of ten meaning sinking into the icy cold water again. Moreover, it's not made any easier when a dog is coming to your rescue, licking your face and jumping all over your back.

Well, I finally managed to sink my way to the woods. From that point on, it didn't matter where I fell through. I couldn't get any wetter or colder. I made it to the house, shed the wet stuff and welcomed the warmth of dry socks and pants.

Later, we joined Mike, Mary and Mother at the Thompson cabin for a nice dinner and visit. We're all reveling in the fact that Mother received an excellent report from her cardiologist and the go-ahead signal for her to fly to Chicago in May for a family reunion. So, part of the yesterday was spent getting trip logistics nailed down.

The Chicago experience should be a fun weekend, filled with family history and topped off a Cubs game. Mother has always regretted never getting to go to a Cubs game while living in and visiting Chicago, so we're going to do our best to change that.

Today is a thankful day for many reasons, and it's beginning to look a lot like spring. We're thankful for that, and we'll be especially grateful if our beloved ZAGS top off this Friday of March Madness with a victory over North Carolina.

GO ZAGS! WELCOME SPRING! AND, MANY THANKS FOR GOOD BLESSINGS!

'Dogs and Logs and more

Well, I just peeked at the ten-day forecast. Of late it's been like looking at the daily stock market reports throughout the winter. Down, down, down. Cuss, cuss, cuss. Moan, groan, moan groan.

Today, happily, we're having a BULLish day on the weather front. The sun is shining, nary a cloud in the sky, cold though. A big improvement from the BEARly spring disappointments that have been driving folks insane, every bit as much as their stock losses.

In the ten-day forecast, we're going to have a lot of down days. In fact, the next time a big yellow smiling sun shows up is next Friday. Lots of clouds, cold, snow and wet graphics in almost the entire string of days ahead. I'm sure that really makes everyone happy who's getting off for Spring Break and having to stay in Sandpoint during the misery.

Since we're getting short-changed again on our good weather commodities, I'm planning to make full use of today to do outdoor maintenance. And, I'm gonna depend on our Gonzaga Bulldogs to do their thing tomorrow night in Memphis when they square off against No. 1 North Carolina.

The 'Dogs have gotta keep going cuz a bunch of folks who've hated the weather for months and are likely to commit cabin-fever rage desperately need them to stay in the tournament more than ever. So, you Zag dogs keep it up. We need you to be true "BULL" dogs during this weather downer.

And, speaking of dogs keeping it up, my mutts--oblivious of any stock market trends---did their jobs of making regular deposits throughout the winter. And, speaking of maintenance, I've discovered something over the past few years about those thousands of doggie piles which become more prominent each spring with melting snow.

If you rake them, they will die. When they're all soggy and wet, they just can't withstand movement. Almost immediately, they begin to disintegrate and blend into the brown grass, hopefully helping the greening-up process.

Knowing that, I spent part of my morning yesterday, happily stroking away at any and all doggie deposits I could find---either atop remaining snow piles or in the ever growing patches of still sleeping grass. Within hours, I did a second round because yesterday was a good melting day, revealing even more lawn log decks.

I'll be on the log assault again today, along with other projects. Only one outdoor Christmas display needs removing, but it's a bit on the stubborn side. The snow just doesn't want to leave the deck, so I've got lots of lights and extension cords still refusing to budge. Maybe today's sun will do something about that.

I've also been raking lots of rocks off the lawn, pruning lower limbs on the apple tree so maybe this spring and summer that devious tree won't attack me and my hairdo every time I mow the lawn.

The horses went the full day yesterday without their blankets, even though we did have some afternoon snow. They can now chase each other and escape each other around the entire barnyard instead of that one skinny winter pathway which has given Lily distinct bullying advantage over the young 'uns for months.

We're seeing progress toward spring, even if slow. Anything sunny and positive looks good. Plus, my sisters will be off next week, and possibly we won't have too much more winter to keep us from riding our horses in their indoor arena.

In the meantime, we'll hope for our Zagomania to carry us through one more week, and by that time, all winter doggie deposits should be long gone. Little things make a big difference this time of the year in North Idaho.

