My Grey Story

Long grey hair. Powerfully influential voices in my head resound with the notion that:

"A woman shouldn't have long hair after 40," and

"A woman over 40 should especially not have long grey hair."

I have kept my hair long or longish for many years now. When we first moved up to the mountains it was really long. Then I began wearing it just below my shoulders.

My grey began over 20 years ago. Early greying runs in my family. In fact my first grey hair came at age 19. Thankfully it staved itself off for more than a decade before too many more showed up. Twenty some years ago, my then fiance, bless him, recommended I not dye my hair as it grew increasingly grey. At first I was a little leary of this image-threatening idea. But, I also kind of liked it. I don't recall actually ever making the decision not to. Once he said those loving, supportive, and encouraging words, I just didn't really think directly about it much. I've always been on the more "natural" side. A touch of laziness probably had something to do with it, too. That, and I don't think I was too keen on all those chemicals...and the trial and error...and the cost...and the time. But his most outstanding commentary on the matter was this: "What do you do when you get sick of the hassle, the chemicals, the expense and the time, and you just want to stop? By then you'll be way more grey than when you started and it will be a huge shock, not to mention a challenging process, to go back to natural." What a blessing his advice has been. (I just don't think he expected me to go this grey this early. Oh well. HE said!)

I confess, I had an advantage though. My grey started in full force in the back of my head. I had a touch of the skunk look. A subtle skunk. But, hey, it was in the back and I just don't look at the back of my head that often. Around my face retained more of my natural brown. So, with a touch of oblivion and a touch of that no fussing laziness, I actually forget how grey I really am! What a dope, right? But it seems to serve me well as I still get to appreciate more brown in front. When I look at my face in the mirror, I am deceived into thinking I'm less grey than I really am.

This is me last September (2010) with some of Martin Buser's Iditarod sled dogs. He allowed us to go on the "free run" with them. While my hair looks pretty darn grey here, wait till you see the next one of me walking up the trail.

Now there's a lot of grey!

While that denial and oblivion is a mystery in itself, there is, however a greater mystery. There is one feature of my particular pattern of going grey that can get me pining for my youthful brown tresses. The very undermost layer of my hair - about a half inch worth - is completely and utterly my original dark brown color. (Thanks, thanks, couldn't have been the top layer, huh?) Occasionally I take out the mirror, swoop my hair up and gaze upon what used to be. I sigh and I pout a little. And then I go back to marvelling at the completey, utterly, and thoroughly grey patch next to the rest of my hair that is almost totally grey.

I'm glad I've never dyed my hair, though. It has been freeing to let it be what it's going to be. I'm glad I didn't embark on the maintenance commitment that dying it would have involved. AND, I am enjoying the encouragement of the many comments I receive in praise of such a move. More and more women are coming up to me saying how they like my grey and that I have given them courage to let theirs go back to natural. That blesses me. Who'd a thunk it?

But now...another dilemma. Short or long? I'm voting for long. Why? Probably a mix of reasons which might include, a touch of unconventionalism, a touch of rebellion maybe, some of that funky artist thing, a secret bit of hippie inside me, and...I find it beautiful. Just take a look at some of these photos.

http://brightonwoman.blogspot.com/2009/02/long-grey-beautiful.html

Old Books

I love books.
I love old books.
I collect old books. Or at least I did for awhile.

It all started when I went into a used bookstore and came across an old copy of Laura Ingalls Wilder's, Little House in the Big Woods. I paid $6 for it that day and had no idea I'd embarked on an antique book collecting phase of my life.

I began collecting old books before it became popular and I found them in little antique shops all over town. I rarely ever paid more than $10. Many were under $5. I have some beautiful ones. I have some homely ones. Some I bought because I liked the cover. Some I bought because I wanted to read them. Some I bought because I like the author. I have several Louisa May Alcott books, including Little Women, Little Men, Jo's Boys, and Good Wives. Some are classics, like Ben Hur, Robinson Crusoe, and Paradise Lost. I have books of poetry, books of short stories, old Bibles, and old song books. I fell in love with a little leather book inside a case at one antique store. It was only about 2" x 2.5". It was $15. I hated to pay that much and debated a long, long time. It was a book of hymns. It was only the words, no notes. I didn't recognize the name of the writer/composer but I finally caved in and bought it. Turns out it a book of compositions by the man who wrote the famous Christmas hymn, Joy to the World.

