Best of Slight Detour

Well, I saw the insert in today's Daily Bee for all the "Bests of Bonner County." There's a ploy involved.

Get people to buy a bunch of newspapers (extra money for the Bee) vote you for "the best," and then you get the great pleasure of buying some advertising from the paper (extra money for the Bee).

I often wonder what happens when the "Best of" hear that they've won the "Best of" and decline on the paper's generous offer to sell them advertising.

Is there a revote?

I tied with Mark Fuhrman once in The Pacific Northwest Inlander's contest for North Idaho's favorite author---and I didn't even vote. The Inlander never even asked me if I wanted to buy an ad, but I did post the honor on my website. I think it has helped me sell maybe two books.

Anyway, now that I've read the 2009 "Best's," I think it's time to announce my official Slight Detour Fav's. If you want to buy advertising on my blog, just say so in the comments. Otherwise, the honors and the reading are all free of charge.

So, here goes:

Best roadside honker, driving tractor, 4-wheeler, motorcycle, big honkin' truck, car---all hours of the day and night: Sandpoint attorney Gary Finney. When you live near Gary and you're his classmate, he honks. In fact, he just went to work about ten minutes ago. I know that because I heard the pre-7 a.m. honk.

Best place to go eat breakfast, dinner or lunch for next to nothing and sometimes get free birthday cake cuz your birthday's the same day as the owners: That would be the Hoot Owl Restaurant. I'm going there in a couple of hours with a former student, and I'm hoping they've read my blog so they'll give me some free bacon for Payola.

Best Ultimate Bacon Sandwich, where the owner occasionally comes out and wonders why you never eat all the bread: That would be Second Avenue Pizza, where everyone else eats pizza and I order the sandwich. Carolyn cares about what I think of her sandwiches. I do have to speak with her though. The last two times, I got no chips. I even told the lady at the counter that I missed my chips the time before, and she forgot to put 'em on this last time. I'm sure if Carolyn knew, she'd run over to Safeway and grab some chips for me.

Best Road to drive down to Coeur d'Alene when construction's happening: Believe me, it's not Hwy 95. It's not Selle Road. It's not all those streets in Kootenai. I thought I'd take the back road through to town and I thought about praying that no flag person would stop me on my drive to Coeur d' Alene yesterday. Well, my prayers fell on deaf ears. I left the house approximately two hours after Gary Finney honked on his way to work. That would be shortly after 9 a.m. I arrived at my destination, The Coeur d' Alene North at about 11 a.m.

Used to be when HWY 95 was a lot worse road, a trip to Coeur 'd Alene could be managed in an hour or less. I was figuring that yesterday's trip lasted longer than my last trip to the Spokane Airport. So, I'm guessing the best route to Coeur d'Alene when construction's happening might be to head out toward Spokane and take the freeway back from Washington.

Best Beer where a squabble could get resolved: Laughing Dog ale. I'm wondering if all the race relations problems in the world could be solved with a few glasses of Laughing Dog. Now that beer is the mediator of choice, I suggest that all those involved in a feud, go talk to Fred and have him serve you up a brew. World peas will certainly follow.

Best Newscast in Less than a Minute: That would be Mike Brown on K102 local news. On, any given day, I'll hear the news is coming. The announcers take about 45 seconds to tell us that Mike Brown will be coming at 4 p.m. with the news. So, I hurry to get within earshot so I can hear what's happening at the Bonner County Courthouse on my "in-the-barn" radio. Just as I position myself to listen to all the local smut, I hear "And finally in the news, . . . " I'm always perplexed because Mike has just started the news and now it's "finally" over.

Now, Mike does a good job digging up Bonner County dirt, but he needs to use his shovel a few more times cuz some of us enquiring minds want to know more.

Best Place to Read the Newspaper: At the Love house. The highlight of Bill and my day is during newspaper reading time. Some of the best one-liners ever uttered go wafting through the living room as either of us make our observations on what Larry Fury has said about the latest money issue to be put before the voters or what Bob Wynhausen says about all those dumb Republicans. Bob's a Democrat, just in case you didn't know.

There's sometimes tension during newspaper reading time on Sunday mornings. That would be during Bob Gunter's column that he has other people write about their clandestine lives so that nobody can guess who they really are. Neither Bill nor I want to be skunked in our guessing game. Usually the question comes out after Bill is allowed to read the North Idaho Sunday (that would be AFTER I've read it). Out will come the question: do you know who the "Who am I?" is? I never tell him until he asks.

