All in a Day . . . .

Phoebe took on a daunting responsibility for a teenager.  While serving as a housekeeper for Gen. Washington, she also eavesdropped, listening for specific information. 

A bodyguard for the general whose name began with “T” was plotting to harm George Washington.  Phoebe was to report to her father the minute she heard any information about this man.

I don’t know what happened, but I’m assuming Phoebe fulfilled her mission.  History tells us Gen. Washington successfully led the Patriots to American Independence and lived on to become the first President of the United States.

I did not learn firsthand the rest of the story because of running over on the time I was supposed to spend with a student reading aloud to me about Phoebe.

My sister had to come and retrieve this young man for the next segment of class, so I left Farmin School and went on to the next item on my agenda. 
That was a visit with my mother, who was thrilled to see the photos from our Tuesday fall-colors drive.  She was especially proud of the one she took.

We visited for a while, and I headed home to do some outdoor work.  
I'd cleaned out the sweet pea and petunia bed south of the house.  Now it was time to take on Love Canal and all those dead lupine.  
A few days before my sister had commented on their "beauty?" She remembered the day she stood near the lupine patch in June, taking pictures when it presented a spectacular burst of color.

For weeks, I'd looked toward Love Canal, thinking about removing the hundreds of dead, black stems lining the area which had transformed from breath-taking beauty to total ugliness.

It took a couple of hours to chop them down, rake them into piles and then move the piles to the woods. 

All the while, as I worked away at the project, dogs surrounded me, taking a relaxing breather from their usual duties of racing around the place, keeping track of squirrels and horses.  

Seemed the harder I worked, the more relaxed they became sprawled out on the green lawn, never missing a move I made.  

One time they all decided it was time for some love, so one by one, they rose from the ground and came to snuggle and to hear the ever-welcome words, "Yes, you're a good doggie."  

One Border Collie wants some love at our place, and three more wait in line for their personal dose.  That's how it goes.

I finished the lupine project, went in for a minute to watch the news and got grossed out by all the blood involved in yesterday's accounts of the Libyan dictator's demise.  I'd use his name but still haven't figured out how to spell it.  I don't think it matters now.

Having seen enough gore, I headed back outside toward the shop and the rototiller.  Now in the past, I've written a few blog postings about my temperamental rototiller, but today I have nothing but praise.  

The only off-the-wall incident during yesterday's interaction with the machine was having to pour gas in the carburetor.  I learned to do that first thing after past failed attempts and more than enough effort pulling that cord to get the thing started.

The stars must have been lined up in the rototiller Heavens yesterday cuz the thing started right off, kept going and allowed me to work up my enlarged garden spot to my heart's content.

I was downright giddy while going up and down and around and then down and up and around some more.  A few large rocks brought in with the new dirt from the manure pile caused a some hiccups along the way, but minor ones at that.

It was a good day yesterday, accomplishing some notable goals. 

And, I forgot to mention another nice aspect of yesterday's memories:  a parcel that arrived in the mail.

Chris Pietsch is an award-winning photojournalist in Oregon.   He likes to say that he got his start mopping the darkroom floor at Sandpoint High School.  

He also took pictures for Bill and my wedding more than 37 years ago.  

Chris found a bunch of those pictures, along with some others, among his collection and decided to send me a batch.

They're priceless, to say the least, especially the series of black-and-white 8 by 10s of my dad "rolling his own."  

After opening that parcel and seeing those photos, I'm reminded once more how valuable cameras are in recording our special moments. 

I'm also reminded that in 1974 everyone in our family had hair, and their hair had color.  

Thanks so much to Chris for adding a few more visual pieces to our unique family story. 

And, with that, I guess I'll shut up about yesterday's memories and go start some for today.

Happy Friday.  

June 15, 1974 at St. Joseph's Catholic Church in Sandpoint.