Tuesday Twitterdeedum

Hard to imagine that columbine, petunias and carrots were thriving in our antique manure spread just weeks ago.  

Some carrots are still there as are the columbine, snoozing for the winter.

I took this photo Sunday when a Facebook friend from San Diego requested photos of the snow.

Lucky for those folks, they don't have to shovel photos.  They can just look at the beauty in the image and later rejoice as they step outside in shorts and T-shirts.

I'm planning to take a photo from the same angle tomorrow morning because our second major snowstorm of this young winter/old fall has begun.  

They're telling us to expect it to continue through tomorrow morning.

I'm still enjoying it, even the shoveling and maybe even some plowing this afternoon.  Bill won't get home until late, so it might be nice to move the first installment in preparation for another plow job in the morning.

~~~~~~

The snow may create havoc with Willie's debut as a high school basketball coach tonight.  He's working with the Bulldog JV squad and having fun.

I believe that this may be the realization of a longheld dream for Willie who loves sport AND especially basketball.  

Let's hope the weather doesn't stall the dream. 

He's living yet another dream this weekend.  Last night he called to tell us that the San Jose Mercury News had contacted him to cover Saturday's Idaho-San Jose State football game. 

Of course, he let them know that he'd like copies to add to his portfolio.  If all goes right, the "William Love" byline will appear in sports sections from Nampa, Idaho Falls, Spokane and San Jose.

Pretty cool, if you ask me.

~~~~~

While on the subject of sports, I have to comment on the ugliness I've heard in regard to Boise State's loss Friday night to Nevada.

It has to do with fans who don't deserve the title of "fans."  

"Morons" might be a better tag, especially when they strike up dialogue on social networks, imploring people to spit on Kyle Brotzman, the Boise State kicker who missed two field goals in the hard-fought game.

There's much worse to be told, but I'll spare the details except to report that he and his family have incurred nothing less than maniacal wrath ever since Friday night's game. 

Boise State had a bad night, and their problems in this tough loss included much more than their kicker's misses.  

Anyone with a sensible brain would realize that for the Broncos to be in the position of "needing a field goal" to win already indicated things have not gone so well for a team accustomed to playing the role of juggernaut.

Other mistakes were made---why haven't those players received similar treatment?

We were all disappointed as we watched this giant loss unfold during the entire second half of the game. We also felt nothing but empathy for this young man and couldn't believe the ugly comments that followed on Facebook. 

Giants inevitably will fall.  That's what happened to Boise State, a team known for its finesse, its well-distributed talent and its class.  

Seems like it would be nice if these rabid fans would follow the example of their Broncos, but maybe that's just to civil in today's society. 

To Kyle Brotzman and to the Boise State Broncos, we thank you for providing this family of adoring fans so many hours over the past few years of entertainment, excitement and pride.  

Go Broncos---you're winners regardless of the final score.

Flakey Mutterings

Okay, so it's not pink.  Just wanted to give one of our beautiful winter scenes from yesterday a different twist.

If you look closely, you'll maybe make out a roof top in the middle of this photo.

This was taken from Lovestead Lane.  That's the pathway between the barn and the machine shed.

It's not hard to find a pretty scene after new-fallen snow anywhere on this place, but I like this one.

That rooftop belongs to Meserve's, and those trees, planted long ago,  are some of Stan and Geneva's beauties.  I know that some on their place were planted more than 60 years ago when they were first married.

Anyway, it's a beautiful scene, and there are beautiful people living in that cozy little house next door.

Sorry to have missed their visitors over this holiday weekend, but it sped by.  Suddenly it was over.

When the post-holiday quietude came yesterday, I wasted no time enjoying the rest of the day.  Bill took Annie to the airport at mid-morning and had plans to stop at some of his shopping places.

So, I made the most of the solitude.  That included a walk down the road to Filipowski's driveway and back.  

Along my way, one lady stopped and talked.  She was checking in on a neighbor's place while they're out of town.  She also had to feed someone's cats up Rapid Lightning Creek.

"Do you go away for the winter?" she asked.  

I looked longingly at her but didn't answer.  She wasted no time letting me know that she has a business of watching after homes while people escape for warmer climates.

She mentioned other folks she knows who care for large animals and that she has a string of "fix-it types" for when disasters strike in empty homes.

Seems like that would be quite a business around these parts cuz I know a lot of people will be taking off after Christmas and not returning for two or three months.  

Others have already done so; many rely on their family members to watch their places.

In our case, Bill and I usually go as singletons so that someone familiar with all idiosyncrasies of animals and utilities can maintain a normal situation at home. 

My thoughts often jump to other places when the snow begins to fall, but I have to admit a bit of enjoyment of the white stuff thus far.

After my walk, I returned to a cozy house, made a pot of coffee, grabbed my book and sat in the living room reading for about an hour.  The only interruptions were trips to the kitchen for more coffee and to the garage for firewood.

After the eyes started crossing while my main character was enduring yet another ruthless World War II POW camp in Japan, I closed the book and bundled up for another outdoor adventure.  

