Bill's Big Day

A pile of T-shirts from fires over the years lay on the bed yesterday.

I don't know if they're going back to the Idaho Dept. of Lands or staying.

I don't know if any of that fire stuff, the yellow shirts, the pack, etc. is leaving the Lovestead or staying.

What I do know, though, is that a bunch of boxes filled with personal items is coming home today from a Dept. of Lands office.

A good man and a dedicated forester is retiring today.

Bill has served the Department of Lands for 33 years.

He started his career in the IDL Bonners Ferry office. It was 1978, the year our Annie was born.

That office building, along HWY 95 as you come into Bonners, stood prominently on its site next to a plot of young trees.

These days, those trees tower over the office, offering plenty of shade.

After a period of making the daily drive to Bonners Ferry, Bill enjoyed a break from time spent on the road going to and from work.

He transferred to Sandpoint where he served as woodland forester.

Then, came a promotion:  bureau chief for private forestry in Coeur d'Alene.  With this responsibility came the daily 100-mile round trip to work and much time (sometimes three weeks each month) traveling around the state of Idaho.

Over the next 13 years or so, Bill learned to hate that stretch of HWY 95, often leaving the house at 5:45 a.m., and returning as late as 7-8 p.m. some evenings.

So, when the woodland forester position came open in Sandpoint, Bill gladly took a pay cut and applied for his old job.

He was relieved, to say the least, to leave the Sandpoint-CDA drive behind, and he settled in to thoroughly enjoying his job of serving local landowners and their trees.

This past year or so, he completed the full circle, taking on two days a week back in Bonners Ferry, working out of the office next to those tall trees. 

During his career, Bill helped start the Idaho State Forestry Contest, held every year at Ray and Fairy Delay's beautiful property at Careywood. 

I think that contest has been going for nearly 30 years now, and I know it inspires great enthusiasm from its participants, representing schools all over North Idaho. 

I don't know a lot of the specific details of Bill's career, except that it has involved working with loggers, enforcing the Idaho Forest Practices Act, working with landowners with tree farms, working with agencies associated in a myriad of ways with our forests, and even serving as a chauffeur and guide for Betty Munis, head of the Idaho Forest Products Commission. 

For several years,  when Betty and her staff would plan their legislative/corporate tour of places associated with forest products, Bill would joke about his job of "driving Miss Betty."  

Another thing I know about my husband and his career is that I've met hundreds of people over the years who know Bill because "he helped us with our forest plan." 

Without fail, words of praise for the good man he is,  the help he provided them and his professionalism have come spontaneously flowing from their lips. 

I can remember almost 38 years ago,  that summer when we first met,  that we would often go for hikes or drives through the back country.

The Southern-trained forester would constantly quiz me, "What kind of tree is that?"

I think I answered correctly most of the time, and hopefully my limited knowledge served him well as he made the transition from Southern forester to Northern man of the trees.

Bill has retained one aspect of his Southern forestry roots.

He's known as Loblolly Love among geocachers, and that refers to a Southern species of pine tree.

Well, Loblolly, from this English teacher wife of yours, "you done good" as a valued employee of the Idaho Dept. of Lands.

Your family is very proud of you.  

We're also looking forward to the upcoming years, beginning today,  when Loblolly Love leaves the IDL, comes home to the Lovestead full time to tend to his own trees and sets off for many geocaching adventures ahead.

Happy Retirement, Bill!

'Maters and 'Taters, Oh My!

They said to cover the tomatoes last night cuz it was gonna get cold.  I did not follow directions.

Instead, I pulled all the 'mater plants and picked all the fruits.  Mother Nature has been good to us in that we have had no surprise freezes in late August or September.

So, I've done about all the watering I want to do, and Mother Nature even helped that along with the full day of rain Tuesday.  

I've done all the gardening I want to do also.  So, upon hearing that radio announcement yesterday, I made up my mind.  

Gardening 2011 is officially over at the Lovestead, 'cept for the lettuce I planted last week around the dog-kennel plot.

Green tomatoes, layered with newspaper, have filled an apple box. They're out in the storage shed.  Red,  or almost red tomatoes,  line the counter on the garden window above the kitchen sink. 

A bowl of fully ripe tomatoes sits a bowl in the refrigerator.  I used some of those in my salad---made from store-bought greens---last night.  

Ultimate Yummy!

As for potatoes, I started digging them yesterday with the pitchfork. Have to admit a bit of disappointment with some.  They're red potatoes and most from one plot are only about twice the size of marbles.  

So, all friends, including Florine, out there, send me your recipe for those delicious red potatoes with garlic.  I haven't yet figured out just how to cook them so they're soft and filled with a heavenly garlic flavor.

Looks like I'll have plenty to try the recipe several times.  This morning, the  wheel barrow is half full of potatoes and Walla Walla sweet onions.

By day's end, I figure on having all potatoes out of the ground AND the good news is that the biggest are yet to come.  So, I'm figuring on filling most or all of the wheel barrow.  

Two 5-gallon buckets of potatoes currently sit just inside the garage door.  So, I think we'll have enough for the winter. 

Today I'll probably also pick another pumpkin from the plant (which was advertised as a squash in my Northside School seed packet).  

I'll take it to Michele Murphree this morning who's likely celebrating today.  She's a Master Gardener, and she arranged a grant with Home Depot to create some major garden plots in a weed-infested area at Kootenai School.

At least a dozen workers from Home Depot will be there this morning, building the plots and preparing soil. Their project includes a strawberry patch.  Michele has invited to the public to go check it out while the crew is there working today. 

The action all starts at 10 a.m. and runs until about 2 p.m.