I bought a book for my sister-in-law because of its simple one word title, which was her name. She loved it. One day I found a book I knew I just had to buy for a friend. Long ago he and his wife gave each other hillbilly nicknames. He's Willis (Willis You Killus) and she's Edna (Edna Mae Knot). When I found a book titled, Edna, His Wife, I just had to get it for him. Little did I know he also collected old books. It was a hit.

When we bought our land up here in the woods I began noticing books with fun titles pertaining to our new adventure getting back to nature. Thus began a miniature "collection within a collection" of books with nature titles. I have some of them together on a special little book shelf.

The Rock and the Wind has a funny meaning to me. We bought our property in the month of February. Winter was beginning to fade away but Spring had not yet come. Two things I have found most annoying in my life are wind and rocky terrain. This piece of property was beautiful and was the best thing we'd seen for the price. We were thrilled. It was our dream come true. We were so happy. It wasn't until after we'd bought it and spent a few weekends up here that I realized how dang many rocks there were. Rocks were everywhere. I'd trip over them, stub my toes on them, roll my ankles on them. They are just everywhere.  Aargh. And then came the wind. We discovered that every spring and every fall, our area gets some nasty high winds bringing in the change of seasons. We're talking 40+ mph gusts and weeks on end of 25-30mph winds all day long.  So, when I found a book titled The Rock and the Wind, well, it was a must have. I bought it with big grin in my heart, knowing how perfectly God had sort of "tricked" us into buying this land when, in our shopper's delight, we didn't seem to notice all the rocks and hadn't yet learned about the winds. I'm so glad He did.

Basket Full of Yarn

I was in an Art Expressions Bible study class a couple years ago and was introduced to the idea of Water Color Journaling.  You take something about your day, a special event, or just something you want to highlight and document, and you do a watercolor of it. It becomes a pictorial journal.  You can also write on your painting to make it even more like a journal.

In class we were given a passage of Scripture and some time to meditate on it, often through a nature walk. Then we'd come back to the room and draw and paint the little tidbits of nature we picked up. We'd write about how God spoke to us on our walk with Him, or what He "said" to us through nature.

A water color journal doesn't have to be all about Scripture.  I have a friend who is a wonderful painter; she will sometimes go to the park, the zoo, the botanical gardens, or away for a painting weekend with a friend and she adds paintings and musings to her bound watercolor journal book.

All that explanation is to introduce a drawing & watercolor I did at home one night after I learned about this neat form of noting something special in one's life.  I was so excited about knitting at the time and I loved seeing my basket full of yarn sitting on the fireplace hearth, that I decided to draw and paint it.

This form of drawing is called Blind Contour Drawing...well, a modified and "cheated" version.  A blind contour drawing is where you look only at the subject and not at your paper.  You're not supposed to pick up your pencil either.  Yes, it's tough, but it's actually kind of fun. It certainly levels the playing field among students of varying degrees of artistic skill. 

What it really does is teach you to see.  It teaches you to draw only what you see.  Very often, when drawing, our mind assumes things about the subject. Information previously known about the subject can interfere with what we're actually seeing.  Angles, perspectives, etc., can get messed up when we draw what we assume rather than what we see.  This kind of exercise teaches us to really see what we're drawing and it teaches our brain to communicate more literally with our hand.  I enjoy it quite a bit.

Like I said, I kind of cheated on this one.  I glanced up a little bit throughout the drawing and also went back in to fill in some detail like the cross hatches on the basket and the yarn lines.  But, most of it I did blindly. And since there's no Drawing Cop hanging over me when I draw, it didn't harm my purpose at all. I drew the contours blindly (with a couple cheats) and then loosely went back to fill in detail to bring it more to life.  Then I painted in with water colors. Apart from the weird and way-too-big word, "Knitting", I'm very pleased with the outcome.

And I do love a basket full of yarn.

Seeing Names

My cat, Mini, was a tortie. I got her when I was in second grade and had her all the way through my Junior year in high school. With my second grade mindset, I named her Mini because as a kitten she looked so tiny compared to her huge eyes. My mom always thought I named her Minnie, as in Mouse or Pearl. But no. I always spelled it Mini, as in small.

