Magic and Misery of Snow

Bill hurt his back shoveling. I strained a muscle below my shoulder blade shoveling.

Willie got stuck in the driveway. It took us about ten minutes this morning to get his car to travel a correct pathway through the gluey, slippery snow. He finally headed on his way.

I just watched several hundred pounds of snow go shooting across the deck from our steep-pitched roof. Cats are staying inside until the roof completely empties itself.

We received nearly a foot of snow over the past 24 hours.

There's nothing more exquisitely beautiful and nothing more exasperating.

They called off school in Boundary County this morning. School is in session in Bonner County.

Cars were crawling past here this morning because of the ice under snow, causing slick, slick conditions.

I can hear blasting up at Schweitzer. Gotta get the conditions safe from those avalanches so the skiers can enjoy the gift of a new dump of snow.

There's no moderation, it seems when huge amounts of snow fall. It's miserable trying to get anything done, but it's also a grand treat for the eyes.

Winter has come, but maybe by this afternoon, all the beauty and the misery will turn into yet another seasonal memory.

And, then we'll get ready for the next picturesque dump!

Our Scotch pine lovers tree

Looking south in the front lawn

Overnight artful snow dump

Snow tires and life changes

On this morning where every window view looks like a magical snow globe, I was happy to think about the note I received from my daughter-in-law last night.

She bought snow tires yesterday, maybe the first she's ever purchased.

She did so on the advice of our neighbor Sherry who lives down on Forest Siding Road. Debbie and Sherry have gotten acquainted through cyberspace, and, if all goes well, she and Sherry could be working together on a common goal. I'll keep that under wraps for now, just cuz it's bad luck to tell too much when you're keeping your fingers crossed.

Debbie will be driving up this way from Boise Thursday, staying overnight in Spokane with a friend, going to a job interview, and then coming to Sandpoint for the weekend. Then, she and Willie, who will be on vacation for two weeks, will drive back to Boise to spend Christmas with Debbie's family.

After Christmas, they'll fill a U-Haul with their personal belongings and head back up this way. Willie will drive the U-Haul, and Debbie, her car with those new snow tires and with the doggies in the back. They'll move into a lovely rental home south of town and on the lake, thanks to information about the house's availabilty from my much respected colleague and friend Cheryl Klein who lives next door to the house.

A little help from some of the family "outlaws," Mike and Corky, helped this situation along also. We all appreciate these folks for their aid in putting together a great living situation for Willie, Debbie and the grandpuppies. I'm truly excited about the day when I can stand in their new home here up north, and say, "Welcome home, Love's, welcome home."

And, we'll be looking forward to visits from Debbie's family as the kids settle into a new life here. Our neighbor Sherry gave Debbie some good advice about purchasing those snow tires, and we're hoping they'll keep her safe and sound as she takes on the daily challenge of dealing with weather conditions while driving to work.

As I walked into the house this morning from getting the paper, Willie was starting his car. I told him he was gonna have to purchase some boots. He agreed. Boots, snow tires, ski passes, wood for heat---all big changes for these kids as they make the transition from life in Boise where spring comes early to life in Sandpoint where winter seems endless.

I can't help but believe, however, that this move is one of the adventures of their lives, just as it is for us Loves here in Selle. We never imagined this happening and are still pinching ourselves in disbelief.

The term "giddy"could easily be included in the discussion too, as the anticipation of seeing them more often and having more get togethers with the grandpuppies and their Sandpoint canine friends is just downright exciting.

And, to the folks and our friends in Sandpoint, I'm anxious for all of you to meet and get to know Debbie. She's a keeper, and we feel so fortunate to have her in our family.

So, snow tires, do your thing and keep our lovely daughter-in-law safe as she travels the next leg of her life's journey.

Christmas tree stories

Bill and the doggies looking over an area where we found our two trees yesterday.

A grand fir for the house and beautiful spruce for outside.

I'm so glad we've decided to search for our trees rather than purchase them at the various venues around town.

I can't imagine any better situation for creating memories that will last for years.

And, once we get the tree to the house and begin the decorating, that bag of ornaments holds endless glimpses of history from years past.

What a treat it is at Christmas time to remember the lovely ways others have touched our lives over the years!

Gotta find! A grand fir.

Mission accomplished: 2009 Lovestead tree on its way home.

What can I say? She's exquisitely beautiful.

The ornament above hung on someone else's Christmas tree in 1981, not ours.

It was among the endless array of items sent our way after our house fire. So, of course, it has special meaning.

And, I just plain like the ol' guy hanging below.

My brother and his wife gave me this ornament.

It's one of my favorites.

I can see her face, but I can't remember her name.

A sweet young lady who came to my English class partway through the school year gave me this ornament.