And, we've got real tension this week because Bill forgot to quiz me, and it's Friday. I'll bet he doesn't know it was Marilyn Dalby, Sr. At least, that's who I think it is. Marilyn wrote so much about her past life outside of Sandpoint it was gonna take some keen scrutiny to figure her out, but I think I did.

Now, don'tcha go telling Bill who the "Who am I" is.

On that note, I've got one of the "Best of my favorite students" coming at 8 a.m. with his wife and new baby daughter. That's all I'm giving you for clues. Your job is to figure out "who he is." Just put your guess in the comments section, and I'll post all the "Who am I's" who answered correctly in tomorrow's edition of Slight Detour.

There are a lot more "Bests" to post on this blog, but I'll save them for another day. I've got to spend the next few minutes figuring out who my favorite student is who's coming at 8 a.m. Then, I'll know what to call him when he arrives at the door.

Anyone? Anyone?

Getting to know you---the house, that is

Once you've seen the war zone created by a hot water tank blowing off steam, you've seen enough for a lifetime. Trust me. I know.

One year about a week before Thanksgiving, I came home to our house on Great Northern Road to discover a lake flowing from the utility room through the hallway into the kitchen and even onto the living-room carpet. Our hot-water tank had blown.

In a nutshell, repairs cost $2,800. That included carpet, linoleum and new water tank. That cost did not include the inconvenience and disruption we encountered for the next week or two while dealing with repairs.

I thought we were in for another similar event yesterday morning when I came inside from watering my flowers to go to the bathroom. It was post-latte time, so quick trips to the bathroom are part of my morning routine. While in the bathroom, I began to hear a roar.

It sounded like heavy equipment making its way down the road. As I left the bathroom, however, the sound got louder in the kitchen. It was obviously not out on the road but inside the house.

I followed the roar to the door where the hot-water tank is almost completely blocked from view by at least four feet of cookbooks, old mail, bags, River Journals, financial folders, boxes, and dozens of other sundries----not in any particular order but heaved inside the door at various times to live in the "catch-all" room that doubles as a water-tank home.

An open door revealed precisely the origin for the sound. On top of the mess, I found the user's manual for the hot water tank. DO NOT PUT FLAMMABLE MATERIALS NEAR THE TANK.

For some reason that "danger" warning jumped off the page as my suddenly disordered mind scurried in circles, wondering "what to do, what to do." My first inclination was that the tank was getting ready for blast-off and was being nice enough to issue a warning prior to zero-minus one second and counting.

And, when I saw that user's manual warning, I knew I was in deep trouble if that tank decided to blow. I worried not so much about personal injury but more about personal embarrassment if the water tank aficionados came to my house and saw all that junk stored inside the tank room.

So, I started removing boxes, each time saying a quick "Hail Mary" for my personal safety. Those boxes and all that junk would be out of sight should the repairman come to fix the tank.

The roar persisted. Disordered mind got off task with a brilliant thought. Go turn off the breaker switch to the hot water tank, it told me. So I did.

The roar persisted.

Go turn off the breaker switch to the whole house, the mind then suggested. So, I did.

The roar continued to persist.

Hmmm. Why does the water heater keep threatening to blow up when it's not even getting any juice? Now, that WAS a dilemma that my disordered mind could not even contemplate. So, I decided to call the neighbors whose son is a plumber.

Well, disorderly thinking received an additional jolt. The telephone didn't work. Oh yeah, they're working on Selle Road today. Service has probably been interrupted. I used my cell phone and tried to call them. Their telephone didn't work either. Then, I tried Bill's office, three times, and three times, there was only one ring at the other end. Nobody answered.

This was beginning to seem a little spooky. My hot water tank would blow up, and I couldn't even call anyone to tell them.

In the midst of it all, I removed a few more boxes and piles of junk. The potential embarrassment of having stored so many "flammable" materials near my water tank superseded all other concerns. So, I remained on task, even hiding most of the boxes upstairs so nobody would even have a clue they had been residing in the illegal tank closet.

Once that was completed, I got in the car and drove over to the Kaubles. They agreed that their phone was, indeed, dead. So, I started asking questions about the possibilities of my water tank roar.

Ron, Sr. couldn't imagine what it could be, especially if it kept up when the electricity was off. Bev assured me that if I hadn't figured it out by late afternoon, they'd send their son Ron, Jr., the plumber, over.

