Snow Please

You came early in November
And we shooed you away
Quite angrily
It's too early
For you to arrive
We're not ready
For you to come
And so you left us
And took the rain with you too.
And we thanked you
For the rest of November
Now it's the middle of December
And you haven't shown us
That you are even near.
We really wanted you this month
As we do every year
But now I am afraid
Your feeling are hurt.  
So please come back
And share a white Christmas
And stay for the winter too.

Especially at Christmas

Especially at Christmas,

I like to eat cookies.

So much sugar

And chocolate

And jam

And nutmeg

And spice

All tastes

Which give me delight.

Be it crunchy

Or soft

Or chewy

Or crumbly

It matters not much

To me.

I think I will make more

Right now.

Our Little Tree

We walked into the forest on a December day without snow, two years ago now and found just what we wanted, only a few feet from each other; our perfect Christmas trees.  Better even, for having been found in the woods on a cold winter's day.  The trek back with those trees, having pushed farther up the mountain than planned, was not easy.  Just as we reached the truck, tired and cold, the snow started to fall and we smiled in the delight of our day.

Back at home we put the tree in its stand and Tom carefully wrapped lights around and around.  They were little white ones to which were added many red bows.  Then the tree was finished with ornaments and placed in front of the window where it stood quite proudly.  During the next days it drank and drank and I thought that was a sign, of a tree that would stay quite lovely.  Family was coming for Christmas and I wanted everything to be just right.  And it was, until the tree lost a needle and then more.  I called my dad wondering what I should do and he shook his head (I didn't actually see it, but I knew) and said don't overreact that all trees lose needles.  No, no I replied, this one is losing a lot.  No sympathy there, so I told Tom and my mom and I think my sisters too and no help I found.

Then the day before Christmas Eve, I brushed against it perhaps, a little too hard and all of a sudden I heard quite a rustle and not one, not two, but all of the needles released from the tree.  Only minutes later my parents arrived and saw a quite bare tree with a skirt of green needles below.  Except for feeling quite vindicated about my lack of exaggeration, there was not much to do but laugh at the sight and shrug at the thought of starting over again.

My mom, knowing just what was needed, began to take off all the white lights wound so tightly around and then the bows and ornaments too.  Meanwhile, my dad and I went into town, for we wanted a Christmas tree, but all that were left, were the saddest and woeful of all.  Perseverance, however, is a trait of my dad and we trekked and we trudged through the streets (okay, we drove in his new shiny Subaru).  Finally we found a tree that we agreed would not only do, but was just right.  So home came tree number two.  It was put in the stand, with lights wrapped around and bows and ornaments too.  And it stood quite proudly, as the other one had.

All of that is to say that some of the joys of Christmas that year came not from my preconceived notions of how things should go, but embracing what is and through that finding laughter and cheer.

So Very

I am
so very
thankful.

Apologies Friends

Apologies friends but I really have
Been feeling quite under the weather
I shake and I quake and you should have
Seen when an actual quake shook
How I shivered.
We are still wondering what's happening to me.

And as my body has decided to do less of what it is told
It has taken some of the things away from me
And I began over these weeks to miss all that I like
Wandering in the garden
Driving into town
Coffee with friends
Walking the dogs
Reading a book
Baking a cake
Hanging out with my Tom
And so many things that I treasure each day.

But the funny thing is in the box way I'm living
I'm finding more of the things I that I love
My Tom who is tender
My family who cares
The touch of a friend
The outreach of neighbors
The thoughts of others
Time spent in prayer
And the comfort that love, friendship and God
All bring.
And I'm not missing much the things that I like
But loving more what has come with the box.

Now I'd like to get back to the things that I like
But also be better at finding the box's
That others find themselves in too.

And I hope that this
Is all okay to say
Because I am feeling rather
tired and teary this morning.

Frogs

I used to like to catch them up at Ponderosa Lodge.
Tree frogs we called them; they hung out by the pool.
I would poke holes through lids from leftover
cottage cheese or liver containers and set them in
with a bit of nature to make them feel at home.

Happy with my finds I would go to sleep at night,
but soon the little amphibians, hardly one inch long,
would start their evening croaks.  So loud,
they were, that my parents would be wakened and,
by morning, they had always been freed.
Just as well, I think since the joy was in the catching.

