Friday, January 18, 2019

Simple, Down-Home Times





I had just finished reading the morning paper. 

Bill had left earlier for Spokane where he's taking a continuing-education course to maintain his "Certified Forester" status.

The paper was filled with the usual sad, disturbing, good, and bad news. 

On the back page two obituaries told of a 2-year-old life taken far to soon due to tragedy and a 72-year-old life sadly cut short by cancer. 

Active playing and hanging with his canine buddy highlighted the life of the little boy who died in a fire last week.

Meanwhile, widespread community service and inspiration described the life of the highly-respected and beloved 72-year-old CPA. 

Life is  so precious. 

Along with continuing almost hourly OMG blurbs dealing with the sad state of our nation, the news can get downright discouraging and maddening.


Then, come moments like the one I happily embraced after putting the paper aside,  simply sitting there and gazing at the comforting scene in my living room. 

As I gazed, Liam gazed back with his head resting on the arm of the love seat. 

It was a scene that reminded me, as so many do, to appreciate these quiet, peaceful moments and to cherish the life I have the good fortune to live.

Oh, I do ruminate!  

I read an article about ruminating this morning.  It's for cows when they eat their food and then regurgitate it. 

People do the same thing, thankfully not often with food, but with what's weighing heavily on their minds. Some call it "over thinking."  

I tend to be a ruminator, thanks to my ultra-sensitivities. 

Thankfully, I've learned over time, like the article suggests, to recognize myself in the act of rumination.  

Find a distraction, they say.  If it's in the middle of the night, keep a pen and pad next to the bed and write about it. 

I tend to do the former cuz if I actually got up and started writing, I'd never sleep. 

Anyway, I could easily have fallen into rumination at 6:45 a.m. this morning after reading all the heavy news, but Liam and the warm comfort of that scene before me set me off on another track.  

It was a delightful, wonderful moment of solitude, and I did distract from it just a bit by snapping a photo.  

Liam cooperated and continued to gaze back at me.

Which brings me to another subject:  Liam does not always cooperate, especially when we call him to come inside the garage when he would much rather stay outside.

He makes us come directly TO him before cooperating and trotting to the house. 

I caught him with the camera as Bill was summoning him to the house.  The expression you see is the "insulted" expression we always get upon finding him wherever he happens to be hiding and listening to our beckoning calls.

On that snowy day, we had decided to take a chance and follow our plan to drive to Bonners Ferry for "the chili." 

I've mentioned "the chili" before.  It's to die for, and I learned yesterday from "Mason with the mullet," that the potato soup served at the Bread Basket Bakery ain't bad either. 

BTW:  Mason is a former student who has a bunch of siblings and who loves to "act the part" for specific occasions.  The mullet, he told me, was grown for his class reunion. 

Anyway, after Liam went to the garage, we did make it to Bonners Ferry and Super 1 and the Bread Basket AND the Antique Mall at Three Mile. 

Twas a lovely outing on a snowy day.  We came home with groceries, full stomachs from lunch, a jug of "the chili," and a new/old fishing rod for Bill, purchased at the mall. 

While Bill was doing his looking, I took pictures of .00001 percent of the stuff available for purchase.

Some of it is truly just "stuff," but a lot of it conjures up stories or suggests that maybe "that funky chair with the oars and the door" would look good sitting out by the barn. 

A tag taped to the door portion says it can be easily disassembled for transport!

And, of course, that cream separator immediately made me think of my mother when she dreamed one night about flying through space in our separator bowl.  I can't remember if it was filled with potato chips or popcorn.

I also remember that my dad figured out a way to motorize our cream separator so he wouldn't have to crank the handle. 

After strolling through the various rooms on the west side of the mall, I headed back and wondered when that lady had shown up cuz she sure was quiet.

Twas only when I walked past that I learned she was a mannequinn. 

And, I also wondered when the bacon and tomato sandwiches became BLT's.

Lots of distractions to avoid "rumination," and a lot of simple, ordinary fun on a snowy day. 

I know I'll ruminate a bit today.  

Trump guarantees that 24-7. 

Nevertheless, I'm glad that the simple life we are so lucky to lead is always available any ol' time to serve as an antidote to bad or sad news. 

Happy Friday.

P.S.  Do ya think that chair would look good in front of my barn?  

Bill did ask me if I wanted it.

Maybe I will have to ruminate about the chair.  Should she or should she not?





























2 comments:

Rebecca Reynolds said...

Seems to me that you experienced on of those "perfect moments" that we maybe become more aware of in this stage of our lives. I have them as well and try to recognize them as often as I can and they are probably more common than we realize. Just have to stop and notice them. They are little moments to show us how wonderful our lives are and how fortunate we are to have such lives. It is just the simple things, just like what you captured in your photo, that we all are grateful for. An awareness for what we have and where we are and a sudden appreciation for all that despite the sadness and turmoil around us is very significant. Makes it all worthwhile, doesn't it?
As far as the chair goes, I think you found yourself a perfect "ruminating vehicle" and that no matter where you put it you could use to do your ruminatin' about all those perfect moments on the Lovestead!

Marianne Love said...

Loved your comment, Helen. You nailed it. As for the chair, still thinkin'!