When I go, I'll give her my pumpkin, and she can present it to the students at Northside School to demonstrate how their work at school went to work this summer in numerous gardens around the area. 

My daughter-in-law, Debbie,  has been working with community gardens through Girl Scouts---Culdesac, Oldtown and other places in Washington. 

This is a wonderful aspect of education for our youth, especially in hard economic times like this.  I hope Michele and Debbie's work and vision continue to grow---like a flourishing garden.  

In the meantime, I'm thankful for what my own gardens have produced this year.  Not thankful to the deer who have consumed more than their share.

Still, the fruits of such labors can be measured in dollars and cents and, more importantly, in some delightful, flavorful enjoyment during our meals. 

Now, send me that recipe for those garlic potatoes!  

And, have a nice day. 

On a Search Mission

Losing stuff is not fun. Not being able to find it is even less fun.  Having years pass since you last saw some items causes even more frustration. 

Facing the age of 65 compounds the stress of searching for lost items. 

I encountered that very drama when we were in Seattle several days ago. In this case, only 24 hours had passed since I'd seen the item.

I had gone to the bank the day before we left and had drawn out a substantial sum of cold, hard cash--destined for my daughter for her birthday money and to pay for the Mariners' baseball tickets.

After leaving the bank, I sat in my car and put the envelope of bills in my purse, inside a compartment with a flap over the top. 

"Now remember this," I silently instructed myself, knowing that my short-term memory can be fleeting.

When it came time to go to the game Friday night, we had but a minute to run up to our hotel room, gather our stuff and meet Annie out front.  She wanted to get downtown as early as possible for better parking possibilities.

I did not plan to take my purse but did want to give her the cash.  When I opened the flapped-over compartment, I could not find the money envelope. I reached inside and dug through it two or three times.

No sign of any envelope, just a lot of other stuff, which soon was scattered all over the bed as I searched furiously.  I opened other compartments in the purse, thinking but not believing that maybe I put the envelope in them.

Bill came to the room just as I had decided, for sure, that my money had disappeared.  I immediately announced to him, "I've got a problem . . . ."

By that time, my body had begun the sensation of feeling paralyzed, helpless, stunned, brainless---all in one.

Bill interrogated, nicely, trying to jog my memory.

"It's no use; it's gone," I said. "We need to get down to meet Annie."

Not a good way to head off to a much anticipated night of baseball in Seattle.

By the time I reached the car and announced my problem to Annie, I had progressed into a near catatonic state---staring straight ahead, unable to talk, tuning out my family members, reaching deep within the caverns of my ancient brain, trying to remember the moves I'd made the day before with the money, the purse and the compartments.

I remained in that state all during the drive through downtown Seattle.  Annie's continuing words of encouragement to just forget it and "have a good time tonight" were falling on hearing ears but a paralyzed mind.

Once,  I even started whimpering to my daughter and husband, explaining that the money had been delegated for gifts for both of them.  The baseball tickets would be a retirement gift for Bill and part of Annie's birthday present.

Annie continued to lecture me, reminding me it's only money and reminding me that just a couple of weeks before,  when her expensive telephoto lens fell into the waterfall in Switzerland, she had made the most of the day in spite of her loss.

It's not that easy to convince a hypersensitive, temporarily manic soul to just drop it.

My state of desperate, deep thinking, deep probing continued as we walked to a sports-apparel shop where Annie picked out a Sounders jacket.  We then moved on to Safeco Field.

As we walked toward the entrance, I could suddenly feel the load lighten and an involuntary smile forming on my face.

"I'm okay!" I shouted to Bill and Annie in front of me. "I think I know where it is."

The smile grew.  My body began to relax, almost as if I'd been injected with a a feel-good sedative.

"There's a zipper compartment inside that flapped-over compartment.  I discovered it yesterday and hadn't used it for ages," I explained.  "So, I stuffed the envelope inside."

The rest of my evening was Heaven---almost anyway.  I still needed to verify that the money was, indeed, there. 

When we returned to the hotel, I asked Annie to wait while I went to our room, opened the purse, unzipped the compartment and happily pulled out the envelope. 

It went directly to her hands.  The evening ended happily, and even though I hadn't called on St. Anthony, I thanked him and God anyway.

Well, now,  I'm looking for a Social Security card---one with my name and number on it. I don't need it for a while yet, but Social Security, which I've been hearing about since I first received my card and number back in my early teens, is coming up.

The card will be handy when I go to apply for the benefits.

I know exactly where the card is.  It's in a compartment, inside a wallet.  The wallet is inside a Samsonite carry-on bag.  I haven't used that bag since we moved to the Lovestead.

I don't have any idea where the bag is residing. 

It's been five years since I've seen it. 

So, I've begun the methodical search through rooms in this house, through boxes, inside cupboards. 

I've got a year or two before I need that card, but the sheer knowledge that I can't find it makes the task all the more urgent. 

And, when you're approaching Social Security age, your deteriorating brain plays funny tricks on your memory.

So, there's a challenge involved, and St. Anthony may get a call to help out.

Now, there's an idea for out-of-work people:  lots of folks are turning old like me and lots of folks are forgetting where they put things.

Maybe some creative entrepreneur could start a business called St. Anthony's Army.  Their specialty would involve helping people find things they've lost in their purses or their houses or right under their noses.

Of course, if other people's hiding places for lost items are anything like mine, these folks could probably partner up with a clutter-control agency.

For now, I know that the search for this carry-on bag with the wallet inside it and the Social Security card inside the wallet will mean a few trips to the Colburn mall as I search through piles and piles and piles of stuff that continue to grow and hide other stuff here at the Lovestead.

I'll be sure to shout out "Hallelujah" and "Thank you, St. Anthony" when I find my card. 

