Crossing Over . . . .

Today, May 31, 2012, signals the last day for me.  

I'm crossing over.

With that in mind, my goal on this final day is to take extreme care with every move I make.  

No banana peel slippages.  No "gettin' throwed," as in the saying:  There ain't a horse that's never been rode; there ain't a rider that's ever been throwed.

Well, actually, up to this day, I've never been "throwed."  I've fallen off a few times, haven't even been bucked off.  

A couple of those falls meant landing on my head, which may explain a lot . . . .

One time I landed on my head in the old rodeo grounds arena; that's where Interstate Paving is now---on Baldy Road.

My neighborhood friend Susie Baldwin and I were out doing "illegal" things with our steeds, Largo and Major.  

For Susie, there was really nothing illegal she could do with big ol' white Major.  He must've been 45 or so. 

She could get away with anything on a horse cuz her parents knew virtually nothing about horses, especially what NOT to do with them.

My parents, on the other hand, were both old-time horse people. 

They had rules.  

DON'T RUN THOSE HORSES ON THE HARD ROAD!  That was the main one.  

Well, we did, always far out of sight from my parents.  

After an evening of exceeding the equine speed limit,  we would arrive at the corner of Boyer and Woodland Drive (also the corner of our woods in mailbox pilfering land), I would get off Largo and rub all the lather off her legs.

Usually, it was after dark when I came plodding into the driveway, so I was usually safe from parental rage. 

The time I fell on my head at the rodeo grounds would have been deemed a bit more legal cuz it wasn't on the road.  

Susie and I decided to race each other around the arena, each going opposite directions from the entry gate, which also served as the finish line.

Largo, a rather stylish bay Saddlebred-Morgan mare with an ugly nose, loved to run AND Largo really liked to win.

Well, she came in first----without me on her.  When she wheeled around the final turn toward home, I fell off.  

My head survived, I guess.

Anyway, back to why this is the last day.  I'm avoiding all accidents, fights, diseases, etc. until tomorrow.  

Tomorrow, June 1, I cross over into the realm as an official Medicare beneficiary.  I always thought up until this year, that the cross-over day was on the 65th birthday.

I learned differently, and since I've paid premiums for Medicare, supplemental insurance and meds, my coverage officially begins tomorrow.

Then, guess what my goal is---after the official crossover!

I fully intend to avoid banana-peel slippages, getting "throwed," engaging in brawls and contracting diseases.  

All this----because I do NOT want to use my Medicare, supplemental insurance, meds benefits.

But I shall have peace of mind, and that is a good feeling. 

So, off I go to make this last day trauma free in hopes of fully enjoying the "cross over" tomorrow.

Stay safe.  Happy Thursday. 

It's a Wonderful Life for All in Selle

What's not to love when it's the perfect time of year in our beautiful rural valley!

Selle is supreme in the spring where virtually every view lifts the soul. 

Enjoy!  Happy Wednesday. 

And, remember that you can click on each photo once to enjoy a larger view. 

Tuesday Twitterdeedee

No spots on my camera lens, just the evening hatch at Bloom Lake northeast of Sandpoint.  Bill decided to take his pontoon boat and try out the beautiful little lake yesterday.  After what had been a stressful weekend, I said, "I think I'll join you later with the dogs, and we can have an informal picnic."  So, I did.  Doggies had to be on leash.  They were, so to speak, but could walk around and check out the surroundings.  The place is so nice, so tidy, so peaceful 'cept for those damn mosquitoes.  The evening hatch failed to bring much luck for Bill, the angler, but he still had a good time.

Our dogs are great beggars.  I did bring along biscuits, but human food is more to their liking, so they all feasted on Pringles potato chips.  And, no, Kiwi did not share Bill's Kokanee.  Nor did he offer her any of his giant bacon cheeseburger fried on the grill at the Elmira store.  On my burger rating scale, these would rank near the top.  I hadn't stopped in to the store for quite some time so it was fun to catch up with one of my former students who cooked our burgers.  Last time I saw her, she had one child; now, it's three.  In the midst of that, she's plugging away at college courses.  I told her I was proud of her.  While waiting, I connected with yet another student who's a local expert at African drumming.  She and her friend, ironically, were headed to Bloom Lake to do some fishing.  Bill said their luck was pretty much like his:  bad.