Sun and Solitude in the Refuge

~~Squirrel dogs on the alert~~

I was glad to see a number of blog postings yesterday, confirming that I'm not the only North Idaho resident on the verge of going beserk cuz of lingering winter doldrums.

As my niece said, the unyielding shackles of winter seemed to be in the air yesterday---depression, grumpiness, downright disgust, etc.

Yup, we had more snow on the fifth day of spring.

On the fourth day of spring my front yard looked like the photo above. I saw the dogs out there Monday morning eyeing the limbs of our Scotch pine tree, so I snapped a photo. Yesterday, the ring around the tree was once again white as the snow once again fell relentlessly.

I refused to let it get me down, though, cuz I knew I had the day completely to myself. Bill was gone to Moscow, Mother had Cis helping out at her house, my brother and his wife were coming for the afternoon, so I finished my morning chores and took off for Bonners Ferry.

As I drove north, the snow turned to rain, and by the time I reached the Kootenai Valley, the rain had stopped and a hint of sun was casting its way across the vast expanse of flat farmland. The mountains to the west looked pretty snowy, but they seemed to be holding on to their weather, not allowing it to pass on to the east.

If I was lucky, I could get down there in time to soak up a little sun and walk on bare ground.

I was lucky.

Thankfully, the mountains kept that fog and snow corraled while I set off down a trail to the north. Birds were singing, screaming and yelling from all directions. I spotted several woodpeckers darting in and out of naked cottonwoods.

Geese were taking off, squawking, soaring over the valley and bound for splashdowns in different wetlands within the refuge. Swans were just kinda quiet and sitting there.

And, as I walked back to the car, a crow stood out in the field of bent-over stubble, gabbing away while pecking at the ground for goodies.

The refuge was hardly at its prettiest stage with it lack of color, but it was dry and peaceful.

Both were very satisfying to me as I walked briskly down trails matted with last year's cottonwood leaves, embraced the slight wind blowing in my face, admired the sun shining down from blue patches in the clouds and savored my welcome sample of solitude.

Puddle art

Birds fly over the refuge; when then, oh why . . . .

This is a "guess where" photo. So, guess where.

Kidz and the 15-seconds of fame game

The closest Bill and I ever got to film immortality was that close. It was 1992, November, to be exact. Just after being squeezed into a crowd of onlookers inside a U.S. Capitol conference room, listening to Senators debate the Brady Bill and standing directly in front of NBC's correspondent Pete Williams, we filed out into the hallway.

We saw the TV cameras, the lights, the actions. It was time for the evening news on the East Coast, and Senators (all very tall) were lining up to give their sound bytes about the proposed gun legislation which later became law. We stood within 20 feet of the action---so close but so far from stardum. Later, walking down another hallway, we saw CBS legend Bob Schieffer interviewing someone.

Well, that was our big moment, and we didn't even make the 15 seconds. We had other moments while living on Great Northern Road---once when the eery, white "nuke" train passed through, attracting national media. I'll never forget the night I stood in the kitchen, watching the news with Peter Jennings, when the lead story flashed a photo of the controversial America's Promise Church next door. Our horses in the next-door pasture almost netted their 15 seconds.

Last week Annie sent me a photo from her iphone inside the stadium at the first-ever game for the newly formed Seattle Sounders Soccer team, which pulled off a 3-0 victory. That was news, but mainly to the soccer crowd and the Seattle fans who were thrilled to have their own major league team, partially owned by Price is Right host Drew Carey. Annie said she saw him at the game.

Last night, she sent me another i-phone photo while watching the Lady Zags warm up in Husky stadium for their NCAA women's contest with Pitt. I tried to call her during the game to see exactly where she was sitting, in case a television camera panned her way. She didn't answer; I understand why. The game was close to the end, but sadly, the Lady Zags will not go to their Sweet Sixteen.

Well, you probably know I'm leading up to something. And, you're probably correct. We do have one family member who has managed his 15 seconds of fame. Well, I'd call it "fame behind the names," and literally so.

Our son Willie was in hog heaven this past weekend. He had a press pass, which enabled him to watch the men's NCAA regional dance in Boise. He had a good time rubbing it in on Facebook, with twitters like "I'm off to the dance," or "I should be appearing on CBS soon." Well, he pulled it off, and, of course, if you're gonna be famous, you've got to let people who know you know you're going to be famous.