So, I came back home and decided to go about my business of getting some things done. After all, no phones seemed to be working, so I had no choice but to let nature take its course. Within minutes, however, I heard a car pull up. It was Bev and Ron, who decided to come over to see and hear for themselves what the matter might be.

Ron tinkered with the tank, turned the water hydrant off, checked everything out and remained puzzled as to what could be causing the roar. Eventually, I tried the cell phone again and did get in touch with Johnson Heating and Cooling.

"Would you know what might cause a hot water tank to roar when the electricity is turned off?" I asked the receptionist.

"No," she said.

"I didn't expect you to know," I said.

She said she could call the technician who happened to be in Clark Fork, out of cell phone range. I gave her my number and asked her to call whenever he got back in cell phone range. After hanging up and doing some more head scratching along with the Kaubles, I thought of one more slim possibility.

"I wonder if I turned the outside water off when I came in to go to the bathroom," I said. "Let me go check." Walking to the deck, I bent down to the hydrant under the deck and discovered it was still running. I turned it off.

The roar stopped instantly.

We cheered with relief and, to save a little face, I rationalized to the kind Kaubles why so much commotion had ensued. Of course, I'm never inside to listen to a roar while watering my posies. And, of course, now I've learned something new about my house after three years of never once hearing the outdoor water hydrant roar inside.

And, of course, now that the water tank isn't gonna blow up, with time, that convenient catch-all room is probably gonna fill up with flammable materials once more.

Another crazy day in the life at the Lovestead. And, I'm not even gonna tell you about the afternoon session with the horse trailer hitch slipping off the ball onto the ground! Or, how I learned about handy-man jacks and how hard to push that lever for the jack to lock into working mode.

I'll save that story for another day.

Technology and the weather

After what seemed like an overabundance of TV weather coverage last night, I asked Bill, "How did we manage through all these years without the 'up-to-the-minute' weather bulletins telling us to expect a rip-roaring lightning storm in the next five minutes?"

Seems people might have been calling in to KREM-2 News last night complaining because Tom Sherry and the crew were usurping their Oprah rerun and replacing it with minute-by-minute updates of thunder and lightning storms moving southwest from the Priest Lake area.

The people who were calling apparently had blue sky, sunshine and hot temps as they sat watching "Oprah" only to have the weather staff break in and take over the programming. There must have been a little thunder and lightning in some of those complaint calls cuz they promised to rerun the "Oprah" rerun at 7 p.m.

Yup, the weather and the gods have apparently been a little crazy the past couple of days. That storm we had Tuesday night came on like gangbusters, and we didn't have a lot of advance TV notice either. They let us watch our programs, and when I started my usual dozing off, I headed for bed.

Awakened from a deep sleep at about 11:30, I was stunned at the battering we were taking from above, from the north, the south, the west and the east. It was reminiscent of those scary storms we encountered on some of our childhood trips to the Midwest, mainly cuz when it left, it just kept coming back.

We didn't turn on the TV to see what we should do now that the unannounced storm was wreaking havoc outside and inside as rain shot through open windows and doors kept slamming all over the house. The electricity went off a couple of times, which elicited a morning comment from Bill that this "is one of those fix all the digital stuff in the house mornings."

Our damage from the wild storm was insignificant compared to the supreme happiness for all the rain that fell. No watering necessary yesterday morning----just a few downed sunflowers and dill stems. I was pretty happy.

My sisters were in for a surprise as they walked toward their barn to do the early morning chores. Two substantial treetops had dropped during the night, so they had a dragging project ahead with the tractor.

That was the worst story I heard from around here until just a few minutes ago when I read on Facebook that Robyn and Alan McNall of Grouse Creek went out on their ATV after the storm to check damage. They found four mother cows from their Shorthorn herd that had perished under a tree during the storm. Now, they've got baby calves to round up and nurture.

Those summer storms are definitely intermittent. Technology in pinpointing their routes, however, is pretty amazing, compared to the old days when we'd look at the sky and comment that it looked like a storm might be coming.

And, when Mother Nature does pick her pathway for wild weather, one person's discomfort at missing an "Oprah" rerun suddenly seems pretty insignificant compared to folks like the McNalls who endured a major loss in their cattle herd.

