She Saw The Mountains

The sky was a clear and brilliant blue; the January sun sparkled on the lingering snow. The mountains, cloaked in a cover of white, stood strongly, miles beyond the prairie that I so love. They stand surrounding the prairie like the walls of a protective fortress. My husband and I drove without conversation, only listening to Ronnie Dunn on the radio. It wasn't the influence of his lyrics that impacted my reflection today, though I am sure they contributed in part. Unexpectedly, quiet tears began to fall down my face.

I had driven this drive many, many times over the years. My love of the prairie goes to the deepest recesses of my youth with memories that are always ready to come to the surface, should I allow them.

Today, those memories were of my mama. It was without fail that she commented on this very same scene every single time we drove it. "Look at those mountains!" she would exclaim without fail. "Oh, those mountains are so beautiful, today."

She loved the mountains. She was a North Idaho girl from birth. She was raised in the majestic beauty of the North Country. Never did it leave her soul.

"Yes, but look at the prairie!" I would answer. I loved the expanse of it, the blue grass (or whatever it was in later years that might be growing) which seemed to spread for miles before reaching the base of any of our mountains. The scent of mint, or freshly cut hay; the swish, swish, swish of irrigation sprinklers as crops were watered in summertime. It was all of those things that simply exaggerated my emotions,  heightened by all of my 5 senses, every time I passed this way.

But today, I remembered Mama. I could see her in my mind, riding shotgun next to me as I drove - to town, to doctor appointment; to coffee or lunch - wherever it was, we might be going. I could hear her soft, gentle voice, as she commented on the mountain view that she loved. Soft, yet pleased; always ready to enjoy whatever moment it was that she was then experiencing.

I have thought of these moments many times over the years and smiled at our differing point of reference. It was the exact same scene, but viewed through a different lens, a different heart. And yet, somehow it was the same. She saw the mountains, I saw the prairie. But yet it was the exact same landscape. What was different was the focal point of our attention; what was the same, was a panorama of beauty bringing the joy of creation, and appreciation of the area in which we live. Same view, different perspective. Truly, one is enhanced by the splendor of the other. Seems like there might be a lesson in that.

 

But today, things were just a bit different for me, thus the tears. Today, I realized that perhaps just enjoying the moment, (which I am guilty of not doing well enough) is something I should do more of - just like Mama. In this moment, I was missing every part of who she was.

 

And in all of that, on this day, it was very, very important for me to simply see the mountains.

The Things That Call Us Home

Christmas was a bit different for us this year. It wasn't bad; quite the contrary. It turned out to be extremely special, but it was different. It was the kids' turn to go to the other set of parents this year, so this would be my first Christmas without Matt. With both my folks being gone now, truthfully, I wanted something different. I wanted solitude. I'm not sure why, but in retrospect, it was more than that. It actually seemed like I was being called "home".  

Maybe it was just that the Lord knew that was where my heart was this year. I don't know. But we went "home". And it was a series of God Winks that made the day very, very special.

Bonners had never been the home where I had actually lived. But my Mom always called it "home" while my siblings and I were growing up, so in my heart that is the place that most feels like home to me. A sense of roots, I guess. It was wear she grew up. And it's a place where I only have happy memories. Truthfully, I can't think of a bad recollection there. I am not going to try too hard, because I have made a storybook of memories in my mind, that I do not want to invade or encroach with something anything less than positive.

In some ways, our visit was planned; in some ways, it was purely happenstance. We fed both sets of animals and while on the last set, I told my husband..."Let's go to Bonners in time to hear the noon whistle."

"Ok, well we better get going, then". Not even a second thought from him. That was the first God Wink among many that would take place on this day.

So I quickly showered and dressed - excited for the day. He was ready before me and waiting patiently, having all necessary errands completed.

"Should I take the Poinsettia?" I asked him. Several day ago, we had bought a beautiful two shaded Poinsettia to take to my parents grave in the event we were able to go around Christmas. "It will probably just go to waste," my practical side suddenly appeared. "I hadn't thought about it, but it will probably freeze the first night."

"Yes, it will. But whatever you want to do." More agreement - Yikes!

I left the Poinsettia on the table, but we weren't far down the road when I regretted it. "Maybe if Super One is open we will stop and see if there is a wreathe or something there."