Unlike the proverbial family photos of yesteryear where our task was to "spot the deer" which blended in with its background, Willie's background perch in the CBS Sports clip left no doubt the the "Big Man" of the Love family was racking up seconds of full-fledged fame possibilities. Clear as a bell you could see him---well, most of us could.

One sister of mine said she could never get past the commercials, but the other saw her nephew and proudly passed on the link to her colleagues at Farmin School where Willie once attended. Staff members marveled, and all were happy to see that their Willie had made the big time.

Well, it's all in the perspective, and it's all relative, I guess. In this case, it's cuz it's a relative that makes it special. So, with no further adieu, I'll post the link.

And, if anyone wants to see our temporarily famous son working hard at his laptop and pretending that he's totally unaware of the camera which is really focused on the sports commentators in the foreground, not the sportswriters in the background, go check it out.

Oh yeah, you have to wait for the commercial before the commentators and their sportswriting counterparts show up for more than 15 seconds, even!

We're proud that someone in the family has finally made the spotlight, and now we can go on with life in the shadows, filled with contentment.

Here's the scoop, direct from Willie: See the two newspaper guys in the background pretending to be cool because they are TV? One of them is me (on the right). The other is my boss.

http://www.cbssports.com/video/player/play/collegebasketball/dYczUl0Luq6XMDpaxz5nSmtx_Q4PsOuv

MariGOLD Bonanza

When you're in North Idaho in March, this looks mighty good. The best part is these blossoms come from seed I collected from plants last fall.

So, is that called sustainable?

I don't know, but the continued efforts to grow things and grow them even better than the past year keeps me motivated.

I look at other people's gardens and marvel at their green thumbs. Some gardeners have the knack to just look at seedlings of any kind and they'll grow into magnificent plants.

I have to work at it.

Things are progressing, though, and to see these little buds of gold popping out every day does wonders for my soul.

I'm thinking of sowing a few more of my thousands of marigold seeds into pots in hopes of having hundreds of plants to spread around this place.

When we moved here, we were blessed with a phenomenal landscaping situation---thanks to the vision and work of previous owners.

The place is parklike, to say the least. One would never know it now with all the brown patches of yet-to-turn green lawn spreading every day as more snow melts and yielding up hundreds of dog droppings from a long winter.

Once the snow leaves, however, my yard provides potential for magnificent beauty and more than enough work.

I love it, though, and to see beginnings inside my house, like those bursting marigold blossoms, sustains me like nothing else. I love to work in my yard, and I love to add to my garden, all the time, knowing I'm just creating more work.

But this kind of daily work is my personal reward at the end of a long winter.

On this early spring day with no rain or snow, I'm more than anxious to start digging into sod with a spade, pounding winter-soaked dirt clods with a hoe, snipping garden bed edges with a weed eater, dragging hose from spot to spot to water plants and blissfully riding my Craftsman mower around for hours---- all for end-of-the day or early-morning walkabouts to admire each day's newfound natural beauty.

All of the above will have to wait a while.

For now, I'll have to be content to use my watering pots inside and each day look for signs of new gold popping from those young potted plants.

Higs and Zags

Somewhere, maybe even in this house, there's a photo taken in the Sandpoint High gymnasium back in 1953 or '54. If my memory serves me correctly, three educator/mentors appear in the picture: Cotton Barlow, Jud Heathcote and Adair Hilligoss----all legends in their own right.

On the high school stage, Adair Hilligoss is striking up the Sandpoint High School band, probably for the "National Anthem." In the background along the west wall the other two appear alongside their respective basketball teams. Barlow with the Bulldogs; Heathcote with his West Valley Eagles.

Mention the name "Barlow" in Sandpoint and Coeur d'Alene, and the football stories of the good ol' days fly. Cotton Barlow, a Tennessee native, was a much-revered coach who left his mark on hundreds of young men and on both the Coeur d'Alene and Sandpoint communities.

Jud Heathcote's legacy reaches a bit grander scale as an NCAA championship coach in 1979 at Michigan State where Magic Johnson was becoming a household name. Anyone who watches Gonzaga basketball will occasionally see him sitting in the audience since he has lived in Spokane during his retirement.