This is Bill in his new pontoon fishing boat.  Two of the three doggies raced to shore to meet him when he took a break from fishing for our picnic.  It was good to get away and enjoy the beauty and serenity of Bloom Lake and its surrounding area.  A great treat to end a holiday weekend.

We're heading back to a somewhat normal routine today.  Debbie will be here soon with Brooke and Todd.  They'll probably spend a bit of time with Foster in the new dog run.  It's a great place for the little guy to play in the company of his friends. 

Plus, there's a coffee can (Folgers, of course) filled with biscuits right at the gate.  So, doggies don't mind their trips to the run. 

I accomplished a lot of gardening over the weekend.  Almost everything is planted now, so the rest of the summer will be maintenance---which I thoroughly enjoy.

Soon school will be over, and my sisters will be home every day.  That's when I'll probably start taking my two horses over to work them in the arena.  

Lots to look forward to and lots to do.  Hope you all have a great Tuesday. 

Remembering . . . .

Those who served and died for our country.

Those in our families who have gone before us.

Friends and Neighbors

and 

on this morning, my sister's best friend:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/misstshs/

Feathers of a bird . . . .

Birds seemed to dominate my thoughts during the morning walk today.  With Foster on leash, I took off through the woods to the usual melodious sounds of various species coming from every direction.

The grass is dryer than it has been, so getting off the trail and continuing my daily search for little surprises in plant growth added some fun to the walk.  

I've discovered that one of Bill's brush piles has several long dewberry vines extending over the sticks and needles.  That means more dewberries in the woods and maybe even some to pick one of these days.

Over the past year or two, I've found different spots around the woods where the vines have come back after several years of being grazed off by goats.

I'm amazed at how long it takes plant life to return.

Anyway, Foster and I reached a point in the lowlands where the grass was high and wet, so I returned to the trail.

On the south trail through the last section of woods, a new overnight deposit greeted us.  A contest could be set up:  count the feathers.

I'm guessing several hundred guinea-hen feathers (our neighbor to the west has a herd of guineas--one fewer this morning) were strewn across a space 3-5 feet in diameter.  

I'm also guessing Mr. Coyote, who chased Kea off last Sunday morning, had himself a feast overnight.

No signs of the actual bird, but enough feathers for Bill to tie flies for eternity.

Once again, I was glad to have little Foster on leash.  We walked on through the woods, and once we returned to the yard,  the dogs and Jonas entered their new Border Collie Nation Plus One domain.

While walking across the front yard, it struck me (almost literally) that little chickadees exert a lot of energy, not only in their singing but also as they flutter just past one's ear.  

That flutter sounded more like Big Bird than a voice behind those daily  Cheeeeeez burger serenades.

Without the dogs, I was able to walk down the road while waiting for the paper.  When one of the Love Doves came in for a landing on the light pole next to the road, I tuned in to its "caw." 

My question is:  what is a Love dove saying when it "caws" rather than "coos"?   Nothing heavy-duty to think about,  but some day I'm sure someone will fill me in.  

In the meantime, I prefer the softer coo-coo-coo which we hear all day long.

And, finally on my walk, I leaned over to pick some tall grass from one of the flower beds.  A resident robin sat just four feet away and remained there, unconcerned of my presence.

Earlier this week, Debbie and I noted that we probably get most of the same robins back every year.  And, on that note, we wonder if they've bonded with us like our domesticated animals.

That thought occurred as a group of robins gathered in our midst while we stood around the dog run, kinda like they didn't want to miss any of the gossip.

Anyway, all those birds---at least the ones that stay away from coyotes---keep us pretty entertained.   

Happy Sunday.

Saturday Slight

Many, many thanks to John and Trevor Walkington of FenceCo for providing us  peace of mind about our pups (and, yes, kitties).  

Their talents, knowledge and hard work resulted in this beautiful facility where little Foster can run free as his big sisters babysit him.

And, of course, Jonas, the cat, helps too. 

Last night we tried out the dog run for the first time, going to The Loading Dock for dinner, and enjoying a walk out on the jetty at the city dock.

We counted noses on our return, and all five (the Border Collie Nation plus One) were there and happy. 

Debbie suggested that we get the camera, give it to one of the dogs and put the humans inside the enclosure for a picture.  I'm sure any one of the dogs would have happily snapped our portrait.  

Anyway, life should be good, knowing that while I'm focused on my yard work, the dogs can be safe and have plenty of room to play. 