 "They'll be open. They always are," he amicably responded.

 

The drive up was beautiful. The sky mostly blue and the trees snow covered. There were only a few snow flurries from time to time. Just enough to make it feel like Christmas and the road only snow covered in a few places. I had worried a bit about the weather and the roads. "You know," I reminisced aloud, "I don't think I ever remember my folks considering the weather or roads. Back then, we just went."

I probably wouldn't have driven myself, but my husband had been a professional driver for years. I didn't need to worry about his capability to get us there and back safely.

Another thought came to me. This was probably the first time I had been north on Christmas in probably 40 or more years. It felt like we were entering a Winter Wonderland. A Christmas card view at every turn. It was all cathartic, and restful with unexpected joy.

I realized we would be pushing it to make it in time for the noon whistle. But I really wanted to stop and look for a wreathe or something to bring to my parents' graves. I could ask my husband to go down to listen to the whistle first and come back up the hill to the store after we spent some time downtown. But I really didn't want to take advantage of his good nature thus far.

Super One looked deserted, we pulled in anyway. I got out to read the sign in order to be certain. "Closed Christmas day." Oh well nothing could dampen my spirits today.  I jumped into the car, and a1/4 mile later, I exclaimed, "Oh, look Safeway is open! Turn in!"

"Just let me out at the door. I think I have time to grab something and still make it in time for the whistle." I ran (yes, literally) down to the floral section and my eye landed on the cutest little, most perfect little Christmas tree anywhere complete with a weather-worthy Christmas North Star. 50% off! Wink, right back at Ya, dear God! Thank you!

"50% off," I explained to my husband as I got in the car. But he seemed as excited about the little tree as I was. I read the little tag." Bring inside when temps get lower than 15 degrees." The little tree would be just fine....maybe a deer snack...but it wasn't going to freeze, tonight or even this week.

"We still have 6 minutes! Drive down Main Street and park in front of the little park. I want to sit on the bench and listen and take it all in." I suggested/ordered/pleaded. lol

He obliged without hesitation.

The street was empty, of course, but the little park was festively decorated and I had time to snap a few pictures. Suddenly I stopped...there it was. What is it about that whistle?! It literally brought tears to my eyes. I hit record on my camera and caught it from beginning to end. "Grandma, it's noon!" And I am here for Christmas once again.

Thankful my husband pretended not to see my tears, I lingered just a bit longer before saying "Let's go up to the cemetery now."

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty!" There was a deer in the famous spot today. She looked up at us, but showed no fear. "You don't have to stop." I didn't want to worry about the car getting started again on the snowy hill, but actually the height had never seemed so minimal. Why did I always think this was so steep? I wondered to myself.

All the gates were open, the road plowed. We took our time - took photos and enjoyed the views. My husband wiped off the headstone and we placed the hearty little pine tree there. Against the pure, white snow, the stone never looked so blue and I was so thankful we had chosen that color of stone. Truly beautiful and fitting. We wandered a bit, snapped more photos and enjoyed the beautiful, peaceful setting.

"I'm starved! Let's eat!"

 There was room for us at "The Inn" as it has come to be known to locals. "Where would you like to sit" the hostess asked us. "Oh we get to choose? By the window, please!" Mama and Daddy would have loved this. We got the best seat in the house.

"What can I bring you to drink?" she asked us.

 "Myrtle Creek! And coffee!" Aahhhh, Myrtle Creek.

There were only 3 things on the menu - all traditional for Christmas. But that was perfectly ok. Because that is what we wanted  - a traditional Christmas dinner. My husband chose the turkey and ham, but I simply wanted the ham. We both ignored the prime rib...for another time. Both dinners came complete with all the trimmings. It was delicious.

One more God Wink before I end. And I might love this one the best...So funny, soooooo God.

I had felt somewhat guilty and sorry for the people that had to work Christmas Day. I had remembered my paternal grandpa who would not ever shop on Sunday or a holiday, because he would then be contributing to the fact that he was a part of making these people work on the Sabbath. I have always been way more lax about shopping on Sundays. Never giving it much thought, even having to work that day myself. God's grace is bigger than that, (Grandpa knew that well) but I understand and respect my Grandpa's convictions. Truth is, I really did not want to think about making someone work on Christmas, either. People should be home with their families.

