Cousin Donna

One of my fondest memories from the trip my sister and I took across the country in 1975 was our visit with Cousin Donna Marie. We pulled up in her yard in our old beat up jalopy and she ran out to meet us. Though she was close in age to my mother, she had the energy of a teenager. We immediately knew we were kindred spirits and would have the time of our lives.

Donna Marie was always ready to head out on an adventure. First, we explored the area where she lived in Brookings, Oregon. We rode to the coast and climbed down the cliffs and explored tidal pools teeming with life. Waves of the Pacific Ocean crashed onto the beach and showered the rocky pinnacles just offshore. The wind whistled through natural bridges created by years of water and wind pounding the rugged cliffs. We wandered up and down narrow trails in awe of the wonder of creation. It was like walking through an ancient wonderland of sagious Sitka Spruce trees. Moss draped from low hanging branches and over open archways like whiskers hanging from an old man’s chin. The sound of the ocean was hypnotizing. We had to pull ourselves away from the scenes and sounds that drew us like a magnet.

We made random stops and explored along the Pacific Coastline as we drove to Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park. The park, established in 1929, is named for Jedediah Smith who was the first white man to explore the interior of Northern California in the 1820’s. We pitched our tent on a soft bed of layers of decomposing Redwood needles and camped in the old growth of Redwoods. Our food was cooked over a campfire surrounded by river rocks, the limbs of the Redwood titans far above us reaching into the sky. We met up with other cousins and swam in the cold Smith River.

Our adventure took us to Crescent City, California where we saw evidence of the Tsunami of 1964. We gathered for lunch, met cousins we had never seen before and made a shaky human pyramid. We visited a sawmill and toured a house made of all kinds of wood. An elaborate staircase led upstairs to several rooms, the walls and floor of each covered with a different kind of wood. My favorite was the room of curly redwood. The rich colors and smells still linger in my memory.

After other adventures, it was time to continue north. We pulled out of Cousin Donna Marie’s driveway a lot richer because of the bond of friendship and family. We knew our paths would cross again.

Sandy

I must have been a good girl this year because Santa stopped at our house. He brought a guest to stay with us. His name is Sandy. He is short and round and loves to eat. In fact, he eats so much, his little belly gets full and he has to stop and rest. We fixed up his own room to make him comfortable. Sandy is still getting accustomed to the house. I think he finds it a bit overwhelming. He seems to be a bit confused at times. He enters a room, bumps into things and turns around in circles like he doesn’t know if he’s coming or going. After wandering around the house for a while, having a snack, and exploring, he heads back to his bed to rest.

Sandy is supposed to earn his keep by doing some of the cleaning. He seems to really enjoy helping. He zips here and there, humming all the time. His little eyes twinkle sometimes and his big round nose shines. Though he tries his best to help, he sometimes misses a few spots. I guess he’ll get the hang of it once he gets in a routine. 

I think we’ll keep him. He’s more fun than a watching a kitten play with a ball of yarn or a puppy chase a laser pointer. Now where did Sandy the Roomba go? 

Tasty Treats

I thought I’d share a few recipes for new appetizer favorites I added to my holiday table this year. 

Spicy Pecans
Beat 1 egg white with 1 T. water and ½ tsp. vanilla. Stir in 1 pound of pecans (I use a mixture of pieces and halves). Stir in 1 c. sugar, 1 tsp. salt and 1 tsp. cinnamon. Spread on a baking sheet. Bake 1 hour, stirring at 15-minute increments. These are great to add to a green salad or just for a snack. I made a cranberry salad topped with a cream cheese mixture and topped it with the spicy pecans. It was delish! Warning: these are addictive.

Snowman Cheese Ball
Mix up your favorite cheese ball but shape it into balls like a snowman. Roll each part in finely shredded white cheese. I used Monterey Jack. Place the snowman on a bed of shredded white cheese. Use toothpicks to hold it in place. Use peppercorns or chocolate chips for eyes and mouth, a baby carrot for its nose, pretzel arms, tin cup hat, ribbon, etc. I served it with crackers and Raspberry Jalapeno Jam which was really yummy.