I had not seen one in so long, and wondered,
like the small snakes I used to pick up and let
wind around my fingers, if I could no longer see them
having grown now, long ago out of childhood
or, if perhaps, they were no longer there.

So it warms my heart to have them both here.
For I will freely admit there is something about them
that I quite like, a softness because they remind me
of youth and of nature.  So, the frogs, at least,
I gently cup in my hand from the sides of our hot tub
and send them on their way.  Fearing only of a gentle smush should I accidentally sit upon one.

Journeys

I have begun to think of other days, other journeys.
It is strange what the memory holds back
and what it brings forth.
I thought so much was gone,
melded together
like remnants from a fire.

Yet, as I sift and sort through them, more returns,
of certificates and ceremony,
of promises made and lack of belief,
of traffic, vans, dirt roads and heat,
of hot tin roofs and tiny shacks,
of friendships sad and sweet,
of making home where ever you are,
of women's work, never done,
of children, song and laughter.

Memories,
so faded,
yet brought together,
impact now my thoughts and actions.

The Pens

I am thinking that I will leave my thoughts on Liberia, until after the presidential election results are announced on October 26.


He wanted the pens
Oh so very much
I told him I would give them to him
At the end.

They were mine.
I brought them.
I chose each one like
A child in a candy store.
All sorts of flavors
All sorts of textures.
Really, now I wanted them too.

He liked to draw.
He like to write.
He watched those pens.
I began to also.
They were colorful
And there were many.

Not today, I have work to do.
Not tomorrow, there is more to do.
Yes, I will give them to you.
I will keep my word.

Please stop asking.
Please stop asking.
PLEASE STOP ASKING.

It is 5 a.m.
There is a knock at my door.
May I have the pens please?
You said I could take them today.

Yes you may.
Here they are.

A result of broken promises?
I keep my word.

The Umbrella

I am thinking this week of the elections in Liberia and my friends there.

I am wandering down a narrow well trod path in Liberia.  We are not far from the capital city, but country comes upon us fast.  Underneath is us golden red clay that is cracked and hardened from unknown years of pounding feet.  The surrounding grass is green, lush and tall, broken only by a few clearings where small structures, some thatch, some cement blocks, in varying states, stand.  The ocean is not more than a few blocks hundred feet away, but the strength of the sun is something I am not accustomed to.  It is as if gravity is stronger here, spearheaded by the rays of the sun that beat down upon us, sinking me into the clay ground.

I have on a pair of light cotton paints, a linen shirt and my flip flops.  There is sweat dripping from me and my freckled face is splotched with red.  Viola, my companion, in contrast, has on heals of a sort, jeans, a knit shirt and a jean jacket.  While I look rather dreadful, she appears well.

Quickly I learn the purpose of the umbrella she is carrying on this blue skied day.  She was worried about me yesterday out in the sun and has brought it to shade me.  I decline at first, primarily from vanity, I suppose, not wanting to stand out; not realizing that simply my presence, no matter what I carry, will draw curiousity and questions.  Upon the second request I take it and feel as if I have stepped back in time to a day that I do not want to be in, yet still, I am much relieved and grateful, for it shades me from the sun and the weight lessens.

Soon we appear at a shack, perhaps ten by twelve feet.  The walls are made of woven grass.  All that appears in the home and around it is brown, dirty and dry, yet within a few feet, the grasses and cassava plants are bright and lovely. 

Two women are standing in the doorway facing each other.  A large plastic bowl is on the ground between them filled with chicken feet, small whole fish and pieces of raw meat.  The woman within picks out a few items, sets them in a small pan and money is exchanged.  The other woman covers her goods with newspaper, cardboard, then a blanket and places the package on her head and disappears into the surrounding bush within moments.

The woman from within knows Viola.  Introductions are made and we sit on a roughly hewn bench outside in the shade of the hut.  I hold the woman's baby on my lap.  Viola takes the woman's toddler, snaps a piece of reed from the shack and begins digging chigger like critters out of the small girl's hand.  All the while, conversation, of which I understand little, continues.  After a time we leave the goods that we had brought with us, primarily infant formula and walk away,  purposely on a different path from whence we came.   I still am shaded by the umbrella.  Viola leads the way, single file.  In a short time we reach a small old truck.  Our driver is inside.  He greets us.  We climb in and are on our way down a dirt road back to the hospital.

