Antique Tractor Day in Selle

Couldn't have been a nicer day to go plow a field. Kevin Bristow was one of the many antique tractor buffs who showed up yesterday at Randy and Colleen's field off Selle Road to do some preparation for planting.

There was lots of talking, lots of picture taking, and lots of awe as 30 or 40 old beauties from Massey Fergusons to Allis Chambers to John Deeres, old Fords, Olivers, even a Co-Op brand, et. al. showed up to prepare a large field for planting.

It looked like organized chaos for a while, but, by gum, as you'll see in the bottom photo, taken this morning, they did a nice job of grooming that field for whatever seeds Randy and Colleen want to drop into it.

I'm pretty sure a good time was had by all, even the photographers.

When a tractor was born the same year you were, ya gotta take its picture.

Kenny and Peggy Shadel fielded lots of questions about this 1947 Co-Op model which sat in the Shadel's woods for years---until Kenny dragged it out and fixed it up.

Reflections of tractor day in Selle

Now, this is how we'll do it: tractor men Lee Burnett and Jim Thompson.

Tractor Mama . . .

. . . Jennice thinks George's tractor is mighty sexy. That would be her hubby, ID State Rep. George Eskridge.

Always room for duct tape.

We charge it the "old-fashioned way."

Kenny waits for his turn.

Two John's (Dana and Deere) headin' up and movin' out.

Tractor teamwork

Work's all done. Field ready for planting.

View from the Ice House Pizza Parlor

I told Bill it was a "Bear" night.

Drop dead gorgeous, July-like evening and a perfect time to drive to Hope for pizza at Bear's Ice House.

So, we did.

We sat upstairs on the deck and watched the lake show off its pure beauty.

We visited with one of the local musicians who was taking his elderly father to dinner.

I visited with our pizza maker Kim, a former student, and then we went on our way.

I walked down the old highway to a new watering hole called Trish's Place.

It's run by another former student.

Next week, I'll tell you more about her new venture in what was Dona and Dave Meehan's Edelhaus Restaurant.

Trish has bought it and lives there with her kids.

This morning I'm headed over to a field on Selle Road where antique tractors are plowing 20 acres. I'll take my camera and post some photos tomorrow.

It's another beautiful day, not to be wasted in our North Idaho Heaven on Earth.

Big change from the winter griping, right?

Happy Saturday to all.

Why would anyone ever want to live anywhere else?

That's what we think about nine months out of the year anyway.

The raw beauty is indescribable, and after almost 62 years here, I still never tire of the view.

Pretty horses and purple lilacs

Heather and Lefty

Rather than going for a bike ride last evening, we strolled around the place, fighting off mosquitoes every step of the way.

It was a stroll after the first barbecue: those chicken breasts barbecued to perfection by Bill and smothered in Stubbs moppin' sauce, spinach-filled ravioli, drowned in olive oil and parmesan, last summer's green beans, simmered slowly and swimming in margarine, garlic, salt and pepper. A dessert of fresh-picked rhubarb, sweetly cobbled. .

Caloric, yes, satisfying, yes, expensive, no.

I estimated it would be a $25 per serving at a restaurant. Probably cost us about $5 per plate.

And, yes, if we ever decided to have a bed and breakfast, I think the guests would have approved.

I snapped a few photos of early evening yard and pasture action. Then, Bill, the dogs and I walked through the woods. I enjoyed my first summer sighting of a trio of deer who bounded off into the trees and probably on to the neighbors' grove.

Bill motioned me to various trees and shrubs he's planted over the past two years. The larch are doing fine. One reaches upward as far as Bill's waist. I told him a year from now it could surpass him.

'Twas a nice evening filled with lovely scenes but irritating flying critters.

Kea, always watching.

Splendid Heather in the grass

Dinner-time duo: Heather and Lefty

Green grass aplenty

Lefty grazes in the shadowland

Lilacs in the south lawn

This and That Thursday

Seems like no single subject is pressing on my publishing button today, so since it's Thursday with a "th" day, a "This and That" heading seems appropriate.

I could talk about the garden, which finally seems to be complete in the outdoor cooker. Just one little patch beneath Manure-pile Row on the west side of the barn still begs for activity.

I thought I'd cut up a bunch of potato sprouts, lay 'em out and cover them with the flakes of ruined hay sitting in the barn. Our tarp in the hayshed leaked in a few spots, so that hay has been sitting there idle and ugly for the past few months.