It's funny how people can say the same name but spell it differently in their minds. I always "see" words in my mind. I don't know if this is common or uncommon but I do. When I say a word, often times I "see" it spelled out in my mind. Someone can say the name "Laurie" but if I'm seeing "Lori" in my mind, I get totally confused in the conversation and can't figure out who they're talking about! Reminds me of Anne of Green Gables who requested that people "please say her name with an 'e 'on the end because it's so much more elegant than Ann without an 'e'."

Summer Flowers

We live entirely off the grid. We have a solar system for our electricity and we collect rain water and snow melt into two cisterns. That means, a couple times a year we don't have a lot of water. We would love to have a garden full of vegetables and have flowers surrounding the house. However, without an abundance of water, it just doesn't work.

So, every summer I buy a few flowers and plant them in pots for the one corner of our porch that receives afternoon sun. This year I did something a little different.

One of the things that drew The Fisherman and me to each other was our common love for wheel thrown pottery. I fell in love with the potter's wheel in college while The Fisherman fell in love with it in high school. It was a simple conversation one day after church about "throwing pots" that opened the door for our first date.

After we were married we took a couple classes at the local community college because we didn't have a place to throw, not having our own wheel, kiln, or studio. The Fisherman always made me jealous because he could throw these big huge pots out of 25 pounds of clay. I could never throw more than 4 or 5 pounds, and that was really pushing it. During our classes, he made these really nice pots perfect for flowers. But the semester ended before he could put them through the second (or glaze) firing. They were only bisque fired. We brought them to the woods with us when we moved, always hoping to find someplace to glaze and fire them.

Meanwhile, bisque fired pottery isn't all that strong. It's very porous because it's not fired at a very high temperature. Over the years, these pots have weakened and eventually broke. When planting my flowers this summer, I came across some of the pieces and had a fun idea.

I took one curved piece, packed it with soil, and walled up the sides with broken branches.

Watering it is a bit of a nuisance since all the water wants to leak out through the sides. My hope to pack the soil and branches tightly enough to prevent this simply didn't work. So I have to trickle water in at both ends where there are two little depressions. But I sure like the way it looks, even with the oops drops of brown stain from when The Fisherman re-stained the front porch.

I especially like the bent branch at the top of this side.

However, the flowers were much more photogenic on the other side. Plus, the lip of the pot is on that side, which I also really like.

I really like this little broken-pot flower pot.

Quilt Back Done!

I finished the backing piece for my first real quilt. I finished it about 10 days ago but it's been so darn windy here that I haven't been able to hang it on the clothes line for a photo. Today was better so at last here it is.

In my last post I mentioned that I used a fabric that had the look and colors I originally wanted for the top. It doesn't show quite true in these photos but there is more of an overall aqua tone to this fabric. If you had a can of light turquoise paint, to get the color I'm talking about I'd tell you to add just a touch more pale green to it. That's aqua. And it was nowhere to be found when I shopped for the many different fabrics I needed for the top. There were only true turquoises and teals, and most of the purples were dark. I used what was available and, though I do love it, I ended up with a much more vibrant and contrasting quilt top than I originally intended. I hadn't intended it to be so, shall we say, loud as it is. I had a much more subtle look in mind.

Since the quilt top was nearly finished when I found this fabric,  I knew I had to make it my backing fabric. Since I loved it so much I decided to do a little something special on the back as well. So I pieced a frame around it with some purple fabrics, just to add a little interest.

In the photo below, if you look carefully, you can see where I had to piece together the solid inner piece as well. Look along the top edge of the photo about 1/3 way across from the left and you'll see a sudden change from a plain turquoise section to a purple flower. Overall, you can hardly notice.

The frame on the back (two 1-inch strips) is supposed to line up with the frame on the front (one 2-inch strip).  The outer border on this backing is larger now than it will be in the end. You're supposed to make the backing bigger than the top for the final quilting project. When finished it will look more like this:

The darker purple strip is the same fabric I've decided to use for the binding. The binding creates a nice folded edging all around the quilt.