Adair Hilligoss aka "Higs" died recently. This morning, while thumbing through the Spokesman-Review, I saw his photo in the obituaries with his name and another moniker, "The Music Man." I could also think of another appropriate title based on my memories of him from afar: Pomp and Circumstance.

I never really knew Adair Hilligoss, but I still remember the man with "style." He took his job as band instructor seriously, and when the Sandpoint band marched in Fourth of July parades, always marching right along with them, exuding both great pride and polish in his own spit-shined uniform was Higs, the master showman.

He left Sandpoint long before I reached the high school, but I know he left his mark on a host of young musicians. Another Sandpoint legend has passed on; more than likely Higs is up there in music Heaven with his baton at the ready.

And, for us mortals, including Jud Heathcote, we're in Zag Heaven down here on Earth. Of course, I'd say many of us felt like we'd entered a higher zone last night the moment Demetri Goodson nailed that last-second basket, securing a trip to to Memphis for the Sweet Sixteen next week.

At the Colburn house, there was screaming, clapping, jumping up and down, dancing and downright crazy behavior from 88-year-olds to a 30-something. Even Pita, the Blue Heeler, barked vociferously. Multiply that thousands of times in other households across the country and the world, and I'm sure the Earth shook a bit from all the revelry.

I told Bill this morning that I can't imagine a basketball team anywhere that has managed to evoke so much admiration and so much genuine love from their fans as the Zags have done year after year for the past decade.

Oh, they do have their detractors.

Some arrogant "know-it-all-better-than-any-coach-could-ever-know-it" wrote a letter-to-the editor in the Spokesman today to pontificate on what losers the Zags are cuz they play "nothing" teams and they choke all the time. He punctuated his diatribe with the pronouncement that when the Sweet Sixteen comes next week, the Zags will be watching from home.

Well, the writer, an Irishman, no less, must be dripping with facial goose-egg slop this morning, avoiding the phone and looking for a big slab of humble pie. I wonder if he'll be watching from his home next week when the 28-5 Zags travel off to Memphis to meet the North Carolina Tar Heels.

Maybe, as penance, he needs to be sitting at his computer during the next game, penning a letter of apology or better yet, writing "I love the Zags" once for each point scored by those "losers" this season.

We hope the Zags win next Friday, but we certainly won't rip them to shreds if they don't.

We---who love the diversion from winter's woes and the genuine excitement that these young men continually create for us as we're cooped up for months on end---appreciate the team and coaches from the bottoms of our hearts.

They give us something very special to rally around, and their individual and collective stories are nothing short of remarkable.

We're in Zag Heaven today and happy to be here.

Saturday Slight

It's a quiet morning after a late night. Bill's reading the paper, what there is of it this morning. I guess the legal notices are interesting. Apparently Bob Gunter has run out of historical material or is taking a break cuz they don't even have his stuff in there this morning.

Annie's snoozing upstairs. I took one of my rare trips out of town yesterday to pick her up at the airport. It felt good to drive down bare roads and crank up the oldies but goodies.

I like doing that when I'm alone in a car. It takes me back to good times when our journalism groups would load up in vans while visiting National Convention cities like Denver, LA, Albuquerque, San Diego, San Francisco or Phoenix. We'd all go rocking down the road, listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival, the Beach Boys, et. al., having the time of our lives---even the adviser.

So, I did a little reminiscing while enjoying a rather pleasant drive to the big city. Annie caught the 6 p.m. flight from Seattle so that gave us plenty of time to stop at O'Doherty's for dinner.

It had particular meaning this time cuz of Annie's recent Irish adventure. It also had particular meaning cuz I'd read an exchange of ideas this week on Huckleberries Online about a "properly-poured Guinness."

Annie joined in on that one, even supplying a U-Tube video with complete instructions from an Irish master pourer. Other bloggers joined in, claiming that in the Northwest, Eichardts in Sandpoint, Moon's in Coeur d'Alene and O'Doherty's know how to pour their Guinness correctly, and that it tastes just as good as in Ireland.

Then, one of the bloggers generously announced that if you go to O'Doherty's, tell 'em, I sent you and they'll pour you a free beer.

