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Mowing Maga’s (Huge) Yard

By: Ol’ Viv, Guest Author

I bet that whoever is reading this now does not have a front (or back) yard that is bigger than my Maga’s. 11 acres of thick, green grass with lots of trees (some stolen from national forests…shhh), and more flowers than I can even imagine. A huge front and back porch, looking over a hilly yard. Looks like it’s straight out of “The Sound of Music” starring Julie Andrews. But, it all has to be kept in pristine condition to look as awesome as it always does, and since it’s getting warmer and Puppa is still out of commission, it’s my turn to take care of it. Me, Viv, the girl who screams and runs at the sight of any flying bug because of a past incident (another story for later ;)). Me, Viv, who can get sunburnt in JANUARY (like what the heck). Me, Viv, the girl who doesn’t always pay attention to where she is going, so she runs into a tree, all while savoring Maga’s famous homemade bread. So, naturally, I thought, “I’ve got this” and proceeded to mount the zero-turn lawnmower. 

  • Maud’s Julie Andrews impersonation

I actually got the hang of it pretty quick, but at the same time, I was mowing the grass of FLAT ground. As I slowly mowed, section by section, of Maga’s yard (over the course of several days), I finally got to… the front yard. Although this lawn and its inhabitants are absolutely gorgeous, it looks pretty terrifying on a 750 pound vehicle that I just learned how to operate 2 days earlier. 

Puppa had said before, “If there’s mud, don’t go any farther.” Well, this man takes such good care of his grass and yard that YOU CAN’T SEE THE MUD THROUGH THE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING, GREEN GRASS (do I seem bitter to you?). But I proceeded bravely into the unknown, armed with basically a pair of motorized scissors and my headphones (along with A LOT of sunscreen), I set off. Terrified. But excited because I knew that I was going to do this and do it like a total boss. The first few ups and downs on the hill were okay. Then, out of nowhere, on my way back up the substantially sized hill, my motor turned off. I looked around, eyes big, and I felt my breathing quicken. With the wheels slowly creaking backwards, I pushed the handles. Nothing. So, I did what any brave and superb lawn caretaker does…

I called my mom. 

But, she didn’t answer, so I called my dad. And started to cry because I knew I didn’t have enough money to pay for the supposed damages I caused to the automated pair of scissors. Pretty soon, here comes my mom running really fast, like a graceful gazelle with a tattoo on its shoulder. And my dad too. He comes running like… um… another animal that I can’t think of at the moment. With tattoos too. 

Anyways, they come up to me, breathing hard, looking at my wet eyes and runny nose, and while my mom said, “I thought you had flipped over!”, my dad said, “I actually ran over here and you aren’t even hurt.” Then he proceeded to get me out of the chair and turn the mower on with a turn of the key. We had a good laugh about that, but I was kinda embarrassed. 

After that, I proceeded with EXTREME caution. I wasn’t about to have the gazelle and… mystery animal (aka my dad), come running to turn on the lawn mower…again. I finished my job, however. But not without some troubles. The grass was wet, so the wheels on lawnmower went round and round, tossing mud and grass into the air (I should write songs :)). And, finally, I had to mow the hill… sideways. Which is what I didn’t feel comfortable with, but Puppa told me to, so I did it. He is the master lawn keeper, after all. It wasn’t bad, but Maga and Puppa now have a few tire marks in their yard (whoops). 

Well… At least I can say that I did it. 

And it was actually pretty fun…kinda scary…but mostly fun 😉

Love,

Viv (practice social distancing!:))

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Talk About Germs!

There was nothing like all of us kids climbing in the car for our adventure to the Northwest. The energy was high and we were all excited. The road trip began. Every time we stopped for gas, we all piled out of the car to stretch our legs and take a potty break. Before all eight of us had our turn, somebody was sure to be dancing outside the door hollering, “Hurry up!”

 Remember going in the old bathrooms behind the gas stations, the ones with the rolling cloth towel dispenser? 

The toilets were bad enough. I would line the seat with toilet paper. I don’t know if it helped, but it sure made me feel better. The rolling towels were another story. Even as a kid I cringed. On occasion, the towel looked clean and was nice and straight. Other times it was evident that the same towel went round and round as it recycled itself, often twisted to one side and definitely soiled. Talk about germs! The towel might have been dry, but it sure wasn’t clean.