This day is etched into my memory, yet nothing perhaps of note takes place.  Even the spectacle of me, I assume, will soon be forgotten.  Yet I, in a moment, can recall more details of that day than this one.

A Luxury

My husband said
The other day
After driving
Along a windy way

"A straight road
Is a luxury."

And I think that I
Must really agree
That along life's roads
Whatever they may be

A bit of directness,
And the shortest route
Is a stretch to be relished.

Look Up, Sweet Girl

Lying in bed this morning
I looked over and watched my sweet Summit 
Stand up from the rug beside the bed
And amble to the door. 
Unfortunately, it was the one to the closet
And there she stood
Waiting, as if the world had closed off
But it did not matter    
And it may just open up again
If she stood there and waited. 

"Summit, Summit" I called
She turned around
And saw what she had not before  
That in the maze of the bedroom
There stood, on the other side
Another door.
Not seeming to think much about it
She wobbled, for this is how she now walks,
Straight through, to where she wanted to go
No more obstacles along the way.  

And I think sometimes this is how I feel
Looking straight ahead wondering and waiting

Not really thinking of another door.

So look up sweet girls (being Summit and me)

And look around too.

Don't wait too long when your way is blocked

For around the corner you might just find

A better way.

Last Week

Our week, last week,
Was quite a doozy.

There were hospitals
And vets
And allergic reactions
And accidents
And sickness
And loss.

We have been thankful
This week for quiet and rest
And for family and friends
Who take care and give comfort
For the weight that we've felt
Has been heavy.

So much comes to mind
At the end of trouble
Like how strange it is we
Can go through such drama
When others carry on,
Nothing has happened.
And I think that way
About the rest of the world
Those that are hungry
And sick and afraid.

Mostly we are dwelling
On how thankful we are
For each day of grace
We are given.
For change comes fast
In the blink of an eye
Quicker than I thought
Could be true.

And we are reminded
That God gives us protection
For we know what was bad
Could have been worse
And our blessings are
More than we knew.


P.S.  We are missing our poodle, Andy, who died unexpectedly.  And, as for the rest, we are feeling mostly recovered.

Tonight's Thoughts

I don't consider myself a poet,

I just write what comes into my head.

Choppy little sentences

Lazy with grammar

I wonder if I talk this way as well.

One sentence can take so long to construct

And a paragraph, hours,

But little words just put together

Give me just what I like

A little of this and a little of that.

Tonight though,

My thoughts are filled with things too big

To split up too little

And so I will leave them alone

Until tomorrow.

Thunder

It's one of those nights that the thunder is so loud and the lightening so bright and the rain is coming down so hard it is not easy to focus on anything else.  Part of me loves it, but I also have a constant shiver running down my spine that is spreading out to my limbs.  It will be okay when it is over, even though we went the whole summer without a storm.

As a child, I experienced very few thunder storms, but did not like them at all, wanting to sit up in bed and look out the window so that I could confirm the earth was not falling apart.  Then I went to Africa and experienced storms that left little question as to why people see weather as a sign from God.  If not from God, the only reason I understood in the Central African Republic is for someone who has had a curse put on them to be struck by lightening.

It's not hard to imagine all sorts of things on nights like these.  Tom just brought me a flashlight and should we lose lights, I can conjure up even more.  I think though, because I'm quite tired, that I will go now to bed and listen to the storm sounds and dream of childhood and Africa and being thankful that I am safe, happy and dry on this stormy night.

Outside Orchestras

I often go outside and sit

For a bit of a respite

A moment of peace.

At first, all is still.

But then, the choruses

And movement begin.

I hear birds chirping

Flies buzzing

I see bugs crawling

Spiders spinning

I feel breezes blowing

Warmth descending

I smell seasons changing

Nature breathing

And then other creatures

Join in

And in my silence and quietness

There is now a chorus

Orchestrated with movements.

The richness of nature

Outside my back door.

Shoulda, Coulda and Woulda

Last night I let Shoulda, Coulda and Woulda
In our front door.
They have not visited in awhile and
I thought they might be gone.
I know better than to let them through,
But still, I did it anyway.

At the old house and before Tom,
They knew how to sneak in
But here, now,
They find us late at night.
One knock at the door and they are in.
If Tom sees them first,
He shoos them away,
But I see how lonely and pathetic they seem
And like poor little creatures
I can hardly turn them away.