No reason for moldy hay to go to waste, and I've been told it doesn't take much overhead protection for potatoes to grow. Plus, it will make that area look much better, especially if the potatoes come up.

This: just in, or as he was going out the door. Bill said, "What if I barbecue some chicken breasts tonight?

To which I said, "We're gonna start the barbecue season, huh?" Of course, there was no argument. We've got some gargantuan Foster Farms breasts in the freezer---from Costco, of course.

That: That reminds me that Cassie Tauber on Gold Creek Road is raising fryers and I've ordered about five, supposedly to pick up in late June or July. I've always been told how homegrown chickens are much better than anything you can buy in the store, even from Costco, so I'm anxious to give them a try.

This: Back to the Costco stuff. Bill was in Coeur d'Alene yesterday. The only way I knew he had gone there was by seeing a sack of that kettle corn, from the kettle-corn man outside Sportsman's Warehouse, was sitting on the counter when I returned from my nightly bike ride.

"Oh ya got kettle corn, I said, and it's from Sportsman's Warehouse. Why didn't you tell me you were going to Coeur d'Alene . . . I would have asked you to get me a big block of cheese."

You see, Costco is right across the parking lot from Sportsman's Warehouse. Bill said he was in a state rig with other state workers, and that it wouldn't be ethical to go shopping at Costco.

To which I said, "You bought something to eat while in the state rig . . . what's the difference with buying a block of cheese?" Bill didn't have a lot to say to that query, but he knew I understood his dilemma.

That: That means Willie, if you're reading, I'm gonna give you a Costco list for when you pass through Coeur d'Alene on your way home Monday. Don't worry, I'll reimburse. I sure am in need of Tillamook cheese, so that's a given. Maybe some more of those chicken breasts too, and how about some tri-tips, since Bill's gonna have the grill running.

This: I told Willie that since he has to take week's furlough rather than a pink slip with his newspaper job, he could spend furlough in Sandpoint and I could feed him. Not a bad deal for either of us if you ask me. We're all thankful that he's still employed, unlike a lot of other journalists I know.

That: I saw Dan Wood last night on my bike ride. He's been working long hours trying to get his house up the road ready for occupancy.

Dan and I talked about family, old times and history. He was telling me how, in the past few years, he's learned oodles about his folks and the Wood family's early 1940s move to North Idaho. We both agreed that, as young people, that information kinda rolls right by us cuz we've got so much other stuff on our minds.

He also talked about how he and Terri have boxes of stuff that have moved with them over the years whenever they've taken up a new residence and how some of it might as well be thrown away cuz it's been in boxes through several moves.

When he said he still had something he'd written in third or fourth grade, I said, "Don't ever throw that away. It will mean a lot to your kids and grandkids, etc." He agreed.

That's when I told him the story about my mother mentioning that our real father worked in that huge building we saw along the Chicago River a couple of weeks ago.

Well, later I learned that she really had meant my grandfather. Then, she got to telling stories about our Grandfather Brown and how he came to Spokane to follow an insurance job during the Depression and then died of a massive heart attack while living at the Davenport Hotel.

That story led her to a recollection about my great-uncle George. I met him once, and my memories include visions of Uncle George in his fancy suit and his wife in her mink stoll and our standing out on Boyer just beyond driveway posing for pictures with our great-uncle from Chicago. I was about 4. 5 at the time.

Mother told me last week that he had come out to see about getting two railroad cars full of white pine with no knots. Uncle George was an entrepreneur who started a company called Brown Wood Products, which manufactured small wood items.

After hearing that story, I came home and googled Brown Wood Products (http://www.brownwoodinc.com/) and found that it still exists, with the webpage featuring a little snippet about how our uncle started the company back in 1927.

Seeing that, I wrote an email to the present CEO Terry Gross. He was nice enough to answer and said he wished he knew more about the company's early history, but he also offered to send me copies of documents hanging in the office vestibule, signed by our great-uncle. Of course, I said I'd love to have them.

The other weird aspect of this story is that we could very well have driven past Brown Wood Products because it's located near Wrigley Field, where we did some touring while in Chicago.

So, long story short, one never knows about those things of ours and in our time that we take for granted. Years later, what seems mundane to us will turn into true treasures for those who follow.

That: And, that's enough for today. Have a great Thursday, doing this and that---and them things.

