THE DUST WILL WAIT

Aunt Delores will be 92 this year. She doesn't seem old at all.  I stopped to see her this weekend and she shared a story from 1938 when she and my mama's youngest brother were sweethearts. Delores and Bill loved to sing and, along with other family, were members of a choir at a considerably large Seattle church.  When the choir raised money for a private cruise up to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, there were no objections for lack of chaperones and they looked forward to a romantic trip. She didn't remember why, but the ship acquired for the trip was an old wooden sub-chaser. It must have been decommissioned and purchased by the private company.    Although the trip today can be made in several hours in one of the modern fast speed ferries, back then it was a much longer voyage.  It became very apparent when they set sail that the small warship, already a bucking bronco, was not equipped to be graceful in the stormy swells and would reek rev...

Curlymop is so pleased to be a big sister.  Her baby brother, Squeak, was born on June 8, 2012 weighing 8 pounds 13 ounces. He gave us a big scare when he entered the world -  breathing problems.  Fortunately, he was in a hospital that had a superb medical staff that figured out the problem. Within 16 hours he was back in his mother's arms. Because of that early complication he has seen his pediatrician twice since birth.  On day four they noted that he weighed almost 9 pounds.  Then on day ten he had grown to 10 pounds 8 ounces.  Newborns rarely sustain their birth weight the first week, and often lose weight.    I've accused his "mama" (my daughter) of being  a Jersey Girl.  If you know anything about butter fat, you'll know I'm not referring to any of those reality shows.  We are all very happy.       

Last year I posted a photo at the first of each month of these three grandchildren that are growing up in our valley.  I'm sorry I haven't remained so faithful. But, on this first day of June the hot summer sun came out to invite them to run and laugh and to beg grandpa and grandma to turn on the sprinkler.   The camera came out, too. Murrieta 365 hosted the 1st of the Month Meme.

The Saturday before Mother's Day we stayed busy so it wasn't until late in the afternoon that we walked to the front door. "What's that?" pointed my husband. We rushed over there to find a long rectangular box with a familiar trademark and the logo of Hermes, a Greek god. "FLOWERS!" I cried. After grabbing the box right out of my husband's hands I rushed into the house.  Of course I knew they were for me. Together we opened it and then looked at each other with certain chagrin.  All the flowers were wilted and stressed. The rose buds hung loosely and their petals were brown edged with burns. It was a hot day. We had been in the mountains for half of it.  Our front door faces west and gets a nice round of sun for part of the afternoon.  Certainly they had been delivered and left on the concrete for much of that time. My husband prepared the flowers; clipped off the ends and arranged them in the enclosed beautiful glass vase.  I added the...

But, I'm back. I think. In fact today it is Mother's Day and I was thinking about my mom.  She would make gingerbread as a special treat and then take the thick cream from our old Guernsey cow and whip it into ambrosia.  Well, it was to me.  Whipped cream with lots of sugar and real vanilla that she purchased from a traveling salesman, The Raleigh Man.  (I admit for many years I thought he WAS The Rolly Man.  The Rolly Polly Man, because he was quite rotund!  Kids.) Awww... memories. If you never had fresh hot gingerbread, and cold sweet whipped cream, then you've missed out. I closed my blog for awhile and I'm just going to refer you to a post from my daughter Karmyn that will answer questions ... if you have any. ps.  while I was "gone" Blogger changed EVERYTHING.  I'm not even sure I know how to post anymore.  

I've heard the voice of this little wren in the bushes around my patio  -- echoing through my back yard as if through a megaphone.  So much volume coming out of this little feathered bit of avian life. Today it actually perched in the top of the pine that grows in our neighbors yard and hangs its branches over into the corner of our back yard.  As it declared its territory I dare not infringe -  instead I stayed on my side of the yard and used the digital zoom to captured its aria of spring. I was hoping another Bewick would respond.  Perhaps now would be a good time to find a wren box and place it in a safe nesting spot.

A quick trip to Portland, OR and then headed home.  We travel east on I-84 and pass through the Cascade Mountains via the Columbia River Gorge.  Our trip takes four hours or more depending on how often we stop.  Once we passed through the mountains and could see the weather to the east I was infatuated by the storm and snapped a few photos through the windshield.  For two hours we chased and occasionally crossed paths with small squalls that lagged behind.  We caught up with the main cloud formation at dusk in the valley we call home.  As always I wonder why I didn't take the time to pull over and make an artistic attempt to focus.  As beautiful as this storm presented, it reminded me that there are many who have been dealing with some very frightening weather in their own valleys.  My hearts go out to them.