This time it was with snow shoes---my first such outing of the year.  With dogs racing and bounding through deep, powdery snow, I trudged through the woods, stopping occasionally just to enjoy the scenes. 

Most of the way, I used trails forged earlier in the day by Annie.  Crossing over the fence into the God Tree pasture, I broke through deep snow and started my own pathway.  

I enjoyed every step of that trip through the woods and the fields and every minute of standing and beholding the beauty surrounding me. 

Returning to the house, I resumed an upstairs project of typing addresses for the Christmas card list.  Last year's card envelopes have been sitting on the floor next to my computer since the day in January when I "resolved" to get the list plugged in to the computer. 

So much for resolutions when life gets in the way.  Well, yesterday nothing got in the way, and I actually completed the list.  

Bill came home a little after 6, quite happy with his trip into Spokane and especially with his new pellet gun purchased at $50 off the regular price. I asked him where he was going to shoot it.

"Out in the yard," he responded. "Ya wanta go try it out?"

"No," I said, knowing that time will come soon enough.  I suggested that my sisters probably wouldn't mind having him do some target practice on their ever-multiplying barn pigeons.  

Yup, it was a flake-filled day with lots of flakey thoughts, and I enjoyed it immensely. 

Now, it's time to get ready for the next big snowfall, due in tonight. 

Happy Monday.

The Silence of This Sunday

We experienced a major winter dump from Friday night through yesterday afternoon---definitely shades of two and three winters ago.  Bill says we can expect another on Tuesday.  Still shades of two and three winters ago.

Those memories came back yesterday as we shoveled, only to have to go back out and shovel again.  Bill went to town to get diesel for the Kubota tractor.  He waited until late afternoon to plow.  No use in doing it earlier. 

He observed later that he had begun the heavy plowing operation three weeks before the beginning of official winter---a dramatic reminder of the long season ahead.

In the meantime, I kept shoveling out pathways to the barn and around the house.  If I didn't do it right the first time, no worry.  I could do it again.

Another distinct memory of how winter compounds the lifestyle challenges came in the early afternoon as the snow continued.  I had finished a round of shoveling and had come upstairs to check email and the Internet.

No Internet.  First reminder in quite some time that when snow accumulates on the dish, we must remove it to use the Internet. 

No big deal, I thought.  Then, I came downstairs and realized a path needed to be shoveled to the satellite dish which is attached to the south side of our house, quite a ways up. 

For this task I needed a better shovel than the one I'd left at the back door.  Once I found a good shovel,  my cardiovascular workout of clearing a walking area around the west and south part of the house began. 

While completing that job, I look across the lawn and realized the same problem could happen to the TV's satellite dish, located about 100 feet away.

More shoveling and then a quick cleaning of the TV dish.  Back to the Internet dish.  The ladder was buried in snow.  Tugging and tugging, I finally got it upright, and convinced it to open, in spite of all its ice build-up. 

Even with the ladder, the dish is higher up.  So, I needed a mop or something with a long handle to reach it. 

"Where are those mops?" I thought.  Had to dig them out of the snow, since they're no longer useful for inside mopping but definitely helpful clearing snow from satellite dishes.

I climbed the ladder with mop in hand, and, of course, as soon as I began clearning, all that snow from the dish landed right in my face.

Twenty minutes or so of work just to use the Internet.  Oh well, the pathway has been broken, and it shouldn't be so hard when the snow comes again Tuesday and our Internet probably goes off.

We never received our newspapers yesterday, and, as yet, they haven't arrived again this morning.  The mail eventually showed up in late afternoon.  I think our mail carrier had to go back to town and wait for the county roads to get plowed out.

This morning we had about three inches of fluffy snow to dress up all the areas that had been plowed.  I could see patches of blue sky as I did my morning chores. I'm sure jubilation reigns today at Schweitzer Ski Resort. 

After my barn chores and while dogs followed Bill on his rounds, I took advantage of the opportunity to walk down our road. 

It was so quiet and peaceful. All those evergreen limbs are loaded down with heavy snow.  A slight breeze was blowing but the snow was staying put on the trees, at least temporarily.

Full daylight had not yet come, so lights from neighbors' houses looked like golden jewels across the snow-covered fields. 

A sudden silence will surely come to thousands of homes across the country this morning as visitors load up and begin the journey back to wherever.  In our case, Jim and Dani must drive to Grants Pass.  Bill will take Annie to the airport later this morning, and she'll be back in Seattle by late afternoon.

The hubbub of a wonderful holiday weekend will end,  and, almost instantly,  thoughts will turn to the hubbub of the upcoming holiday season just a few weeks away. 

Plus, here in snow country we'll be thinking about that next drop and how we'll have to adjust to whatever problems it may bring. 

For now, the heavy work is done, and we'll enjoy the day.  Looks like a good one.

May all travelers reach their destinations safely.

"Seens" from the Holiday Weekend

Snow is falling.  We'll be shoveling and plowing.