Then, I'll try to figure out a good place to keep it and still find it until the time comes to present it to someone important.

Tuesday Twitterdeepitterpatter

It's a quiet, calming rain.  The air is warm.  Birds are softly singing, and an occasional car drives by. 

I'm enjoying the morning, knowing that our fields will are receiving a little moisture to replenish much-needed fall grass for the horses.

I won't have to water the remnants of this year's garden, specifically the latest planting of lettuce and chard.  Maybe this time, we can have some of the lettuce for our dinner salads.

Those naked tomatoes night after night, although wonderfully tasty, are getting a bit boring.  

I think the deer have left my chard plants alone this week to allow me, for once this summer,  a few leaves to throw into a salad---which will include  store-bought lettuce, some Walla Walla sweet onion and homegrown 'maters. 

Those brazen deer become less and less selective during the summer.  Now, they're eating the tops from my parsley.  Wouldn't even touch that for the first several weeks of nightly bountiful garden theft.

Tomatoes have been appearing in funny places far from their mother plants.  Even a pumpkin had been separated from its vine yesterday morning.  I gave it to Debbie for her deck.

Today I'll continue slicing the remainder of my Washington peaches and throw them into freezer bags.  Last night I made three jars of jelly from one of our thorny plum trees.  

Lovely tangy stuff, a beautiful rich red AND it tasted heavenly with melted margarine on that chunk of Mennonite rye bread.

Most of the gathering from the garden has ended, except for the tomatoes, and with no signs of frost in the near future, I'll compete with the deer in tomato land.  

One plant is filled with nicely-shaped, good-sized green fruits, and it appears to be safe from nibbling noggins. 

Besides those domestic tasks in the kitchen, I spent yesterday cleaning the horse cart and the harness, which Bill and I brought over from my sisters' ranch Sunday night.

It took two rounds of the car wash power spray to clean off those layers of dust and pigeon poop.  

I also learned that bicycle shops are not open here on Mondays, so I just aired up the tires on the cart myself, and, so far, the new air has decided to stay inside the tubes. 

The cart could use a little rustoleum so I may pick up a few cans of that today.  

As for the harness, it's involving at least a two-day job, with cleaning, scrubbing with saddle soap and then applying neatsfoot oil.  Looking a lot better already, though.

The harness job will be a good project if the rain keeps up today. 

I also rode Lefty again yesterday.  We met three or four cars on the road.  The big test will occur when a car comes from behind us.  I'm still holding off on that experience.

I was glad to see that the side-delivery gravel loader, the dump truck brigade and the school bus chose to go down South Center Valley Road AFTER I had taken my ride rather than during it. 

Both Lily and Lefty will be needing yet another shoeing within days, so I'm going to bite the bullet and put out the money.  

As I told Bill this morning, October is almost the best month of the year for riding, and to save money on shoeings would mean missing out on several fall days of enjoying our beautiful countryside aboard (or behind) a horse.

Life is good on this rainy September morning. No complaints and a plenty of satisfaction that goals are being met.  Food in the freezer for winter and young horses becoming seasoned for their riding careers.  

Both are important in my life.

Happy Tuesday.

Fun Sunday with Friends . . . .

Kinda nice hearing the rooster crow next door and to know that the most pressing item on the agenda today is a visit from the world’s best plumber, Ron Kauble, Jr.   

He’ll come over later this morning to put a new hose in one of our livestock automatic waterers. 

A couple of times this summer I stood at the barn and could hear water gushing.  Both times it was the same waterer down the lane, and both times a lot of  Oden water had escaped and irrigated a pathway down the fenceline.  

In each case, I simply tightened up the bracket at the end of the hose and all was well, except for my wet head and face from intense spray that would not stop until the hose was secure again.

The last time a geyser erupted at the tank, I knew we needed a plumber cuz the hose had cracked open and frayed. 

So, that will get taken care of today.   

In addition, I’ll haul my mother’s horse cart to a carwash in town and give it a good bath.  It’s been sitting idle in my sisters’ arena for several years.  The dust and pigeon dung have left a thick coating virtually all over the cart.

The tires need airing up and maybe even some new tubes, so I'll go to a bike shop and see if they can help me.

I’m borrowing the training cart to get Mr. Lefty started with his new career as a cart horse. 

Lefty has the even temperament and the adorable good looks for such a role.  And, he has had a lot of prior experience in harness and being driven. 

So, with help from my friend Lori, maybe he’ll be pulling that Amish cart within the next few weeks.

With those items on the agenda, today is fairly laid-back compared to the weekend.  Yesterday’s busy schedule elicited some good memories, right down to the shrimp skewers and barbecued chicken breast Bill prepared on the grill last night.

It was a day filled with familiar faces from times past and familiar faces from the community.   

For example, I hadn’t seen Gail Cinelli for at least 30 years until she walked through the door at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church for the WOW  fall  with my friend Verna Mae.

Gail lives in Maine, but she used to live in Sandpoint.  Bill and I are thinking that she and her husband Peter went along with us on a canoe trip down Priest River right after we were first married in 1974. 

We had a nice but brief visit, but I’ve discovered her on Facebook, so we can catch up some more.

In the morning, two members of the SHS Class of 1982 came for a visit.  Jim Imholte and Laurie Blackwell were up in Sandpoint this weekend visiting from Arizona.

Jim had arranged with me earlier in the week for Laurie to have a ride on a horse at the Lovestead.

So, while Laurie rode Lily, Jim and I walked the fields, and we all did as much catching up as possible.  Jim started first grade at Lincoln School with my brother Jim.