The problem is
I can't help them and they won't let me sleep.
Try as I might to keep them out
They come into our room.
They don't bother Tom, but jump all over me
Poking and prodding,
Waking up old thoughts and actions
Best left alone.
For I could not change them
And most likely wouldn't anyway.

A general nuisance they are,
I must say.

Then, in the morning,
My mind has gone all swirly
And my head is somewhere
In a restless muddle,
Not a good place for me to be.

And the visitors are off, at least
Two of the three
Without a thank you or acknowledgement
Of how kind I have been
To let them in, out of the dark.

No more.  Go away.
You have had your chance,
But are no longer welcome in our home.

So now at night,
If you come to our door
Expect three barking dogs
An unhappy husband
And a kick in the pants
To send you on your way.

We hope this won't mean that they
Will be at your doorstep instead,
But it's a risk we must take.

And, Ifonly, in case you are wondering,
These new rules apply also you!

The Steel Bridge

Out in the middle
Of our big valley
Lies the steel bridge.

You would think it would
Be visible from all around
But we do not see it
Until we are almost there.
Take route 23 to the
Mini power plant
Hang a right
Drive on the dirt road
And you will cross it.

It seems strange
To have a bridge
Here in the middle
But the ground is wet
And marsh-like.
Long ago, we have been told
It was a lake.
Oh, how I wish it still was.

We let Summit out
And she ran like a puppy
Full of glee at the hundreds of swallows.
Then she would romp in the mud
And play in the water.

We have heard that you
Can put your kayak or canoe in there
And paddle across much of the valley.
It is not something I imagined
One could do.
But, of course, Tom and I
Will give it a try
Next spring when the water is high
And the reeds are low
And the birds are abundant again.

Recipes

Chili
From Maureen
My next door neighbor
My good friend.

Apple Crostata
From Colette
Her food is delicious
My sister.

Poppy Seed Dressing
From Marilyn
A confidante
And an inspiration.

Caramel sauce
From my mom
My teacher
and friend.

Savory spaghetti
From my grandma J.
Long gone
But well remembered

Cinnamon rolls
From my grandma M.
A favorite
Past and present

Grandma's chocolate cake
From Sally
Friend of my mom
And mine too.

And so many more.

New recipes
I try often
But I love opening
My treasure box
Of index cards
In the writing of those
Here and gone
A reminder of friends
Old and new.

Know that when I cook them
I think of you.

Multiple Mes

I have known for awhile
There are multiple mes
And I like to keep them
Quite separate.

There is Africa me
Who wants to save the world
Who wants to be in places
Far far away.

There is at home me
Who would be happy to stay
In our kitchen and garden
Most every day.

There is athletic me
Who wants to be out skiing
And kayaking and hiking and biking
No matter the weather.

There is business me
Who cuts to the chase
And is decisive and clear
And wants progress.

I think there are other mes too.
And when my mes collide
It throws me off
And I often get quite flustered.

And now my dear Dr. Lily
from Liberia is visiting and my
Africa world has met
My home world
And I quite like it.

And I think I've decided that rather
Than mes I keep quite separate
That I like the blended me best
For really, that's just me.

And even my blogs, my travels and my home have been separate and so I will combine them, with thoughts here and there from my travels because, although they are not from our cabin, they are of me and if that's not already what I am writing about it is how I have developed my perspective.

Advice Haiku

Always eat breakfast
Because you never know what
A new day will bring.

Hollyhocks

I have been so excited about

The hollyhocks that were planted

Along the side of the house.

I saw the last of them in the fall

And I smiled with glee.

I've tried to grow them before

And both of my neighbors too,

But to no avail.

Here, it looked like I could.

The stems were the first to show

Their green early this spring.

Quickly they grew tall and bushy

With their lovely large leaves.

And the flower buds became many.

Each day I have been checking

Are they here yet?

Are they here,

These favorite flowers of mine.

And yesterday,

When I was not expecting it

There, under a leaf, was the first pink bloom.

And today, two more may open.

Sometimes it surprises me

How much joy 

Such a small thing can bring.
I think I'll go out and check them again.
(Yes, two more have opened.)

How Firewood

And this is how

Firewood is delivered

In our little town.

Oh, the work ahead.