Raspberry Jalapeno Jam
6 c. raspberries
3 c. sugar
1/3 c. chopped jalapenos
3 T. lemon juice
Stir sugar into raspberries and let set 5 minutes (longer if you use frozen berries) for sugar to dissolve. Stir in jalapenos. Cook to 220°. Remove from heat. Stir in lemon juice. 

Festive Holiday Drink
I had been wanting a beverage dispenser, so I broke down and ordered one from Amazon. I wanted to prepare a festive holiday drink. The directions for use of the dispenser says “no hot liquids” so my usual hot spiced cider was not an option. 

Put washed and sorted cranberries into dispenser. (I froze some of the cranberries and added them to the mixture to keep the drink cold.)  lime slices. Options are limitless for what goes in next. You can just use water or juice but you can add a little umph to it. Try frozen juice concentrate but mix in sparkling water instead of regular water. I used Berry Sparking Water. Since I used it for Christmas, I wanted a light colored drink so the red and green would shine through. Frozen white grape juice concentrate or lemonade concentrate works great and tastes great. I haven’t tried it with apple juice yet but I’m sure it would be yummy. 
Note: If you use sparkling water, make your holiday drink in small batches. It doesn’t taste very good left over because it goes really flat.

Grandma Almost Got Run Over by a Running Deer

“Where are we going?” “It’s a secret!” The girls were surprised when my Jeep turned south. I think they were a bit surprised, too, when I pulled into the park of a neighboring town just minutes after our departure. Lunch was already spread out on a picnic table. My daughter had gone ahead of us and had everything ready. After a nice lunch, my granddaughter, Viv, joined us for the rest of our adventure and we were off again. 

We took some back roads to get to our destination – Barnsley Gardens. Santa checked us in at the gate. He was round and jolly with rosy cheeks and a red nose. The only thing missing was his red suit. It must have been at the dry cleaners that day. He asked about our visit and we told him we were on a “destination unknown” adventure. His belly jiggled when he laughed but he must have been impressed because he told us to drive on through, find a place to park and enjoy our visit. So, we did.

After parking, we walked to the office to pay for our tour. I got to the desk to pay and the attendants asked if we had paid at the gate. “No.” They looked a bit surprised and said, “Well, I guess the tour is complimentary. Just enjoy yourselves.” So, we did. We walked around the Manor House Ruins and Gardens. Spike provided our entertainment for the day. She fell off a tree and got slung out of a hammock. Of course, we laughed.

I had one more surprise for the girls. They followed me to the Outpost. The girls looked at one another nervously when I stepped up to the counter and said I wanted to rent kayaks. The attendant asked if we had paid at the gate. “No. Can we pay here?” “There should be someone down by the lake.” We picked out lifejackets and paddles and headed toward the trail that led to the lake. As we crossed the wooden bridge, all we saw were kayaks and canoes. There were no attendants to be seen, so we called the Outpost to find out what to do and who to pay. They said, “Well, I guess it’s complimentary. Just enjoy yourself and kayak as long as you want.” So, we did. It was fun. We raced, laughed, splashed and enjoyed the relaxing scenery and calm water. Since we were on a schedule, we couldn’t stay as long as I would have liked. We headed to shore. Spike had more entertainment for us. She had an altercation with the kayak when she slipped, fell IN the kayak and busted her nose. When I got out of the kayak, I was soaked. My britches sloshed when I walked. The girls laughed because it looked like I had an accident.