Maybe all the other dirt we played in, the shared drinks, the snotty noses wiped on sleeves, coughing wide open, and putting our fingers in our mouths counteracted the germs on the dirty towels.

It’s a wonder we survived! 

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California, Here We Come

Cross Country (Part Six)

It wasn’t hard to drive away from the Grand Canyon. We had seen so many fascinating less traveled places, we weren’t willing to fight the crowd to see the canyon. We did stop and take one picture. Now don’t be alarmed. I certainly would never belittle one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. After all, there aren’t many places you go and see signs that say, “Mountain Lion Crossing.”  That has to count for something! The canyon is 277 miles long and averages 10 miles wide. It is definitely a wonder! I’ve been back to the Grand Canyon on other occasions. It is a magnificent canyon full of mystery and color. Every crevasse and fold of the cliff walls hold hidden secrets and are full of intrigue and adventure. That area of the country – Northern Arizona and Southern Utah with their red rimmed cliffs and canyons – is a “must see.”

  • The Grand Canyon

We made camp somewhere in the dark that seemed to come earlier that night. The next morning, the heat pounded down. There was no relief without clouds in the sky to block the sun’s rays. It was a hot and dusty non-eventful day headed west. We arrived at the campground in Needles, California, just over the state line. As we pulled into our camp site, we both saw blue water. The first thing we did was jump in the pool. Ahhh – what a relief. That was our first opportunity for that! Our dry flaky skin cried out, “Thank you! Thank you!” It was time to get another bottle or two of lotion! We wondered if our skin would ever be moisturized again.

One thing that amazed me in our travels was not just the changing scenery, but also the changing building materials. Adobe homes with red Spanish Tile roofs were common in the desert areas. Spacious sprawling one level adobe homes with stone floors looked inviting to offer a cool place to enter on a hot day. The yards were landscaped with plants suitable for that climate – Yucca, various cacti, succulents, drought tolerant grasses and flowers and stones, lots of stones. Those homes were gorgeous and perfectly suited for the climate and landscape.

There was more desert in front of us as we turned the car toward the Pacific Coast. We made a quick stop and took a short hike in Joshua Tree National Park. If I had expected to see trees like in the Southeast, I would have been deeply disappointed. The trees looked like something in a Dr. Seuss tale. They were scrubby and misshaped and looked like they could sure use a drink.

As we drove further west, the traffic increased. Soon there was a mass of cars filled with drivers speeding and swerving like madmen. I began to feel claustrophobic as cars surrounded us at top speeds and pushed us forward. The closer we got to Los Angeles, the more people we saw. It seemed there were as many people on the roads as there were the grains of sand we had seen in the desert. I was about to opt for the desert.

Santa Monica was our first stop to visit family. We stayed with cousins Anna and Kitty and their cat that sat in their plates on the dining room table and ate off the counter in the kitchen. They instructed us in the “proper” way to make a bed. While there, we took in some of the usual tourist highlights. We visited Universal Studios. When we went in the entrance to the studios, we were greeted by Jaws hanging by the gate. His mouth was opened wide with sharp teeth reflecting the sun. The movie had been released days before. It was interesting to see movie sets and hear how many of the special effects are created. We went to Grauman’s Chinese Theater on the historic Hollywood Walk of Fame and saw handprints and footprints of some of the movie stars. There were even a few horse hoof imprints.

  • Cousins
  • More cousins

Another cousin took us sailing on the Pacific. It was fun, but I didn’t wear that shade of green very well! It was definitely different than sailing on Lake Hartwell. One of my favorite tourist stops was the LaBrea Tar Pits. It was like stepping into the Ice Age – without the ice. There were displays of mammoths trapped in the tar and accounts of expeditions that led to the discovery. Bubbling tar spat and sputtered as it rose to the top of the ground. That took me back to when I was a kid popping tar bubbles with my bare feet on the hot road. We could have spent more time there, but our journey awaited.