So, I guess we take those weather bulletins rather lightly when the storm is in someone else's backyard. It serves as a reminder that those of us who pooh pooh the efforts made by these weather experts could very well be on the receiving end when the next series of storms blow through---and maybe with advance notice we can do something to avoid the calamities a storm can bring on.

Plus, we can see those "Oprah" shows at least twice, and I'm not so sure that regurgitated advice on all the wacky and weird supersedes life and death situations.

Schweitzer: Dr. Jack Fowler's vision 49 years later

The view out our west side would be just that of another mountain had it not been for Dr. Jack Fowler's vision 49 years ago.

Dr. Fowler, a Spokane dentist, along with his family, was driving home in a bad mood from a terrible skiing experience with wet chairs, mushy snow and no visibility at Big Mountain near Kalispell, Mont., on Easter Weekend in 1960.

He stopped alongside the road at Hope to take a break.

"While the family stretched, I took in the scene," he wrote in his Looking Back: The History of Schweitzer Mountain Resort (1991). "By then, the weather was clear.

"There it was, in all its shimmering white splendor. It was cradled in a protective bowl which had preserved it into the change of season, while the pack of adjoining ridges had melted away," Dr. Fowler continues. "Thus, the thought of which, so they say, a destination ski resort was born: Why should I drive six hours to be bombed out, when I could be skiing an hour and a half from home in that gorgeous place right up there? 'There,' I found out, was referred to as Schweitzer Basin."

Schweitzer's visonary died yesterday. I saw a note of his passing in the obituary section of this morning's Spokesman-Review. There was a time when Dr. Fowler's passing would have been front-page news in our regional paper. After all, his vision that day in 1960 quickly led to the reality of one of the Northwest's premiere ski resorts.

In his book, Dr. Fowler recounts a set of steps he took after returning home to Spokane filled enthusiasm for the possibilities that could come from that chance moment when he first eyed Schweitzer that day.

"I was seized with the thought that right there was a great spot to develop a ski area. I gave it a few days to simmer, assuming that like many high-flown notions, it would go away," Fowler writes. "It didn't.

"It persisted and I felt I had to bounce it off someone else in the interest of getting a second opinion," he adds. "My sounding board was my good buddy Grant Groesbeck." Fowler invited Grosbeck, a Spokane architect, to dinner. When the discussion landed their desire to come up with some big idea, like the hula hoop, Fowler seized the moment, telling his friend about his vision for Schweitzer.

They soon flew over the area and liked what they saw. Then, a few weeks later on Memorial Day, they hiked an old logging road for the eight mile walk to the mountain, wearing their ski boots.

"When we finally reahed the basin, the blisters on our feet were the size of silver dollars!" Fowler recalls. "We made camp below the Basin on a ridge we named Pea Soup Ridge. The name referred to the dried material we reconstituted and heated over a charcoal fire that night. The label called it pea soup. That taste bore no resemblance. It was terrible!

"Next morning we explored the basin. We hiked to the top to the South Ridge (elevation 6,389 feet)."

Next the men strapped on their skis and for the first time, actually skied Schweitzer Basin.

"It was mushy snow but it was the end of May," Fowler states. "That was important to our dream of establishing a ski area."

So, as I look out my west windows this morning and see the runs of Schweitzer, I salute the late Dr. Jack Fowler who saw a vision, pursued the idea and convinced the Sandpoint community to carry it out. The ski area opened in 1963.

Therein lies a story that changed Sandpoint forever and provided a phenomenal playground for the entire region.

More about the history of Schweitzer can be read in some stories I wrote for Sandpoint Magazine in 2003, when the resort celebrated 40 years of existence. The Sandpoint Magazine online collection at www.sandpointonline.com

www.yearbookyourself.com

LATE ADDITIONS. MY LADY FRIEND, MIDDLE THREE PHOTOS, SENT ME MY OFFICIAL YEARBOOK PHOTOS AFTER I WROTE THE POST BELOW.

Well, there's a new adventure on the Facebook block, and I decided to share it with my Slight Detour friends. Now, normally, I would use myself as the guinea pig to show just how much fun this is, but I'm not normal this morning.

Plus, it's more fun to have readers in the know do the guessing game. Who ARE these people? Well, I'll give locals a clue. They're husband and wife, and they're pretty prominent in the Sandpoint community.

And, I'm not feeling bad using them for guinea pigs cuz they've got good senses of humor--I think anyway.

I first saw this on Facebook over the weekend and thought it was such a hoot, I had my husband look at the 18 or so photos of the lady up above. He thought it rather hootful too!

