Saturday Slight

Not a complaint to be uttered this morning.  It's a glorious late spring Saturday.  The day ahead will only get better.

We'll spend part of it at a friend's home on beautiful Lake Pend Oreille at Hope, enjoying some visiting with the Women of Wisdom for this year.  

In a little while,  Debbie and I will go to town and pick up Myrt Burnett and her daughter Delores.

We'll take them to Panhandle State Bank where a special surprise awaits the Women of Wisdom.  That's where they'll probably get their first real taste of feeling like queens.

Then, will come lunch and lots of questions and getting acquainted.  I'm sure it will be a fun time had by all, for sure.

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L'attitude:  that's the name of Annie's team of seven who are competing in this weekend's Wild Canyon Games in Antelope, Ore. Seems to be a nice fit for a bunch of GPS junkies.

I was able to visit with Annie briefly yesterday morning as she was on her way to work where she and some of the Groundspeak group would get ready to head off on a 7-8 hour trip to their competition.

It will seem strange not to know every detail via Facebook virtually the instant it happens.  Funny how we have gotten used to that option of daily living so quickly.  

I guess Annie's adventure and its two-day news blackout will serve as a reminder of the good ol' days when we read stuff in the newspaper a day or so after it happened.  

Anyway, I'd love to be a fly on the wall watching some of the action with all those extreme athletes.

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As I look back on the big news headlines from the Lovestead this week---pyrex pan explosions, purple cows, etc., I've neglected to tell one lovely little story about a squatter I found a few days ago.

Earlier this week, our fields had a couple of days to almost dry up.  On this particular day, I was wearing my barn boots, and it was time for the dogs to take a run.

So, we headed for the hay field, which we've typically avoided because of the tall, wet grass.  I felt protected enough with my boots to head on through the field.  So, I walked to the Lodgepole pasture.

While dogs were racing around having a good time, I stepped up to the Lodgepole Log box, which Bill constructed out there a few years ago. 

It stands on a post, and it's got a door on the front with a latch.  There's a knothole in the door.

Inside, a plastic bag protects the two log books and other contents Lodgepole Society inductees have left.  Our last inductee was Regan Dolsby, who visited about three weeks ago, so that was the last time the box was opened.

As I stepped closer to the structure, something gave me the sense that something was different.  So, I unlatched the door.  The very instant I removed it from its place, a bird flew out so fast I didn't even get a chance to see its species. 

Then, I looked inside.  Nestled within the box and surrounded by the protective plastic bag was a little nest with five white eggs (red spots).  

Taking care not to touch anything, I immediately put the door back on the box and latched it.  

The walk back to the house was more upbeat that usual, as I smiled, thinking about our special little place where, if all goes well, life will begin and a family will be formed.

The mama picked a good place, causing us a problem if anyone comes along to get inducted into our fun little society.   The whole scenario, though,  makes that sacred setting all the more special.

I just wish I knew how to get all that family to sign the log and go through the induction ceremony before they all fly off.  In the meantime, I hope all goes well with Mama Bird's plans. 

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Guess that's enough for this beautiful day.  Gotta go spiff up the car a bit for our little chauffeuring gig.  Happy Saturday.