The reason for making the quilt bottom larger than the top during the quilting process is probably to allow for creeping...something that I can't have happen now that I've designed it so the frames need to line up. I want my quilting pattern, which is designed for the front, to also work for the back. 

I already know that it's not going to be perfect. I did a test layout on the floor and was disappointed to find I am a smidge off. I will have to be very careful when laying it out. And very diligent with basting it together so it will withstand the amount of handling it will experience while I do the actual quilting over the next, several months. (At least I hope it's only going to be months, rather than years!) With great care I'm hoping my circle quilting from the front will not spill over into the framing on the back. But I think it will.

I'll just have to be OK with that.

By then I will simply be amazed and pleased to have completed a full-blown, honest to goodness, bona fide quilt!  Yea!

May Snow

Just like last year, winter seemed reluctant to depart the mountain. With one final grandstand, it brought us snow on May 9th.

It was almost dusk when I came home to discover what appeared to have been almost three inches of snowfall. Last year it was May 2nd. This year May 9th. Crazy Arizona weather.

Quilt Top is Done!

I'm so excited to report that I finished my very first quilt top today.

Making a quilt has been on My List. It's been something I wrote down a couple decades ago as something I wanted to do in my life: make a quilt.

Last summer I wandered into a quilt shop and fell in love with a simple top-stitched pattern that gave me the courage to go ahead and dive in.

Here's a re-cap of the process of making this queen sized quilt top.

First I began collecting all the beautiful batik fabrics.

Then I cut 90 nine-inch squares of background fabrics and 90 sets of circles in three sizes: 8", 6" and 4".

Next I sewed them together. First I sewed the 8" circle onto the background square. Then I turned it over and trimmed out the background fabric within the circle of stitching. This is so the finished product wouldn't be so many layers thick for the final quilting process. Then I sewed on the 6" circle on top of the 8" circle, trimmed out the back again, and sewed the 4" circle onto the 6" circle. One final trimming of the back and I had my finished square. But hold on a minute, there's another step!

Once my circles are on my squares, this is where the pattern throws a kink into things. The next step is to cut all the squares into quarters and randomly piece them back together again, making a wild hodge-podge of circles. I couldn't wait to see what my finished quilt top would look like so I folded my newly sewn circle-squares in quarters and put a few next to each other for a preview.

Finally, after many a night of sewing 360 little cut squares back into 90 big squares, I had my finished squares, ready to be sewn together in 9 strips of 10.

But first, another preview. 

It was here that I took a long break from my quilt. This is where I think I ended last summer. Eventually, this past winter I got my basket of squares out again. I sewed them into strips and then sewed the strips together.

Last weekend I bought my border fabric and today I finished sewing on the two borders.

Taa Daa! My first quilt top is done!

It's wild, I give you that.  But I love it!

 

"And it flies!"

to quote a funny Facebook friend.

I had to take a picture of the back showing all that stitching!

As the breeze took the quilt into the sun, it began to look like a stained glass window.

I already have my backing fabric purchased. I'm going to do a little "piecing" for the back, too. Call me crazy. (I think one of the ladies in the quilt shop wanted to. Knowing it's my first quilt, she asked, "And why are you going to piece the back?")

Well, that's a bit of a story. The color I really wanted as the focal point of the quilt is an aqua-turquoise color. I thought some purple would be nice as an accent color. As I began shopping for fabric, they didn't have any fabric in the aqua-turquoise I really wanted so I had to settle for more teals, turquoises, and greens. They also had way more purple fabric than they did these blue-greens, and I needed a lot of different fabrics. So the quilt ended up much more vivid and much more purple than I intended.

Then, a couple months ago I stopped into the quilt shop browsing for border and backing fabrics. Lo and behold, they had JUST the color I'd wanted all along. It was only in one fabric, though. I knew I had to make it my backing fabric. Because it was the coloring look I'd envisioned from the beginning, I decided to go ahead and make the back something special too. This way, the quilt will be fully reversible and won't look so much like an ordinary quilt back.

I'm going to make two one-inch inset frames into the otherwise single-fabric backing. The edging will be one of the same fabrics used in the interior framing. It shouldn't be too hard. The trick will be lining up the sandwich of top-batting-and-back precisely enough so the quilting I do in designated areas on the front will line up with the piecing on the back. (Hence, the quilt store lady's question, "And, why are you piecing the back?")

