A Day is a Thousand Years and a Thousand Years is but a Day.....

This is Cooper with our neighbor Bob.  Bob is a man of infinite patience.  If you only had any idea how much Cooper is filling him in on the story of his life up to the age of 3 1/2!  Cooper loves Bob.  Loves him.  And Bob is going to be 90 years old on Thursday.  Unfortunately, I am still on vacation so Cooper won't be around this week to wish Bob a Happy Birthday.  And he'll miss Garbage Day, which is also Thursday.  Sometimes Life just isn't fair.

I spent a day doing touch-up painting on the white woodwork in the house and tomorrow I plan on caulking the shower stall.  Then I think I'll be done with inside home improvements.  I need to do a final weeding before the cold weather hits so I think I'll do that on Friday.  I'm on vacation but I don't know the meaning of sitting still.  I seem to have lost the ability to sit around and do nothing.  And of sleeping in.  But getting up early seems to make a day last longer to me.  Which is funny, considering there are 24 hours in a day regardless of whatever time you decide to get up or an alarm of some sort beckons you.  But I love that feeling of getting up early and knowing I have a whole day ahead of me to enjoy.  Once the sun goes down...well, it's bedtime.  I've been geared this way for so long the only time I can sleep in is when I'm sick, and since I don't like that to happen very often I'm usually up before the birds.

I have never experienced the full four seasons before moving back to Michigan.  Not to say that Oregon doesn't have them, too, but here in the midwest they're each so distinct.  This is the beginnings of my first Autumn here and if what we're having now is just the foretaste I can't imagine what it's going to look like in the next month.  Yesterday Dear Hubby and I were taking a drive and the landscape we were passing by was so beautiful.  Not the riotous colors of brilliant leaves and foliage yet, but the different hues of greens, golds, russets, scarlets, and browns of the earth and the fields.  It was kind of misty across the fields as evening approached, and the old farms and barns in the distance were blurred and softened by the fading light and shadows.  Cows and horses grazed, as well as sheep.  It had been raining hard when we set out but the rains had let up as we headed for home and patches of blue were opening up between the high, billowy clouds.  So peaceful.  I told Dear Hubby you truly do feel as if harvest time is here...you can feel the earth kind of letting out a deep sigh and settling in for a long rest, tucking its covers in and hunkering down to sleep thru the cold of winter.  The life and seasonal cycles keep on; the clock never stops ticking.

Dear Hubby and I took another drive not too long ago.  Further from home.  And we ended up lost down in a holler set back in the mountains.  Very lost.  So I told him to stop when he spotted a person and I'd get out and ask for directions.  We came across a woman in her yard outside of a log-style home set close to a river and as I climbed out of the truck she squinted cautiously at me as I crossed the deserted road, flapping a piece of paper at her.  "I need directions!" I told her.  "We're not from around here and we're very lost."  She let me approach and as I got closer to her she looked like one of those mountain women I've only seen in pictures up until now.  Weathered skin, not an ounce of fat on her.  But beautiful in her own way...you could see the life she'd led etched into the deep creases on her face and around her eyes.  "Whereabouts you coming from?" she asked me.  And when I told her we'd recently moved to the midwest from Portland, Oregon, she looked at me like I'd told her we'd just landed from Mars.  But as I told her where we needed to go she was so gracious and kind and kept calling me "Honey".  She got us pointed in the right direction and wished us well.  It almost made me wish we hadn't needed to leave, that we could have sat with her by the river the rest of the afternoon and listened to stories about her life.  Something tells me she would've been just as fascinated to hear stories about ours as well.

We love taking our meandering drives and seeing what an interesting country America is.  In the past most of my trips outside of Oregon were done in the air.  I'd never really seen or experienced this country of ours firsthand, up close and personal, on ground level.  As we go here and there we're amazed how much diversity and variety there is in the landscape and the people, even if all we travel is a hundred miles or so from home.  And having the privilege to have Canada so close by now, and being able to discover it and our wonderful neighbors there.  I would've never dreamt a year ago I'd be where I am and experiencing what I am now.  It truly does feel like Dear Hubby and I are in some kind of a dream fugue state.