 And, when they were initiated into the Lodgepole Society, Jim was wishing he had the photo of the two Jims and Johnny Rogers from first grade.  Johnny’s a well-known local logger and one of Bill’s former Boy Scouts.

All went well with the ride, and Laurie knows where there’s a horse whenever she returns to Sandpoint.

 A side note:  I realized while introducing Laurie and Jim to our three horses that two of their classmates, Roxane Conrad and Monty Collison, had trained all three horses.

Later, Mother and I attended the WOW tea, and thoroughly enjoyed a couple of hours of good visiting with WOW honorees and Women Honoring Women committee members.

One visit included yet another Class of 1982 grad, Jeralyn Mire (hopefully pictured above with Mother). 

It was a great day all the way around, but I have to admit to being pretty tired after three days of nonstop activity. 

So, today will be a nice breather as we rev up toward the end of the week and Bill’s retirement.  He left a little while ago for his last Monday on the job. 

Soon, life will be all Saturdays, and I have a feeling he’ll enjoy it.

Happy Monday.

Weekend Beat Goes On

No paper yet this morning, so I'm posting earlier than usual.  That's good, though, because company's coming at 9:30 and Lily needs to be saddled up and ready to go.

I'll take photos of my visitors and post them tomorrow.  I'll just tell you that one of them is female and a lifelong horse lover.  So, her hubby arranged for her to have a horse fix while she's in Sandpoint.

My own personal horse fix yesterday went very well.  I had a chance to see Heather in action along the road and down some trails.  I can report that she's a get-up and go mare.  

We horse people use the term "ground-covering walk."  And, to people who ride, that's music to their ears. 

For people riding alongside a horse with a "ground-covering walk," the truth sadly emerges.  

In this case, I now know that Lily's pretty lazy.  We usually ride alone so there's no comparison to make.

Yesterday, let's say, Lily jogged a lot---to catch up with Melissa and Heather. Thankfully, Lily has a very comfortable jog.

Heather shied a few times---maybe three or four--in the course of 90 minutes or so.  Except for recoiling at the flattened-out, dried-up horse apples on the road, her other shies made sense.  In one case, two barking dogs racing around at the end of their driveway set her off.  

If shying once in a while is the worse thing Heather does, I'd say she's on her way to being a good saddle horse, cuz shying is customary with horses of all ages and experience.  

Lily still thinks great big gray boulders or most anything in a pile are monsters in disguise.

Anyway, I couldn't be more pleased, and I really appreciate Melissa's help in getting a few more miles on Heather. 

In other news, there's official news of yesterday's Idaho Vandals--Fresno State Bulldogs game at this link:  http://www.idahopress.com/sports/vandals-drop-wac-opener/article_8421fff0-e74a-11e0-acbb-001cc4c002e0.html 

Sports reporter William Love filed the story.  It was not a good game for the Vandals---at least during the second half, but it was another good sports gig for Willie.  

Looks like the Sounders crowd had a good time in Vancouver especially with their team winning last night as Annie and her friends sat in the front row.  

Annie's figuring on attending if the Sounders make the finals in their league play.  She thinks that will be in Los Angeles, so her adventures never seem to end.

Today is the fall tea for Women of Wisdom, so as soon as my company leaves this morning, I'll be changing into some downtown clothes and heading off to pick up my mother.  

And, when that's over, there may be a great big sigh of relief that all the weekend's agenda has been completed, and hopefully successfully so.  

People keep reminding me that I'm retired.  I usually just shrug my shoulders at such reminders.  

Lately, I've been reminding Bill that when he retires next week, the community-minded volunteers/vultures will start appearing at the doorstep or on the telephone:  now that you're retired, would you like to . . . . ?

He'll probably go through the same learning curve I did, and nine years out, he'll probably realize the true meaning of "RE-tired."  You get tired over and over and over again as you keep up with everything on your schedule. 

Still, it's fun and it beats sitting in a rocking chair. 

Happy Sunday.

Saturday Slight

If I recall correctly, this young man has been participating in the Idaho Draft and Mule Show since he was in diapers.  

I believe he's 34 now. 

He's one of the Cramers from Northwest Washington who exhibit the Cramer Classics every year at the show.

And, they're good.  

Mother and I and my good friend and outlaw, Rose Marie, sat through most of the afternoon session of yesterday's Draft Horse Show.

I'd say none of us ever tires of seeing the remarkable, beautiful and dramatic action put out by the horses and their drivers.

It was a great afternoon of gentle giants wowing the audience. 

I'm wishing I could attend another segment of the show, but the weekend's busy schedule prevents that.

Always next year, I guess.

Yesterday's show featured a special exhibition by a pair of bay German Warmbloods.  

Exquisite and elegant, to say the least.

Just watching that pair got my pumps going:  got to get my Lefty to pulling our Amish cart!

So, I before leaving the show, I talked to my former student and hay cutter extraordinnaire, Lori, who's driving a cart in this year's show with my neighbor Gary's Percherons.

She said she'd be more than happy to come and help me get Lefty worked into the cart.  Then, I talked to my mother, and she said I could use her harness.

So, with luck, maybe Mr. Lefty will be trotting around the neighborhood this fall pulling that beautiful cart with some smiling people aboard.

That would really cap off a good year of progress with Mr. Lefty. 

In a few hours, Melissa and I will be climbing aboard Heather and Lily and riding them around the neighborhood.  

I'm hoping for good news to report there too. 

In other news, Bill has left already for this morning's session of the Society of American Foresters convention. 

After the convention ends in early afternoon, he's figuring on heading to the Moyie with his fly rod. 

Willie is probably heading for Moscow by now to cover the Vandal football game for the Idaho Press Tribune.