Some folks will be snow shoeing today.

It's one of those laid-back holiday Saturdays, and I'm feeling lazy.

So, I've just posted a few photos taken thus far.  

I hope they show up.  If they don't, so be it.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner at Barbara and Laurie's house.

And, I've thrown in a photo of yesterday's book signing at Vanderford's. 

So, enjoy whatever photos the blogger gods allow today and enjoy the day wherever you are.

Debbie and Mother enjoyed visiting.

Cell phones and all their "apps" kept some folks entertained: Annie and Willie.

Dani and Jim created artistic radish displays.

Laurie prepared green beans.

Barbara cooked the tender, flavorful turkey.

Mother Tibbs/Dedicated ZAGS fan at Thanksgiving gathering.

Willie and I had a fun afternoon at yesterday's book signing. 

Thank you, Vanderford's. 

You Tubing in Winter Wonderland

Add about five inches of snow to this scene . . . . and it keeps falling.

~~~~

It's more like "White Friday" here.  I think I've expressed my mild disdain for the term applied to the Friday after Thanksgiving in the past.

Somehow, it still sounds a bit negative----maybe it's history getting in the way.

I do understand its meaning for merchants and appreciate the intent.

Why not "Silver Bells Day"?  That has a nice ring to it.

~~~~~

Bill's first words to me this morning were "Happy Black Friday."  I groused about the term while downing my daily glaucosomine-chondroitin tablets.

Bill usually doesn't get up before me on his days off, but this IS Black Friday, and bargains were waiting for him down at Home Depot and Sandpoint Outfitters.

He was out the door before 6 a.m.

As he said "good bye," I was reading Facebook and learning that things were already getting a little hostile in the electronics section at our local Wal-Mart.

The correspondent with the cell phone was headed back to the frozen foods section where she had already snapped photos of sleeping bodies lining the aisle.

