Saving Gas

After days of extreme wind, rain and cool temps the sun finally came out today.  Along with the sun came an insane need to get out.  I had the brilliant idea to ride the bikes to Fred Meyer for ingredients to make a salad.  Of course my other half didn't hesitate or miss a beat making the decision to go.   Biff was instantly ready to head out without even checking the temperature. Sometimes it is hard to play with a person who never gets cold, doesn't care if wind blows in his ears or will ride against a gale force wind.

I managed to stall him until the outside air reached 54 degrees. We always know that leaving our house and heading toward town, we will ride into the wind.  Today was no different.  As you peddle, you keep telling yourself that it will be an easy ride home because the wind will be at your back. 

Never having done a shopping trip on bikes we were testing the waters---how much could my basket hold.  The ride was easy and pleasant considering there are few sidewalks and no bike lanes.  The biggest obstacle was dodging broken bottles.  We made it across the major intersection without getting hit.  The secret is to pretend you are a smart car and peddle fast.

We came home with just over $16.00 in groceries.  The bread wasn't squashed and the milk made the ride on Nolan's rack strapped down with a bungee cord.  The trip was a success, free and fun.

Can you believe you are looking at $16.54 ?  It is a good thing we used no gas on the journey.

    

Market Lake

A late spring storm at Market Lake wild life refuge offered spectaular skies and giant thunder heads.
This is always an interesting area in all seasons.  We started visiting Market Lake when our kids were small.  The marshes host a variety of ducks and water fowl as well as sand hill cranes.  Thursday when we drove out to make a visit the geese had their babies out and about along with the malards and their broods.

Things cycle in Mother Nature and the musket rats are no longer part of the wildlife.  No more mounded houses made of reeds grace the water.  When we first started making periodic trips to Market Lake they were scattered throughout the marsh and musk rats could be seen swimming back and forth from the bank to their houses.  Now ducks, geese, koots, hawks red winged blackbirds, yellow headed blackbirds and cranes are the main residents.

Later in the summer brown headed cattails will line the water's edge.  The reeds will turn from gold to green. 

The trill of the red winged blackbirds bounced from one bird to another.

Hanging In

 

I have avoided my blog for weeks.  I have been hesitant to write because things have been rather mundane, or perhaps that is to say things have been normanl. It is a normal Idaho spring--wind, wind, wind and more wind.  My main objective has been to formulate a plan of escape.  In spite of the time this blog has been neglected, it was not due to an attempt to carry out my escape plan.  I came to the conculsion that I had no place to go and was trapped here.  I kept telling myself--- this too will pass.  Somehow the phrase offered little solace  because the passing has been extremely slow. One morning I will wake up and it will be summer with maybe less wind and perhaps temps above 55.  I am optimistic and will keep repeating to myself--this too will pass.  Hope springs eternal.

March Madness

March Madness is in full throttle.  College basketball teams are frantically scrambling to advance to the final four.  Not only are the teams in a panic attack mode, but so are the alumni and fans. What is it about sporting events that draw thousands of people to gather in one spot to scream, wave flags, paint their faces and act like idiots?  It must be part of human DNA because sports mania presents itself early in our development.

We spent years following our sons from one Idaho town to the next watching them play baseball, basketball and soccer.  We screamed, jumped up and down, yelled and hollered out unheard instructions.  I did most of the jumping.  We became the sports idiots.  Some parents actually forget they were parents and became so carried away that they were asked to leave.  Fortunately, we had enough self restraint to not cross that line and embarrass our boys.

Years later we are again repeating these events.  A grandson has now advanced to playing school basketball and we again find ourselves yelling and jumping up and down.  I still do the jumping and Nolan yells some, but not as loud.  He was always more dignified than me.  The emotions related to watching sporting events which have been dormant for years have suddenly come alive.  Connor is now the creator of our sports tension--the center of our focus.   Once again we get to holler unheard instructions and become bleacher coaches.  We are part of that special group called sports fans.