The lady up above is supplier of many of my laughs each day. I don't know where she finds 'em, but she knows how to tickle the funny bone. And, I'd call this her all-time best.

As you can see, you can do the same with yourself. Just go to www.yearbookyourself.com And, like me, you may need a tutorial. I noticed on Facebook that I was not alone.

My old friend Brian Long (SHS Class of 1982) tried it too, but couldn't figure it out. That was after his and my old friend Dawn Irgins Eveland successfully posted her range of yearbook pin-ups on Facebook.

I'm going to give this a try again some time when I've got time or after my lady friend above tells me where my glitches may have been.

In the meantime, I'll just enjoy the possibilities while viewing the results of others. I'm betting this will turn into a rage, and I'd love to meet the people who came up with this. They must have a good supply of funny bone stuff to dish out. So, that means they're good folks too.

Oh, those yearbook pictures. Looking back, I think we were all pretty scary frights at some time in our lives. I get horrified when I look in the class pictures for my sophomore and junior year. That was when the duck tail or "DA" (naughty name) were in.

My hair was kinda curly in front and chopped off at the neck behind. I looked more like a dork than a duck, which could explain why I was also a wall flower. Oh, I don't miss those times, and the pictures are hardly readily available for all to see and laugh at.

Then, there were the Lincoln School photos where, over the years, the hair went from long ringlets (formed by sheet rags) to scare crow special. Sixth grade when I towered over most of my class in the back row, the hair do was just as pathetic as the rest of me from head to toe and those ugly brown, skuffed oxfords with anklets.

And, now someone is capitalizing off from our potential ugliness once more. For some reason, seeing those pictures of possibilities is a lot more fun than viewing the real ones among our vintage collections. I guess it's knowing that the photos are fake and hardly representative of the beautiful people we've become----except for the wrinkles, of course.

Now, the yearbook folks need to come out with another set of possibilities and call it www.obityourself.com. Now, that could be interesting, indeed!

Guess the couple above, and then head straight to www.yearbookyourself.com. Do not pass Go and do not collect any $200.

But do have fun.

Morning euphoria

Admittedly a bit out of focus but typical of the first sight I see every morning when I walk out the door to take horses to pasture and spray water on the gardens.

While drinking my first cup of coffee and checking my Internet stops, I can hear an occasional chastisement outside from Kiwi.

I've never yet figured out what the horses do to get in trouble, but they do it daily. And, Kiwi keeps 'em in line.

This morning I decided to take my camera with me on that first walk. Each day's stroll offers some new views not seen the day before. A few are included here.

That time outside is spent taking horses to their pasture, dragging the hose around the west side of the barn and to the west lawn. There's weeding, spraying and discovery.

Though I didn't snap photos of them this morning, I spotted some growing watermelon and cantaloupe I hadn't seen before. That was in North Manure Pile Row or my Lovestead "vine-yard." Once those melons get their start, they kinda balloon with the hot weather.

I told Bill this morning, it would really be something if we could eat watermelon straight from the manure pile.

We'll see.

In the meantime, the place yields dozens of magnificent findings and lovely sights with each morning's walk.

Enjoy!

Echinacea's coming on strong.

Group photo invader

Class picture

Green brigades

Cabbage Corner

A few pock marks but almost ripe on the vine

~~Garden volunteer~~

~~Nostalgia patch~~

Carrots, oregano and some Queen Ann's lace.

Each flower has its individual attributes. It's just like horses. I love beautiful horses of all breeds.

Same goes for flowers.

This flower is part of a discovery I made a couple of years ago when some of my carrots went to seed.

Once I saw the elegant beauty of the carrot-seed flower, I was hooked.

So, this one came from carrots I planted in the late summer last year.

Beautiful and bountiful, when I think of all the carrots to come from that one bloom.

Morning play: Lily, Lefty, Heather in pasture.