Plus, I see future puppy parties at the Lovestead----moms sitting around in chairs gabbing while pups play to their hearts' content. 

We'll add a shelter to the run as well as more recreational items.  

If anyone local ever needs a fence or a facility such as ours, I highly recommend the FenceCo folks.  It was kinda sad to say good bye to them, cuz in addition to their fine work, we swapped a few funny stories.

Seems like this is the "everyone has left town" weekend here.  We did see some folks downtown last night waiting to attend an event at the Panida, but comparatively speaking, things were pretty quiet. 

The wind blew us out to the end of the jetty where we briefly viewed the beautiful monument constructed in memory of one of my former students and her husband.

Amber and Darby, known by so many in this community,  died a few years ago in a boating accident. 

I still have such nice memories of Amber Coffman with her beautiful smile and zest for life.   She was a student in my sophomore honors English class back in the 1990s.

And, the memories are what we all revive on this weekend while decorating the resting places of our loved ones.  

In my case, I'll make a trip to Pack River Cemetery for my dad and will drive to Pinecrest Cemetery where our sister, Jean Marie who lived for just a couple of months in 1950, rests.  

In so doing, the awareness of all the other hundreds of cemetery visitors bringing their flowers will certainly inspire moments of silent reverence.  

I'm happy that this year the flowers are in bloom/still in bloom.  Seems like the timing for cut flowers from home gardens hasn't been so good the last several years.

Happiness associated with beautiful flowers and with the wonderful moments of life we who remain behind enjoy certainly marks this weekend every year. 

Not one moment should be wasted.  

As we place our bouquets at the cemeteries and remember our loved ones, we are reminded that a time will come when someone decorates our final resting place.

Enjoy your day.  Happy Saturday.

 

Three Days . . . . Sanity

Ya know, now that it's been ten years since I retired, the mention of a three-day weekend doesn't have quite the same ring it used to have---especially the Memorial Day three-day weekend.

I can remember,  after struggling to stay afloat as an English/journalism teacher during the busy, crazy month of May,  just how welcome Memorial Day weekend happened to be.

A breather, temporary at that.  It also meant a chance to tackle some of those stacks of papers to grade which sat in their stacks while I finished reading research-paper rough drafts followed by final drafts.  

While attending high school in my day, Memorial Day usually signaled the end of the year.  Not so any more.  

Nowadays, teachers and students have to breathe deeply during this brief break and find ways to co-exist for at least another two weeks. 

That sometimes was easier said than done.  With many students, whose minds had left the premises weeks before---or "turned to jello, as my mentor Bob Hamilton used to say---the thought of "teaching something" during those final weeks usually turned into a mere fantasy.

Hold the lid on.  

That's what drove most of us.  Bite your tongue before you say exactly what's on your mind.  That strategy saved a lot of teaching jobs as opposed to teachers ending up in the Big House.

When I read in the paper about the 29 local students who broke into the school last week to conduct the "senior prank," I can only imagine what stories lurk between the lines----with teachers, parents and the general public. 

It's a tough time for all.  I can remember a few moments as a parent AND teacher during this time of year that tested me beyond what any final exam could do.  

Still, we all made it through, maybe a bit scarred emotionally but with no prison records for child abuse committed due to temporary insanity. 

So, even though this three-day weekend may not suggest the same splendor it did back in my teaching days, I know that it's a welcome time for lots of folks who have anything to do with guiding and working with young minds at this time.

May the best of all prevail, and may the three days away from each other offer enough of a change in the routine that those last two weeks at our schools move on without incident.

Happy Friday to all---savor your Memorial Day weekend, even if you are retired. 

 

Thursday This and That . . . .

Walsh Lake is a lake located just 11.1 miles from Sandpoint, in the state of Idaho, United States, near Samuels, ID. Fishermen will find a variety of fish including channel catfish, brook trout and cutthroat trout here.

Whether you’re fly fishing or otherwise your chances of getting a bite here are good. So grab your favorite fly fishing rod and reel, and head out to Walsh Lake.

If all goes well, the eastern brook trout will be hooked by your suckers, the trout will be biting your shad and the catfish will be grabbing your blood baits.

To find this fishing spot check the map shown above or enter latitude, and longitude into your GPS device.Read more: http://www.hookandbullet.com/fishing-walsh-lake-sandpoint-id/#ixzz1vnVA40Fs

Okay, that all said by hookandbullet.com, there's more to Walsh Lake than meets the eye.