Well, we sat down at a booth in the pub, Shannon O'Doherty came to welcome us, and I told him about the claim. He didn't know the blogger by name but said he'd properly pour each of us a free Guinness. So, he did----complete with shamrock in the foam.

That's my first Guinness experience, cuz I'm not a dark-beer fan, but it wasn't too bad. Pretty smooth, in fact. Annie and I had a great time yakking about her trip and watching the NCAA games on the overhead TV's. She was happy to see Siena win cuz that means her bracketology is still in good shape.

Well, today will rev up here pretty soon. The ZAGS play at 5:20 this afternoon against Western Kentucky who upset Illinois. So, we have some planning to do about where we're going to watch the game. We're thinking of inviting ourselves to the Colburn home of HD-TV. In addition to the game, Annie will be presenting a slide show of her trip.

I watched it at midnight last night. Yes, I'm her mom. Yes, I'm prejudiced in her favor, but, yes, the slide show is nothing short of spectacular and moving. She has set it to some haunting Irish tunes, and I know her Aunt Barbara (the photography instructor) is going to highly approve of the photographic artistry. Unbelievable, to say the least.

We made progress yesterday in the snow deterioration department and in the advent of mud, mud, mud. Today the horses will, no doubt, take many steps with long-standing barnyard ice caving beneath their feet. Water is no longer standing; it's running in dips and through culverts around the place.

If the warmer weather keeps up, we could be almost snow free in a week. Let's hope.

In the meantime, have a happy Saturday wherever you are.

GO ZAGS! One great story I heard about the Zag vs. Zips victory occurred in The Netherlands, where Zag alum Mike Flaim got up at 2 a.m. to watch the game. The Zags were behind. Mike immediately donned his Zag apparel, and the team took off on that phenomenal Zag-like scoring run.

Mike, it may be 3 a.m. when you get up to watch today's contest, so why don't you just wear your Zags costume to bed, so we can all rest a little easier during this game!

Seasonal Progress

Spring Signage

The calendar sez that it's so;

I believe calendars--don'tcha know.

Robins chirp, chirp, chirp in circles so green

'neath big, big trees--ah, whatta pretty scene!

In yucky yuck, horse hoofs go squish, squish, squish,

For dry hard ground, they've submitted their wish.

More and more birds sing happy tunes in morning air;

I don't need no snow cap on my hair.

Muddy feet will mess the floor;

so please leave your booties at the door.

After-dinner daylight means going for walks

No more listening to "Access Hollywood" talks.

Creeping, crawling ivy planter--it's almost green.

Soon colorful pastels will make a nice scene.

Outdoor Christmas twinkle lights can be put away

Not to be brought out again 'til a December day.

Garden-window marigold blooms are bustin' out

They can't wait to be outside; there is no doubt.

'Mater plants are leaning and lookin' for more room.

Still, it'll be a month or two before they bloom.

Doggie do sits on top of the snow,

When the white stuff finally disappears, we can expect a big dog log show.

Jack Filipowski's little white-faced calves are cute as can be.

Soon frolicking on lush green fields, they'll be a sight to see.

Geese fly over and sing their squawks;

pretty soon we'll once again hear those screamin' hawks.

March Madness keeps us glued to the TV

cuz our dear Zags over those Zips have tasted victory.

Yup, spring signage has finally arrived,

On each new tidbit we have happily thrived.

No more griping, no more whining;

Cuz we're happy folks when the sun is shining.

It's Thank-God Friday, and I can see.

I'd better get off this couch

Cuz, sure as can be,

When spring finally comes ya don't want to slouch.

To all out there, I wish a lovely day---

And, that my friends, is all I've got to say.

Let the mania begin . . . .

In Boise, Willie has a press pass.

In Seattle, Annie has teamed up with an office mate with predictions that could win the office pool.

In Sandpoint, Mother and I will go do echo-cardiogram at the heart doctor's office. I have a feeling her heart may be going pitter patter more than usual today, cuz once she's out of that office, she can go home and get ready for the event of the day.

Bill and I will be donned in our "uniforms," nibbling on chips, and prepped for watching.

My sisters will probably duck out of school a little early, race to the barn to take care of those horses, haul Mother down the driveway to their house and gather around their big screen.