She had gone to Wal-Mart to get a cheap TV but decided that, for the time being, things were safer with the TV dinners.

~~~~~

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving yesterday.  Lounged around most of the day except for getting food assignments prepared.  I went for a walk down South Center Valley Road.  Willie and Annie went snow shoeing.

The new phenomenon of the holidays at home with kids are the hi-tech cell phones.  They dominated the day and before and after-dinner time at my sisters' house.

Willie and Annie have a Scrabble competition going, and Willie spends a lot of time digging up goodies on You-Tube.  Last night, techie stuff went from the cell phones to Barbara's laptop so we could watch a hilarious segment from a 1973 Hocus Pocus concert.

We also met "Antoine" who provided first-person thoughts on his sister's "almost rape" by some idiot in Mobile, Alabama.  Later, on the actual television set here at home, there was Antoine, big as life, being singled out on Matt Lauer's significant people of the past year.

Seems Antoine Dodson's comments of "Hide Your Kids, Hide Your Wife, Hide Your Husbands . . . ." have gone beyond viral on U-tube.




We also watched an adorable video "Marcel, the Shell with Shoes On" as seen below.



Looks like I'm going to have to get out of my dark ages and enter into a whole new realm of tech goodies.  So, look out.  Annie has shown me how to embed videos from U-Tube.

I'm probably the last person in the cyber-community of junkies to learn this, but that's okay.

Anyway, the holiday weekend moves on today with the hubby hitting the Black Friday specials, Willie and I hopefully generating some Black Friday book-love traffic at Vanderford's this afternoon, and a bunch of us attending the community Christmas tree-lighting ceremonies in the early evening hours.

Then, we'll head home by 7:15 p.m., armed with Second Avenue Pizza and ready to cheer on the Boise State Broncos in what looks to be their toughest game of the season---Nevada.

Go Broncos.  Happy Black Friday to All.  And, let's think about how much nicer it would be to call this "Silver Bell Day."  Maybe I need to promote the idea on U-Tube.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Over the Mountain and through the Woods to My Sisters' House We'll Go

Thanksgiving:  a Predicted Chronology

Finish last-minute house projects

Wash and dry hair

Drive toward Spokane by mid-afternoon

Stop at Costco

Pick up coffee, macadamia nut chocolates for Bill, bottles of wine, other essentials and a double iced mocha latte to go

Drive to Cabela's

Pick up another pair of lined jeans (for downtown wear), two or three pair of  longer warm socks, maybe some gifts

Drive to airport early enough for ample people watching

Hug Annie when she arrives

Dine at O'Doherty's

Turn car over to Annie

Stop at grocery store in Sandpoint for Annie's essentials:  diet Pepsi and Tostino's pizzas

Arrive home

Stand around kitchen island, talking and feeding on goodies

Go to bed . . . maybe read some more of that wonderful Laura Hillenbrand book.   The best!

Get up

Do morning chores

Get turkey-day food assignments ready to go

Read some more

Go for walks; take pictures

Put animals to bed for a long winter's night

Head to Colburn and gather with family

Visit/ watch TV while piecing on pickles and olives (always my food of choice beFORE big dinners).

Take pictures

Sit down to dinner where Bill always says "Grace." 

Savor each heavenly bite of turkey, stuffing, potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes, celery, green beans, cranberries, etc.

Salute the cooks/hostesses---Barbara and Laurie

Help clean up

Slump in the most comfortable spot available

Try to stay awake

Eat pie and topping

Load up, head home

Slumber

Another Thankgsiving and another time to be grateful for all our blessings.  

May it be a good day for all.  Drive carefully.  Stay warm. 

All Schools in Bonner County Are Closed Today

Those words on KSPT Radio Station were music to our ears.  Yesterday I'm betting that word of today's school closure spread faster via Facebook than through the radio announcements.  

All tech advancements aside,  I know the "Hallelujah" choruses among ecstatic students probably matched those of yesteryear.  

And, the teachers in front of those classrooms  when such announcements come over the intercom,  probably still do their best to maintain stone faces, feigning absolute disgust that education will be disrupted.

Once they arrive at the staff room, however,  it's a different scene.  Whooping and hollering and general euphoria reign,  just as it has among the students.  It's just not professional, though, for educators to act thrilled in front of their students about having a day off. 

During the years I taught school, I eventually learned to avoid having my face seen in public on school closure days.  

People had negative things to say, partially because if they were parents, they had to figure out what to do with their kids.  I'm guessing part of their disgust could have been a little regret if they were working and didn't get the day off themselves.

Probably the most memorable treatment I ever received on a snow day came one day when I joined friends at a restaurant for lunch.  The waitress, all the while, acted indignant and spared no words in expressing her disdain for our not having to go to school that day.

I wanted to respond but just kept my mouth shut, determining that next time I had lunch with friends on a snow day, it would be at their house or in a different town, if I could get there. I also don't think I left her a tip.

We were always at the mercy of someone else's decision and never had any part in influencing snow days, but we sure learned to hang low whenever these "gifts" would give everyone packed inside the school house a break from each other.

Well, today is a snow day, and the announcement of school closures did come yesterday afternoon rather than early this morning.  So, students and teachers drew the creme de la creme of days off---didn't even have to get up early to listen for the "No school . . . ." report.  Got to sleep in.  What a deal!

These days the announcement doesn't include "All schools in Bonner County . . . . " Instead, the east side of the county is Lake Pend Oreille School District 84.  I did see on the KREM-2 streaming banner last night that West Bonner County School District called off classes for both today and tomorrow. 

That's not to say that days like this are not needed. It's cold out there, and there was no gradual decrease of temperatures allowing people and animals to acclimate.  It just plain got cold, and with the wind blowing, it's that much colder.  