Annie and her friends have either gone or will be leaving for Vancouver, B.C.,  to cheer on their Sounders MLS soccer team.

I'll probably be seeing Debbie and her friend Alicia (from Seattle) sometime today. 

And, I'll be going into town later to help set up for a WOW tea tomorrow.

Busy day for all. 

Love this weather, although today will be hotter than we'd wish.  Only short-lived, though, as we're headed for cooler weather and maybe even some rain next week. 

Guess that's enough for this beautiful Saturday.  

Enjoy.

This across My Desk Today

I can't remember the news person who used to tell us about items that had come across his/her desk, but it seemed like idea to steal this morning.

My desk here at the computer needs dusting---badly. 

I'm surrounded by piles of papers, TV remotes, a dead lightbulb, a telephone book opened to Idaho's zip codes, CD's, a heart-shaped rock given to me by Annie when we were in Ireland and a piece of paper where I've been scrawling notes of things I need or want to remember.

Words like "cell-phone tower systems, mesophiliac powder, Fred Hutch, Dogs 4 Life, Personal History by Katharine Graham, names like Julie Meyer, Skip Pucci, Kelli Keough, Cathy King" and even a telephone number (which I won't divulge), along with a whole lot of other words have almost filled every available space on the 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of copy paper. 

Betcha'd like to know what that's all about, wouldn't you?  Well, here's a hint:  cheddar cheese, SHS alumni, one person's career path and a Facebook page theme.

That's enough details for now, but this piece of paper lying on my desk also reminds me to start telling all SHS alumni that Homecoming Week at Sandpoint High is in mid-October, and they're gonna have a party for Bulldog alums and their families.

I can tell you now that the "before-the-big-game barbecue" is FREE to alums and their families, and it's scheduled for Friday, Oct. 15 on the SHS front lawn.  

The barbecue, coordinated by SHS Student Council, will run from 3:30-5 p.m. and the "who" on the invite says:  Alumni and students are invited to celebrate Homecoming together through games, food and events.

Of course, they'd like you to wear red and white, and I think they want everyone to march from the school to the game after the barbecue.  

There will be more information concerning this event crossing my desk in the next few weeks, so stay tuned.  For now, mark it on the calendar and tell other alums you know to do the same.

Besides the aforementioned items, I just noticed that my watch is sitting on my desk, and it reminds me that there's not a lot of slack time for me over the next three days.

Today I'll be taking my mother to the Idaho Draft and Mule Show at the fairgrounds.  Looks like a good day for the event, and I'll plan to take along my camera too.

After that, I'll hurry home, change clothes and head to town with Bill for a Society of American Foresters banquet at the Sandpoint events center aka old junior high/high school/Ninth Grade center. 

Bill left early this morning to catch the bus bound for the Priest River Experimental Forest.  The SAF group will be touring the 100-year-old, 6,368-acre plot set aside in 1911, as one of the nation's first experimental forests.  

Tomorrow, my friend Melissa will come over, and we'll be taking a young horse and a slightly older, more experienced horse for a ride down the road.  

Yesterday, my neighbor and classmate Gary Finney told me I could ride on a trail through his place, so we'll probably combine road experience with trail experience.

Later, I'll be heading to town to help set up for a fall tea honoring the community's Women of Wisdom.  Sunday we'll have company in the morning and I'll be taking Mother to the tea in the afternoon.

That reminds me to stop by the grocery store today and pick up some more supplies for the 50 brownies I'm baking for the tea. 

Anyway, it's for sure that watch on my desk reminds me that I need to stay on task to take in these activities while attending to the day-to-day needs around the place.  

With that, I'll wish everyone a great first day of autumn and a happy TGIF. 

Jonas Returns

I've been totally amazed at Jonas.  He's our cool cat, purchased from the Panhandle Animal Shelter a few weeks ago.  

A handsome 3-year-old Siamese, Jonas is as solid as they come.

And, when I say solid, I'm talking not only his physique but also his personality, intellect and overall common sense.

When I brought Jonas home, I took great care to break him in easily to life in the barn after life in the cush quarters with the other feline foster cats down there at the shelter.

I kept him in the tack room for a couple of days, blocking off the cat opening, which allows kitties to roam freely around the barn while still having their own personal, private space.

Inside that room, Jonas and his new buddy Fuzzy Wuzzy have a three-story cat condo, an enclosed comfy dog crate and his original cat carrier lined with a soft towel.  Jonas had food and water and his pick of the mice who used to run the tack room.

Within days, the mice disappeared from the tack room, and as I let him roam the barn, evidence of Jonas' mousing abilities began to appear with one or two deceased rodents a day.  

Within a week, the lively action of "mouse-house hops"  I'd seen for several weeks every time I set foot in the barn had ceased completely. 

This new cat on the block had not only settled in to his Lovestead digs, but he'd also sent a message to the mice:  stay outa my house.

Jonas quickly made friends with Fuzzy Wuzzy, and her hissing toward him ceased within a week.  Soon, the bonding was apparent, as it was with Annie Dog who sleeps in the barn every night.  

The trio had become a tight unit within no time, it seemed.

Jonas had also set the Border Collies straight.  

"Don't mess with me, or I'll smack you right in the nose," his first swipe at Brooke seemed to say. "and I've got really sharp claws."

The Border Collies hold a healthy respect for Jonas, even though they still feel the need to herd him.  

I'm wishing so much that I'd had a camera yesterday when I turned around on a walk down the lane to see three Border Collies and one happy Siamese, four abreast, following me.

Jonas is also unafraid of horses, although he knows to keep his distance from those loaded hooves.

Yesterday, he began accompanying each of the horses and me on the walk to the pasture, and last night he reappeared again, as I brought them back to the barn.