But for now, I'm just enjoying the thrill of finishing the top!  WooHoo! I did it!

Catching Up - Interlude

Before I continue with some more photos of the winter games, I have so many little catch-up things swirling around in my head. I simply must get them listed.

The biggest item is that I have a new job. I haven't been working since I quit my church secretary job up here and moved to take care of my mom. I did a little work at an urgent care center while in Phoenix but other than that, I haven't been seriously employed. Now I am. And it was a total God-thing. I'm working at a local crisis pregnancy clinic. It's a wonderful place! They do pregnancy tests, counseling, and have several courses in parenting that moms and dads can take to earn Mommy Dollars and Daddy Dollars. With these they can purchase diapers, baby clothes, maternity clothes, toys, strollers, and other baby stuff. And the parents are learning how to be good parents through it all. It's great. I have wanted a job that holds meaning to me. I've found it hard to work in jobs that are just jobs. So my prayer has been that God would provide a job for me in some kind of ministry, whether it be a church or something else. I ran into a friend at Wal-Mart 10 days ago and as we chatted the topic turned to the fact that I'm looking for a job with meaning. Her eyes lit up and she thought of the opening at the clinic. Here's the real God-thing about it: this friend is the founder and newly retired Executive Director of this ministry. Wow! It is so exciting to have this opportunity come right out of the blue, be standing there in Wal-Mart, and have her call the clinic in my presence and tell them she's sending me over for an application and that she highly recommends me. I know He has made this happen. I'm so thankful.

Other tidbits:

The other day I came home from town in the late afternoon. The sun was low and there was new white snow on the ground. Long yellowed grasses of winter were standing up above the snow, here and there. Everything was white and yellow. The afternoon sun shone on them adding even more golden color to the scene. And then I saw them. Half a dozen antelope grazed right up close to the fence. Their coloring so matched the white and yellow of the landscape that I almost didn't see them. Their golden tan and white markings blended in beautifully. It was a treat to see them so close and to see them so blended into their surroundings.

I've been working on my quilt again. I've sewn my squares into strips. I'm working on ironing the seams out flat before I sew the strips together. I plan on doing that this Friday, sunny skies permitting. I always wait for my schedule and sunny skies to cooperate with each other to use the iron; such is my life on solar, though I think our newly refurbished system would be fine. We're just always of a conserving mindset. Once I get the strips sewn together into a big rectangle, I'll take it in to the quilt store and make sure the fabrics I've selected for the borders are the best choices and go ahead and buy them. Can't wait.

The morning drive to my first day of work was blessed with a bald eagle sighting. There are a couple of dead trees close to town, "widow makers" as they're called because they will eventually come crashing down of their own accord and if a man happened to be nearby, his wife would end up a widow. That's a sad thought, eh? But these giants have been around for many years. On cold winter mornings you just might see a bald eagle sitting in the top. I enjoyed this sight often enough that I named the the trees The Eagle Trees. The Fisherman, however, calls them The Ghost Trees. It was fun seeing one as a special treat on my first day at the new job.

Then, today, Day Two of the new job, I saw the antelope again. This time they were at quite a distance but it's always fun to see them in this one pasture close to home. And on the way home I had an extra special wildlife sighting "gift". I saw three deer (I've only seen deer around here two other times), four elk, and then two little bunny rabbits -- all within a couple hundred feet of each other and even closer to home. I love seeing wildlife.

I did mounds and mounds, pounds and pounds of laundry last week. I did all our bedding plus all the camping bedding which I (shamefully) haven't gotten washed since we returned home from Alaska. It's just so dang cumbersome that every time I've gone to the laundromat with our normal wash loads, I just haven't been able to muster the energy to add all that bedding to it. Yes, I do all our laundry in town at the laundromat. We have a washer here but we've grown accustomed to being rather stingy with our water supply. We never did get ourselves a dryer and though we hang up most of our clothes to avoid shrinkage, I'm not real keen on hanging out every sock as well. Nor am I fond of crunchy socks and crunchy bath towels. So I go to the laundromat.  Anyway, I am happy to report I got 7 blankets, 3 comforters (2 of them down), and one stitched-together-combo blanket washed. The combo one is made of one sheet and two blankets sewn together. It's one of The Fisherman's concoctions to prevent his camping blankets from separating.