Well, actually Walsh Lake meets the eye in a very pleasant way, just as it did for me last night when I went to the Samuels Store/Blue Heron Cafe for lawnmower gas.

Had my camera along, and Mother Nature had created quite a scene surrounding the lake located behind the store. 

I was saddened to learn last evening that the reason the Blue Heron Restaurant is advertising for a new experienced cook is that chef Steve Holmes will be leaving.

I hope he's mentored the other cooking staff over his tenure so those bacon cheeseburgers between homemade buns, the fabulous chicken parmesan and the oft-ordered fish-and-chips plates on Friday nights don't change. 

We love dining at the "neighborhood" restaurant, and with spring, summer and fall, some meals at the tables outside offer much more than good food, as you can see from the photo.

After reading the fishing report, I'm surprised Bill hasn't been bringing his fly rod along when we go to dinner.  While waiting for his fish and chips, he could run down to the lake and catch one of those brookies.

In other news, involving "change," I learned yesterday that Kaniksu Medical Center where our family doctor Tom Lawrence practices is moving to Ponderay.  

Now, you can go to the doctor and stop by the Paul Bunyan burger place and grab a treat.  Yup, they'll open June 4 in the medical building behind Paul Bunyan near the golf course.

We'll be dealing with a little change in the dog population, starting this afternoon.  Today and tomorrow, the Lovestead will be a six-dog operation.

My sister's dog Pita will be staying with us while Barbara and Laurie take their horses to the Eastern Washington Arabian Show this weekend.  They've been competing in the event for at least 20 years.

Usually Pita (a blue heeler-lab cross) goes along, but she's been a bit under the weather lately, so she'll stay with us.

Good timing too, cuz the dog run will be completed either this afternoon or tomorrow morning.  Doggies should love it cuz it's 40-plus feet by 32 feet, complete with some nice shade. 

John Walkington told me yesterday we could write something on the cement slab where the gate will go (we have a digging dog, so extra measures are being taken to make sure it's as doggie proof as they get). 

Trevor came up with the inscription, having become quite acquainted with the Border Collies.  

So, it reads "Border Collie Nation  -- 2012 Plus One"  That would be Foster, of course. 

The numbers of friends I know who have recently acquired pups continues to grow.  

Yesterday Tammie at Yoke's Pharmacy told me she has a new Aussie pup, acquired from Montana.

We were talking about future puppy parties and I realized I had a "dah" moment.  I told 
Tammie I might invite puppies and their owners to the Lovestead but I worry about them getting in with the horses.

The "dah" came later when I realized WE WILL HAVE A DOG RUN where pups can play safely without their owners worried about horses.

Lots of changes to think about this morning, and, speaking of pups, Debbie just showed up with the grand pups, so I'm oughta here.

Happy Thursday!

Portraits of a Day . . . .

As usual, I can't see half my photos as I type, but I know they're there.  

A typical morning of blogging for me----when several photos are involved---means waiting until the photos are uploaded, posting to the clipboard, usually cussing cuz something's gone wrong, going downstairs to open my laptop to see which photos showed up, fixing the photo display on my laptop, coming back upstairs where I can't see all the pictures on my desktop computer and writing.

Later, when I finally publish, if something's amiss with the photos, my friend Helen will see the problem on her computer, send me an email, and I can make the change.

I know there are easier ways to do these things.  I just haven't learned them, which is typical of most things I do.

That said, I'm hoping readers will bear with me and the glitches. 

Yesterday was another day of great images, with dogs on the job, horses grazing in the pasture and dogs on another job involving a squirrel.

John Walkington and his son Trevor did come after all because the rain stopped for a while.  So, their mission yesterday was to set metal poles in concrete for the dog run.  

I learned throughout the day that their work here at the Lovestead had added benefits:  free dog sitting. 

I could have gone to Spokane or Canada for the day without a care in the world because four Border Collies saw that John and Trevor needed assistance.  

So, they showed up on time---without hard hats or equipment---but with energy, focus and desire to help in any way possible.

A lot of supervising happened out south of the house yesterday.

I asked Trevor a couple of times if he'd like me to pen them up so he could do his work.

"No, they're okay," he said.  "Is it okay to play with them with the hose?"