Of man and birds

Lenny was always saying to George that "we're gonna live off the fatta the land." And, George would agree. Some day they were gonna have that dream of raising rabbits and livin' off the fatta the land.

Sadly, it never happened for Lenny cuz he was too strong for his own good, and he accidentally killed first pups and then Curley's wife. Steinbeck's classic was a sad story, indeed, but Lenny's dream was not a bad goal for anyone to set.

Livin' off the fatta the land could save a person a lot of money at the grocery store and at Home Depot. I've observed this of late with the arrival of this year's birds. They have it pretty well figured out, as long as they stay away from the cats.

I don't know if it's being older and not having to go anywhere other than home to do my work, but I'm sure noticing a lot more about the habits of birds these days, and it presents a good lesson for humankind.

First and foremost, they get the hell out of Dodge every year when the weather turns bad. They fly somewhere, live well, and come back each spring to set up shop and produce more birds.

I've noticed there's a pecking order too. Someone seems to be in charge, and some birds seem to be carrying out their marching orders. Take, for instance, the robin which has been assigned strawberry patch duty.

I didn't notice this so much the past couple of years, but I think it's the white board fence that has drawn my attention to this sentry whose duty appears to be to watch the progress of those berries and---when they're ready for pecking---to report back to the troops who will swoop down and enjoy sumptuous feasts of biting into juicy, fresh strawberries.

Every morning, that same robin is sitting on that same section of fence, watching and waiting. Sometimes he/she varies the routine, flies off the fence, lands within the patch and trots around doing close-up surveillance. Could be he/she is far-sighted and wants to know for sure how those baby berries are coming.

I'm feeling kinda bad about all this cuz in the next week or so, I'm going to put up another fence---around the berry patch, and then I'll bring the netting and attach it to the temporary garden fence. I know this is going to be devastating to said robin whose faithful vigilance could go for naught.

Damn humans, anyway!

But, still, there are worms, and just because the birds will be denied strawberry desserts to go with the worms, it's not the end of the world. They're still livin' off the fatta the land, and they'll still have big red paunches.

Then, there are the bird houses. We have one on a fencepost in the south lawn. No foreclosures here. No abandoned, empty house with a sad story of the inhabitants who once dwelled there and lost their American dream. This house is now fully occupied for the spring and summer months.

And, these lovebirds---swallows, he with the blue back and she with the brown coat---are making a home for their children. And, it's all off the fatta the land. No trips to Home Depot. No contractor fees or county planning department fees. It's all relatively simple for the birds.

Low-income housing is ubiquitous around here, thanks to the Taylors who spent one winter in their big shop building homes for birds. Last spring they nailed dozens of houses, all freshly painted with bright colors, to posts on their farm and still more on posts in other fields where they farm. We saw a bunch of yellow bird houses on posts in a field off Forest Siding Road while biking last night.

They had that distinctive Taylor-made look to them.

And, when you build those houses, they will come. A few weeks ago, avian couples galore did some low-flying surveillance and liked what they saw. Who wouldn't love to live in the Selle Valley?

I was afraid our bird house would go unoccupied this spring because of so much availability, but happily we have occupants, and we're not charging them any rent-----our reward comes from watching them at work, preparing for family and guarding their home much better than any high-priced surveillance company could do.

The other day, our friends, the Aavedals came for a visit. The birds were not happy that Bob, Linda and I had stepped too close to their home on the post. They made their feelings known through aerial assaults--dive bombs coming mere inches from our heads. So, we moved on, and the birds ceased their attacks.

The more I watch the birds, the more I want to know. Is that the very same robin who comes to watch over our strawberry patch every single year? Are those crows who pick out their territory on various plots of land all from the same family.

Where DO the birds spend the winter? I think they've got the best idea on that one, and I'd like to follow them one of these years. They seem to be a lot smarter than all us humans who hang around here and gripe about the weather for months on end.

Yup, there's a lot we could learn from the birds, and I do admire their taste for sweet, juicy strawberries and taking up residence in colorful summer homes.

But, I'm not so sure I want to take up dining on worms.

Self-indulgence . . . Ah!

I do not believe a soul in the Northwest had reason to complain about this Memorial Day weekend. I cannot remember a time when the entire three days offered perfect conditions for all things outdoors. Great weather for planting, recreating, getting together with family and friends or just plain relaxing in the sun.

So, a big thanks to Mother Nature.