I have learned that the wonderfully soft micro-fleece blankets should not be put in the dryer. Since they're made of nylon, they melt. At least in the hot laundromat dryers anyway. When they melt, they turn crunchy. Not fond of crunchy you remember. So I dried what I could and brought the rest home to hang on the line.

I used to hate the smell of line dried clothes. I couldn't understand what everyone was talking about (TV commercials and all) with the smell of line dried laundry. I thought it was a bitter rank smell. Then, one day about two years ago I brought in the clothes and smelled that smell, and suddenly I liked it. Now I really like it and find myself smelling it just like in TV commercials. Go figure.

Well, that's about all I can manage for tonight. It's late and I have to work tomorrow (yeah! Thank You, God!) There might be more of these incidental tidbits of catch-up, but at this hour I certainly can't remember them, and my list is downstairs. So I'll bid you a good night until the next time. Night all.

Winter Games

Recently we headed over to some Winter Games. We were scheduled to set up some photography at the Saturday events. We almost didn't make it because The Fisherman had a migraine, but at the last minute - the very last minute - he thought he could make it. We scrambled to load up a smaller version of our originally intended set-up and hit the road. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm for winter. It's a good thing, too, because we were set up outside. I hear tell it was the first beautiful day in all of the nearly 10 years of the winter festival. We were one of only two merchandise vendors. The remainder of the space seemingly crowded with vendors were concessions vendors and participants in the Chili Cook-off. We enjoyed the day a great deal and had many visitors to our boothless "booth". And we even made some sales, too.

The event has two main features: the sled dog races up the mountain and the festival-like events down the hill at a casino. Saturday's events at the casino included a live band, a dog weight pulling contest, ice carving contest, dog shows (best purebred, best northern breed, owner-dog look alike contest, best mutt, best iddy-bitty dog and best "lap-dog"[70 pounds and up]). Here are some photos from Saturday's fun. Sorry about the quality - or lack thereof. It seems I need a refresher course on my camera settings, having blown out or blurred nearly all the photos. But you'll get the idea.

This guy was the winner, pulling around 650 pounds.

Not too many participants in the ice carving contest. But the local chain-saw carver, who creates bears, eagles, and other sculptures from big forest logs, was on hand. Though I didn't hear, I'm pretty sure he was the winner.  I couldn't imagine what he was making in a horizontal format.

I don't have a clue what this gargoyle like creature was but it turned out very good.

Ahaa! Two horizontal blocks of ice became a dog sled, complete with hooded musher hunkered down in back. He even stuck in blue eyes for the dog. Very nice.

The next day, The Fisherman still not feeling all that well, I went up to Day Two of the sled dog races myself. One of the founders of the races at the games is a friend of ours. His sister is also a friend of mine from Bible study. He was racing and his wife was the official time keeper. They needed the two of us Bible study gals to stand at the place where the race trail crossed a maintenance road - to keep the dogs from veering onto the road and to stop any stray vehicle that might wander along. A dozen or so Young Marines were there to help but their numbers were consumed with an especially exuberant dog team I'll show you later.

So Nancy and I drove to the spot where the trail crossed the dirt road and we waited, each of us on either side of the trail. Watching the trail curve around the trees, we waited for the sound of barking dogs at the start line to quiet down. Then we knew a team was on their way. The dogs bark with excited anticipation until they hear their musher tell them to go. Then it's all business and they're off.  Pretty soon we saw a flash of movement around the bend and here came the first team.

And the second...

Then the third, our friend, Ron.

He's getting out of mushing. Has sold or given away all of his dogs. Except for one 14 year old long-retired favorite, Snowflake. He was running a team for another musher and I was glad to be able to see him race for the first time since I've been an Iditarod fan.

This wasn't exactly like the Iditarod mind you. The largest teams run here were only 6-dog teams compared to the Iditarod's 16-dog teams that start out the race. And this race trail was only 4 miles long, not 1000.

And here comes the winning team coming in to the finish.

