Mundane Mutterings

I took this picture last night during the "golden hour" at one of the Pack River swimming holes off from HWY 95.

Unknown artists keep adding to their creations at the railroad overpass in that popular spot for swimming and launching watercraft.   

The setting sun over Pack River swimming hole off from HWY 95. 

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This morning I'm posting a lot of seemingly mundane photos of different stuff I've seen during my past 24 hours.  

No particular order, no particular theme. 

Besides capturing moments of life, pictures can also function as tools.

For me, this morning, and maybe even a lot of other mornings of late, concentrating on the "purty" or just plain interesting images helps me bite my tongue.

 Figurately, of course.

Occasionally, I have bitten my tongue literally at times.  

Probably the worst (Mary Harney Tronnes, are ya listening?) was the last day of school in first grade.

The Harney family was still living at their dairy, which later became our "Upper Tibbs Place" on Great Northern Road. 

The farm sat up above the railroad tracks. That day we rode our relatively new old bikes (which Harold had restored, even painting one 'filter-house green') to Harney's for an end-of-the-year picnic.

I don't remember too many specifics in the timeline for that gathering, but I do remember that, as a novice bike rider, when I left the picnic to head home, I went downhill over two sets of RR tracks for the very first time. 

That was the day I learned about the importance of brakes when pedaling downhill on bicycles, especially over railroad tracks.

My front tire hit the first set of tracks, bounced upward, sending the handlebars directly into my jaw, launching my teeth into my tongue, even chipping one front tooth in the process.

Oh, the blood!  

Again, there's a void in the timeline, but I do remember ending up in Dr. Wilbur Hayden's office on First Avenue and then being sent home with some mouthwash. 

Since then, I've tried to avoid biting my tongue at all costs, at least literally. 

On the figurative side, however, there's a constant need to keep that tongue from saying what it wants and needs to say.

 I'm not always so good, but I do my best, trying to limit what I've REALLY got to say to family and close friends.

Occasionally, however, when I see, read and hear THE MOST outlandish, ill-informed, spiteful, head-scratching thoughts and pronouncements and let's throw in "tweets," not even a bicycle bouncing over railroad tracks can keep me quiet.

So, this morning the photo distractions will do the job, I hope.

I'll just tell you about the pictures, and then the clock will strike 8, and then I'll post so that Helen, my editor, doesn't have to wonder what the heck is going on at the Love house this morning. 

Then, my tongue should be safe from getting itself in trouble for the rest of the day. 

Hmmmm, I'm wondering if other people posted pictures instead of sharing their real thoughts----could the world be a better place????  

  

Apples are getting some color.  I have netting over my smaller tree in hopes that the deer will not snatch all of them before we get a chance to grab some for ourselves.

Deer sightings at our place have been down this year----all the more reason why one deer is getting pretty plump, chomping off the tops of my potatoes, naturtiums and pansies.   

Another Pack River swimming hole on Colburn-Culver near Evergreen Road.

Twas pretty quiet last night. 

Clover and Birdsfoot treefoil are showing some regrowth and color in my round pen, which is usually mowed for working with horses.

After a couple of weeks with no horses and no mowing, the place is getting pretty colorful. 

Again, along the Pack River near Evergreen Road. 

When the deer can't get at them, my nasturtiums extend far past their planting pots.  In this case, it's the front deck.

It's been an incredible year for nasturtiums, and the resident deer knows it. 

Bill has started cleaning out some of the piles of "stuff" in one of the bays at our far shed.

This is Willie's bulldozer from his childhood years.

As you can see, he hasn't used it much lately. 

While Bill cleans out the bay in the far shed, he keeps the wasp/hornet spray handy because those buggers find the best places to hide and then pounce.

Those boards came from the "Wreck in '97."

We were living on Great Northern Road at the time, and a train, loaded with lumber,  derailed right across from our hay field.

Within hours, the railroad crews had removed our fence and used our field as a storage place for all the lumber from the derailment.

That situation brought interesting times and even people lurking closeby as they "coveted" and hoped to take a sample of that lumber.

We caught a couple of coveters, and they went on their way without the lumber.

Later, the railroad salvaged what they could and left us with a pile of boards, as payment for the inconvenience of having our hay field unusable for several weeks. 

They arranged to have a new fence built.

When we moved in 2006, the boards came with us, and they have proved handy several times since. 

Sunny was enjoying some quiet time in the barn last night. 

Plums are almost ready to pick, lots of them. 

Soon, I can rob the potato plants and make up my summer veggie dish with new potatoes, carrots, green beans, lots of cheese and Wood's German sausage.

Yum, yum. 

This isn't just any tree toad.

I saw this tiny toad this morning in Sunny's abode and thought it was a bug.

It's THAT small. 

That's all.

Happy Tuesday.

My tongue is doing just fine.