When our waitress brought our meal I was surprised to hear my husband apologizing that she had to work on Christmas Day.

"Oh, I don't mind," she laughed. "I'm Jewish! And I already celebrated Hannukah a few days ago." And I could not help but laugh with her, and acknowledge a bit of a G-d Wink. This one Jewish. ;-)

The service could NOT have been better or the day more perfect.

"I hope I am not going to die." I jokingly said to my husband. "I can't imagine why He did this for me. Everything just fell into place."

We finished our meal, but took our time. We enjoyed the view and some pumpkin pie and I reminisced Christmases and summers and family and love.

After we left The Inn, we drove through the old fashioned little town again, and went up on the dike road to look at the river. "How high's the water, Mama?" I took a few more photos, before getting back into the car to drive down the road to Grandma and Grandpa's. It doesn't look the same of course, but it was the action of it I needed to do.

We circled back under the little railroad bridge and I told my husband the day was perfect, we could head back in order to be home before dark. It was but a few hours we spent, all wrapped up was the gift of a life time and the things that call us home.

 

9/10ths

 

I softly ran my fingers over the colorful stitches. They were embroidered with precision and perfection. And I couldn't help but know there was time and love in each pattern. Each block was absolutely beautiful.

While going through my folks' things after their passing, I came across a quilt that had been started by my mother a long time ago. I only vaguely remembered it as I pulled it out of the bag in which she had so carefully wrapped and folded it.

Oh wow! I thought to myself. Mama had started a quilt. A quick look told me a square was embroidered for each state of the union. Each one was the state flower -  the Blue Bonnet of Texas; the Magnolia of Louisiana; the Syringa of Idaho; the Lady Slipper of Minnesota...

Minnesota was the one I had spotted and was caressing in loving memory of mama now. I wondered how she picked the colors of each pattern. I wondered what she had been thinking as she had worked.  Minnesota would have been the state where her dad was born. This one had to have special meaning.

She had sewn the squares together, but I wondered if all 50 states were there. It obviously wasn't finished. There was no backing, nor had the blocks been tied or quilted. I was so excited, even before knowing for sure if it was complete, I texted my neighbor who loves to quilt.

"Are you still quilting this winter?" I asked. "Do you need a project?" "Would you like to finish a quilt my mom started?" Or it was something to that effect anyway, I know the text sounded confusing and awkward, because I didn't know for sure what was needed. I had visions of my neighbor, L, having to add squares or states. I wasn't yet sure how big it was, because I had not yet completely pulled it out of the bag.

My neighbor responded immediately with the obvious question; but said yes, she would love a project.

I needed to know if it was finished. I pulled it out of the bag and saw that all the squares were already sewn together in their entirety. I cannot even begin to tell you of my joy when I counted and all 50 states were there. I quickly texted her back.

"YES! It is finished. It just needs backing, batting and quilted together!" I excitedly texted back.

"Bring it over," she responded, "we will make a plan."

When we met, and she laid the unfinished quilt out on her quilting table, she seemed as excited as I was. "Oh my goodness, it is beautiful. I can see why you are so excited. This is an heirloom," she gushed with praise. "Look at her stitching, it is as good on the back as it is on the front."

And with that, I wanted to cry. Those were words my mom would love to hear. She always said ones work should be as good where it can't be seen as where it could. She meant it for her, sewing, knitting, and especially her embroidery; but there is an obvious lesson there for life. And an important one at that.

What are you going to do with it?" my neighbor asked.

"Well I don't know. It really isn't mine. I just found it among her things, as I was going through things to divide for my family. I really don't remember at what time in her life she made it. And I don't know why she picked the green as the alternating squares, but that color goes PERFECTLY in my house!! And with that we both laughed.

"Well you are the one that found it," she stated matter-of-factly. And I quickly remembered our family joke - "Possession is 9/10 of the law." My youngest sis would especially be fond of reminding us of that common rule.

Anyway, we made our plan and at the time I was still uncertain as to what to do with it. I knew when it was finished, I would be worried about it being used on my bed. Really no one in the family had room for it as a wall hanging. It was too big.