Eliminating some drag, the musher hunkers down to make it easier on his team to run the last stretch.

Here comes Ron, coming in for the finish.

After the race, it's chow time. "Dog trucks" are fitted with welded on eye bolts all around the truck and dogs are chained up temporarily before and after a race.

Then, it was back into the cozy shelter of their individual boxes.

 Up you go!

Here's a couple of the small sleds that were used that day. Sleds are big enough to carry any equipment needed for safety out on the trail and also large enough to carry a dog inside, should it become tired or injured. On the Iditarod trail, sled bags are often used for a musher to crawl into and catch some sleep when they stop along the way.

Believe it or not, I'm such an Iditarod nerd that I actually know the names of some of the parts of a sled. But I'll spare you the identifying of them. Feel free to just look at the pretty sled in the pretty snow and sunlight.



More tomorrow of snow, sleds, dogs and mushers.

Our Favorite Snowstorm

Writing about last week's snow storm reminded me of our favorite snow storm. It was when I was working at our church. Everyone else on staff had gone home for the day. The snow was coming down heavy. Really heavy. I'd always known that, should there be a bad storm, I could just sleep over at the church. The youth pastor had a couch in his office and I always carried a blanket in my truck. The kitchen had snacks, and even a small arsenal of frozen dinners I'd brought as lunches for the week. The church library was full of books and videos I could use to pass the evening until time to go to sleep. As I looked outside at the heavy snow coming down, I thought this just might be the night I'd actually need to engage this back-up plan.

Inexperienced with snow-driving (and hating it) the prospect of a 20-some mile drive home in a blizzard was just too daunting. I called my husband and told him I was too uncomfortable to drive home, that I thought I should stay in town. There were folks I could have stayed with in town, but frankly, I didn't want to be on the roads at all, not just the highway home. He said he would come get me and take me back into town the next morning for work if I wanted him to. I didn't know what to do. I was worried about him driving in it, too. But, his experience with driving in snow was much broader than mine and he wasn't as scared of it. He said it was up to me.

I hemmed and hawed, not knowing what to do. I had pre-thought this scenario for so long, I thought I was fine with it. But the more I pictured myself alone in the church all night, I got a little nervous. With enough assurance from him that he would be fine on the road and that we'd be fine going home, I took him up on his chivalrous offer.

I anxiously waited for him to drive to me. He got there much sooner than I expected but by the time he arrived, the storm had settled heavily in upon the town. I was anxious about the drive home, wanting to get right on the road as soon as possible. The sooner we got going the sooner we'd be safely back at the cozy home we'd built with our own hands. The home that was toasty warm from the day's fires, waiting to envelop me in security against all the dangers of the storm.

But The Fisherman had another idea. "Hey, let's go to dinner!"

"What? Are you crazy? We need to get home!"

"Ahh, we'll be fine."

I decided to trust his greater experience with snowstorms rather than the fears of my inexperience, the fears that were always ready to over-react to things anyway. Actually, it was quite amazing that I did this, choosing to not trust my fears which always seem so convincing. I decided to trust his evaluation of the storm.

We went to our favorite Chinese restaurant another 6 miles down the road...deeper into the storm. We shared the road with only a handful of other cars. Who else would be so foolish to be out in such a storm? We got to the restaurant and asked for seats by the window. I think there was only one other table occupied with diners in the whole restaurant, and they were nearly ready to leave.

Though I was still a little nervous, I'd let go of the bulk of my fear and had chosen to trust my husband, his judgment and his driving skill.

 To this day, it's our favorite memory of dining at our favorite restaurant. We go to this restaurant on our anniversary, on our birthdays, with friends, with family. But this was our favorite visit. We both love the memory of having nearly the whole place to ourselves and looking out the window at a gentle but heavy snow coming down on the nearly abandoned road.

There's something about snow...it's just so quiet. Snow that's not accompanied by wind, that is. It's peaceful, even though it can create threatening conditions. There's nothing like looking out a window at those big, fat, white flakes coming down through the otherwise still air. The cloud cover seems to create a ceiling and all of the outdoors seems as if it's a big room. We love it when we're snug in our own cabin in the woods during one of these quiet snows. But there was just something so special about being in that restaurant for this particular storm. Something about being "caught" in town in the storm. Something about watching the snow fall while eating our favorite food, cozy and safe inside the restaurant. Something about the fact that nearly everyone else in town was already hunkered down at home, leaving the whole town to us. Something about having the whole restaurant to ourselves, the quiet inside matching the quiet outside.