Trevor learned quickly how much those dogs love hoses with nozzles and spraying water.  He had to use the hose frequently throughout the day with his cement mixer.

That activity required extra supervision and a little "bark, bark" guidance.  I think Kea and Todd are the big talkers among the group of construction assistants.

Anyway, it would be an understatement to say that Todd, Brooke, Kiwi and Kea were in "dog heaven" yesterday.  

No one has yet told them that the construction project is their own dog run.  I'm hoping they view the large run as Heaven.

Little Foster had to watch from a distance.  He was kinda in the "apprentice" stage, so observation and whining cuz he couldn't join his friends monopolized his role.

John and Trevor accomplished their mission, and they'll return tomorrow to put up the actual fence around the run.  I'm sure more photos of dogs at work will follow.

Later, after dinner and a day of on-and-off rain, we enjoyed a pleasant early evening.  The horses grazing in the pasture looked pretty enough that I changed camera lenses and took a few pasture portraitures. 

"Nice butt!"  

I remember once when I was teaching high school when Eddie Lundquist, then a senior, walked past me in the hallway and uttered, "Nice butt."

"What did you say?" I asked.

"Nice butt," he repeated.

I didn't know whether to slug him, hug him or run to the principal and tell on him.  

None of the above.  I've just remembered to this day that brief interlude cuz nobody else has ever characterized my over-sized posterior as a "nice butt."  

But Lily has a "nice butt."  Appaloosa folks like to see rear ends that look like Lily's---fully stacked and filled with spots. 

So, it all depends on the perspective, I guess, on who thinks who has a nice rear end.

I managed to catch Lefty in a pose that doesn't show all the patches of missing hair from his skin problem.  He is a pretty guy when he has all his hair.

And, as I headed back to the house, the squirrel, which had been dining earlier on sunflower seeds from the bird feeder, attracted Kea and Kiwi's attention on its return to the poplar trees.

The dogs took a second out from their squirrel watch to provide a nice pose for their portrait.

Always fun having a camera around here, and often the stories that go with the photos are fun too.

Enjoy, and have a nice Wednesday.

Tuesday Twitterdeedum and Pitter Patter, et. al.

Twas no walk in the woods this morning with little Foster in hand.  Poor little guy.

Nothing wrong with Foster; it was just WET!  Too wet to even consider going in the woods.  I made that decision while dressed in rain gear.

So, Foster stayed inside while I led the horses to pasture.  This morning's dogless constitutional took me down South Center Valley Road, to the north. 

Some ditches were nearly full of water, and the road had its share of puddles.  Fortunately, however, nobody splashed me while driving by. 

I did enjoy a brief visit with Terry Wood who was on her way to work.

I usually don't care for rain, but this drenching rain has been actually nice for walking.  That's cuz the temperature is so pleasant, and natural fragrances of cottonwood, blooming flowers and just plain cleanliness were wafting through the air.

We're embarking on my most favorite week or so of the year.  Apple blossoms are still in full show, and lilacs are popping out their pinks, lavenders and pastel purples. 

The lovely springtime fragrance can't be far behind.

With a drenching rain, the clean,  green grass of home deepens in height and color intensity, providing a pleasant contrast to pastels and bright, happy colors of pansies. 

Ha! Ha!  Those dandelions don't like the rain, so most of them close their doors to the world, and we don't have to be reminded quite so much how they irritate us within hours of a new mowing.

We were supposed to have the fencing crew come today to dig holes for metal posts surrounding our dog run.  I have a feeling, though, that yesterday's steady downpour put them off schedule.

So, we'll wait.  The weather report for the rest of the week looks a little dryer so I'm sure by week's end, we'll have a dog run, and the pups can get used to their new, larger area of confinement.

I actually liked yesterday's rain because it forced me to do some indoor projects which otherwise would not get completed for weeks or months.

The major accomplishment involved the shop off the north side of the house where Festus lives and where Jonas hangs out during the daylight hours.

Besides removing a good supply of last fall's leaves that had blown under the partially opened door, downed clumps of pink insulation from the incomplete ceiling and a few dead mice captured by our mousers extraordinaire, I tidied up shelves and loaded up bits of garbage that had accumulated for some time.

The place looks halfway respectable now.  We don't go in there often, 'cept to feed and water Festus.  Now, with its new appearance, I may even want to spend some time in the shop.