Sierraville Safari

Who knew that in the middle of our valley is a hidden treasure, water and wildlife wetlands.  We put our kayaks in where the channel meets the river and headed upstream.  Dragonflies, full of color, little helicopters joined us at the beginning of our voyage, hundreds of them.  We first rounded the bend and looking back could see from behind the bridge, the cars on the road and the small town.  Soon though, the channel winds.  A dog barked in the background and Tom saw a herd of goats, munching on the grass.  Here then,we ceased to look back, only forward to what might lay ahead.  After another curve, we spotted a herd of sheep grazing.  And then, except for the mountains that encircled, skewed only by a new and different vantage point, we left our world and entered something new and hidden and distant, a secret, we thought, not visible from anywhere else in the valley.

The channel narrowed, the reeds grew higher, the grasses turned greener and the lily pads with their yellow flowers were abundant.  Then the frogs started jumping in and out of the water and the ibis took off, straight up with their long beaks and feet dangling and then moving forward.  The thunderous sound of geese taking flight made us stop and pause.  As stealth-like as we tried to be, we could not fool all of the creatures, but the two white pelicans stayed in place for what seemed a long time and then we watched their large wings move them into flight too.  Everything seemed distant and almost prehistoric, yet within reach.

The sound and smell and feel, was of the jungle and we took in more wildlife than we have previously seen at one time.  Quietly we moved along, trying not to disturb.  Soon the grass was so thick in places that the water nearly disappeared from view.  We kept paddling and the channel underneath us carried as forward as we paddled through the grass with not much more than our heads visible to each other.  Soon we were back in the water again and the way widened. 

Which way to go?  Dead ends seemed to be all around us.  Right or left, east or west.  We had a destination in mind, but no real understanding about how long it would take to get to the steel bridge, the one in the middle of the valley, or if we could do it.  We veered left and found water.  We paddled through an old open dam where the current made it tough to pass through, hit points where the water was shallow so that we had to skooch to push through it, passed under now unused train tracks, but mostly we saw nothing that reminded us of who we are, what we have and what surrounded us.


It was a day to disappear, to sit almost still, to absorb it in and my mind and my imagination drifted between, thinking ourselves as Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn in 'The African Queen', and based on the cloth-like remnants in the tall reeds, of those in another time, who were not so fortunate as us on this very great and important escape.  And then my thoughts would skip again as I saw my husband and smiled and remembered that these are the kind of adventures that gave me no option but to fall in love with him.  And then I moved to awe as I watched the birds fly overhead, the frogs jump and the lovely flowers and continue to be amazed at the beauty God created and the seemingly untouched landscape.

And then I experience all of these feelings again when we turn around, realizing our destination is not to be reached today and we find (thanks to Tom's GPS) that we have gotten lost within moments, that we are on another channel, destination unknown.  We are thankful for our technology and add navigation into the challenge, the compass to get us out of our deep and dangerous predicament (or just plain back in the direction we wanted to go).

Soon we arrive safely back, under the bridge.  Our simple kayaking morning having turned into a lovely adventure.  Now, on the days when we are itching to get out of town, but have no plans in mind, we can transport in our dreams or in our kayaks to our safari day in July and we look forward to the trip again (maybe next weekend).  Join us, if you dare.

Thanks, Tom for taking the pictures.

Days I Might Love the Best

For all of my love

Of travel and people
And cultures
Very far from home

Some of the days
That I love best
Are spent in our kitchen
And a bit in our garden
And then the bounty
And the beauty
Shared with each other
And often with friends.

These are the days
That I rest and recover
That allow me to dream,
To prepare
My heart and my mind
For other days
Spent away from here.

Ice Cream

Homemade ice cream
The first of the season
Is ready now to be churned.

Fresh eggs,
Lots of cream,
Some milk too,
Vanilla beans
And sugar

I was thinking the only thing
Better than making it
Is eating it

But now I am thinking the only
Thing better than
Just eating it
Is to share it with friends

And to top it off
We will eat it outside
On this fine summer day
With fresh berries.

That's Life

I thought it would be easy
This dog number three
And it seemed the right
Thing to do.

She ran up to me with glee
Rolled over and wanted petting.
She waited at our door
Seemingly knowing when
Steve was coming to dinner.

She laid on our stairs,
Just at the bend
And in the dining room
In the corner.