Yesterday turned out to be an ultimate opportunity for me. I was selfish. I did exactly what I wanted to do from start to finish, owing nothing to anyone except myself. Such days are rarities, and I decided I'd better take advantage, or I'd have only myself to blame.

Bill had already announced that he would be returning to Cocolalla Creek for the afternoon and evening fly-fishing challenges. He says he likes to go early on opening day and later in the weekend when most of the other anglers have gone. So, that was his plan.

In the morning, my plan was to drive to Spokane to see my Lily. She's my Appaloosa mare, and she's been at the equestrian center since early May, getting another round of training for this year's show season. My sister Laurie will be riding her in Western classes, and I'll be riding her down roads and trails.

Laurie's hope is that Lily will get over her bucking/kicking out at the lope. Lily is lazy and doesn't like to lope. So, we figured another month of boot AND spur camp would be good for Lily. At shows, horses can also be shown in a hackamore (it's a rawhide, hard nose band with no bit) through age 4.

That takes some training too, so going forward without bucking and learning to respond to the hackamore are the two goals of this training session with trainer Monty. He says our Lily still wants to kick out, but he just keeps her going until she wears down on that antic. He also says she's doing beautifully with the hackamore and that he thinks Laurie's gonna like her.

So, we're excited to see the results. Since she won't be coming home for another week and it has been more than three weeks since I've seen her, I couldn't wait to walk into her stable and say hi.

I thought that wasn't going to work out by mid-morning, however. The latest growth of dandelions had reared all their ugly heads all over the lawn, and I needed to mow. Pots filled with veggies still sat on the shelves in the greenhouse, waiting to be plopped in garden soil. The old workaholic in me could not leave home with those projects incomplete.

I worked at it with gusto, however, and by the time Bill was about to leave for Cocolalla Creek where the best fishing started in "16 minutes, according to the fishing forecast," I had actually finished my work. I could leave home and know that when I returned, the dandelions could still be in the plotting stages.

So, we took off within 15 minutes of each other, both doing exactly what we wanted to do. The Border Collies happily jumped in the back seat of the Jimmy, and we drove off down the road headed for the big city and the stable. Once at the equestrian center, I ambled in to see Lily who was nibbling at a bare surface at the bottom of her stall. She was engrossed.

I tapped on the stall door, and she looked up. No screams of welcome, no smile, just a rather blank expression. That's Lily. When I walked away to go back to the car and let the dogs out, I knew that she knew Mom had arrived. The pawing at the stall door began. That's Lily too.

Later, I put on her halter, and when I took her outside, she just looked all around. I eventually figured she must be thinking she was going home and looking for the horse trailer. Poor Lily.

We walked around the grounds and down the driveway. I gave her some grain and combed and brushed her. She didn't seem too thrilled to see the dogs who normally spend the entire day watching her every move.

It was a good visit, and she kicked the stall wall the last time I left. That's Lily at her best. She can be self indulgent every day because, after all, she's a Queen Bee.

We drove off, and my next selfish move was to stop at Cabela's to buy another pair of their jeans. I've discovered I like the way they fit, so it was time to get a pair for wearing to town---a pair not stained by green grass mowings or garden dirt.

Jeans in hand, we moved on to Rathdrum where I did the really ultimate indulgence at Dairy Queen: vanilla ice cream in a chocolate waffle cone. Messy but very satisfying. In the meantime, dogs munched on the handfuls of Quaker's snack mix I threw to them in the back seat.

After arriving home at 6:30 and grabbing a few bites of dinner, I set out on my bike for the grand finale of this full day of my own.

A six-mile spin along Selle Road to Hickey Road, right on Jacobson Road, right on East Shingle Mill Road and back home on Selle Road----a grand ride, to say the least. Perfect temperature, a slight breeze, beautiful green farm fields, lilacs starting to bloom, a deer here, Canadian honkers and their fuzzy babies there.

I liked my day, and I look forward to other such opportunities, but it may be a while. Schedules tend to fill up, and work must be done. When such days come along, though, they tend to infuse one's soul with the ample elixir to return to the mundane and to do so with more vigor than usual.

Happy Tuesday. Hope your holiday weekend was a good one.

Memorial Day, 2009

May the light of this day bring back pleasant memories

of those lost and loved.

Bugs and babble

Seems like when we change seasons we go from one nuisance to another. Of course, snow and all that comes with it for months on end is just one big nuisance, but snow is now a memory, and I've got other stuff bugging me about the outdoors.