In a rural area like this, many of those jubilant kids might be sleeping in, but they've also got work to do to help their families see that conditions don't get worse, that animals are properly cared for, that pipes don't freeze, etc.   Plus, for kids riding the bus to be standing outside for any amount of time can be dangerous. 

I would be lying if I said I didn't love these days, but it's also important to note that the extra time off often allowed me time to go into school and catch up wherever I was falling behind in my teaching duties.  

Quiet time in a classroom to organize is Heaven.  Any teacher will tell you that. 

So, if we weren't completely snowbound, the trips to school on snow days happened more often than not.  

Anyway, it's cold outside here in North Idaho and all across the Northwest.  I've seen photos on Facebook this morning of my daughter and her friends sledding in Seattle.  Maybe by the time she gets to Sandpoint tomorrow night, she can locate her ice skates and go try out the ice on Thanksgiving Day.  

I also have followed the trip to Maui of one lady from Sandpoint.  She returned to Seattle yesterday after several days of Heavenly tropical weather, only to learn her flight to Spokane had been cancelled.  I'm betting her return to the North country fits to total picture of a "rude awakening."  

Hard to tell folks about your trip to Paradise when your teeth are chattering too much.  I hope she has found a warm spot to bundle up somewhere as I write this morning.

The fun of winter has begun, and with it come many perspectives.  One thing's for sure:  a lot of happy young people (and teachers) are enjoying the bliss on this cold day in the Northwest.

Note:  If it warms up a little on Friday, be sure to visit with Willie and me at our book signing Friday from 3-5 p.m. at Vanderford's.  

Can't make it but want a personally autographed book as a gift:  call Vanderford's at 208-263-2417.

After the signing, plan to watch the Sandpoint's community Christmas-tree lighting ceremony just around the corner. 

Call me Cinderella

I've gotta stop all this pumpkin stuff.  It seems like that one plant in three years that actually came out of the ground has turned me into a mad woman.  

First, it made me mad when it spread itself all over the manure pile and covered up half of my helpless little cucumber plants.  It even invaded the tomato patch and wrapped itself around the beanless bean plants.  Or, maybe that was the other way around.

Those beans were pretty weird too.  They just kept growing and extending their tentacles every direction without a thought of ever producing a single bean. Could be they attacked the pumpkin vines first.  Lord knows they didn't help our freezer out.

I got over my mad with the giant spreading pumpkin plant when yellow blossoms popped up all over, followed by baby pumpkins eventually maturing into adolescents.  

No, these fruits would never win a contest for their size, and they never really did turn completely yellow.

But, there were 13 of them, and they've served me well---much better than my beans.  Where IS Jack when you need him?

Since harvesting my baker's dozen from pumpkin hill out west of the barn, I've had yard decorations lasting through Halloween and beyond. 

They filled the front of the antique manure spreader.  Some sat in the rock pile around the poplar trees, and still others made a nice scene in front of the green milk can near the corner of the house.

Completing their stint as decorative yard art, they moved to the storage shed, where one by one, I've been cutting them in segments, cleaning out the seeds, steaming them in the oven and freezing the sauce.

The head cook at The Bridge for Assisted Living asked for two of my pumpkins, and as he was seeing them slowly disappear, Bill spoke for two for Nov. 21 at the Presbyterian Church.  

No problem, I told him, knowing it was gonna take me a while to steam 13 pumpkins, so if someone short-changed me a bit, that was okay.

Bill's two pumpkins went to the church yesterday, and when I asked him the weekly Sunday question of "What's new down at the church?" he responded, "They liked the pumpkins." 

They served as decoration for a display centered around the congregation's  Food Bank drive.  I'm betting they may have eventually ended up at the Food Bank cuz I told Bill I did not need them back.

At least four pumpkins are still sitting out in the new old motor home inside the storage shed. 

They need to be there cuz of the predicted deep freeze over the next few days.  Minus 8 on Tuesday night, they say.  Could be frost on those pumpkins even inside the new old motor home.

If that happens, I may be saved from turning into a pumpkin myself as I labor every day in my kitchen (no ugly step-sisters cracking the whip) whipping up every pumpkin recipe I can think of.  

Yesterday I baked more loaves of pumpkin bread, and, guess what!   This morning, one of the loaves went down there to those Presbyterians for their meeting tonight.  Others will get eaten by the time Thanksgiving ends, I'm sure.  

I also baked a pumpkin pie from a recipe made up in my head.  I think it needed a little corn starch or something cuz it tasted good but ran around the plate like a volcanic lava mass.

When I brought home those pumpkin moon pies from the Mennonite crafts sale, I figured that would be a nice recipe to try.  They ARE good and rich.  So, if I can find the recipe in the Mennonite cookbook, that might be the next item on the baking agenda.

When I was at Wal Mart yesterday (always checking to see that nobody snaps my photo with their cell phone), my cell phone rang.  

The caller was my brother Jim, making sure what food items we wanted him to bring for Thanksgiving dinner.  He was planning to bring some custom-made pies where you tell 'em what you want and they do it for you.  

I told him to consider berry pies and said I'd let him know if we don't have a pumpkin pie.  That's when I got on to the discussion of all the pumpkin stuff I've made in my kitchen over the last few weeks.

"Have you made pumpkin soup?" he asked.

That's when I went into a detailed discussion of just how good the pumpkin soup was and how easy it is to make and how you can make several varieties of pumpkin soup.  Jim had no comments.  Didn't even gasp or grunt.

That's when I realized we had lost our connection and that only the items lining the shelves in that aisle had learned all about my success with pumpkin soup.  I checked so see that no cell phone photographer was lurking in my aisle.

A minute or so later, we got reconnected, and I repeated the story, promising Jim I'd make him some pumpkin soup to try sometime while he's home. 

Regardless of my complete immersion into all things pumpkin, I'm still enjoying every last bite of what is surely leading to a giant, life-altering pumpkin overdose. 