With our kayaks secured, we headed back to the Outpost to return our equipment. We had to cross the wooden bridge that was over a narrow part of the lake. Viv was about halfway across the bridge with me right behind her. The other girls were at the edge of the bridge. My granddaughter stopped and said, “Oh my!” Just a few feet in front of her was a deer. It pawed at the wooden bridge and put its head down. The deer was scared and had a crazed look in its eyes. It took a couple of steps closer. All of a sudden, the deer was standing on its hind legs with its front legs swinging madly in the air. I just knew it was going attack my granddaughter.  In one swift movement, the deer jumped. No, it flew! The judge, who had stepped onto the bridge, held her paddle up and slung it toward her daughter to protect her from deer and almost knocked the poor kid’s teeth out! The other two girls backed up out of the way. The deer landed right beside the judge and disappeared into the woods. It all happened so fast, it seemed unreal. We all started talking at once and laughing. Any of us girls will attest that deer really can fly. We all stood in amazement. My first thought was, “Man! I missed the perfect picture.” There was no time for me to grab my camera or my phone.  When we returned the equipment, we gave the animated version of our tale to the attendant then headed to our next destination.

If you have any doubt, let me just say that deer really can fly! I know because Grandma almost got run over by a running deer before it took flight. So Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Bless Her Heart

Each part of the country has its own culture, dialect and language, the South included. That’s the place where you can get by with talking about someone if you add, “Bless her heart,” and somehow that is supposed to magically negate any unflattering remark.

I have often thought a book should be written that contains sayings from all across the country. Maybe an audio book could be included so the reader could also hear the accents to give a more accurate picture of each culture.

Working with the public for 35 years, I have heard all kinds of things. There are times I have to ask someone to repeat what they just said. Sometimes it’s a matter of not being able to understand them, but sometimes it’s a matter of disbelief. Did I really hear what I thought I heard? No verbal response is necessary for such a statement. A shake of the head and an eye roll is sufficient. Of course, that is only after the customer leaves.

One day a sweet Southern lady came to my window. She was one of those Southern church-going ladies who always wore a dress. Her hair was poofed up just so and she wore a smidgen of makeup with a splash of color on her cheeks and bright lipstick. Her Southern drawl couldn’t have dripped any thicker or sweeter if it had been honey. We took care of her business and then she asked what I thought was a strange question. “Is it alright to wear a flared dress to a wedding?” I looked a bit shocked and amused and said, “I don’t see a problem with wearing a flared dress to a wedding.” The conversation continued as to the appropriateness of a flared dress. I found out what the wedding party was wearing as well as the mothers of the bride and groom. Finally, she said, “So something like this would be okay?” She stepped back a few steps and lifted her skirt slightly so I could get a good look at it. That wasn’t a flared dress! Then it hit me! “Oh, you’re talking about a flowered dress.” “I think a flowered dress would be fine to wear to a wedding.” She smiled, thanked me, and walked out the door completely satisfied. After all, our institution is full-service!

Friends

Some people are fortunate enough to have a few special friends along the path of life. Others surround themselves with a whole network of friends. That describes my oldest grandson. He’s the guy that would come to Sunday dinner and have one to six friends with him. He carried that characteristic with him to college.

A few months ago, we took a quick trip to Montana where he is attending school. We landed, make a side trip to get boots for my tall daughter (see previous post about My Tall Daughter) and then headed to the apartment my grandson shares with another student.

He was excited to see us. When he knew we were coming, he said he wanted to cook for us. Several of his friends were already there when we arrived, having come through his revolving door. We sat down at the table set with a complete set of English china made by Johnson Brother’s around 1940.  (He is a bargain shopper and got the whole set of dishes for $15.) He made antelope stew, which was delicious, baked wild rice with various herbs and dried beets, fresh green salad with avocado and other healthy food, rolls, two kinds of bread from the bakery, and pecan pie. 

Everything was wonderful! But the best part of the meal was the fellowship with those who sat around the table. As I watched and listened to the interaction between friends, I couldn’t help but be impressed. There was great diversity among those sitting around the table. I was surprised to learn that some of them didn’t even know each other before that day. As far as I’m concerned, these young people are the cream of the crop. 