"I could give it as a Christmas present," I told my neighbor, L. Then I quickly added, "But not this Christmas," so she wouldn't feel like she had to rush to finish it. "There is no hurry," I told her. "It has probably been in this bag for at least 20 years." And I found myself really wishing I remembered. Someone in the family would most likely know but I didn't want to ask anyone just yet and expose that I had it, before I decided what I would do with it.

"We could all take turns, I guess," I told L. It would be fun to draw names out of a hat for who would be the one to keep it for the year." I continued to contemplate what should be done with it and left L's not knowing for sure.

L has a friend in our little town that has a quilt shop. I have been there before with L, when I had the quilt of Matt's T-shirts made. It is an absolutely beautiful home and she has as many materials as any shop in the larger city, south. But one gets more attention and help. So L had made an appointment with her and now we were going to choose the backing, get the batting, and pick out the right thread. Once there, I took my time deciding, I wanted it to be perfect. L also had some questions for the more experienced quilter. I knew L was a beginning quilter - her husband had given her quilting lessons a couple years ago, but she had jumped into it whole-heartedly and had made a number of quilts already. But even that aside, I trusted L implicitly. I knew everything she did was done with perfection and that she would be as careful with it, as anyone. I had not one worry. And I told her that as we left the quilt shop.

"If something happens, I don't want you to worry about it. It doesn't have to be perfect. For me, this is only about preservation. Because even if something goes wrong, it will still be better off finished than tucked away in a bag - forgotten." I just didn't want her to worry about the fragility of it, because I absolutely was not concerned at all. I just wanted my mama's work completed.

I really didn't expect her to have the project done before Christmas, but there was a part of me that really wished it would be. Driving home from work yesterday, as I pulled up to the mailbox, I found myself thinking about L and the quilt. I guess it won't be done now before Christmas, I found myself thinking. That's ok, I encouraged myself. Christmas is a busy time of year, it would be ridiculous to expect that. I was really ok with that outcome. There was absolutely no urgency.

When I got into the house, I scolded my husband for not having the Christmas lights on. "Christmas isn't over yet, just because we had it early with the kids," I lectured. I was having a hard time keeping the Christmas spirit, myself, but really wanted the importance of the season celebrated.

But I am not sure he even heard me. He pulled out a big package from behind the table. "Look what came while we were gone." He said. "Santa must have been early."

"Whose it from? I asked excitedly." It was on the porch?" I queried disbelievingly.

"Yeah, there is nothing on the tag." He answered.

I had no clue what it could be, there were two large packages in an even larger Christmas bag to hold them both. I was stumped.

"Why didn't you open it? I continued in my lecture mode. He had gotten home from town a bit earlier than I had from work and I was genuinely surprised he had waited for me. lol

He rolled his eyes at that. "Just open it."

"Do you think we should wait 'til Christmas?" 

"Open it."

So I got busy unwrapping. "It's the quilt!!" And the other package must be the pillow, I had L finish.

With that, he told me the story. L had called him to say the project was ready and he had arranged with her to pay for it and pick it up, in order for it to be a surprise Christmas present for me! He had wrapped it nicely before I got home from work. It was indeed a surprise. L had thoughts of him having me open it on Christmas day, in front of family for all to see; but my husband didn't want to wait, especially since we had already done our Christmas gift opening.

The moment I saw it, I knew where it would be going. On the bed! The little pillow, L had made with Mama's embroidery told the story and cinched my decision. "Now I lay me down to sleep..." The pillow and quilt were perfect together and L had coordinated colors so they matched. They also matched perfectly the comforter already on our bed...oh, and the curtains and carpet. lol

I immediately put it on the bed. I couldn't be more pleased. Family will have to fight me for this one....you know...that "Possession is 9/10ths of the law." thing. I pondered how I would tell them. I guess this might be how. ;-)

Snappin' Beans; Shelling Peas

I sat quietly, reminiscing as I snapped beans. The sun was warm and comfortable. Back then, I would have been under the shade of the big, old locust tree. But I wanted to be in the warmth of the sun on this day. There weren't a lot of beans, just the first round. Nothing like there would have been when I was a kid. I can't snap a bean to this day without thinking of snapping beans back then.