Bill and Annie's Excellent Adventure to Mt. St. Helens and the Ape Caves

~~~A Mountain to Climb~~~

On July 22, 2009, Bill and Annie Love climbed Mt. St. Helens in Southwestern Washington.

Annie was not yet two years old when Mt. St. Helens first blew its top off on May 18, 1980. Somewhere around our house, we have two viles of ash from the eruption, which we have kept for Willie and Annie.

The ash cloud blew hundreds of miles clear into North Idaho and through most of Montana, essentially closing down the Northwest for nearly a week.

It was an eerie time, to say the least. And, virtually every person around who experienced some aspect of the phenomenon will have a bagful of memories of that day.

In our case, we had my yearbook staff out for a picnic, and we were watching an air show at the airport next door. Suddenly, late that afternoon approximately eight hours after the eruption, an expansive deep purple cloud began to appear on the southwest horizon.

Yearbook kids scurried home, the air show ended, and people hovered in their homes, wondering what the heck we had in store as the ash cloud enveloped the area and cut visibility to a minimum.

We were out of school for most of the remainder of the year because deposits of ash everywhere caused havoc with buildings, transportation, etc. To say the Northwest came to a sliding halt that year would be an understatement.

Annie probably doesn't remember much of that time. She does remember, however, a family trip to Mt. St. Helens when she was about 13. That would be 17 years ago.

The Mt. St. Helens day she will never forget is the one she spent with her dad, climbing the mountain. Though it has lost some of the magnificence she saw last year while climbing Mt. Rainier, because of its blown dome, its drama provided a different kind of adventure.

Annie and her dad also visited the Ape Caves the day before their ascent on the mountain.

Bill snapped these photos. Enjoy. In addition, Annie has dozens of spectacular photos of this adventure and a Seattle Seafair pirate invasion at her Groundspeak office. All can be found at her Flicker website: (http://www.flickr.com/photos/nnlove/)

Annie among the rocks.

Bill, taking a breath in breath-taking beauty

Growing dome

Blue view

Room for a view

From whence they hiked

Shed-that-pack time

Photo ops on top: Annie at the right.

Bill on top

In the Ape Cave

Out of the cave

Guess the name of this small town in Washington with limited cell phone service.

We need some summer speed bumps

Well, heck. My morning posting just disappeared. I'm not gonna sit here and write the darned thing all over again just now cuz I wrote about not ever having enough time in the summer to accomplish everything.

So, once I get some of my long list of other stuff done for today, I'll come back and try to re-invent what I already wrote for the last twenty minutes.

~~~~

Later: 11:15 a.m. I'm not going to re-invent what I wrote earlier this morning. That's too far back to remember. This old short-term memory stuff, ya know.

Anyway, Bill and I just spent the past 2-plus hours putting the bales from the outside stack into the loafing shed bay where they'll stay for the winter. We were going to hire it done, but once we got started, it didn't seem so bad.

I was amazed at myself last night while picking up 17 bales in a field where the bale loader could not maneuver. Using the 4-wheeler, I picked them up and had them stacked in the barn in about 20 minutes.

All this farm work builds up muscles, I guess, cuz stacking today seemed a lot easier than some years I can remember. What makes a big difference too is how tightly the bales are packed. If they're firm and heavy, they stack a whole lot easier than light and loose. And, they don't break.

Anyway, that's done. We just have to rig up the tarp and make sure it covers every inch of the stack. We both agreed that could come later.

Now, the lawn needs to be mowed, so that will be the next project after I get back from town.

It's been a fun week with all the company coming and going, and that was one of the reasons I was thinking about summer speed bumps earlier this morning. It all zips by much too quickly.

Off to the next project. Happy Friday to all.