Just imagine the menagerie of one human, one horse, one confident cat and five doggies darting about along the lane.  I wasn't darting, but I was keeping close track of the busy four-legged action around me.

The horses seem to take all those distractions in their stride, and they're pretty well behaved considering all the goings-on around them.

Every night before dark, I go out and find Annie Dog wherever she happens to be in the yard.  Then, comes the leash and then the slow walk to the barn.

Once there, we're met by the greeting committee of two:  Jonas and Fuzzy Wuzzy.  As they gather around Annie, I fill the food dishes.  Annie stands watching me with that forlorn look only an old dog can give.

As I close the barn door, I watch the three of them head down the aisle together to the last box stall where they spend the night.

Well, last night when I led Annie to the barn, only one cat was there to greet us:  Fuzzy Wuzzy.

I wasn't too concerned because the night before Jonas had been tardy in his ushering duties, due to a mouse-hunting adventure out in the north pasture.  On one call, however,  he came happily racing to the barn.

So, when he was not there for roll call last night, I stepped outside and called him.

No Jonas. 

I continued calling him from both sides of the barn.  In my efforts to rouse out Jonas I watched the concern on Fuzzy Wuzzy and Annie's faces.  

Their expressions told me that, indeed, this group had become a unit, and one of their own was missing.

When Jonas did not show up, I pulled the barn door closed and left the light on, with plans to return later.

On my walk to the house, I remembered the huge bird I'd watched fly across the hay field and land in a tree in the Lodgepole pasture.  It was not an eagle and too small to be a hawk.  I surmised that it was probably an owl.

That thought made me nervous.  I'd heard stories about owls taking cats. 

Later, I returned to the barn three different times and called out for Jonas.  He never showed up.  I thought more and more about that owl.

Jonas had been so smart about his surroundings it seemed to me that he had possibly encountered a predator while out looking for his own catch. 

I went to bed, feeling pretty sad and pretty sure I'd never see Jonas again.

This morning when I opened the barn door, I prayed that he'd come running like he does every morning to greet me.

Things were pretty quiet in the barn.  Still, no sign of Jonas.  

I shrugged while picking up a lead rope to take Lily to pasture.  This morning, the whole group of Border Collies was with me cuz Todd and Brooke did a sleepover here last night.

I put the lead around Lily's neck and decided to call for Jonas as we walked down the lane.

Upon the first, "Kitty, Kitty, Kitty . . . here Jonas," that big boy appeared at the end of the lane.

A welcome sight, indeed.  

I don't know his overnight story, but once again, our new cat showed his common sense.  He had holed up in the far shed for the night, and he was safe.

I picked him up and carried him with me as Lily and I finished the walk to her pasture.  Once inside the pasture, she surprisingly did not bolt off for her regular romp across the field.

Instead, she stayed there at the gate, sniffing Jonas up close and personal.  He was just fine with her curiosity, and so was I.

Maybe some more bonding occurred during that moment, as it tends to do with all creatures who share the same real estate.

I told Bill I won't think the worst the next time Jonas doesn't show up when called, cuz he's one cool cat who knows how to take care of himself.

Welcome back, Jonas.  Life is once again complete here at the Lovestead. 

Damn You, Facebook, Anywho!

Often, I think back on the era in Sandpoint when, within a few weeks of each other, a bunch of streets went one-way rather than two-way, and they added two digits to our local telephone numbers.  

Drove everybody crazy and some folks right into each other.  

Well, fortunate for us, since that fateful time, they haven't changed those one-way streets or added any more digits to our phone numbers.  

They have added extra numbers on our zip codes, but I just flat-out refuse to play that game.  

We're 83864 here in the greater Sandpoint area, and I'm gonna leave it that way.  My mail still arrives, at least for now.  

And, according to the news, zip codes aren't gonna make a hill of beans difference when we do our customary Saturday routine and walk out to check the mailbox.  

It'll take me a while to get over that lifelong habit.  And, think of the calories I will not burn when I finally figure out that they quit delivering mail on Saturdays.

While walking to the mailbox several times yesterday, I could almost feel the earth move under my feet.  

Didn't figure out what was causing those quasi tremors until I started looking a little closer at my Facebook news.

Cuss words were flying.  Folks were beyond mad.  They were downright angry and shouting out slurs at the Facebook gods---many times in all caps.  And, when you say things in all caps, you mean BUSINESS. 

I eventually figured out that this unrepentant irreverence toward cyber deities stemmed from some major changes occurring in the way Facebook allows us to do our thinking and reading and commenting. 

This was far worse than any ol' one-way-street or extra-digit dialing plot.  This was getting to the very core of our American freedoms.  

Facebook is now deciding what items it thinks we want to read first among all the postings/comments from our FB friends.  

Facebook is also playing devious little tricks on us to formulate a bunch of lists to list on our walls. 

Do I really care to have all my information grouped into pods like "family," "Lake Pend Oreille School District," "self-employed," "University of Idaho," or "Bitter Enemies"?  

I don't think so. But Facebook does.  Fortunately, nobody's yet listed me as a "bitter enemy," which is a surprise.  I'm sure it's coming though.

Two people, with whom I have no blood connections that my mother ever told me about, have asked to list me as family members.  Facebook did have the decency in its new "review" feature to allow me to cut them out of my will.

Facebook is also deceiving us and fooling us into providing information that we never before considered sharing with the public.  

Tell me how responding to Malia Mescho listing me as a colleague with Lake Pend Oreille School District, elicited a comment on Facebook that "Marianne Love has changed her profile . . . served school district from 1969-2002."  