And she frolicked
In the snow
And caught bugs in the air.
And ran and chased
And played.

No problem
This number three.

And now we have a pup
Who is so very sad
Some days are good
And on others she wants
To be left alone
To grieve.

We thought it was getting better
And now it is worse again.

Doing what we thought
Was right
And really
What we wanted to do
Is not as easy
As we had planned.

Sometimes that's just
The way it goes.

And we will see now
Skeena Pipo Benner girl
What we can do
To help.

Let's go now for a walk
And a bird chase
And a run.
Good for both of us
I think.

I Have Been Feeling Guilty

I have been feeling guilty
For writing
Not so very much
More like
Not at all
But the summer days have come

And the wild roses are blooming
All along the road
And the hay is being mowed
In the fields across the way
And company has come
And there is hiking to do
And the hammock calls
And all that is happening
Is inspiring me to be outside
In the garden
That I am quite loving
And when inside to be
Baking for the visitors
That summer always beckons

And I have been away from
Paper and pen
And my computer and keyboard

Now, I think
I am ready to return
Because I like it so
But still to enjoy the full days
Of summer.

Not Quite Heroes

This morning on our run
Skeena, Summit, Andy and I
Helped a rancher
Corral an escaped cow
From off the road
And while we are not heroes
We think we're pretty close.

The Sheep

The sheep have escaped;
Eleven of them,
With coats on their back.

Caltrans is out looking for them
As are Claire, Susie, Carolyn
And others too.

They disappeared sometime last night
But it was not discovered until
Early this morning.

Where did they go?

They were supposed to be moved
To Carolyn's property this morning
To munch on her grass
For a week or so.
Proper mowers they are.

They were on the other side
Of highway 89 and
Must have crossed the road successfully.
They can't be far.
They don't cross water
And streams are abundant,
But the grass has grown
So tall this summer
That they disappear
In the field.

Perhaps they will be found
After their green dinner
When they can be seen
Once again.

Consider the Lilies

Why would I worry about the way I am clothed

When God dresses even the grass of the field.

 

Consider these lilies, how they grow:  they neither toil nor spin.

Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like is.  

Taken from Luke 12:28-30, New King James Version

Seedling Update

I thought I should give an update on my seedlings.  It is a sad story to tell, of twenty-four tomato starts, twelve lettuce (two varieties), six basil and six parsley.  These all began life in egg cartons and seemed to sprout well.  Their short life even began with a trip to Santa Cruz where my mother tended to them for a week while we were away.  I did not know they would have such a needy start to life.

Of the forty-eight, only six have survived the last week in the garden and, haphazard me, cannot even tell you which ones they are.  The first bunch were planted orderly and carefully and by the time I got to these, I just tucked them in tenderly, wherever there was room.  Given the length of the summer that we are probably now looking at it, I would say that the likelihood of any of these reaching adulthood is quite minimal.  My goal has changed from harvest to identification.

Once we knew that there was no chance the tomato plants would bear their fruit, we bought an Early Girl and one other, already about one foot tall and one basil plant, about six inches.  These, we wrapped in blankets as the temperature dropped.  Nighttime was not the problem however, and as of yesterday morning, what leaves the bunnies had not eaten, the squirrels finished off and, left uncovered over night, the remaining stems turned a depressing brown.

I wish the story ended here, but I will go on.  Our hanging plants were doing lovely with little red, white and purple flowers, the purple, especially, were abundant.  During one of the few days of sunshine we have had over the past couple of weeks, I set them out.  I looked at them about two hours later and they seemed to me, as much as is possible in the plant world, to look quite happy and I decided to leave them out for another hour.  The next time I checked, every red bloom was gone, all but one of the purple and most of the white.  I was still feeling pretty good about the larkspur in one of our wine barrels but as of a couple of days ago, those buds and blooms are gone too.

I have been known to roll my eyes when I go to the local nursery and hear people complain to the staff of the animals that they have in their gardens.  I silently mouth, "Then move to the city."  Even now, as I better understand the woes that little creatures can cause, I still have not changed my mind; that they are part of the joy of the country and I will find ways to adapt.  The investment has been minimal and the lessons learned seem to grow each day, so it is really no loss, more of a gain in perspective, I think.  And, the one peony, two columbine, three geranium and strawberries we planted seem to be surviving okay.  (Although I am not convinced that our now chubby bunnies so full from everything else, have just not gotten to them.)  Sage, chives and mint are coming up from last year, the flowering trees and bushes already established in the garden give me cheer each day and the bounty of the forest and valley around us is amazing.