Among the guests was a young man majoring in Economics and Finance and is an IT specialist. He has traveled several places including working on a fishing boat in Alaska and hiking across Nicaragua. Several of the students that sat at the table are Art majors. One young lady spent time in Italy for an art study and hopes to be able to explore French art as well. One wants to teach at a college level eventually. A vibrant charming young lady from Colorado graduates this month with a degree in Psychology. Her passion was infectious as she talked about her love of scientific studies focusing on the relationship between Alzheimer’s and gut microbiomes. A Music major with a focus on production and writing, talked of his passion for production and writing songs. He sang one of his compositions and played his guitar for us. He also studies Engineering and is an extreme kayaker. One young man works at Gibson Guitar. He also does wood working, having learned the art from an older gentleman. Among the friends was a student practicing sustainable farming and agriculture. She has been so successful, professors use her practices to teach others. A couple of the students also play in a band. Some do archival work at the Art Museum and set up exhibits. Others take part in community service at a local church. There was also an English Lit major working on a minor in Photography. He’s my favorite!

Many of these students that shared our table are outdoor enthusiasts. Their sports include skiing, ice climbing, rock climbing, snowboarding, hunting, biking, rafting, kayaking, backpacking, camping, rafting, and extreme sports. These young people are passionate about what they do – whether it’s their studies, work, outdoor activities, or community service. They are able to look to the future, not hindered by obstacles. They are all intelligent, motivated, talented and fun to be around. I felt it a privilege to sit around the table with that group of friends. Sitting with them, I was given new hope for the future. 

Gentle Giants

“And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.”

Sunlight filtered through the needles of the giant trees. Webs that hung from scraggly limbs refracted rays of light shooting rainbows toward the ground. Drops of moisture looked like strands of pearls laying against the moss that clung to misshaped branches. A thick canopy stretched across the top of the forest, branches reaching from tree to tree embracing each other to form a network of protection for the life that lived and moved beneath their boughs. Huge ferns and other plants formed a dense carpet under the umbrella of trees, digging roots into the earth to drink from the rich soil. Some of the giants rested their weary feet in the creek that wandered through the primordial woodland. The smell of saltwater from the Pacific Ocean hung heavy in the air, the only breeze in the top of the tall gentle giants.

“Come to the forest for here is rest.”

Trails led deep into the woods. Hollowed out tree trunks gave the perfect place to find refuge from wind and rain or a place to hide. Eerie shadows danced along worn paths and moved from tree to tree. Walking along the path was like stepping into one of Tolkien’s magical forests, a mystical land, a realm where elves are kings and black deer their mighty steeds. 

The Redwoods in Muir Woods are gentle giants that have stood their ground for years, the oldest over 1200 years old. The majestic cathedral of ancient trees is opened to those who would venture through its doors to capture the reverence and awe that moved the hearts and minds of men like John Muir. The Redwoods beckon visitors to enter their peaceful kingdom and to serve as advocates to preserve their heritage and their future.

“The world’s big and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.”

quotes of John Muir

Mangy Mutt

I turned down our street and there in the middle of the road was a little black puppy. My traveling buddies immediately said in unison, “awwwww.” I stopped and the little puppy sat down. He stood up and walked toward the car. Not knowing which side of the car he was on, I rolled down my window. There, looking up at me with sad eyes was the little black puppy. It looked like he was wearing white socks on his front legs and white shoes on his back paws. He whimpered and whined and said, “take me home with you.”

I drove slowly toward the house. The little puppy ran as fast as his little legs would go. I had to drive really slow so his little legs wouldn’t fall off. The girls were cheering the little guy on. I only had to stop once for him to catch up. He almost beat me into the garage. After some discussion, the dog whisperer said, “I’ll have to take him to the pound.” The cute little black puppy with big white feet is now getting settled in pretty good at our house and eats everything in sight. There has been some discussion as to what his name should be. Some are calling him “Socks” but one of my granddaughters and I think his name should be “Two Socks.”

The little puppy brought back some memories. When my daughter was little, she fell in love with all the strays and abandoned puppies and kittens that were dropped off by our house. There must have been a sign on the mailbox that said, “Hey, dump your unwanted puppies here!”  One day, we heard whimpering coming from the ditch. It was the mangiest scrawniest dog I have ever seen. The dog obviously had not had anything to eat in quite some time. It also had mange. There were only just a few sprigs of hair on him. No one would “awwwww” over him. Ugly is the best word to describe the poor little skinny hairless thing. I don’t know of anyone who would scoop that little dog up, hug him, and think he was the greatest thing ever – well, no one except my daughter. She begged us to keep him. She promised to feed him, doctor him and most of all, to love him. True to her word, that was the most pampered dog in the world. Her love for that little dog was rewarded by a faithful companion. 