We went on another drive not too long ago, heading out early and driving to a farm town in the middle of nowhere.  We decided to stop for breakfast at a little restaurant on the main street and we were the only patrons there who weren't farmers.  So we sat and ate our breakfast and listened in to conversations and thoroughly enjoyed our morning in Small Town America.  A town where everyone seemed to know everyone else and denim overalls and caps on their heads were the uniform of the day.   There's a feeling here in the midwest I can't quite put my finger on but it's a good feeling.  I feel safe here, enveloped in the America of my childhood.

I know, you're thinking I've lost my marbles.  That I'm living in a fantasy world of some sort.  That my bubble will burst and I'll be horribly disappointed one of these days.  But I got an email from my younger brother the other day and he said, "You know, when you first moved back there I thought the way you felt about the midwest was too good to be true.  But you really do love it back there, don't you?"

Yes, baby brother.  I do.

They say genes skip generations. Maybe that's why grandparents find their grandchildren so likeable. ~ Joan McIntosh

Dylan and Dear Hubby went on Dylan's first camping trip ever this weekend. This is mine and Dear Hubby's "Hill" outside of the town of Madras in Central Oregon. He and I have been camping out there forever and we rarely ever see any humans. Only deer, antelope, coyotes, and free range cattle meander by...and occasional jackrabbits. Dear Hubby tells me rattlesnakes are around there, too, but I've yet to spot any. Dylan makes the third generation to camp on 'our' hill.

Darling Dylan, just chill-laxing.

A full time job...scooping and flinging dry cow patties!

I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck. ~ Emma Goldman

I planted some of these in my flowerbeds along the west side of the house this weekend. Icelandic poppies in bright orange and yellow. Between the lavender bushes just coming on to vibrant purple bloom, the huge dwarf fuchsia, delicate lilies, and the scarlet sage...well, to say it's rather colorful is putting it mildly! I'd had some columbine and Jupiter's Beard planted in the area where I put the poppies but I noticed they were looking pretty bleached-out and forlorn...time to give the soil a huge dose of steer poop and some new color! That's what I love about flower gardening...you get tired of something, you rip it up and start fresh. I also put out poles for the green beans to start twining up...they're looking especially green and healthy. The tomato plants have tons of blossoms and itty-bitty tomatoes growing on them. The zucchini and cucumber plants are bushing out and looking good, too. Can't wait 'til I can start harvesting fresh veggies!!

There is something so satisfying about gardening. It was something I never appreciated until I was well in to my 30s. As a kid, any yard work we did was enforced labor dictated by our dad. It usually took place on one day each summer...usually the hottest day...when he'd go outside armed with a shovel and start digging plants and weeds and tossing them every which way. My brothers and I would pile it all on to the wheelbarrow, where it would eventually end up unceremoniously dumped in a corner of the back yard. Then, it was left up to Mother Nature as to what she could reclaim from his horticultural assault! But in my 30s, when my beloved Aunt Gin was diagnosed with colon cancer in her later 70s, I began cleaning her home once a week. When the summer months came on she asked me if I'd help tend the garden and her yard which were absolutely beautiful. I told her I didn't know much but if she'd guide me I'd do what I could. So spending time in the yard also became a part of my weekly routine. I don't think a bug of any type ever dared to enter her yard. Her roses were gorgeous...her vegetables to die for. She was always so generous in sharing all of her bounty. And as she instructed me I learned to love it, too. But in those years we were renters...Dear Hubby mowed the grass and that was the extent of our yard work. Then the opportunity came up to begin buying the house. But darling Aunt Gin had passed away. We mowed for a few more years. And then I was contacted by a family in my church to see if I'd be willing to help their elderly mother a few days a week, a 96-year-old lady who was still able to live independently but who needed help with housework and shopping and going to the hairdresser's. I agreed to it and spent the next 2 1/2 years being a companion to one of the most delightful human beings I've ever had the privilege to know. And the first summer with her she asked if I'd be willing to plant her flower boxes and help care for a couple of hanging fuchsias she had on her front porch. Again, I told her I didn't know much about gardening but she just pooh-pooh'ed me and told me, "It's easy!" And she proceeded to pass on her knowledge to me.