It's the bugs in general.

Mosquitoes and nasty bees have come on like gangbusters over the past few days, and yesterday I discovered that the ants in the cabbage patch may be doing harm to my lovely cabbage plants. In the past two days, two have withered and died. On a closer look yesterday, I noticed dozens of little biddy ants scurrying around.

I think they've been feeding on my baby cabbage. I've never had ants cause a garden problem, but then I've never seen ants in the garden until this year. They're in a newly dug-up section, and I'm betting that I must have invaded their home when I turned the dirt. I don't want to hurt them, but I wish they'd leave my cabbage alone.

Mosquitoes have driven me from garden duties two or three times in the past two days. I tried to transplant zinnias in a bed the other night just after dinner. Last night I did follow through with transplanting some tomatoes and corn but not without lead-waited irritants constantly landing on my sweaty eyebrows or hairline.

I think we have a glut on mosquitoes this year; hopefully it's because it's been so wet, and hopefully as things dry out, they'll find someone's pond or marsh to inhabit. For now, they're a nightly nuisance.

Bill and I finally gave up on doing slow motion stuff last night and got on our bikes for a trip down Woodside Road. The mosquitoes left us alone, but a few dive-bombing bugs bounced off my face as we pedalled along. I guess the mosquitoes sent us on our ride for a reason. We saw three elk, and at least a dozen deer (including the one that ran across the road just a few feet ahead of me and my bike).

We also both enjoyed the constant chorus of singing field birds. I told Bill about seeing a mountain bluebird on the fence during one of my rides and spotting another unfamiliar bird the last time I took that route. The bird, or one of its friends, showed up soon after my comment. As it darted form section to section of the fence, Bill looked it over but had no idea of its species.

Later, after consulting the bird book, we both agreed that it looked and acted like an Eastern kingfisher. Of course, it must be out here on vacation, and Woodside Road is a nice place to spend the summer.

This morning I brought in the 2 for 1 package of hornet and wasp spray. It would be nice to sit on our deck. The nasty bees also love our deck, so we're gonna have a spray-off, and I hope I win. They've shown up in great abundance every time I go out to sit for a second, only to leave because of their annoying, persistent reminder that the deck is their territory.

One form of bee has shown up in the past two days, and I'm glad to see them return. They're the nice bees. Chad Moore's beehives are back in Taylor's field, and many of the inhabitants have already been over to visit. They don't bother a soul, and they do good work in the garden, so they're quite welcome and far from being a nuisance like the aforementioned insects.

There's always something to bug us, I guess, and these annoyances will become routine enough that we'll accept them, knowing that they're pretty minor in the grand scheme of summer.

Happy Sunday to all. May you enjoy the birds, the nice bees and the flowers.

Saturday Slight

I love my home. I love my home. I could repeat that every day until the day I die.

Twenty years from now, I'll still be pinching myself about getting to live here. It is a lot of work to keep it up, and by landscapers' standards, I'm sure my efforts could improve considerably.

My neighbor Janice and I enjoy an ongoing banter about each other's yards. She wins hands' down cuz her place always looks perfect, but she inspires me to do my best.

Yesterday I was thinking, while finishing up the last swath of mowing, that I always wish someone would come to visit right now, when it looks as perfect as it's ever going to look.

But it doesn't happen that way.

They usually drive into the driveway when the dandelions have all popped up and multiplied arrogantly all over the yard. They come when it's been days since I've used the weed eater.

It's sort of like Russian Roulette. Every so often, you luck out, though---in a much better way than the roulette folks.

Someone does show up minutes after a fresh mowing, and you feel divinely proud to welcome them.

In fact, it happened a couple of weeks ago when Robin Roberts, who actually landscaped this place about 20 years ago, came with a bouquet of flowers for Mother's Day from Niemans. She also came with a strong desire to see how her handiwork had matured over the years, and because of her timing after a mowing, she was justifiably proud.

I live for lawn and garden work, and these past few days have filled my soul to the point of my cup almost runnething over.

Can you tell?

Happy Saturday to all.

May you enjoy your yard work or your fishing or your camping or your just sitting outside in the sun embracing all the beauty that God bestows on us.

He's doing okay on this day in May.

Horse Heaven at the Lovestead

Of cabbage and dirt.

The eyes have it!

Pots have young flowers, and iddy biddy seedlings are popping up.