When my daughter saw that little black puppy with big white feet, I wonder if she remembered back many years to that mangy mutt that she promised to care for and love. Something must have tugged at her heart because when she cut her eyes over toward her husband, he took one look and said, “No!”

By the way, there is no longer a sign hanging on our mailbox! If you’re so inclined, you’ll need to make your delivery elsewhere.

Seeing Through Blind Eyes

Lights twinkled all around me. The mantle was elaborately decorated with purple and pink round ornaments in garland laced with silver leaves. Splashes of teal, fuchsia, green and various colored ornaments and sparkly flowers completed the arrangement. It blended in with the wreath that hung over the mantle. A tree decorated in the same colors reached to the ceiling. Mirrors and a tall cabinet that served as a home for dolls were dressed in garland with colors to match the rest of the room. Visitors walked through the room admiring the festive decorations of Christmas.

As I reached the doorway to continue the tour, a lady walked in. Another woman was holding on to her arm as they entered the room. The lady began describing the room, starting with the huge colored garland over the mantel. It immediately grabbed my attention. Then I noticed that the woman to whom the words were directed was blind. As I stepped into the hallway, I heard her words of description giving minute details of the plethora of colors, the lights and even the placement of all the decorations. 

I was touched by the lady’s enthusiasm to share the gift of sight to someone who had none. Not only did she have the opportunity to paint a picture for someone with unseeing eyes, but her own vision was expanded to every little seemingly insignificant detail. I also thought, “What a good friend!”  Were they family?  Was the woman born blind? Had she been able to see and lost her vision due to sickness or disease? I don’t know the answers. All I know is there was a house elaborately and elegantly decorated and someone took the time to take a guest to experience all the color, glitz, lights and atmosphere of the holiday through her eyes. 

I imagine the blind woman may have seen more through the eyes of the one who guided her than many who saw all the glorious sights with their own eyes. There is more than being able to see – it is being able to share your vision with someone else.

Under Watchful Eyes

The last time I was at Mount Rushmore, I wouldn’t have known where I was if it weren’t for the faces on the wall of stone. The place was full of people going in and out of the gift shop as larger than life stone eyes watched every movement. Some tourists walked by with ice cream cones in their hands. Others stood along the wall gazing up at the mountain while children peeked through viewfinders to get a closer look at the faces.

It certainly wasn’t like the first time I saw it. I was actually a bit disappointed that my grandchildren would never see it like I did as a child. I traveled back in time to my first trip to Mount Rushmore. That’s the year I rode in the back window for a good part of the long trip from Georgia. I remember seeing the stone faces in the distance growing bigger as we drove up the winding road. We pulled off the side of the road and stopped at a picnic area. Mama made sandwiches and we had lunch under the watchful eyes of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt. A narrow trail led to a closer view. I was fascinated that someone was able to chisel away the stone to make recognizable faces with eyes that seemed to be looking at us. When we drove up to the observation deck, there was no grand entrance like there is today nor were there distractions to divert our attention from the amazing massive work of art that rose out of the earth.

In 1963 there were 1,272,800 visitors to Mt. Rushmore. In 2018 there were 2.31 million.

The sculptor of the faces of Rushmore, Gutzon Borglum, had a grand scheme to carve a room in which to store documents of our country’s heritage. His plan did not come to fruition wholly but there is a repository of records placed in the hall entry of the “secret room” behind Abe Lincoln. Etched on the capstone is the following quote of Borglum, “…let us place there, carved high, as close to heaven as we can, the words of our leaders, their faces, to show posterity what manner of men they were. Then breathe a prayer that these records will endure until the wind and rain alone shall wear them away.”