March Mania will begin in fewer than three hours. And, throughout the country, I know the juices are going in households, offices, schools, coffee shops, you name it.

Over the years, it has grown as a phenomenon in our American culture, and March Mania knows no limits in the demographics of its followers.

Our little microcosm of family fans, mentioned above, mirrors, in a tiny way, the broad appeal this craziness which abounds over a bouncing ball and a bunch of long, lean, fast-running, quick-thinking, multi-talented athletes who give it their all down to the final buzzer and maybe even a beyond that when you consider the potential of overtime.

Years ago, Willie got something started at Sandpoint High School when he approached the librarian, Bonnie Spitzer, and suggested she roll out the TV for anyone who wanted to watch the games during the school day. Her willingness touched off a tradition that has grown many times over in that school. Willie takes great pride in being initial proponent for recognizing the value of March Madness at his alma mater.

He'll be in Boise and in his ultimate element this weekend where several big-name college teams will match-off for the rights to advance to the Final Four. Definitely one of the perks of his job.

In the meantime, we'll all be focused on our team. I don't think I need to mention their name this morning except for the fun involved with their match-up---the Zips vs. the Zags.

We hope our Bulldogs will be able to out zigzag those Zips from Akron, zap out their ability to get sufficient baskets, and subsequently get in the zone headed for the top 32, then the Sweet Sixteen, followed by the Elite Eight, on to the Final Four and ultimately the NCAA Championship.

To wish for less would be sacrilegious. And, I'm trying to be a good Catholic during lent.

GO ZAGS . . . . March on, Mania!

Whose truth is it anywho?

I can see it coming. Cuz they don't meet the bottom line, we'll be hearing about the death of schools.

They're just not cost effective.

So, we'll drop them and go find another means for people to know something. Maybe they can learn what they need to know by watching TV or playing on the computer.

Schools will become dinosaurs, just like newspapers. Sounds far-fetched, right?

Well, newspapers don't cut it when it comes to profits, so they've gotta go. So, that's what's happening every time we blink, it seems. Would we have ever thunk such a thought 15 years ago?

Now, as we watch the demise of our newspapers, we must go somewhere else to find our truth. Never mind that, for a lifetime, many of us have enlightened ourselves while sipping our coffee and getting our daily fix on the broad smorgasboard of news and views unfolding in the world outside our head.

Never mind that most of those folks who provide that information and those thoughts within the pages of those papers are trained professionals with well-seasoned, trained, responsible professionals overseeing their work and making sure most of the stuff they put out in print at least resembles the truth.

One of the guiding principles I learned while working as a professional journalist was that communities rely on the newspaper to sort out truth from fiction/gossip/hearsay/inuendo and downright lies.

With that in mind, our first responsibility in gathering news was to remember that principle, to rise above the human inclination to fudge a little just to make the story more palatable to readers.

Truth is sometimes palatable, sometimes not.

Still, it's an essential ingredient to a functioning, free, informed society. Whether the truth is bad or good does not matter. I would not go so far to say it's an absolute but when provided with tangible facts, data, evidence, etc., it comes darn close.

So, we don't have newspapers to read with our morning coffee in the near future----where do we go to find our truth? Of course, there's the Internet, and, of course, there's the television set, but let's remember why some of those news-oriented shows stay in business.

Bottom line, right?

How many times have we seen topics of real meaning to the general public's lives get thrown aside the instant some titillating, gossip-laced story full of slime and intrigue comes along to dominate the television coverage for hours on end.

Timely, meaningful topics suddenly get shelved and forgotten as the drama plays out 3,000 times over. Only on "slow news days" does the meaningful stuff reappear and only at the mercy of no juicy, "breaking news-which sure does break for a long time on television,"pushing it aside once again. Now, that's the way to get our news for sure.

At least, in reading a reputable newspaper every day, we're presented a smorgasboard of thoughtfully crafted and researched items from which to choose.

Or, another way we'll be able to get our news is to swallow up every morsal of the propaganda that gets sent to us via those "This Just In and This IS True and It Is Darn Scary" email forwards that get passed around and around endlessly for years on end. Some folks have already chosen this route as their lifetime pursuit of the truth as "I want to hear it."

