Willow-the-Wisp

This morning my coffee is poured and waiting;  I couldn't wait to add the photos of the morning events even though my steaming cup will cool to cold before I finish.

He Who Is So Gladly Obeyed gathered the equipment and pails for picking pears.  Our early temps were in the mid 30's this morning and the fruit needs to come off of the tree.  The live trapping of wild pear eaters has helped and we will have pears.  It has been determined that the top most pears, which of course are the largest and most beautiful, are not worth a ladder accident.

Last night was our last swim.  Ken Burns documentary on the parks kept us in the house until almost 9 o'clock, so our swim was truly by moon light and starlight for an hour or so.  The 90 degree + water is pure luxury as we swim a few laps across the pool in the dark.

Night before last we observed the strangest phenomena; it had been a windy day and there were still a few gusts blowing the neighboring tree tops sporadically.  Then in the dark sky, lit just a bit by a half moon, were some white whispy little bunches that I truely thought were a flock of white geese, like the ones I had seen during the day.  The lead bird can keep the flying flock following and this whisp behaved exactly like migrating water fowl.  It would swiftly fly over us and in the near distance it would circle and twist just like a flock preparing to land on a nearby body of water.  About three of these events happened right before our eyes.  There were no clouds in the night sky, none but these small willow-the-wisps, lighted below by the city street lights and the small moon glow overhead.

It was so other-worldly.  I wonder if it happens by daylight and is so obliterated by the sun that it is unseen.

I think last night was the first time the filter hoses were pulled in the moonlight...but better than getting into chilly water later on.  And so another summer passes and we make the preparations for a new season.

Apple Orchards

 

A daughter-in-law, granddaughter and great granddaughter from Wichita, KS visited and had dinner with us Friday.  The photo above was taken on a trip to an apple orchard with the other grandparents for lunch that noon.  This little charmer is starting to talk and it was such fun to be with all of them for a little while.  Babies first words are such treasures and when they start stringing them together it is a necklace of sparkling diamonds looping around your heart.

Fast Eddie

Our little life slows down to a comfortable routine. We enjoy our meals together which often consist of homemade soup canned and/or frozen with a slice of homemade bread with grape jelly. Meals are fast and easy.  The bread machine kneeds, rises and bakes a loaf of whole wheat and rye bread every five or six days.

We are starting the yard clean up with the calendar start of the season. Today is the second day of fall and would have been my mother's 97th birthday were she still alive.  I am thankful for her parenting as I am that of my dad's. His quiet way with a daughter after losing two sons at birth was perhaps unusual.  I loved my childhood.

We end our days with an evening swim in 90 degree water, and perhaps a glass of wine. It is otherworldly to watch  the clouds turn red, pink, at twilight; and finally darken while we watch the stars come out one by one. A quick outdoor shower and a dash under the down coverlet to watch the nine o'clock news.

Last night late I got a phone call from a cousin with a newly diagnosed cancer.  Nope, she isn't going to let them cut, burn and poison her, the triple torture; she is going to lick the tumor with coral calcium and two hours of sunshine a day, without suncreen nor sunglasses.  Within 31 days she will be cancer free and her body will go from cancer growing acidic to a cancer killing alcaline base.  She isn't going to die until she gets her life story written and will I type it for her if she sends me the chapters handwritten?  "Yes, I will."

I always loved her tall wild tales of adventures and mis-adventures. We ended the phone visit howling with laughter over her leaving Fast Eddie in a Tennessee jail on thier honeymoon; and she went home to find his kids loading up her furniture into a truck.  They didn't leave until they put everything back into its place in her house.

No Greater Gift

A son flew home Thursday to spend the day with us. There is no greater gift than that. He helped his dad fix a chair, we had lunch and went for a swim in a clear, clean, warm pool. Life is so good.

Harding County Homecoming

My small home town of Buffalo, South Dakota, celebrated its Centennial and an All School Reunion over Labor Day weekend. It was a homecoming in the best of ways. Spending time with friends from long ago and cousins that came back to my generation's start in life was heartwarming.

My high school friend, D, and I worked the registration table a couple of three hour shifts and got to see other students that came home for the occasion. What a great way to find out about all the activities during the four days and to greet travelers and those who were wise enough to stay and make their homes in Harding County.
A cousin who stayed operates the Tipperary Motel where we always stay. That in itself is a sort of a homecoming.

In the Rec Center basket ball court other cousins had set up the T-REX STAN replica that was found just south of my grandparent's homestead. In 1987, a cousin, Stan Sacrison found the pelvis weathering out of a sandy cliff 100 feet above the prairie.

Parties, pot lucks, parades, rodeos and the dedication of the newly designed city park were just a few of the activities that were offered. A couple of dear friends and I drove the 12 miles north in the Cave Hills to take a picture of the little Finnish Lutheran Church that my grandparents worked so hard in the early 1900's to build and establish. I was baptized, confirmed and attended this church until I went away to college. Early in my life this meant listening to the service in Finnish and about turn listening to it back to back in English. I loved being able to read the hymns in the Finnish hymn book.

He Who Must Be Obeyed had reproduced, prepared, and framed two of my dad's paintings, one for the Senior Center and the other joined the four already in the Museum. It was most pleasing to be able to honor my dad, who was the town blacksmith, in this manner.