It still has the candy inside, and every time I pull it out of the bag, her face comes back.

I see her from time to time, and when I do, this friendly ornament face flashes through my mind.

I didn't use duct tape, but scotch tape worked.

Maybe one of my handy friends will feel pity and help me get this angel's skirt to stay on.

You may notice she's lost her wings too.

She came from Bill's mother's collection, and that's why I put her on the top of the tree. As desheveled as she appears, her story has those good ol' Louisiana Southern roots.

So, she'll keep standing atop the tree as long as possible.

She fell off last night while I was decorating. And, while I was decorating, the tree started leaning at a 45-degree angle.

This is the same tree that stood straight outside and remained so long enough for me to falsely believe that this would be a stressless decorating session.

Ha!

Never will there be no stress, unless I get someone else to decorate the tree.

And, when the explosive language began to erupt, Bill had come in from that far corner of the woods, thinking it was safe.

Well, it wasn't. Eventually, however, after walking away, putting the horses in the barn and finding some little pieces of board to force that tree to stand up straight, all was well.

Miss Love Angel went back to the top, and we went on with an "All is calm, all is bright" evening.

Can't remember the exact origin of this one, but I've always loved putting it on the tree.

Let me dedicate this photo to Eleanor Delamarter (now 91 years young) whose patience surpassed Job on many, many occasions as I sat in her bedroom at the sewing machine, trying to sew a correct seam.

Those moments have become legendary in my life.

On rare occasions, however, I've managed to succeed at some halfway crafty items, which have included a needle and thread.

Don't look too closely, though. I'm sure the 4-H seamstress goddesses could find flaws, but a few years ago I made a prototype which turned into several ornaments and decorative accessories on wreaths. This, complete with a fir needle, is one such.

Are ya proud, Eleanor??

An ornament from Bill's mother's collection in Louisiana.

I believe this one joined our assortment after our house burned down just before Christmas in 1984.

Hard to believe that it's been 25 years since one of the most life-altering events in our lives.

The fire taught us much about human kindness and generosity.

We've never forgotten those lessons.

An ornament made in PAL Z class at Sandpoint High School around 2000.

My PAL Z were also known as Peer Assistance Liai Zons.

We started the class to promote a more positive school climate.

Students came from all walks of life and learned skills such as conflict resolution.

We also became a very tight group as the year moved on.

So, this ornament stirs up a good memory of my teaching career.

No Hemlock this year

When I took my tree down and sent it out the sliding glass door about three days after Christmas last year, it was completely devoid of needles. Most of the needles had to be vacuumed up from the carpet. Those that did not get caught in presents found their way to comfy homes on the red skirt around the tree.

I still haven't sucked up all needle remnants from last year's tree. At least a hundred or so are still lodged along the track where the door slides. I'm too lazy to go look for the skinny suck-up hose attachment to take care of that. Maybe I'll go find it before we put up this year's tree. Maybe it's hiding in the same place where I put all the Christmas CD's.

On an outing to the woods last year, we picked out a hemlock (well, I picked it out) to add the necessary festive touch to our living room. We both knew when we selected the beautiful tree with its bluish green needles that it was a mistake. Bill knew better than to say anything, so we forged ahead on the plan to place the grand fir on the deck and the hemlock inside the house.

I guess you would call it the "hope" tree because I hoped that attractive, nicely shaped tree would defy all the odds of what I already knew about hemlocks. Their needles, though beautiful, are tenuous at best.

Once inside the house, this tree made no effort to defy the odds. It began shedding as soon as I had finished clipping and banding the string of ancient Christmas lights that had belonged to Bill's mother. Annie asked me last year why I didn't get some new lights for the tree.

After all, when 90 percent of the lights have no clips and have to be rubber-banded to the limbs, that may just be the first clue that new lights are in order.

And when the needles begin falling off the tree immediately after you've spent a stressful half hour banding on all those lights, that may be the second clue (besides a prior warning that hemlocks don't hold up inside the house) that the tree is gonna look fairly anorexic before Christ's birthday and will never hold up until the traditional "take down the tree" on New Year's Day.

The main reason the hemlock stayed in the house was that the other tree we picked was too tall, and, besides, it was already snowed in on the deck, set to stay there until spring which I think finally came in May this year.

Secondary to that is the fact that decorating the Christmas tree at our house tends to be one of the more stressful times of the year.

People leave---except for the decorator.

They leave because they know of the dangers that lie ahead if they happen to be within earshot of the decorator. The things that come out of her mouth when things go wrong with decorating would scare off the toughest of hard-core loggers.

And the decorator----once she's put stuff on the tree, that's how it's gonna remain. Main reason? The decorator has been a klutz at most everything dextrous she's ever attempted.