It is funny how some things never change no matter how many years pass.  The referees are still stupid and make very poor calls, the coaches still need to rethink their line up and game plans.  I thought they would have figured those things out by now, but apparently not.  There is nothing that gets the adrenalin pumping like a sporting event.  It is nice to be the grandparent and watch with a little more distance.  Too much adrenaline at this point in life could be fatal.  Being a grandparents has several perks.  We get to watch Connor develop his skills, work hard to do his best, take pride in his accomplishments and be a team player.  But, best of all, when the team does not come off victorious, we don't have to take a disappointed, angry boy home and spend the rest of the night with him.  We've had our turn three times over.  He has parents that get that special experience  

My Cows

I pass the remnants of a still working farm every time I head into  town.  I leave my sub division and drive down East River Road which still has a small farm/ranch that has not been swallowed up by new homes and white fences.  In the few acres left untouched, the farmer still raises cattle.  There is a colorful mixture of cows: black, brown and white, and solid brown.   
I always give them a casual glance as I pass by checking out where they are pastured and how close they are to the road.  The farmer moves them through the fences dividing the pastures throughout the summer months so they can graze on the grass.  Sometimes they are close to the road and stand under the trees to escape the heat.

The special treat comes in the late winter when the calves suddenly appear.  Like magic there they are.  When did they arrive?  How did I miss seeing them yesterday or the day before?  Never the less the tough little babes are scattered across the field.  I never find this repetitive event boring or casual.  It is still a wonder and a fascination every year.  Life can be so frail, yet these small creatures endure wind, cold blizzards, lack of shelter and still manage to thrive.  I am the lucky participant in this struggle, for I see the ones that are healthy and strong.

I know how hard it is to be a rancher this time of year.  Wendy and Jean share their trials and stories with me.  They are not a watcher like me, but working ranchers along with their husbands.  They regret  the loss of a new born and rejoice in the survival of another.  Because of my friendship with them I understand and appreciate the winter miracle of birth even more.  As in all things of life, nothing should be taken for granted.  Perhaps those closer to the earth understand this in a deeper sense

I see the calves in my little corner of the world as a gift and a reminder to take time to appreciate what is around me and how easy it is to get caught up in the trappings of a busy and hectic world.   

  

It Is Here to Stay

Believe it or not I can remember living without TV.  My family did not jump onto the band wagon immediately.  My mom and I would walk to town to pay the light bill and phone bill at the respective offices.  We had one car which my dad took to work.  The walk was not done with dread, but with a spirit of freedom and expectation.  On hot days the pedestrian tunnel cutting through the underpass was a welcome break from the summer heat.  It was cool, dark, and had a tremendous echo when you screamed.  After the bills were paid we mad a detour.  

On Main Street,  Ford Music was the only store that sold TVs.  To draw customers in they placed a TV in the window and keep it on the entire day.  People jocked for a position on the sidewalk where they could view the new and exciting thing called television.  We were right there with the best of them.  Very few people had TVs yet and it was still far away from being a fixture in every home.  I don't remember being bored, or lacking for entertainment before this new invention invaded the American family.

Many, many, many years later the TV is the center of the home.  It occupies the most prominent space.  Not only does it command attention, but homes are decorated around the black rectangle.  This once fascinating piece of new technology which was so fresh and exciting has become rather boring.  Or perhaps, I have become boring and fail to connect with what I am seeing.  My entertainment level still identifies with Father Knows Best, Leave It To Beaver, Happy Days and Bill Cosby.

Little did I know standing on the sidewalk watching the fuzzy, black and white picture coming through the small box, that it would become such an important part of our world society.  Wars are now played out in our homes, world figures are brought to their knees before our eyes, and we see presidential candidates up close and personal.  There is very little in the world that takes place without everyone knowing about it.  Good or bad it is part of us now.  Television connects the planet and makes it smaller and more personal. There are days when I think this is good and feel empowered by the knowledge it brings and other days I wish I didn't know so much beyond my own front door.       

Trees

Winter changes the look of our surroundings. I like the stature of trees in the starkness of winter.  Their hidden shapes: the bends and curves of branches, twisted trunks, the rise and fall of the peeling bark.

Roots hold tight to the soil and sink deep to find the life giving water.  Even in dormancy, without their green canopies trees have much to say.  They speak of endurance, solitude, determination and giving.

  
I have planted trees in a new yard  anticipating small green buds in spring, branches hanging heavy with apples in late summer and leaves of gold and bronze in the fall.  Even when I was lacks in my nurturing the trees still gave back.  Never failing in consistence and generosity.

 
Trees grow old, and the years of wind, cold and rain show in the broken limbs and knotted roots.  They have stood as silent sentinels watching and listening to the changes taking place around them; keeping secrets.

I just like trees: their inviting shade, green dense umbrellas, scarred bark and the stately manner in which they wait for the winter months to pass.  Trees are good for the soul.  In some strange way, they warm us and make us feel better.  Everyone needs a tree.  It makes us look up.