Bits and Pieces

~~~Update, 8:15 a.m.~~~

Just discovered this and some other news on Annie's www.rainiergirl.blogspot.com, so go there where she'll post more photos today: Bill and Annie at the top of Mt. St. Helens.

Original post: I may post several times today because there's a lot going on here and at various other venues. Plus, maybe Annie will send some photos of their ascent on Mt. St. Helens yesterday.

Details are sketchy because their phone use was limited. I do have two messages, however. One is on the answering machine: Mount St. Helens Summit Achieved . . . 1300:15 hours, Loblolly Love and Little Precious . . . Over and Out!

That was a very enthusiastic Bill.

From Annie, I received a short email, probably sent on her iphone:

Hey,

Just wanted to let you know that we made it to the summit.

It was a long hike - we started at 7am and finally got back to the car just after 6pm.

It was a beautiful day and a beautiful hike - though challenging with lots of rock scrambling.

Just waiting for dinner now.

Love,
Annie

So, that's the extent of our communication from the mountain climbers. I'm sure they had a phenomenal experience and we'll be seeing the highlights over the next day or so.

In the meantime, Annie's headed back to Seattle and getting ready for company. That company is currently at the Lovestead---Willie and Debbie. I've heard there are possibilities of a Sounders match and a Mariners game on the agenda. Plus, I heard something about a barbecue at Annie's house.

So, busy few days for them.

Bill should be home tonight. Mike will be heading home today. I think he's filled up his hours over here with exactly what he wanted to do, and he's been a great guest.

I think there's a plan for a HOOOOOOOOOOOOOT Owl visit this morning. That follows a Second Avenue Pizza meal last night, followed by ice cream on brownies. Good eats, all the way around.

Anyway, I'll check back later after the morning flurry of activity ends . . . maybe with the photos.

'Til then, have a great day . . .

Lovestead summer scenes

~~A beautiful sight every summer~~

Hay harvest is always a highlight of each summer, whether you're putting your blood, sweat and tears into it, or whether you're doing like we do these days--pretty much just write a check and appreciate the work done by the experts.

This was the scene yesterday afternoon as a very nice young man named Zach Johnson baled 185 bales for us. It's a good amount for the acreage, and it should tide us over, with the other two-plus tons we already have. I rewarded Zach with a couple of fresh-baked brownies, and his boss Harvey will reward him in cash.

Harvey came later with the bale loader, picked up the hay and stacked it by the shed where it will be stacked and covered for the winter. He enjoyed his brownies too. He's been haying most of the month of July and says he's got about 300 more acres to do for farm folks in the area. His crew told me that one day this weekend they put up 100 tons.

They're finishing up a new field over at my sisters' today, and when they hire a crew to put theirs in the barn, we'll probably ask them to send 'em over here to do the same for us. Then, another year of worrying will have ended, and the animals will have some lovely hay to dine on all winter long.

Let rolling dogs . . .

. . . roll.

This gal thinks she owns the place. She chases the dogs. She scares the horses. She ate part of my mountain ash tree a few weeks ago.

Yesterday afternoon she returned to the front yard to scope out some more pickin's. I grabbed my camera and when I went to the front door to snap some photos, she ran off.

A few minutes later, I saw her eating in the pasture with some nervous horses. Then, she returned to the woods where she's hidden her baby. I think we'll have many more adventures with our aggressive doe before summer ends.

While Bill and Annie are enjoying their adventure at Mt. St. Helens, Mike is enjoying his excellent adventure at his Lovestead home. It looked kinda pretty in the late afternoon sunlight yesterday so I snapped a photo for the folks back home.

I talked with Bill and Annie last night. They still had to go out in a field to call us, and it took several attempts, along with broken connections, but we managed a conversation.

They spent 2 and 1/2 hours in the lava cave yesterday, climbing over a lot of lava. Annie said there was a time when they got a little nervous, wondering if they'd taken a wrong turn, but it worked out.

They also found seven geocaches in the area. I know that both were at the height of their glory to spend an uninterrupted day, using the earth's features for fun.

I'm guessing by now that they're on their way up the mountain. Don't know if I'll hear from them when they reach the top. They'll probably have to come back to the field to make the much-anticipated announcement that they have now conquered another volcanic wonder. It's almost a year (three days short) from the time we waited all day to hear Annie's voice on the phone say, "I climbed a mountain today." And, that was Mt. Rainier.

If Annie sends me photos, I'll post them tomorrow.

Tuesday Twitterdeedum

I just looked at Facebook to see if there had been any recent postings by Mia Wallace. She's my daughter who also answers to Annie. Some people like to put fake names on Facebook for whatever reason. My daughter-in-law goes by Love Debbie and I've recognized a few other faces that don't go with the name I've always attached to them.

Anyway, Mia hasn't checked in since yesterday, so she could be out of range to use her i-phone or her computer. She called me yesterday just after leaving work in Seattle. While we were talking, Willie called on the landline phone. So, I was thinking it was pretty neat being the conduit to my two kids with a cell phone in the left ear and the landline in the other.

Annie talked loud enough that Willie could hear her, but it didn't work so well the other way. Then, Annie said, "Just a minute; let me try this. Willie hang up. Mom, you stay on the phone."
A few seconds later she was back on, then Willie said "hello," and we were in full-fledged conference call mode.

Annie had never tried a conference call on her iphone. It worked perfectly, and we enjoyed a nice visit. By the time we hung up, Annie had walked to her car, driven home and was getting ready to take off for Mt. St. Helens where she would meet Bill for the big adventure.

A couple of hours later, Bill called. He said he was standing out in the middle of a field to get cell phone coverage and "would you please call Annie and tell her where to find me at the resort." I picked up my cell phone, called Annie and decided no need to be a conduit. "Annie, set up your conference call." She did, and again we enjoyed a three-way visit.

I'm wondering if they'll be in range where we'll get little snippets of their activities from time to time on Facebook. We'll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, this technology stuff can be frustrating but more often than not, a lot of fun.

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As I type inside, my brother Mike is sitting out in his camper trailer checking his email and reading the news. He was pretty happy to hook up and have Internet, thanks to our wireless set-up. Mike will be taking off to the lake for some fishing this morning. He seems to be enjoying the camping life at the Lovestead.

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The hay baler came yesterday afternoon to start on the field. I met a couple of Keith Johnson's boys----nice young men. One came to turn the hay into bigger wind rows, while the other came to bale. Keith was one of my students several years ago, and one of his boys set a record at the hospital nursery when he weighed in at 12 pounds, 2 ounces.

Baling didn't last too long because the hay was getting gummed up in the baler. Harvey showed up with his moisture monitor, poked the prong into a couple of bales and determined that the hay should wait until noon today. So, that should be done by evening. The winter's supply will be in a nice stack for us to move into the shed and cover with a tarp.

Always nice when that's done, especially when weather cooperates.

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I picked some more dewberries yesterday. Am up to almost a gallon now, but will probably pick a couple more times to load up with as many as possible. I'll probably wait until cooler weather to cook up the jelly. The blueberries are coming on and the raspberries from our young bushes---thanks Meserves and Dolsby's. One of these years I can give you both a jar of jelly to symbolize my appreciation for those bushes. For now, it's just pluck and eat.

The yellow beans are almost ready to pick, and some of my corn has tassles and ears. Pretty soon, I'll be well into "picking and grinning" mode, which is my favorite time of the gardening season. Just hope I have enough freezer space to store it all.

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Gotta get moving cuz Willie and Debbie are coming for a visit tomorrow, and I've gotta get stuff done so I can enjoy their visit. That includes a column, an interview and some yard and house work. So, I'll wish all a happy Tuesday and get on my way.

Monday Miscellany