Determined to have good fresh produce, we have shifted from one way to another for this year and our first delivery of boxed local produce from Mountain Bounty Farms is due to arrive on Thursday.  We are sharing it with a friend and will hopefully be able to enjoy many fresh vegetables, probably at less of a cost and definitely with less effort.  And, as for annuals, I was invited to go to Sierraville's garden club, a lively group, with a president whose name is Maisy.  They meet at the school and sit in folding chairs from the 1940's and have a really good sale each year on plants as a fundraiser for the volunteer fire department.  Our new plants are in the garage waiting for a sunny day, an optimistic long term weather forecast and our desire to proceed again.

I Tried, Oh Spring

I tried, oh spring
To stand resolute with you.
I planted seeds,
I bought flowers,
I took my spring clothes
From out of the attic.

You fooled me into complacency
With your lovely early days.

I sat outside and soaked
In your sunshine
And reveled in your
Early growth.
Even when you turned
Cold and wet
I embraced
The out of doors
With no hat, no coat, no mittens.
Proudly I walked
Even on your windy days.
I mocked the cool weather.

Yet you betrayed me.
And now have given me snow
In these last days of May.
I trust you no more.

So here I stand
Bundled up in winter wear
Wishing now
And hoping
That summer will rescue me
From your cold embrace.

It's Been Quite a Week

It has been quite a week for us.  Our neighbor, Steve, died last Sunday.  We had only known him since November, but he quickly became dear to us.  The friendship started with eggs from him to me and cookies from me to him and then dinners together.  Each encounter was attached to a good visit, he in his rocker or our reclining chair.  We learned in our last meal together of his solo crossings on skis of the Alps, of Benner vs. Disney, which he won, of living in a large wine barrel and of many other stories which only whetted our appetite to learn more.  We are going to miss him.  The funeral was yesterday at the Sierraville Cemetery.

Nothing in this area seems to happen without a story.  Our egg lady is also the cemetery caretaker.  The plot his sons chose is on the far side of the hill, near a large pine, looking out at the valley, just next to the Potter's Field, a perfect fit.  The setting for the service was rather amazing.  We stood in the shade of the pine tree, then moved to the sun when the wind picked up.  We looked out to the beauty of the valley with its lush greens of spring.  One of the reasons that the valley and the area stands in its purity today is because of the work that Steve has done over the years.  After the service, the grandchildren, then family, then friends, filled in the grave.  The first shovels rang eerily in our ears as the sound of the dirt and rocks hit the wooden casket.  Afterward people gathered at his home.  The church ladies let us know by their thoughtfulness that potluck casseroles are alive and well in this town.

I have been to a number of memorial services, but the funeral yesterday was only the second that I had been to; the other having been my grandfather.  Steve wanted simplicity and "green", as he lived his life.  The only casket that can be purchased without metals is a Jewish casket.  It was quite lovely in its craftsmanship and simplicity and was brought to the cemetery in the back of Steve's red pickup truck with Skeena, his constant border collie companion, and the grandchildren all riding in the back.

About fifty people gathered and his eldest son spoke of his life.  He lived it his own way.  Then people spoke, from their heart of their respect and love for this difficult man.  Tom and I have stories of our own but stayed silent.  These people have known him many for thirty or more years and we, just months, but he touched our lives.  He spoke so much of spring and we had made plans together for activities this summer.  He had vast knowledge of the land and this area.  We were just getting to know him and I think I feel robbed that he is now gone.  We had just begun.

His last coherent words were to his dog, who he wanted to have stay in Sierraville, where she could run freely (mostly) and chase, birds, bunnies and bugs.  He asked early, when he realized how sick he was, if we could keep her and we agreed.  So, as of today, when his family goes back to their respective homes and lives, we have a reminder of Steve in our new dog Skeena.  This will make three pups for us.  If you would have told me one year ago that I would be living in Sierraville, with three dogs in hand, I would have laughed.  She will be a good addition to the family though.

She and Summit are not allowed on furniture, so there is room on the couch and she spends much time outside, so friends and family, there is still plenty of space for you to come visit  and no doubt you will quickly understand why we are so fond of her.