I swear that some people I know rely solely on this garbage for their skewed truth, never questioning, never skeptical, never reading any other takes on the subject, always accepting every word, always passing it on to the next gullible soul, who happens to be seeking an educational degree via "Forward University."

I do worry about the truth as we have known it through our lifetime of reading daily newspapers. I also worry about our history and where we'll be going to find it, once the print papers and periodicals have been put to bed for good---all because they didn't meet the bottom line.

Well, meeting the bottom line may be important, but I'm guessing that because of newspapers' failures to come in contact with that line, we may soon see ourselves bottom fishing for truth.

And, it seems like that method could possibly hook on to an awful lot of garbage.

St. Paddy's and Twitterteedum

Top o' da morning to ya and all that stuff. I've got my green sweatshirt on, and we'll be havin' a green salad tonight or maybe some pickles.

Instead of seeing green when I looked out the window this morning, I saw more white. But it's not too bad a day. The snow was smart enough to stop falling before I headed outside, so all's well on the weather front.

I was talking weather to folks at Yoke's yesterday, and I did learn a couple of ways people distract themselves from the ugliness outside. Mike and Marceen Williams turn on the Celtic music, and Marceen (one of my lovely Ponderettes from yesteryear) gets up and does some River Dance moves.

Mike says it works for a while, but when they turn the music off, they're right back in their doldrums. Speaking of Mike, I'll never forget the look on his face a long time ago when he was just a teenager working for his dad at Williams Gas n' Go. They had the first drive-through carwash in Sandpoint.

So, in those first weeks, they had to kinda educate car owners on how to maneuver through the gauntlet and get ready for the douse. Mike was directing me, pointing fingers this way and that way, and I was trying to follow his directions. But for some reason during a split second, I didn't know my right from my left.

As he pointed to the right, I steered my new but dirty Fairlane 500 to the left. Suddenly Mike's expression changed from a confident calm to full-fledged horror. I kinda had an idea why he did that because at that same moment, I could feel and hear the left tire climb over the track and land on the other side.

The car came to a quick halt. I sank into the seat hiding my face behind the steering wheel and immediately wondered how much I was going to have to pay for repair costs on Sandpoint's first drive-through carwash. Mike came to the door and happily assured me that nothing was broken; we'd just have to get that car back over the track and on track.

We did, but since then, no car-washing drive-through experience goes by without my brain flashing right back to that look of horror on Mike Williams' face.

Well, that was the luck o' the Irish that I made it through that one, and I guess it was the luck o' the Irish to run into (not literally) Mike and learn that he loves North Idaho March winters as much as I do. He suggested that if that person comes up with that idea to take care of bad weather moods, it ought to come in a spray can.

In the meantime, he and Marceen will keep cranking up that Celtic music.

Speaking of the luck o' the Irish, I had the good fortune today to read in the Daily Bee that I sure am OLD. Nobody really came out and said I was old, but one can infer when one sees one's byline on a story printed in the Bonner County History "50 Years Ago Today" column that one may just be a dinosaur.

Yep, I wrote the story, and it appeared March 17, 1959, in the Sandpoint News Bulletin. The piece not only verifies my senior citizen status but it also validates my claim to be a country hick.

Here goes:

Headline: 4-H Doings - Mountain View Livestock

Story: The Mountain View Livestock club met at the home of Sally Davis on Feb. 28. Plans were made for a baked goods sale at Merwin's Hardware on March 28. The historians, Laura Delamarter and Frances Paulet, decided to get a scrapbook for newspaper clippings.