You shoulda seen how long it took her to make her hand do the Hawaiian "shaka" last week. Annie got lots of laughs and dished out lots of instruction, "No, put that finger down---just your thumb and your pinkie . . . wiggle them."

Well, I can do half a shaka now, still can't wiggle those two digits at the same time, so you can imagine how bad I am at trying to delicately decorate a tree, especially one where I know that even a hint of wind send most of the needles to the floor.

In a nutshell, when Bill and I go out on our nostalgic search for the perfect trees today (one for outside the house, one for inside) I resolve to firmly ignore any temptation of even looking at a hemlock. Hemlocks are best left in the forest.

He strongly suggests grand fir for both inside and out, and he seems to know where we can find them. As always, it will be an adventure, and, as always, once we bring the trees home, when he sees me start bringing the bags of decorations downstairs, he'll find something important to do down in the far corner of the woods.

Willie's here with us this year, and he hasn't heard or seen his mom's Christmas tree decorating wrath for several years, so it may take a while for him to decide it's time to go down to the school where it's safe.

I'll try two remedies to promote a stress-free decorating experience this year. First, will be the choice of tree; secondly, I'll go to town and purchase a new string of lights. Oh yeah, I think it will be wise to do some repair work on that angel which has stood atop Love family Christmas trees for three generations.

Her skirt kept separating from her top last year, and I'm sure that caused a few hemlock needles to hit the floor. Maybe I'll make her a duct tape waist band to take care of that problem.

Stay tuned. Now, where ARE those Christmas CD's?

Saturday Slight

Back in the Zags Zone this morning as we await the "Battle in Seattle" this afternoon with Gonzaga playing Davidson. That also means that I know where my friends Janet and Rick are today. And, Janet, I must tell you that the gal I met on our snorkeling boat who now lives in Sandpoint grew up in Packwood.

She said most people wouldn't know where Packwood is, but I told I'd been there and that my friends, Janet and Rick, lived there. She was impressed.

And, speaking of Zags, I sat with a player from the Seattle University Red Hawks basketball team yesterday. The whole team rode the plane; they're playing Eastern today.

When I told Willie, he asked if I talked to Cameron. Cameron is their coach, and, of course, Willie, the sports trivia aficionado, had lots to tell me about Cameron Dollar. He has followed him since he played for UCLA when the Bruins won the NCAA national championship.

Why don't I know these things WHEN I see these people rather than AFTER? I could have gotten his autograph for Willie.

I did talk to someone close to NCAA basketball fame. I visited briefly with John Brockman's brother. Brockman was the University of Washington's big-name player. His brother is a trainer for Seattle U and a very nice young man.

~~~~~
In the sports world, my mouth continues to hang wide open in stunned amazement with the continued lurid revelations about Tiger Wood. Over the years, I never really cared for Tiger until I saw his wholesome family portrait with a Border Collie.

Of course, as a BC lover, I thought that image softened the cold arrogance that I had always sensed in him. So, I started giving Tiger the benefit of the doubt.

Then, came the initial bomb shells. My mother and I discussed Tiger when those first revelations started to surface. We both agreed that he had spent a lifetime so focused and driven by his dad to reach the pinnacle of his sport that he probably missed out on basic training as a human being. In our discussions, we both felt a little sorry for him, figuring his void of common sense training had probably led him into his troubles.

As I learn more, however, my sympathy has turned to utter disgust---disgust for the world to which the privileged, gifted athletes and higher echelon figures from political/artistic, etc. circles in our society are welcomed.

So, that's what you get when you're on top of the world---a Sodom and Gomorrah-oriented existence, and the higher your standing, the more protected you are from the rest of society knowing you've entered "the realm" of forbidden fruit.

After all, image is everything when you get to that level.

Then, when your image is shattered, like Tiger's, some public relations guru gets to come in and repair the damage, or, as I saw last night on "Dateline," maybe Oprah will give you that one important, carefully orchestrated interview, so you can start building yourself up again by arousing people's sympathy for your situation.

Is there something really superficial and totally phony here, or has my naivete gotten the best of me?

Somehow, the Tiger story and those like it seem to me to be perverted and distorted images of success. If that's success, I'll take my own simple, mediocre existence. Seems a lot less complicated and much happier, thank you.

And, the more I observe of those who've reached the top, I'm more than satisfied to have never come close to living what Madison Avenue and the media always portray to us as "the good life." I also seriously question the people chosen as role models for the rest of us "lesser souls" to emulate.

It's a complex issue which certainly inspires an endless array of commentary on life and how to live it.

And, while I'm at it, I'll send readers over to (http://riverjournal.com/vivvo/editorial/lovenotes_mikegunter_love_122009.html), where you can read my latest column "Love Notes, which features a genuine role model. His name is Mike Gunter, and I've followed his life ever since I first met him during my student-teaching experience in 1969.

Mike has never shattered my positive images; he has only added to them through his adult life as a husband, father, grandfather, businessman, cancer survivor, humanitarian and fellow horse lover. The Mike Gunter's of the world churn out endless good examples.