One of these days we'll get a ceiling completed to cover up all that ugly insulation.  Kinda reminds me of houses in our old neighborhood which took a generation of patchwork additions before their siding was complete.

Some of those domestic projects just go to the back of the line with everything else, it seems.

Anyway, I feel good about the shop, and if it rains steadily today, I'll take advantage of the pleasant temps to start removing all the layers of rubber mats from our box stalls. 

The mats have provided a band-aide approach to floors with rotted-out boards.  And, removing the mats to see how bad the floors really are will be much more pleasant now than on hot days in July.

Once we find out how bad the floor-board news is, we'll go the next step in removing the boards and deciding what strategy to use so we don't ever have the problem again in our lifetimes.

At this point, we're hoping to haul in gravel and skip putting in heavy boards, always destined to rot. 

This week's edition of pitter patter is good, just as long as it doesn't hang around for several days, allowing the lawn to turn into a hay field. 

As I close this post, I'm suddenly aware of a new silence.  No pitter patter.  Just birds singing  happily.  Guess it's time to take little Foster outside for that walk he missed earlier.

Happy Tuesday.

Another Bucket Item

Bill and I did a first for our Team Love experiences last night:  a Dutch-oven cookout.  

I think we may even attend some more, and next time we’ll try to arrive on time.

We learned last night that arriving on time is pretty essential for a Dutch-oven cookout, cuz when it’s time to eat, the menu consists of what’s ready to eat.

Our Dutch-oven, filled with beans,  along with a Tupperware container filled with chunks of ham,  stayed in the pickup.

My peach cobbler, prepared in a pyrex dish and baked in our oven, did make it to the table and eventually onto some plates.

The Dutch-Oven Cookout flyer announced that coals would be ready for cooking at 4 p.m. Dinner would start at 5:30 p.m.

When I looked at the car clock as we pulled into the Samuels store, it was 4:22.  Bill had to buy ice, and we still needed to drive to almost to Naples before turning off on Plantation Road near Stampede Lake.

After another mile or so through an area known for its sand hills and recreational trails, we pulled in to the picnic spot shortly after 5.

A semi circle of Dutch ovens were going full-steam ahead near the campfire by that time.

We had no idea who we would see at this cookout, except for Diane Maurer, who had invited us.  The suspense made the experience all the more intriguing in my mind.

Turns out we knew some folks---Diane’s hubby Marty, her new pup Banjo, artist Janene Grende and retired U.S. F.S.  “Ranger Dick” Kramer and his wife Jody.

Another friendly lady, Kathy, walked up and said we’d met once before.  She then introduced me to her husband John.

Then, I met their cousins, Roseanne and Tom (not of the TV show) but retired teachers from Ohio who moved here in the past year.  

Another Samuels-area resident,  who lives next to last month’s Union Pacific train derailment,  showed up later.

When I asked Roseanne and Tom what lured them to Sandpoint, part of their story dealt with CJ Box’s book Blue Heaven. 

It was kinda neat to tell inform her that the names Willie and Annie from the fictional book about a murder in this general area were inspired by someone I know very well. 

Roseanne said she’d have to go back and read the book again.

This gathering had a definite Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation influence, and, of course, one Dutch oven contained a healthy supply of Elk meatballs.

Diane said she has put monthly Dutch-oven cookouts on her Bucket List for this year.   

Sounded like a good idea to me, especially after the pleasant time we spent visiting and filling our plates with chicken, a Mexican dish, some Jumbala and those meatballs.

On our way home, Bill and I both realized we had hit the desserts from the picnic table and had forgotten to grab a helping of Diane’s cherry, chocolate cobbler moisturized with a can of Coca Cola.  

Next time!   

With his scouting experience, Bill has done plenty of Dutch-oven cooking, and now with his new oven, we’ll plan to make it to our next cookout on time and ready to cook.

We loved the experience and thoroughly enjoyed the group.

Diane is constantly adding to her Bucket List, and one of the additions over the past year has been the sport of geocaching.

So, of course, we stopped at a geocache on our way out.  

Diane had searched for it before and was surprised to learn that the cache (a magnetic slab with some lettering slapped on to a telephone utility box) had been right in front of her face.

One geocaching story led to another, and I’m sure we would have stood there ‘til dark ‘cept for some mosquitoes out looking for their blood soup and hearing about a Dutch-oven cookout in the area.

Yum! Yum!