Maybe it's a subconscious desire fed by the fact that if I ingest enough of the stuff, I'll gradually become a semi-ripe, moderate-sized pumpkin.  And on that day when the stroke of midnight comes,  I'll turn into a beautiful princess.  

Dream on!  

Happy Monday.  Now, back to my pumpkins!

Bonners Ferry Yummy Delights and Memories

We found Billie Krause's farm, thanks to her Palomino pal.

My daughter-in-law Debbie and Billie Krause of Copeland. 

Debbie and I were headed to Bonners Ferry yesterday to attend the Mennonite Crafts Fair.  Debbie had never been to one but she's enjoyed enough goodies from the Bread Basket Bakery and the new Miller's Deli in Sandpoint that she needed no persuading to join me.

We arrived around lunch time and walked through the display area, checking out what we may purchase after lunch.

Then, it was time to eat.  For $10---two meals, we enjoyed soup, a roll, Amish peanut butter and honey butter, coffee and a piece of pie.

Okay, the soup.  Mine was broccoli potato.  I'll search for the recipe.  Best bowl of soup I think I've ever eaten.  I ate slowly to savor the flavor and enjoy the chunks of soft potatoes.  

Debbie chose the chile with onions and cheese.  We exchanged bites from our bowls.  It would be hard to say whose palate enjoyed the most satisfaction.  

We also exchanged our honey butter and Amish peanut butter.  

All the while, we also enjoyed people watching as families would come in with trays of lunch goodies, sit down, eat and visit quietly.

We did eavesdrop on one conversation where we learned that the baked goods contributed by that family had to go through an obstacle course to get to the school, including a trip to town for eggs, no electricity, no telephone, someone stuck in the road, and much more. 

But the baked goods arrived along with the family who were enjoying what had finally become their comedy of errors.

Before leaving Sandpoint, we received a tip from Bill.  He wanted us to drive on from the craft sale and explore a road along the Kootenai Valley.  We would have to go further up the highway and turn off at the Turner Road.  

He described what we would see on this tour and expressed the hope that the sun would be shining for some nice picture-taking. 

After finishing our lunch which was topped off by the ever-delicious Mennonite homemade pie, we purchased a few more goodies and recipe books and headed on the next leg of the journey.

We found the road, went down one wrong road, doubled back and drove through an area I've never before seen on the eastern side of the Kootenai Valley.

The sun didn't shine.  We did stop once, and  I took a few so-so photos.  We moved on, and I commented to Debbie that this would be a nice area for riding my horse.

A little further down the road, I saw the sign:  Krause Road.

"We're going down this road," I said to Debbie.  "There's a gal who lives out here that I've known off and on for more than 40 years but I haven't seen her in at least 40."

Billie Krause is my age, and I knew her because of her cousins in Sandpoint and probably because of 4-H.  She also attended the University of Idaho and lived in Houston Hall, the dorm below our Carter Hall in the Wallace Complex.

I think that was the last time I had ever seen Billie until she showed up on Facebook a few weeks ago.  We have written a couple of notes back and forth to each other.

Now, fast forward back to yesterday: 

A little ways down the road, we saw a driveway. 

"Let's do something stupid," I said. "If Billie doesn't live here, we'll just say we're looking for someone else."  That's when I told Debbie that I knew Billie had a Palomino horse, cuz I'd seen a picture of her aboard the horse on Facebook.

We drove down the driveway and saw a man loading hay. We drove on.  No sign of a horse.

We got almost to the house, and my boldness had turned a bit tepid.  I decided to turn around and get out of there before some stranger came out of the house.

So, I did.  Then, Debbie said she saw a horse.

"What color?" I asked.

"Palomino, I think," she said.  "What color is Palomino?"

"Is it light-colored?"

"Yes."

"Well, this is where Billie lives then," I announced.  So, I backed up a bit and then saw Billie for the first time in more than 40 years standing at her door.

She came out with a cup of coffee and said, "Come on in and had some coffee."

Then, she said, "Who are you?"

When I opened my mouth (always a good giveaway), she said, "Oh, Marianne." 

We went inside where National Public Radio was playing old band tunes of the '40s and '50s.  Our conversation rattled on as if no years or decades had passed since our last meeting.

Billie and I have agreed to get together with our horses and ride that Kootenai Valley. 

It was a serendipitous meeting, I guess, when I think of today.  This is the seventh anniversary since our dad, Harold Tibbs passed away.

Around the dinner table way back when, even before I knew Billie Krause, Harold would talk about the Krause family up in Copeland, north of Bonners Ferry. 

We all knew Ella Krause Cantrell here in Sandpoint and went to school with her kids Suzan, Kathy and Harmon.  

Apparently, the older generation of Tibbses and Krauses attended school together in Bonners Ferry.

So, seeing Billie after so long was a pleasant experience.  The visit also ignited some wonderful memories of our dad and his own Bonners Ferry days so long ago. 

And, we'll be thinking about him today.

Soup's on,  and yum, yum.

Bread of Yum

Debbie had coconut cream; I had pecan apple: yum, yum.

Wisconsin cheese in North Idaho: yum, yum.

Saturday Slight

Today is the annual Mennonite Crafts Sale at the Mennonite school north of Bonners Ferry.

You can bet that a Lovestead vehicle will be headed that way.  

I don't know how much money I'll spend, but I do know that I'll enjoy being there.  

If it's anything like the event two years ago (picture above), there will be plenty of sights, sounds and smells to enjoy.  

Two years ago, I met a man stirring a huge kettle of apple butter just outside the door to the school, and the kettle corn was a-popping and putting out heavenly aromas the entire time.

Bill and I talked about how these events are very basic.  No bells, whistles, colorful decorations---just simple scenes, and that's the attraction for many who go there.

Bill also made another comment morning before I went out to feed the horses. 

"You can just imagine it, can't you----all over Bonners Ferry Mennonite women are pulling pans of cinnamon rolls out of the oven." 

"Yup," I said.

And, along with the rolls will be the long tables lined wth loaves of bread and honey and the apple butter.

There will be a crew fixing wonderful hot lunches for all the visitors, and there will be supplies aplenty for sale.   All profits help support the Mennonite school.

Can't wait.  This is truly a wonderful happening. 

