Spring has sprung. Morning has broken. Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh, what a beautiful day!
What else can we say when we're blessed with blue skies, singing birds, sunshine and the promise of temperatures in the 60s.
This, as always, is the long-awaited full-throttle start to spring. This also signals the time when human bodies, not quite used to activity several hours a day tend to suffer from too much sun and too many awakened muscles.
Still, no pain, no gain.
So, the gardening begins, yard work dominates and people walk around with more smiles. Yes, even those facial muscles get more of a workout when the sun hangs around for a while.
I enjoyed my walk this morning, even with a little more drama than usual.
The drama began last night when the dogs and I were walking through the woods after dinner.
Suddenly, I heard a flutter followed by a series of loud quacks. Soon I spotted a duck flying through the woods, issuing what surely had to be indignant complaints.
A few minutes later, I wondered where Foster was. Looking back, I saw him lying near a tree. I wondered if something was wrong, especially after he rolled over and kept lying there.
Walking his way, I wondered what the trouble was. Foster got up and trotted off, seemingly just fine.
I wondered what had gotten his attention at the base of the tree and soon answers to all my questions were quite apparent.
The dogs had scared Mother Duck, who was well camouflaged and lying on eight eggs in the brush near that tree.
So, we left the area, and I hoped that Mother Duck would return before cold night temps took over.
This morning, after finishing chores, I put the dogs in the house, grabbed some crackers and told Bill about the duck eggs.
I walked slowly and quietly toward the area where I had seen the eggs. Only a small glimmer of Mother Duck gave her away. I broke some crackers and threw them lightly toward her nesting spot.
She did fly off, but we now know that she'll return and most likely will devour the crackers.
This takes me back to the Mama Duck days at our pond on Great Northern Road, where every day after babies were born and I'd yell, "Mama Duck, Mama Duck" she and her family would come floating from the far ends of the wetlands and line up for handouts of chips, crackers, bread---whatever we threw out.
Unfortunately, we may not get to enjoy that aspect because we don't exactly have a pond on our place, but we do have Love Canal. Maybe she'll take the family over there.
For now, we'll keep the dogs away from that part of the woods and hope for the best.
In other news, I enjoyed a couple of hours at Luther Park Assisted Living Facility yesterday. My visit involved some time spent talking about my books and my writing career and a whole lot more time meeting and visiting with the residents.
I knew just a few members of the audience: Fairy Delay, Beth Davis and Buzz Arndt. The rest were all new to me, but by the time I left, they seemed like old friends.
Fairy and her family have hosted the Idaho State Forestry Contest for 31 years at their Careywood Tree Farm. Buzz Arndt served as deacon at St. Joseph's Catholic Church for years and sold insurance to my parents.
Beth's husband Ray was our county agent, so I enjoyed an added treat of spending some time visiting with Ray in his apartment. We talked about his years of Army service during WWII in Alaska, and I got caught up on his family members.
It was great to see Ray, but a little sad too, thinking about all the folks associated with him through 4-H over the years who are no longer with us---like my mother, Art and Myrt Burnett, Bob Wood, etc.
I also visited last evening with our short-time neighbors who are having to leave behind the rental home they love because of a family crisis.
I've met Heather Steele only twice but felt an immediate connection with her the first time I walked up, knocked on their door and welcomed them to the neighborhood.
At that time, while we were visiting, a tall, lean, dark-haired man came walking toward the door. Turns out he was one of my English students the last year I taught at Sandpoint High: Sean Bond, a very personable young man.
So, of course, I heckled him about his impishness as a student in my class. That evening Sean talked about future times when he'd host a barbecue at the old Lockwood Place where they had recently moved.
Well, this couple's best laid plans have taken a dramatic turn. That happened when their son Oliver was born in January. A slight hint shortly before he was born led to a series of quick moves from one hospital to another, eventually ending at Seattle Children's Hospital.
Specialists from all over the country have observed and run tests on little Oliver to determine why his system does not produce enough blood platelets. Still, no answers but the likelihood that Oliver will have to undergo a bone marrow transplant is becoming more of a certainty.
Sean and Heather have spent the past three months in Seattle, living in the Ronald McDonald House and have made the decision that they'll have to move there for at least the next year.
It's been gut wrenching and surreal, to say the least, especially since their other children have stayed here with grandparents and will do so until the end of the school year.
I asked Heather if it was okay to mention this situation on my blog. She said it was fine, and she told me about the blog she has been maintaining ever since Oliver's birth.
My intent in mentioning this today is to get the word out in hopes that readers who learn their story may feel inclined to help them out with donations. I'll know more specifics after talking with Heather in the next day or two.
For now, I'll simply sign off with her blog address, and maybe you can take some time to read the story for yourself.
I asked Heather how she's doing personally.
As expected, the "taking one day at a time" phrase came up, and she added, "Every once in a while I think about it and realize 'this is pretty heavy."
www.sweetbabybond.blogspot.com
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