We decided to get a young pig to practice with for showing. When the year is over we will sell it and put the money in our treasury. We had reports from the leaders on citizenship and good sportsmanship. The next meeting will be at Gary Finney's at Colburn on March 14.

~~~Marianne Brown, reporter

Now, I must alert readers to the fact that this was written long BEFORE Bob Hamilton taught me never to start a story with "The," and to avoid those passive verbs. I did get the names spelled right, and I doubt I'd ever use "practice with" in a sentence ever again, 'cept for this one to illustrate that I now know the mortal sin of ending an idea/sentence with an objectless preposition.

For darn sure, this story definitely makes me an old codger, but I know a few others too---Sally Davis is older than I, as is Laura Delamarter (by six weeks). Frances Paulet is almost a year younger, and my dear neighbor Gary Finney has an extra ten days of youth on me. But, we're still all old.

On the good side, I'm confident that not one of us regrets the time we spent as 4-H members cuz we've led pretty good lives, thanks to the guidance of those 4-H volunteers who gave so much of their time in our behalf. We were lucky to have them; that's for sure.

Well, being an oldie but a goodie, I could ramble on forever about those days, but I'd better get on my way on this St. Paddy's Day.

May you all have a wonderful day!

Gimme a weather doldrum cure

This visionary could be the next Bill Gates. Well, even I have the vision but not the no how. I want someone to find a foolproof instant and self-operating cure for weather doldrums. Yesterday was the worst of the worst days of winter.

It stayed that way all day long until about 5 p.m. with continuous slushing, raining, blowing, snowing. Then, for about 10 minutes, it quit. Up to that time, I had done everything I could think of to pretend I didn't care. I vacuumed. I finished writing a story. I transplanted tomatoes.

Still, the ugliness prevailed. I finally gave up on the pretense, sat on the couch and watched TV, paying attention at the end of a couple of basketball games but dozing during an anti-Wal Mart documentary.

Finally, I pulled myself from the couch and told Bill I was getting in the car and going somewhere---maybe to Wal Mart----but anywhere to nudge myself out of the day-long weather-induced stupor. I would be back at 3 for Selection Sunday.

I drove past Wal Mart, gased up at the Chevron Station, drove out Lakeshore Drive to Spade Road and felt sorry for the people who live out there. Their snow is deeper and things looked much more dreary than on this side the river.

The rain and snow continued. I stopped at a convenience store and bought a cup of coffee, figuring it might get some happy juices going. No dice.

I drove home, talked to Annie on the cell phone and learned that their St. Paddy's Day run in Seattle was just as miserable as our Ides of March in Sandpoint. Snow and rain, she said. "I've been outside in the cold enough for one day," she added.

She said the sun was out, though. That gave me hope.

How many hours does it take the Seattle sun to find Sandpoint, and if it does, would that happen in the middle of the night while I was sleeping? Not a good thought.

Well, things got better during the Selection Sunday Show. Our ZAGS are going to Portland to play the Zips of Akron on Thursday afternoon. The thought of Zags and Zips made me smile, but then even Selection Sunday ended too soon.

I did my outside stuff, putting the horses in and going for a walk during that ten-minute rain respite. I passed the Johnsons (the first Johnson's house, that is---we have two on our road); then the thunder started, then the rain, then the wind. I was soaked to the bone by the time I got back to the house.

The clothes went by the stove, and I fixed some dinner. We finished eating, and, lo and behold, the rain had stopped once more. I scurried around, put on my boots and my snow pants over the sweat pants---the jeans were still wet. Bill drove the 4-wheeler down lane to get wood, and I followed with the dogs.

The change was instant. Suddenly, I felt alive again, like I wanted to conquer the world. I ran with the dogs through the hayfield, where snow was still packed enough in most places for me to avoid sinking to the ground below. We moved on to the woods, and as dogs weaved in and out of the trees with lightning speed, I reveled in the joy of feeling alive again---for the first time all day long.

So, recounting those mundane events of a dreary day do have a purpose. If we can snap out of the doldrums that fast when ucky weather changes to bearable weather, why can't there be some remedy designed for the populace who live in areas where the weather weights them down, shackling their motivation, day after day month after month?

I know there ARE those special lights and there are the health clubs and there are possibilities of moving somewhere else. All good but not always practical. And, I'm certainly not advocating drug treatment. Surely, there must be some brilliant person who can come up with this cure. If it were to happen, imagine the possibilites.

All that slogging around and complaining could end. Things could get done. Our society could be so much more efficient. What a great world this could be if we could just turn off all that ails us when the weather does the mood switch on us.

I know I'm a dreamer, but every time I notice instantaneous positive or negative changes in my attitude due to weather---I figure there must be a cure. Anyone? Anyone?

In the meantime, today's dry, warm air looks and feels much better, and I've got people to see, apples to shovel.

Happy Monday.