Summer beauty has arrived. Let the color show begin!

I have no headline today. I think I'll leave it that way. Then, people will have to read clear through to the bottom to see what I'm talking about. And, to top that off, I'll have to read clear through to the bottom to see what I'm talking about.

My mind is not really geared on this computer today. Like yesterday, I can hardly wait to get outside and get started with the yard and garden projects. I worked the entire day yesterday and had the sore legs to prove it by the time I collapsed on the couch around 8 p.m.

The place has gone through a bit of a transformation with several bright red geraniums out front along the deck, and colorful pansies along the east side of the house now visible due to the absence of several dozen healthy dandelion plants.

There are geraniums along one border of the vegetable garden, and there are four fewer asparagus spears in the far west garden strip. They went straight from the stalks to the stainless steel saucepan to be cooked on moderate heat and then gussied up with Imperial margarine, garlic salt, salt and pepper and medium cheddar cheese.

Yum. Yum, is all I've got to say. Bill wasn't home last night for dinner so I pigged out on those first spears of the spring.

I dug up clumps from a bed of spreading purple plants in my north garden and plopped them on the end facing the road. Once it takes root, I should never have to worry about weeds in that spot again, and it will always be pretty all summer long.

The weed eater ate a lot yesterday, but today the lawnmower will have a full-time job.

Horses happily grazed in their pasture during two long meals. Dogs got double doses of hose hopping as I watered new plants in the gardens.

There's no real headline this morning except that it was nice to see my faithful follower Sharon in today's paper. She and her husband shared a very positive story about how Hospice has actually saved her husband Bob's life. I like reading stories like that.

I was saddened, however, to learn that the quiet angel whom everyone used to meet the minute they walked into Keokee Publishing Co. has died.

Dear Carole of Keokee, we're all going to miss you, but we shall never forget your kindness, your willingness to listen and your warmth. You were a friend to all and much appreciated. May you enjoy eternal peace.

With that, I'll sign off and wish everyone a happy and safe Memorial Day weekend.

A Perfect un-Storm

What do you get when "Dancing with the Stars" ends? And, "American Idol" ends? And, the temperature dips below freezing one more time for just a few hours? And, the sky is blue? And, the weather report calls for seven straight rainless days in the 70s?

You get a perfect un-storm.

You also get a smile on your face.

You get to take those geraniums back to the holes in the soil where you planted them yesterday afternoon, only to hear about the overnight freeze, pull them out and store them inside.

You get a green light on the gardening----finally.

You get really happy because you've waited so long and have been so impatient.

At long last, all factors have converged for the perfect un-storm that sets you free to enjoy the rest of the spring and look ahead to summer.

You get to turn your horses out every morning to munch on lush, green grass.

You get to drag your hoses around every morning to water everything, and while doing so, you get to smile cuz both of those TV shows that helped you survive the long winter had happy endings.

A bubbly 17-year-old Olympic medalist is the youngest winner ever in the dance competition. Of course, when you liked most of the contestants, any winner would have been fine.

And, a "dark horse" who tried out at Churchill Downs surprised even himself when he became the 2009 American Idol. And, his runner-up was so gracious, cuz after all, he's so talented and will have a wonderful future. And, the grand finale was a phenomenal show from beginning to end.

A nice way for both of winter's powerful television antidotes to end.

And, a lovely morning to start off anew with different routines and great expectations of growth and warmth and happy endings of biting into rich, juicy tomatoes, feasting on garden salads, and plucking asparagus spears in just a few days, and baking outside while mowing the ever-growing green lawn.

You are happy, indeed, and, as you watch your pretty Arabians graze on their green fields, and you're brimming over with excitement to launch off into this perfect un-storm and to say to good ol' Mother Nature,

"Bring it on! I'm ready!"

Home-based exhilaration

I love to travel. I love the memories, and whenever I travel, I figure the money spent is one of the best investments of life. Yes, it's expensive at the time, but traveling is truly the gift that keeps on giving until the day we die.

I cannot remember a trip I've ever taken that has failed to provide me vivid images and recollections that I can tap at a moment's notice. Some of those trips go back more than 50 years.

All the Sunday drives to Montana, sitting on the hump in the back seat between two brothers, the occasional hand-outs from the box of bacon thins held by the front-seat guard---and the outdoor potty stops in the wet grass---those were great times. Well, at least they seem to be now as I think back on them.