This has been one of those weeks that has been more difficult than I would have imagined, but I also would not have missed it; the intertwining of lives and families, the laughter and the grief, the reflection on one's man life and of death are the experiences that make life rich and deep.

We will miss you dearly Steve and will take tender care of your girl.

Eggs, Eggs, Eggs

It started last year after receiving my first dozen fresh eggs; my fascination with them.  I found I could make recipes with them that I had tried, but had not worked out quite as well as I had anticipated.  Poached eggs worked, meringue rose three times as high and homemade mayonnaise transformed a chicken salad.   The only downside was yolk, so yellow that it made my cheesecake look more like compressed scrambled eggs than it's typical creamy color (delicious when eaten with one's eyes closed).

When we moved to Sierraville, the fresh egg quest began in earnest and it marked the beginning of a delightful friendship with our neighbor, Steve.  Containers of eggs one way were returned filled with cookies the next.  It worked will for all involved.  Unfortunately, the chickens came to an abrupt end one night culminating in a feast for some sneaky creatures of the night.  New chickens were not to be had until spring, so another quest began.

I learned just before Easter of a woman who sells eggs for two dollars a dozen.  You go back to the main road, I was told, then down the street that follows the river for about a mile.  There is a refrigerator just outside their front door with a wooden box on top for the money.  In addition to chickens, she has turkeys and ducks.  I have not yet tried those eggs.

The other night we had friends over for dinner.  After eating this very pie, we talked about the qualities of fresh eggs and they wanted some.  I was not sure about heading to the refrigerator after dark and felt slight regret at sharing my source, but off we went.  We drove up to the house and a woman came to the fence and suggested we were likely looking for the next driveway.  No, we came to get eggs.  Okay.


We stood in the yard and chatted about this and that as it got dark and rather chilly.  I was wondering what my city friends could possibly thinking and of the many things I imagined, it was not one of them.  As we were saying our thanks and good-bye's my friend leaned over and whispered she had been in her neighborhood for two years and had met almost no one.  This was a treat for her.  I relaxed and was pleased with the sharing of eggs and friendships, old and new.

Full of Sorrow

He wobbled up
The long walk
Looking for the dog
And his friend

"He's gone"
We said

He turned around
Full of sorrow
In despair
He sat at the crossroad
And cried

His friend
Was coming home
No more

Hands folded
Around his head
Shoulders bowed
He rocked

Family came
To take him
Home

Sadness overwhelmed

Springtime Amazement

Springtime is my season of amazement.

How can the sky be so blue
The mountains be so white
And the valley by so green?

Photograph by Tom Selfridge

There is a perfect line
Marking the change from snow to rain.

How can one little seed
Now burrowed in soil
Grow into a green stem
And create abundant colors, beauty
And flavors?

How can the icy fresh cold water
Find its way
Along the lovely streams and rivers
So abundant
In our hills and valley?
How can the green leaves
Tucked in their pods
Suddenly pop out
So large and colorful
From bare to abundant in just days?

How can the warm sun
Soak so thoroughly
Into my bare skin
After a winter where
Warmth felt so far away?

How can wildflowers emerge
In so many varieties
And vibrant colors.
One day there is nothing
And the next, fields of wonder.

The symmetry, freshness and beauty of spring.

Quiet Haiku

I think sometimes that
In trying to be quiet
I make the most noise

Ode to Skeena

You put her on a leash they said?
It can't be done.
I didn't want to have to tell Steve
Lying on a hospital bed
That I lost his dog

So we waited to trust each other
Skeena Peena, where are you
Hiding under the desk upstairs
Skeena Peena, where are you
Tucked under the kitchen table
Skeena Peean, where are you
Waiting at the front gate
To go for a run

The leash now is in the past
She runs and runs
Through the culverts
Disappearing until she
Reaches the other side of the street
Chasing after bumblebees
She leaps in the air
Scouting after bunnies and birds
She scooches under fences
Not catching that I can see
But having a great time
I can hear the water splash in the
Wet fields
She is a mess of mud and dirt
Oh Skeena, you make me smile

Today's Rainbow

As I drove down
into the valley
this morning,
A rainbow
Laid down it's colors
Atop the trees
Painting them
With all its beauty
Stretched out
Over the forest

And I remember
Once again
God's promises
And for this
I am grateful