When You Live in North Idaho . . . .

I met a new friend the other night. 

It was,  by no means,  a unique experience for me.   

I got in big trouble at age 5 for walking up and talking to strangers.

Unlike my original sin of stealing the mail at age 5, getting in big-time trouble did not stop my passion for meeting new people.  

I've kept up the bad habit ever since, and, for the most part, I have no regrets, just a lifetime of truly rewarding moments where I feel blessed. 

This latest friendship started because of my coveting Eichardt's property.

Last Friday night while waiting for dinner with Bill and Debbie, I spotted a skijoring poster on the wall near the bar.  

It was the third or fourth poster I'd seen around town.  None had offered a safe opportunity for me to just slip over to it, pull it off the wall and run.

I figured that,  with all the time I've spent over the past several weeks chronicling the advent of skijoring in Sandpoint, I deserved a poster as a souvenir. 

But to steal it off someone's wall or door----my 5-year-old lesson with the mail kept me honest.

I mentioned my need for a poster to Bill and Debbie and even asked the owner of Eichardt's if he had extras.  He said he knew where he could get some.

A few minutes later, I looked over toward the poster, and it was off the wall, in the hands of a young lady who was studying it intently.

Suddenly, she looked around at the room and at me.  

"Are you gonna steal that poster?" I asked.

She just smiled and said no---she was just fascinated by the sport, which she had never heard of until that moment.  

She also told me she'd like to participate cuz she drives draft horses in California.

One comment led to another, and soon we were telling her about skijoring, geocaching and Jon Brownell's choir who were there at that moment singing for money. 

I later suggested that she attend Sunday's skijoring practice, which she did.  Before long, we were gabbing again, along with my friend and former student Leslie.  

It seemed that none of us could spit our stories out fast enough during that fascinating conversation as we all froze and watched the skijorers practice in the arena.  

One topic in the conversation involved North Idaho.  Leslie and I are natives.  My new friend has come up here four times to teach a three-month class in eurhythmy at the Waldorf School.  

She lives in a beautiful area in Northern California, yet she feels the pull of moving to North Idaho permanently.  

"I don't know what it is, but I love it here," she told us.  

To which I said, "I've lived here 63 years, and I feel just as excited about this place as if I were a newcomer discovering it for the first time." 

Throughout my adult life, I've engaged in numerous similar conversations, and as predictable as newcomers are at saying, "I just came across that bridge, and I was . . . .", I tell folks I love this place so much, except for January through March, when we have far too much gray.

Well, this year, that story has changed a bit.  The gray gloom of 2010 seems but a memory when we get up on mornings and see the blue skies, snow-white mountains and the ever-exhilarating beauty.

Yesterday was such a day, and when you live in North Idaho on such days, you feel so blessed.

And, when you live in North Idaho and have so many friends who appreciate the beauty, you feel so blessed too. 

So, I'm glad to have my new friend, who did put the poster back on the wall at Eichardt's.  

And, I'm also glad this morning to have my very own skijoring posters, given to me in an honest, over-the-table transaction. 

When you live in North Idaho and such simple wishes as a nice poster, interesting people and boundless beauty make your day, it's a good life.