I started in on our yard. Our house was built in 1912 and in the many years it had been a rental it had been sorely neglected, allowed to grow weeds and grass back to the foundation. A couple of ugly evergreen shrubs were the only decoration out front. Oh, how I could kick myself for not taking Before-and-After photos, and photos of progress thru the years!! It took a couple of years just to dig out all the flowerbeds I wanted. The soil was so poor and nutrient-starved it took multiple bags of steer poop and mulch to build it up where it could support any life. And at first I planted annuals, only to realize it was money wasted every year. So I began planting perennials, especially more old-fashioned perennials to fit in with the age of our Craftsman bungalow. And now, these many years later, it's lovely. It's peaceful. A haven for birds and bumblebees. Wind chimes tinkle. Birds bathe in the bird bath. If you sit out on the back porch it's private and quiet with only the sound of the wind whispering thru the huge trees that border our back yard.

It's been hard work. Back-breaking work.

But it's been a labor of love.

Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume. ~ Jean de Boufflers

It's been one of those weeks:

Dylan and his mama left for Atlanta at 11 PM on Monday.

He was invited to come on to the jet

by the flight attendant

on their stopover.

Toured the cockpit.

Seventh heaven for my little gear-head grandson.

Tuesday, Cooper arrived,

totally lost without his brother.

We walked to the library.

Wednesday, it rained.

But we walked to the bakery

for

blueberry muffins.

Thursday, Coopy and I took a bus ride in to downtown Portland.

We went to the park by the court house.

Fed the pigeons bread we'd brought along.

Took the bus home.

His first bus ride.

He was enthralled.

Friday, we took the bus to go shopping.

Walked to the store.

Walked back to the bus stop.

Took the bus to Clackamas Mall.

Took the bus home.

He could've ridden forever.

In the midst of it all, several phone calls from Dylan.

Who was terribly homesick.

But having a blast.

Allergic to cats, we found out.

And his mama's friend,

who they'd gone to visit,

had several.

And Dear Hubby.

Gone on vacation all week to Idaho.

Bear hunting.

Got a bear.

A BIG bear.

And yesterday...drove up to my hometown

with my son and Cooper.

My son had never been there before.

We were going to walk thru the town so I could show him

my childhood.

Saw the house I grew up in.

Went to the lake on the outskirts of town.

Cooper loved the water.

The waterfall dam.

The fish we saw caught.

We drove in to town to have lunch.

Just as the food arrived

my son's cell phone rang.

My daughter on the phone.

"Mom, we've sprung a leak in the basement!"

I am 150 miles from home.

Water gushed every where.

The neighbor had a valve key and was able to turn the water off.

So much for the trip down Memory Lane.

We drove home.

I tried to be Red Green and patch the pipe

with duct tape.

Didn't work.

Called a 24-hour-emergency plumber.

Thankfully,

he was able to come.

Patched the pipe.

We are $385 poorer.

Overtime holiday rates, don'tcha know.

And today,

daughter-in-law and Dylan arrived home safely.

They were all just here.

I got

a Florida key chain.

An alligator magnet.

A lighthouse magnet.

Auntie got a lighthouse snow globe.

Papa got two coffee mugs.

One says:

"I'm a little bit crabby"

with a crab on it.

All picked out by Dylan.

And tomorrow?

Grocery shopping.

Learning is a treasure that will follow its owner everywhere. ~ Chinese Proverb

Guess what we had for dinner!
And guess who cooked it!
The grandboys!
Dylan, aged 4, browned up the turkey meat and added the spices.
Cooper, aged 2, helped stir.
Both added all of the kidney beans.
They stirred it up well.
We put a lid on it.
It simmered on the back of the stove.
Delicious!

Sweet childish days, that were as long as twenty days are now. ~ William Wordsworth

It won't be long, little boys.

The back yard will become your paradise.

The Mason Bees will become your friends.

The porch's wind chimes will become

the music you play by.

The holly and snowball and laurel will shade you

from the sun.

And you'll be free

to be.

Spring

Spring blossoms float.
They waft lazily on the breeze,
shimmery in the sun fog

on our cool-morning walk.

You see them.

You say,

"Snowflakes, Grandma!"

and you lift up your arms

with your face turned up to the sky,

twirling in circles.

The flakes kiss your eyes.

Your delighted laughter

bubbles out.

And I stop

and I smile

and hold this moment

close

in my heart.