Of Honey Bees, One More Cookie/Race and Patrol Dogs

The honey bees from across the road have wasted no time getting to work this year.  Within hours of their arrival, I saw the my first visitor from the hives.

Last night while admiring our big apple tree, which grows little apples, I stepped closer.

The buzzing of busy bees told me the apple tree was experiencing its spring prep for the fall fruits.

Stepping even closer, I could see the bees at work.  Flitting from blossom to blossom, they paid no attention to me and my camera and stayed on focus.

So, I focused in as closely as possible with my lens.

It was a mesmerizing camera experience for sure.

Looks like we'll have lots of apples from that tree.  Because of their small size, they'll be perfect for a few batches of apple jelly.  

Yesterday was filled with more garden work, some lawn mowing and a couple of hours set aside to watch The Preakness.  I always watch the Triple Crown races until the Kentucky Derby winner loses.

Haven't watched The Belmont for a while, but it looks like the race June 9 will be a "must see." 

These races are fun because of my kids----not so much because they LOVE Thoroughbred racing.  My daughter Annie was attending a Seattle Sounders match in Vancouver at race time.  

She told me that she and her friends were sitting in the third row, so if we watched, we'd probably see her.

I told her it would be channel surfing only cuz I was watching The Preakness.  

When I surfed during the first commercials, I discovered that the Seattle Mariners vs Colorado Rockies match-up was the featured event on Root.

I figured Willie was probably watching that game.

I also sent a note to Annie telling her we'd have to catch the Sounders match on a rerun, adding that the Kentucky Derby winner and his jockey had Vancouver roots. 

Ironically, Annie was in Vancouver two weeks ago for a Half-Marathon when I'll Have Another (named because when cookies were served his owner would always say, 'I'll have another') won the Kentucky Derby. 

The reason I think of my kids with the Triple Crown:  Willie was born in 1977 when Seattle Slew won the Triple Crown.  Annie was born in 1978, the last time any horse won the Triple Crown.  That was Affirmed.

Of course, with my quirky perspective, I was starting to see patterns unfold. 

The Preakness yesterday was an exciting race, and to see I'll Have Another win made those patterns unfold all the more.

I called Annie after the race and left a message on her voicemail:  You're going to have to go back to Vancouver the weekend of The Belmont so this horse can win the crown.

Exciting, indeed, and I know I'll be planted in front of a TV on that day.  

And, what's with patrol dogs, you may ask.  Well, Kea is our patrol dog.  They could use her down on the U.S. Mexican border cuz she sees that all entities stay on whatever side of the fence they belong.

Most of the time. 

She works hard at patroling her premises every single day.

This weekend I've been letting Foster off the leash more and more.  I figured with only three dogs to watch, I could keep close track of him, should he wander too close to any danger, i.e., in with the horses or out on the road.

In addition, I'm hoping he will figure out where his borders lie and learn to stay inside his fences.

This morning I let him loose in the woods.  Foster loves droppings of any kind, and when ya let a guy roam on his own in the forest, he'll sniff all those piles and grab a few bites of those deer marbles.

Foster and Kiwi were into sniffing and grabbing when I decided it was time to get him back on the leash or we were never going to finish our walk.

Just as I did so, I heard Kea barking in the far west section of woods.

I figured she'd come upon a deer.

A second or two later, the barking stopped.  

I saw Kea racing with the speed of light down the north trail leading to the house.

Something was sending Kea back to where she belonged.

A second or so later, I saw the "something."  A coyote was racing as fast as possible, trying to catch up with Kea.

That's when I decided to yell.  

"Git . . .git!"

The coyote slowed, looked at me and veered off to the hay field and was almost out of sight when Kea's courage returned.

She wheeled around and raced off across the field with her "GIT" bark in full volume.

I decided after that incident that maybe Foster will stay on the leash when we go for our walks in the woods.

He may be able to outrun a coyote, but should he not get out of the starting blocks in time, the little guy could end up being breakfast in short order.

I don't think Foster will ever be a match for an encounter with a coyote. 

The peace of the woods was definitely disrupted this morning.  This morning's incident marks the second time Kea has gone running AWAY from another creature inside her fenceline.

The last time a mother doe chased her.

And, with mother doe season coming shortly, we could be in for more excitement while walking in our little refuge.

In the meantime, I'll be a bit more selective about when Foster gets to run free.

Happy Sunday.