We made it home safe and sound. Walking into our cabin from the cold and the snow is also one of my favorite experiences. Cozy. Warm. Strong and sturdy. Built with our own hands. Our shelter.

And if I don't have to drive in it, I do love the snow.

Storm's Coming

Wow! I can't believe it's been almost a month since I last posted. More than that since I had a real post.

The winds have been blowing here "on the mountain", as they say up here. That means a storm is coming. They've been blowing for 2 days and nights. They blow hard and I generally dislike it very much. They slam into the house and bend the tops of tall pines as their persistence creates both constant and gusting roars ripping through the long pine needles. When we bought our property we had no idea how windy it was up here. We bought in winter and didn't realize that every spring and every fall the winds assault these mountain communities for weeks until the full change of season takes place. And every time there's a storm coming, the winds make their appearance for a couple days preceding.

I'm talking serious winds. Winds that make driving on the highway a tense experience. Winds that send your hair all over creation. Winds that make you lean into them. Winds that shut car doors on your leg, and winds that can rip cold air right through to your bones. After two days of these winds, I went outside tonight and it was...absolutely still. It stopped me in my tracks, the silence, the peace. I exhaled a slow and long breath of relief. I smiled. I sighed. I drank in the sight of motionless treetops. The quiet was beautiful. Ahh.

But, at this time of year, it does mean that this is literally the calm before the storm. It's supposed to snow tonight and all day tomorrow. But we're ready. I filled our water jugs when I was in town Friday. We restocked our wood shed a couple days ago. I pulled the truck in backwards today when I came home. That way we can drive straight out in case the snow is deep. When there's several inches snow on the ground I prefer to drive straight out in Forward rather than backing out in Reverse, even though we have 4-Wheel Drive and it's not that much of a problem.

Fortunately I don't really think the concern is warranted this time. Last night I heard the tail end of a weather forecast for tomorrow that said "...in the high country. Forecasts call for 8-14 inches of snow." What high country? Our high country? The high country north of us? South of us? West of us? I never could find out but checking the internet today it predicts only 1 inch in our area. That's fine with me! But you never really know for sure whether the forecast will run true. We never really how a storm is going to hit us. Sometimes it's worse than predicted and sometimes it seems to split and go around us entirely.

Last Saturday we'd heard snow was coming in the night. It came early. On our way in going to church as a matter of fact. That's one of the disadvantages of living over 20 miles from town; the weather is often different where we live than in town. It can even be different in different parts of town. And the drive is so long that the weather can change en route. It was barely snowing at our house, just little tee-tiny flakes. On the way to town we ran into rain. By the time we reached the half-way point, the rain was getting slushy. Another couple of miles brought discernible snow. Each mile after that was different. We hit pockets of heavy snow and light snow. By the time we were five miles from town it was downright bad. The plan was to swing by and get a $5 always-ready pizza, go by the drug store to pick up some things, and then head to church further down the road another 8 miles. 2 miles outside of town we were in a blizzard. We knew we needed to turn around and go home. So close, we decided to pick up the pizza and then turn around.

Big, fat, wind-driven snowflakes came flying at us as we drove home. It reminded me of "warp speed" in the original Star Wars movies. The drive home was slow. The roads were still OK - slushy and not iced over yet - but we were concerned about elk in the road. The snow was coming down and blowing so hard our visibility was only about 50 feet. We came home and hunkered down for the night, disappointed that we missed church but very thankful that the snow hit on our way in rather than while we were sitting in church. We would have had it much worse driving home at 8:30 pm if we'd sat in church for an hour and a half while a blizzard quietly raged outside. It's just one of the downsides to living so far from town.

I'll write more soon, to catch up with what's been going on for the last month.

I Won! I Won!

 

I can't believe it, but I won these beautiful wood buttons from

The Hickory Tree!

 

WooHoo!

I'm so excited and dreaming of all the ways I'll use them! 

THANK YOU, La Chapstick Fanatique!