The fire is the main comfort of the camp... -- Henry David Thoreau

(I got this amazing photo here)

My Dear Hubby is an amazingly intuitive man. He has a keen sense of knowing when I'm reaching the end of my rope and am in need of some 'me' time. Or at least some 'down' time. Where no one can reach me. No one can interrupt me. I'm left alone to enjoy a day in peace and quiet. Sometimes those days are ones where I'm left at home alone...but those are so rare I hardly even know what that feels like any more. So when he suggested we take a drive up into the Mt. Hood National Forest and go for a campfire/picnic yesterday, I was all for it.

We left at 6 am and traveled up the Columbia River Gorge highway, heading east to The Dalles. We watched the sun come up as we drove along. Hardly another vehicle on the highway. Once we got east of Hood River the Columbia was as smooth as glass...the play of Nature's lights did tricks on the mind and the eyes. You couldn't tell where the shoreline began and everything shimmered in subtle shades of mauve and lavender. I saw a couple of pelicans, sea birds I've never spotted before so far upriver - about 160 miles from the ocean - floating peacefully in a sheltered cove. As we reached The Dalles and headed south into north central Oregon, the rolling hills of fruit orchards, the contrast of green grass and bleached-out stubble from winter grass and grain crops, the dips and swoops of the highway as it meandered thru the landscape, began to ease the stress in my shoulders. I could feel myself begin to relax. I knew I'd been stressed and tired...but until that moment I hadn't realized how much.

We turned off on to a gravel road. One of probably thousands I've traveled on thru the woods and desert with Dear Hubby the past 36 years. We saw deer run across the road. We saw a Canada goose perched on a rock outcropping...probably protecting a nest. Hawks glided lazily above. We eventually found the spot we'd had a similar campfire/picnic at several years ago and set up our day camp. We got a big, warm campfire started. I sat down to read and keep the fire burning, and Dear Hubby took off with his longbow for a 'walkabout'.

It was a little cool at first but as the sun began to creep steadily higher and shone down on me thru the pine and fir branches, I took off my coat and soaked in the warm rays. I got lost in my book, listened to a woodpecker high in a tree overhead tap-tapping for his breakfast. And before I knew it, Dear Hubby was back. We started a big pot of coffee on the Coleman stove. We roasted hotdogs on the fire. We had a lovely feast.

Another walkabout. A book finished, another started. Time to pack up and go home. Another beautiful drive down the Columbia, back to Portland and reality.

As we sat in the living room last nite Dear Hubby told me, "I've taken a lot of trips and done a lot of things with different friends thru the years but I've never enjoyed any of them as much as I enjoy spending a day like today with you."

The first day of Spring.

Love still blooms.

Hey, babe...take a walk on the wild side....

I'm waiting for the day someone stops me on the street or in the aisle of the grocery store as I'm struggling to maneuver my double stroller around too-sharp corners and asks, "Hey, are you that MissKris the blogger who's always out walking her grandsons?" So far, that fame has eluded me. But today as I came in thru the doors at the library loaded down with my two grandsons and about $70 worth of stuff I'd bought at Walmart crammed in to the basket area underneath I heard a voice say, "Well, hi there!" and I looked over to see a smiling young man grinning at me from ear to ear. I didn't know him from Adam. But he sure seemed to know me so I smiled and said, "Hello!" back. "Boy, you sure do get around!" he told me, and then I realized it was Story Time this morning and he was obviously there with one -- two? three? - of the little ones for that. He was a dad. And where he's ever spotted me walking around the area I don't know but he sure seemed to feel like he knew me! This is not the only time I've had this happen. A while back I had a lady lean out of her van window and yell at me, "I see you walking everywhere!" And of course all the library and store workers know who we are. And of course the fire fighters at the local fire station call us their 'regulars' whenever they have any new guy on board.

Yup, it's that time of year again.

After being stuck inside since around Halloween, I would say, because of inclement weather, colds, flu...whatever...it is almost Spring!!!!!

Which means the grandboys and I are back with a vengeance.

Yessssssssssssss!

Livin' life in Looney Land...

Someday my grandson Dylan will shoot me for posting this photo. But he decked himself out with his Pull-Ups the other day...it was his super hero getup for the day. His auntie snapped this before she left for work. He didn't want to stand still so it's blurry...but this is how our days go...