No mention of my friend Malia in that one. I bet Malia doesn't even know that she participated in that gimmick.

I did not have any intention of changing my profile yesterday, but Facebook thought I should.  So, I did, unwittingly.

And, speaking of wits, Facebook must have assumed that all its participants are a bunch of dimwits, who would just go along with everything doled out by the gods. 

Well, they were wrong on that one.

There may be strife in Libya and Yemen and a whole bunch of other places in the world, but nothing, I'm sure, rivals the unrest this morning in what has been our favorite arm of the social media.

I don't know if Facebook, which has been known to heavily influence protests and revolutions throughout the world, will weather the violent storm of resentment it has inflicted upon itself.

Or, are the gods just sitting back ghoulishly guffawing with satisfaction and glee at the strings they were able to pull, causing their masses to bounce around in angry disarray?

I'm actually afraid to go on Facebook to comment about this situation for fear of what the gods will do to construe my intentions. 

And, Lord knows, that may ensure a new list suddenly appearing on my wall called, "Bitter Enemies." 

Tuesday Twitterdeedum

All is well.  "Dancing with the Stars" has returned to the television air waves.  Or, iz that not so good?  Does that mean we're settling in to winter?

I noticed last evening that by 7:30 barn critters were buttoned up for the night and we were in the house, done with the day's outdoor projects.  

Darkness doesn't need weather predictions.  It comes and goes on schedule regardless of how Mother Nature's feeling.  

Furthermore, darkness does bring on the usual changes in routine as we tred the pathway toward another several months of spending more time indoors than out.

I spent more time inside than usual during the daylight hours yesterday.  Those peaches brought home from Central Washington needed attention. 

So, I found some wide-mouth canning jars, lids and rings, pulled out the sugar and boiled up water to loosen the peach fuzz.

Like everything else I do, peach canning will happen in increments.  I looked at that box and projected that my winter supply of peaches would canned by the end of the week.

Yesterday I filled five jars---three quarts and two pints of delicious red and yellow fruit.

There was also enough fruit left over to add to the bowl set aside in the refrigerator for ice-cream topping. 

It's been a while since I've put up peaches, probably at least ten years.  

I can remember when my mother would can dozens of jars' worth every September---Elberta peaches.  They said Elbertas were best for canning while Red Havens were better for just plain eating.  

Of course, they would get eaten no matter what, but I'm guessing those Red Havens may have given the food preservers more fits.  

At our house, the peaches, applesauce, plums and whatever else Mother canned went in the fruit room off the porch.  

I remember when a padlock was added to the fruitroom door.  That was after my dad started finding empty quart jars out in the stump hollows throughout the woods.  He often found a spoon inside each jar too.

Those findings matched up with some of my mother's discoveries when she'd go to the fruit room and get the distinct impression that the inventory was mysteriously dwindling. 

When they compared notes, I'm sure there was a discussion at the dinner table.  Somehow Kevin emerged as the person who seemed to know the most about what had happened to Mother's peaches.

The lock appeared on the door, but that didn't necessarily mean the peach supply would remain intact.  Kevin was pretty smart about picking locks.

I don't think I have to worry about anyone pilfering my peaches, unless the mice come up with some methods for fruit-jar invasion. 

So, we'll plan on pulling out a jar every so often and enjoying the fruits of this week's in-house labor. 

~~~~Yesterday turned out to be a very nice day after a good rain in the morning. When it warmed up in the afternoon, I saddled up Lefty and rode him for about half an hour.  

Each time I ride him into some new areas around the yard and pastures, and eventually, I'm hoping to have the nerve to ride him on the road WHEN cars and trucks are coming.  So far, he's remaining fairly relaxed during our rides.

The more chances I get to climb on, the more routine these rides will become---and that has been the goal for this year with the young horses. 

~~~~Bill has headed off for work as usual, and I'm wondering what's going through his mind each day as he gets closer to the LAST day of his career with the Idaho Dept. of Lands on Sept. 30. 

He says he still has a lot of work to do, so he's remaining fairly disciplined about the whole retirement situation.

We've discussed the transition involved with his being around the place a lot more than ever.  Basic rule:  clean up after yourself.  I'm sure that's fairly universal for most hubbies.

I also learned from a friend another interesting statistic universal to a man's retirement.  

Plan to buy more toilet paper, she said.

On that note, I'll wrap this up, go to the grocery-storage closet and see how many 1000-foot rolls of Scott tissue we have on hand. 

If it suddenly starts disappearing in big numbers, I'll just go to the woods and check the stumps.

Happy Tuesday. 

Monday Reflections

It's back to the daily routines this morning after three days of fun on the road and in Seattle.  We enjoyed a quiet drive back yesterday, going through rain in the mountains and sunshine through the remainder of the trip.

Bill found a few geocaches at Washington rest stops, and I bought a box of Washington peaches, which we sampled over vanilla ice cream last night. 

Seemed like throughout our drive home, we were far enough behind the clouds to miss the rain in Sandpoint, what little there was.  

A sprinkle or two overnight left a little moisture on the ground but hardly enough to sustain any significant fall pasture growth.

As I reflect on the weekend, it's difficult not to think about tragedies this morning, especially after staying up late last night to watch a two-hour "20-20" segment on ABC about the family lost in a winter storm in Oregon a few years ago. 

Though it was well past my bedtime, I could not turn TV off because a news event which we had all read and heard about had been turned into a docu-drama of sorts for last night's programming.  

Even though the visuals could not be accurate because of no cameras following most of the actual events, the story line was still mesmerizing as the day-by-day account with the family and with those searching for them unfolded.

I think this story was especially compelling after we heard and continued to follow the  news throughout the weekend about the grizzly bear encounter just inside Western Montana. 