~~~~

This morning I have to complain about Laura Hillenbrand.  That lady has disordered my routine, and she will continue to do so for the next few days as I take every moment available to sit down and race through the pages of her newest book.

It's a keeper, I'll tell you.  

I read in a Newsweek review this week that this author of my most favorite book ever Seabiscuit  had released a new book called Unbroken.

Unaware that she even had one on the back burner (the poor lady suffers from chronic fatigue syndrome), I read two thirds of the review and felt almost immediate exhilaration and a "cannot wait" feeling. 

   Unfortunately, I would have to wait because it was after business hours, so I couldn't just call up Vanderford's and run to town to get a copy. 

That would have to wait until the next day.  I picked up the book, brought it home, hid it under a pile on the kitchen island and hurried to get my evening stuff done. 

"Why hide it?" you may ask. 

I do this whenever reading material so compelling and so new that I want to be the first in the household to experience it.  Happens every morning with the newspaper here. 

As I told Debbie yesterday, I wanted to be at least a hundred pages ahead before Bill found the book.  Then, we'd have to share. 

That happened with Seabiscuit.  I got well into it and then interrupted his train of thought several times, reading passages aloud CUZ THEY WERE SO WELL WRITTEN AND SO FASCINATING.

That's what Laura Hillenbrand does for her readers.  Just like Seabiscuit, this book about a famous miler who served in the Pacific in World War II includes oodles of fascinating extras besides just the story line.

Now that I'm almost 70 pages into the book, Bill has already heard a few tidbits.  

Why does Lauren Hillenbrand make me mad?  Like those good songs that play over and over in one's head, the story line monopolizes my thoughts and I can't wait to find time to sit down and devour some more.

Since you're at your own household and you don't have to share with a piggish reader like me, pick up a copy.  I guarantee it will disorder your normal routine.  The woman writes a phenomenal story. 

~~~~~

The western sky is dark gray.  The mountain is snow white.  There's ice on those little lakes around the place that I described a couple of days ago.  

Cold is coming.

In a few minutes, I'll plug the extension cord into the barn outlet and run it to the outside water trough to connect it to a water heater. Earlier I flipped on the wall panel switch that allows the automatic waterers to start heating up.

And, one of these days a pair of lined jeans will come off the shelf and begin its winter work of keeping me warm.  

Times are changing.  Winter has almost arrived. 

Happy Saturday.

Thoughts from a Puddle

It's a pretty puddle. 

We had a lot of those around the Lovestead yesterday.

In fact, I pulled out the Kabota again after chores and brought a few more loads of gravel to the barn and pasture area.

In the darkness of the morning while leading horses to the pasture gate, we all discovered deep water around the area at the gate where I'd already dropped some gravel a few weeks ago.

Heather danced around the lake and went through the gate at a weird angle.

Horses don't like walking through wet slop any more than we humans do.

So, I filled another segment of low-lying ground, and nobody, including me, seemed to mind the trip to the pasture this morning.

As I type, heavy flakes of snow are falling and sticking to the ground.  If the predicted low temperatures come, we could have a white blanket hiding most of the lakes for the next several days.  

And, when the lows go into the teens and single digits next week, Annie might be out there with a broom, sweeping off this land of many lakes and trying some ice skating. 

Yesterday gave us a few sun breaks from the gloom and drizzle we've experienced of late.

It was time for my inaugural walk with the dogs to the Meserve's pasture next door.  I had called Stan and Geneva the day before, and they gave me the go-ahead.

I told them how much those walks with active dogs are appreciated because of too many temptations across the fence on the south side of our woods.

In the morning, before our walk in Meserve's now cow-less big pasture, I received a telephone call.

It was Alicia from next door where the Yaks live.  They have a farm bordering us on the north and Selle Road on the south.

I hadn't heard nor seen Alicia since last spring and had wondered at times if she, Wes and their two boys were still over there.  Since the Yaks were still around, I figured they must not have moved.

Alicia called to tell me that one of our dogs had come to visit their dog Duke.

"Does it have a red collar?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

I didn't have to think long to know that Brooke of Willie and Debbie's Brooke and Todd had found a new adventure.  

Brooke is the rebel among the Border Collie nation, and she knows no bounds when something in her Border Collie brain tells her to go where no Lovestead Border Collie has gone before.

Well, she and Todd did go that way when they were little tiny puppies, and I about had a heart attack while carrying Kea and joining the search party.

Nearly an hour later, while walking through the land belonging to the neighbors to the west, iddy biddy Brooke and Todd came running our way.  It was a welcome sight, to say the least.

From that time on, until just a few months ago, Brooke and Todd usually had leashes when they came this way. 

I thought we had finally reached the stage where Brooke would stay on the Lovestead.  Apparently not.

After hanging up from Alicia's call, I went outside, yelling at the top of my lungs for Brooke.

Forget that:  Brooke was having too much fun getting acquainted with Duke and his family.

Alicia said she IS a nice dog, which we agree.  She is, but she's also a rebel who often drives us crazy.

Later, while walking through Meserve's field and dodging pretty fresh cowpies, I marveled at just how fast those dogs can run when they have a wide open field.  

They jumped in the creek.  They jumped in the pond.  They raced in circles.  The whole time Kiwi worked her heart out herding Brooke.  

Apparently, Kiwi, who is very intelligent, feels the need to keep a close eye on Brooke.  

It was a great first walk for me and full-fledged series of runs for the doggies. 

I thank the Meserves from the bottom of my heart for allowing us to enjoy their wonderful big space.  And, I look forward to many more adventures with the BC nation during the winter. 