~~~~~~~

On this Saturday morning, iit's great to be back home. We've got the big game today, and I've got a lot of stuff to do to get ready for Christmas. A trip to the store to replenish the baking supplies and a request to Bill to go find us a Christmas tree top the list of "to do's" today.

I understand we'll have snow this afternoon right about game time. The Christmas music will come out this weekend. And, we're on that wind-down to the shortest day of the year.

Lots of fun things to look forward to. This is what a trip to Maui will do for a country hick from North Idaho.

And, one more thing: my Maui buddy Annie has some of her work featured on the Northwest cover page of the Spokesman-Review. There's a lady in Spokane who's offering a course on how to geocache. The photo of her includes an array of items, including the book Geocaching for Idiots. Annie snapped the cover photo of that book.

~~~~~~~

Happy Saturday to all. GO ZAGS!

Back to flannels

Just walked a couple of blocks here in Wallingford to the Chevron convenience store for some coffee, and I'm missing my flannel jeans. The cold pierced my legs as if I were wearing bare skin. I am wearing jeans for the first time in a week, but those flannel-lined pants are gonna feel mighty good.

Annie will drop me off at the airport in a while and will re-enter her normal zone at work. I'll be fully back to reality by mid-afternoon. It will feel great to get back and get reacquainted with the doggies, kitties, horses and Bill and Willie. I had a wonderful time, but there's also no place like home.

Getting re-acclimated to routine after a week is always tough----to read all the mail, scan the newspapers, put away the trip clothes, throw stuff in the wash, pull out the souvenirs, hide the Christmas presents. There's a certain amount of weariness because the first moments at home make one feel like a kid in a candy store---all sorts of curiosities and all sorts of choices to make about what to do first.

By tomorrow, however, life will seem really normal again. A list of "must-get-this-done-for-Christmas" will put my mind on a completely different track----decorating, finishing the annual letter, signing the cards and stuffing them back in envelopes, and the baking. Lots to do, and this year I'll be doing it with a new zest.

A mind fully engaged in new sights, sounds and experiences has me refreshed and ready to take on the challenges and the wonderful moments of the season ahead. Heck, I may even stick a Christmas CD on in the car for my trip home from Spokane, providing the car starts. I've been kinda wondering how it's feeling after sitting idle for eight days out in that cold parking lot.

Fingers crossed that it fires up when I turn the key.

I'll drive home smiling about the experience I shared with Annie. When ya go with Annie, you take in everything possible. She's a wonderful trip guide because, like her dad, she studies these things thoroughly. She knows the significance, and she knows where the good travel treats happen to be. We stuff a lot of sight-seeing and activities into our week in Maui, and we both agree that we'll have to return some day.

For now, another return is on my mind, and it's always a good one: home, the cold and those warm flannel jeans.

To Maui and Annie: until next time, Aloha, Shaka and Mahalo!

A day of snorkeling

Cousins got together for a boat cruise and snorkeling at a coral reef visible from Maui.

Ed and Mary Skelton from Pasco, Wash., Mom Love from Sandpoint, Annie Love from Seattle and Sue Skelton from Sammamish, Wash.

We enjoyed every aspect of the cruise---the food, the views, the sightings of dolphins, whales, turtles and pretty fish, meeting people, snorkeling and the crew itself.

Great way to spend our last day here.

Update: We're packing up and getting ready to head off to the Maui airport this morning. Will have a three-hour layover in Honolulu and then on to Seattle.

I'll be back in Sandpoint sometime tomorrow afternoon.

Nice to see it's warming up a bit, but I don't mind the cold.

It's just been a nice week enjoying the sun in the midst of winter---and, I've thoroughly enjoyed all the new and different experiences.

Good bye, Maui. You've been good to us.

Check out Annie's latest photos at www.flickr.com/photos/nnlove/

Heading out to snorkel.

On our boat trip, we saw whales, dolphins and sea turtles. Did I get any pictures?

No.

Snuba divers getting basic instruction. Annie on lower left; cousin Ed in the middle, top row.

Snuba is halfway between snorkeling and scuba.

My cousin Sue and me

Molokini Crater where we went snorkeling.

I thought these sisters were twins.

They are not.

Later, I found out one lives in Sandpoint, and I think she's the one on the left: Gail Wright

Annie, hanging loose underwater