Bill was especially interested because the bear encounter where a hunter died occurred in a geocaching area where he has hiked and where we hiked with my sisters and our dogs a couple of years ago.

Also, during our weekend trip to Seattle, I read on Facebook that my former principal A.C. Woolnough was attending the Reno Air Show where the plane crashed into the crowd.  

He reported that he and his son were safe but had experienced debris flying past them after the crash. 

Such a string of events remind us of the frailty of life and how we must savor every moment, never knowing when our precious gift can be snuffed out. 

So, I look back on the weekend of fun adventures and feel grateful that ours went so well and that we enjoyed some wonderful quality time with our daughter.  

We brought back some great memories, and we arrived home safely. On mornings like this one,  with so much tragedy on the mind, such an accomplishment is not taken for granted.

It's a new week, and who knows what it will bring.  So, best wishes to all that it will go well. 

Happy Monday.

Wet Morning, Good Memories

We always enjoy seeing Annie's boss Bryan and his family.  Annie and the Roths share a passion for Sounders soccer, and I must say Mom and Dad Love are getting the bug a little more each time.

Look out, Sandpoint. There's moisture coming.  At least, the pouring rain outside our hotel indicates that.  Could be we'll be ushering it to town as we drive home today.

We'll be bringing with us some good memories of a quick but fun weekend on this side of the mountains.  And, that will include a segment in the mountains near North Bend.  

Both teams won their games: Mariners 4-0 and Sounders 3-0.  We couldn't ask for anything more.

We also  survived our status as fans, having a great time sitting down close to the action in both events.

The action was a bit more raucous at last night's soccer match, but in both cases, we met and enjoyed nice fans having a great time cheering on their athletes.

It's serious work attending a Sounders match.  Annie warned me early on to "save your arms."  Yes, your arms spend a lot of time in the air and a lot of time holding up or twirling the green and blue Sounders' scarves. 

Throughout the 90-minute contest, we were holding scarves over our heads and  clapping, both in rhythm with the cheers and in tribute to scoring. 

We also stood in a steady, warm rain for the second half, but that did not dampen the enthusiasm.

Of course, as a teacher, I had a great time last night running into former students:  Eddie Benjamin along the sidewalk, Lindsey Larson, her friend Jacob and her dad at Fuel and Lindsay Fournier at the soccer match.  

We also ran into Willie and Debbie's friends, Andrew and Alicia, along with a lot of Annie's Seattle friends.

Our hike yesterday took us on a brilliantly green moss-covered route along the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie River or the Taylor River. 

We weren't quite sure which river it was, but the water was clean and clear, and the sights along the river walk were beautiful, including some neat rock walls and spectacular peaks.

Soon we'll have some breakfast, maybe go for a walk in the rain and then head back home.  Great weekend.

Thanks, Annie, for keeping us on task and showing us a great time.

On to Idaho.  Happy Sunday.

Saturday in Seattle

We met up with Annie at Groundspeak, Inc. yesterday.

The company just moved into some new digs, so we took the tour.

Nice place and some wonderful views of Lake Union.

Ironically, without prior plans, Bill and Annie happened to wear the same T-shirt yesterday.

After the tour, we headed off to the Mariners game, and what a night it was: Mariners won over the Rangers 4-0.

I took my sign and waved it frequently.

I think the only people who noticed it, though, were a couple of guys in the stands.

The sign said, "April Fools: Beef 4 Dinner."

One of the guys thought it said, "Beer 4 Dinner."

Oh, well, I tried to advertise the beef industry, Terri.

Turns out I got to know the guys and their wives who were sitting up above us.

Turns out there's another person in the world who loves meeting people. His name is Steve and he works with the Tacoma-area parks, while his wife is an engineer with Pierce County. Nice, nice people.

Today we'll go on a hike near one of the area rivers, and we'll be back by 3 to get ready to March to the Match.

Oh, I might also add that they put us on the Lake Union side of our hotel, and it's mighty pretty looking at the lights and the lake during this pre-dawn time.

It gets light a lot later over here in Seattle, but it looks like a great day ahead.

Happy Saturday to all.

Ready to Rah Rah in Seattle

I don't know if we'll find the bluest skies we've ever seen, but we'll find plenty of blue this weekend.

We'll bring along some of our own too.  

This is my supply of essentials for our busy weekend with Annie.

Tonight,  be watching your Root channel on TV.  

I haven't made my sign yet, but Terri Albertson said she'd be watching for us. We'll be sitting where a camera might focus from time to time. 

So, if you see some fool sitting in the stands at the Mariners game with a sign that says "April Fools," you'll know Marianne has arrived.

I told Terri I was going to put something about beef cuz she's one of the Cattle Women, formerly known as the Cow Belles. 

So, I might also put "Beef for Dinner."  

But, then again, with my longstanding back-and-forth with her hubby Don,  dealing with April Fool's jokes, that one might win out.

We'll take in the Mariners game tonight, go on a hike near North Bend tomorrow.

Then, later in the afternoon we'll head to Fuel for festivities associated with the now famed "March to the Match."  

The Seattle Sounders soccer team is hosting DC United tomorrow night, so we'll be joining in on the fun but maybe not the naughty language.  

Should be an on-the-go, fun weekend, and I'm sure we'll be ready to take a deep breath when it's all over.  

Young Loves are taking over the Lovestead and watching after dogs, cats and horses.  

Plus, they may flip the channel from the Boise State game tonight and watch for Mom, Dad and Annie Love.

I'm taking my camera so if all goes well, the usual trip photos should be appearing over the weekend.  

For now, happy Friday.  

For Annie and the gang, see you in Seattle.