~~~~

As a postscript, I posted the photo above specifically to help me reflect briefly on the memories of one of my students whose obituary appears in this morning's local paper.

I had read on Facebook recently that Robby Hubbard died but had never seen anything official until this morning. 

My memories of Robby take me back to a huge first-period honors English class, so huge, in fact, that three sophomore boys  had to sit in the aisle next to the window.

Robby was one of those as were Andy Raiha and James Duell. 

Robby occasionally tested his limits in that class but never really seriously.  

My memories then must take me to my parents' back step on December 21, 1984, the day after our house on Great Northern Road burned down.  

A car came rolling into the driveway.  A young man with blond, curly hair stepped from the car bearing a plate of fresh-baked cookies and came walking toward me.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Love," Robby Hubbard said to me.

According to the obituary, Robby died from a lifelong bipolar disorder.  I was glad to see that, in spite of his continuous challenges, he used his phenomenal intellectual talents and enjoyed many impressive successes as a chemist. 

In my heart, he will live forever as that thoughtful young man with his plate of cookies.

~~~RIP Robby~~~

Ah, Trader Joe's, We Can Hardly Wait

Front page, above the fold news in this morning's Spokesman-Review:  Trader Joe's is coming to the South Hill in Spokane.  Our daughter Annie's assignment for next week's family Thanksgiving feast is to bring goodies from Trader Joe's in Seattle.  

Well, her trips to the market before coming home will come to an end next summer when a new Trader Joe's opens 300 miles closer to Selle.  

After reading the article, complete with a architect's drawing of the new store, I said to Bill, "We'll have to make it a trifecta-----Costco, Cabela's and Trader Joe's.  Then I remembered Chaps.  

Bill was a bit disappointed.  

"You never even mentioned DICKS Hamburgers," he said. "You've completely forgotten about that."  

Well, not exactly.  I view some of these Spokane stops as having different purposes.  

DICKS is where we go when we're coming home on a late evening from some event in Spokane or from the airport.  

The last thing we want to do on a late night with an empty stomach is to get out of the car and go sit somewhere else.  Plus,  I'm always in the mood for people watching while Bill joins one of the long lines waiting to order their fish and chips or whammy and chocolate shake.

As Cannibal Chuck wrote in his review:  More than satisfying cheap food and the fastest service in town Dick's IS Spokane. Check out the crowd in everything from Hummers to beaters to transients on foot. 

From them slaking illicitly caused munchies to the overweight cops that catch them, the french fry smell that lingers in your upholstery for weeks will bring back fond fine memories of the freakshow that is Dick's. There is absolutely nothing not to love about this place.

Thank you, Cannibal Chuck.  I agree wholeheartedly.

I also forgot to mention Spokane's O'Doherty's Irish pub.  That's usually a required stop on evenings when Annie flies in from Seattle.  Hmm.  That means an O'Doherty's stop next Wednesday.  Yum!  That's also when Annie drives us home cuz I always have a beer or glass of wine to go with my Hawaiian burger.

So, that in mind, we could fill a day on a Sandpoint to Spokane road trip.  And, we can fill our cupboards, starting next summer with a stop at Trader Joe's. 

Love their barbecue sauce, their maple nut cookies----actually we love everything Annie brings home and immediately displays on the kitchen island within minutes of walking into the house.  We usually feed off from the assortment for about a week.

Next Thursday we'll have to share the goodies with other family members. 

The Spokesman article mentioned that  one reason the Trader Joe's chose the Lincoln Heights location because a lot of "foodies" live there.  Do I need to look up in Wikipedia what distinguishes a "foodie" from the rest of us who like to eat. 

I'm guessing these folks set high expectations on the sophisticated quality of every single meal consumed while the rest of us gobble up whatever's in front of us, even if it did come from a fast-food joint.  

I'll be glad to have readers educate me on the traits of a "foodie."  I always thought I was one of those. 

Isn't it funny how we go along through life instinctively taking on cultural habits simply because they seemed appropriate at the time, only to later learn that someone with a sense of infinite marketing wisdom comes up with a classy moniker for such behavior. 

Then, we suddenly learn we have good taste and didn't even know it.

That makes me wonder: will being a hick who dines at DICKS some day be cool?

Enough food for thought on this day of celebration.  Annie,  don't forget your Thanksgiving assignment AND Trader Joe's, bring it on to Spokane!!!