~~~Two fine people: Harvey Lippert and Lori Jasman~~~

Could be today that Lori or someone who works for Harvey will come back to the Lovestead with a tractor and baler.

It's hay season, and the farm machinery has been coming and going down South Center Valley Road for the past several days.

We've seen hay wagons, swathers, tractors and balers and several trucks loaded down with bales of hay.

Thankfully, this year, making hay while the sun shines has been relatively easy.

Lori and Harvey came by Saturday, and we spent some time visiting before Harvey filled up the diesel tank on his swather so Lori could mow our fields.

I love these two young people---taught 'em both and even worked with Harvey when he took 4-H photography when he was a real young' un. Both are hard-working perfectionists. Lori works in county weed control and devotes lots of hours to helping Harvey in his farming pursuits. I'd be interested to see how many acres of hay they put up all over the county during haying season.

Half the fun of haying season is the people who help out, and any time I see either of these two folks, I know there will be lots of smiling, laughing and fun visiting along with high-quality work.

On another note, Bill and Mike are standing in the kitchen talking fishing. If and when they ever stop talking fishing, Bill will be heading down the road toward Lone Fir Resort at Mt. St. Helens. He'll meet Annie later tonight. Tomorrow they'll visit Ape Cave, a two-mile long lava-tube cave.

On Wednesday, they'll climb Mt. St. Helens.

In the meantime, Mike is here to do some Lovestead camping, some fishing, biking, running, etc.

Busy week and interesting week ahead for all.

First swath goes down.

Mike builds his house at the Lovestead.

Party at Albertsons!

Don Albertson was my teaching colleague for about 30 years. Terri Albertson delivered our mail for a number of years. I've taught each of their four children and worked with one of them, Tom, as a teaching colleague.

This wonderful farm family celebrated Don and Terri's Golden Anniversary yesterday at a lovely gathering at their home on Gold Creek Road.

Friends and family gathered. Little girls of the youngest generation frolicked in their dresses on Terri's beautiful lawn. People who'd known each other for decades enjoyed visiting. A delicious dinner, highlighted by yummy meatballs, kept everyone satisfied.

Don and Terri performed all the necessities for a celebration noting their 50 years as a team.

A good time was had by all.