Next would come my peas. There weren't a lot of those either. But enough for some new potatoes and peas tonight. It was a tradition at my house, the first round of peas would always be for new potatoes and peas. Today, however, I wasn't sure I would dig for new potatoes...I almost didn't want to take the chance of disrupting the plant, or it's growth. And we would have more benefit from full growth potatoes, a bit later. Awe, Age! Must you ruin everything? I should surely dig.

But as I shelled the peas and was almost done with my task, I paused for a moment to think about the summer. I am not sure I ever have given it much thought before. But the ripening, readiness, and harvesting is a very interesting thing. It seems it goes like this. First the rhubarb is ready, and I harvest as much as I can mostly making pies, but freezing some if there is enough. There wasn't this year. I don't think it got enough water, and there is a bush in front of it that is blocking sunlight, that I need to trim back.  I always give a rhubarb pie away as a "first fruits". Silly thing...but it brings me joy. This one went to my kids.

Then it is either the cherries or the hay that is ready. This year it was the hay. We spent probably a week cutting, raking, baling and storing hay. My husband had bought a swather last fall, so he picked up a few of the neighbors fields to hay. The tonnage was low, as some of the fields were not properly cared for and our own pastures are still coming back from work that was required to rid them of a bad grass. But the hay took all of our focus for a week or so.
 

Next my cherries were ready. Now I suppose my Bing cherries were ready before the hay, but for what ever reason it was a poor year for that Bing tree. Again as a first fruits thing, my neighbor took the cherries off of that tree. She only got about 9 cups, I think she said. I probably took 2 cups from it, and added another 2 cups from my pie cherry tree to make a pie for my husband who had patiently missed out on any pie during the rhubarb phase. How can anyone not like rhubarb???!!!

My Pie Cherries!

Then my pie cherry tree was ready. My neighbor got about 16 cups from that tree. And that was only because the cherries weren't all ripe before they were to leave on vacation. I think I got about 72 cups from that little tree. It just kept giving and giving and giving...maybe it was that first fruits thing...I don't know. I made pies for my husband, my kids, my great niece and her in-laws. Oh and one for the ladies I work with...and then I froze enough for about 5 more pies and gave a frozen 4 cup bag away to my kids to put in their freezer.

After the cherries, the raspberries were ready and I made freezer jam and some raspberry shortcake. It was delicious. I ate it mostly by myself. I don't think my husband likes raspberries.

The thing is, I find it so fascinating that everything is ready at different times. I mean just think if everything got ready all at the same time. One would never be able to keep up! I sure wouldn't anyway. So now it is the beans and peas. Next will be more beans, carrots, and most importantly cucumbers. I will spend August making pickles, as I do believe I will have a good crop this year.

I have already given away dill, basil and cilantro. I will have lots of dill when the cucumbers are ready. I have been busy freezing leaves of basil in ice cube trays. I like to preserve them that way, then as I cook I simply take out an ice cube or two and put it in my spaghetti sauce or whatever it is that I am making. These are simple tasks that will continue throughout the rest of summer.

I am disappointed with my self for letting my cilantro flower. I should have cut it back and I believe it would have produced longer. I have way more than I expected and I have not cared for it properly. Still we are enjoying it, sharing it, and there will still be some if I get tomatoes.

Salsa is usually on my agenda, but I don't think I am going to get many tomatoes this year. I LOVE my salsa and I used to always give some to my nephew before he got married. I just hope I am able to make some this year. I have jalapeños, cilantro, bell peppers and onions. I am rooting (in the sense of cheering) for those tomatoes!

The corn and potatoes will come last and there is no work in harvesting those. I like to leave my potatoes in the ground well into fall, like my mama did. It is pretty cool to just go out and dig some when you need them.

We have never gotten a whole lot of corn, as we have a short growing season up here. But we always get enough to have for a meal or two and to put some in the freezer.

When my carrots are ready, of course I will use them fresh and I will freeze some, but my very favorite thing to do is pull a few and feed them to my horses right then and there. They love them! And they quickly learn to come to the fence when they see me headed that way. It warms my heart.

Well there! I think that is mostly it. In between caring for horses, and mowing lawn, weeding flower gardens and vegetable garden, it all keeps me pretty busy. I just finally realized this year, it is all spaced out very nicely! I am pretty sure that is all for a reason. If things weren't spaced so perfectly, snapping beans and shelling peas might not be nearly so much fun.