Though I can't remember one distinct Sunday adventure over another, except maybe the day my sister thought she saw a green bear or the day my 9-months pregnant mother screamed at my dad cuz he had driven up some power-line path with no clear turnaround. Those stand out, but the trips are tucked away in their own compartment of my library of recollections.

Mother, Mike, Kevin and I took our first road trip in 1958 in a brand-new Ford ranch wagon. On that journey we amassed a vast storehouse of memories---good and bad. The 103-degree temperatures across North Dakota in the age before air conditioned cars about did us in. Trying to sleep in the car at some roadside wide spot during a wild Michigan thunder and lightning storm was a challenge.

We chose those accommodations because we did not want to miss crossing the newly constructed Mackinac Bridge (touted then as a wonder of the world) in the daylight. It was a scary night and a sleepless one too, but the trip across that fabulous engineering marvel (designed by a University of Idaho engineer, by the way) was worth all the aches and fatigue we suffered from trying to sleep in unusual, uncomfortable situations.

I could fill a book with trip memories. Maybe I should.

For now, that's not my object. My object is to say I love trips, but I also love coming home. Like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, I long to go home once the reason I've left home has played out.

Our Chicago trip provided all of us a whole new drawer of images and memorable moments to savor briefly and then tuck away, like a fine wine, to age and to grow more dear as the years roll by. Our group, representing three generations of family, will each view the trip in a different way, and that's what makes the investment all the more rich.

We also feel blessed to have spent some lovely moments with a lot of folks we'd never met who will now remain on our list of "must see these people again." I've invited the whole crowd to come to North Idaho and to hang out at the Lovestead. If they all come at once, that would be interesting, but I do hope they come.

For now, I'm thrilled to be back home with my dogs, cats, horses, flowers and veggies. I've walked the yard this morning and discovered fruit trees blossoming for the first time this year, and I look forward the watching the fruits develop as the spring and summer wind on.

We've just left a setting where a lot of new relationships have blossomed and the chance of their bearing fruit in future years is just as exhilarating to me as coming home, nurturing my surroundings while thinking about where I've just been and how my life has changed because of it.

Yup, I don't think we lose a dime with travel, no matter how expensive it tends to be, and when we come home, we're that much more appreciative of the sanctuary where we can plant the dreams of yet other future adventures.

Not a bad deal, if you ask me.

Headin' home

While Mother, Jim and I went to a family luncheon at my cousin Rich's home in Barrington, Annie and Bill took the train to downtown Chicago yesterday.

Their destination: Manny's Deli where President Obama likes to stop when he's in Chicago.They brought me back some cookies, including this big one.

I would like to eat it, but I also like having a souvenir. Maybe I'll put it in the cannister with those 30-year-old Christmas cookies Pam Eimers and I keep passing back and forth to each other.Anyway, they enjoyed their rather "pricey" meal.

They also went to the fire training facility, which is on the same spot where the fabled milk cow, belonging to Mrs. O' Leary kicked the kerosene lantern and started the Chicago fire.We've learned from our boat tour that the story, as told, is a lot of bunk.

Still, it's a good one, and folks tend to remember it.

While they were enjoying their downtown stroll, we were enjoying a good lunch and the last good byes to the last family members to leave the reunion. It was a wonderful experience, and we're all convinced that we have a fine family.

We also have many good memories to forge over the years to come, along with those created this past weekend.

It's a lot of airport and sardine time today as we make our way home to what I understand is full-blown spring---almost summer. I'll take it.

Erica tells me my fruit trees are about to pop into full bloom. I'll take that too.

It's always fun to go on the trips, but Home Sweet Home will be just as sweet as ever.

A day of sight seeing in Stink City

~~Mother Tibbs, seated, brother Jim, Marianne, Bill and Annie~~

Yup, Chicago's history points back to a stinky beginning, but it's far from that now.

We took the architectural boat tour yesterday, and the tour folks took our
picture.

The tour came highly recommended by everyone who's taken it before us.

They were right. It's a must-do in Chicago.

And, the weather wasn't bad either.

And, we discovered the "small world" aspect of our trip.

Some family members here for the reunion came from Bainbridge Island.

Turns out their best friends live in Coeur d'Alene, where the hubby is
an editor with the Spokesman-Review.

So, Scott Maben, I'll tell you the Holts are having a good time here.

Beautiful Lake Michigan