  • Pacific Ocean

Part Five Part Seven

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Stop, Daddy, Stop!

taken from “Listening for God” by my Guest Author, my Daddy

Sometimes we hear but we do not really pay attention. We lack discernment.

That was discernment that my daddy had.  We lived way back in the mountains of Montana and didn’t go to town often.  When we did it was always an adventure.  

We could be coming home, I’d say, “Stop, Daddy, stop! There’s a mama pig and her babies.” Daddy didn’t stop.

Sister Barbara would say, “Stop, there’s a pinto pony.”  Daddy drove on. 

Then sister Ellen would whisper, “I gotta frow up” The car would come to a screeching halt.

That’s discernment.  

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Land of Canyons

Cross Country (Part Five)

From New Mexico into Arizona we visited dwellings in the cliffs of natives who survived harsh conditions in this dry western beautiful land. We still had more places to see. Our desert trek continued as we turned northeast from Flagstaff. 

One site on our list of places to visit was Meteor Crater. It was created during the time the land was inhabited by wooly mammoths and giant ground sloths. A meteor hit the earth traveling at approximately 29,000 mph, the impact similar to a nuclear bomb blast. We grew up hearing stories of our Great Grandparents’ trek from New Mexico to Montana in 1895-96. Some of the roads we traveled were along the same route. When the family passed near Meteor Crater in 1895, Uncle Ed and Uncle Dolph took a side road to see the sight. So did we! It was quite impressive.

As we drove further, desert rose to small hills. We entered the realm of ancient trees turned to stone, the Petrified Forest. A series of events made conditions right to create stone from wood. Fallen trees and branches were buried by flooded river sediments and blanketed with volcanic ash. Trees went through the process of petrification, wood turning to stone. Some of the petrified trees are colorful and contain various crystals of a myriad of colors, showing off the grain of the wood. I can’t even imagine how all the forces of nature came together to form such a work of art. Adjoining the Petrified Forest is the Painted Desert. The various hues and colors stretch for miles as mounds of soft pastel shades, and formations of colorful strata seems to erupt from the barren ground. These preserved areas were favorites of my mother, second only to the Badlands, which she called “God’s Cathedral.”

  • Petrified Forest
  • Painted Desert

We rode further into another unique landscape like we had not seen before – Canyon deChelly National Monument. The canyons were cut from streams flowing from the Chuska Mountains. What a fascinating place! Steep red sandstone cliffs stood as regal sentries on these Navajo tribal lands. The towering red walls seemed to form a barrier of protection for the Navajo families who still inhabit their tribal home. Canyon walls that protect the dwellings in the cliffs looked like freshly polished red cedar, exposing every grain of the rich red tones. The ruins from the Native Americans who lived here continue to be preserved. On the canyon floor surrounded by the cliffs was a hogan, a traditional dwelling of the Navajo people. That piqued my interest. The hogan was round and covered with red mud. It traditionally opens to the east to get the morning sun and to receive good blessings. The canyon is one of the longest continuously inhabited landscapes in North America. 

  • Spruce House, Mesa Verde National Park

We entered New Mexico again and drove north through the Navajo Nation into Southwest Colorado to Mesa Verde National Park. The park was established in 1906 to preserve the heritage of the ancestral Pueblo people who lived in the area for over seven hundred years. There are nearly five thousand archaeological sites protected in the park, including at least six hundred cliff dwellings. Theses ancients’ homes are some of the best preserved in the United States. Just standing there looking high in the cliffs at the homes of these ancient Cliff Dwellers brought a sense of awe. I tried to imagine them descending ladders through the roofs to their homes. Pueblo women laid vegetables out to dry in the sun while some ground corn into meal. They harvested wild plants to add to their diet that included squash, maize, beans and wild game. The women also wove baskets and made pottery.

  • Sleeping Ute Mountain

The view from Mesa Verde was spectacular in every direction. In the distance the Sleeping Ute Mountain rested lazily seemingly unconcerned that the ancient people had gone. We made our way to Four-Corners which is the quadripoint where Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah meet. A dirt devil blew across the desert kicking up dust and debris. We enjoyed the performance as the miniature tornado twirled and danced with the desert grasses.

By the time we reached the Grand Canyon, we were hot and tired. The roads and canyon were infested with tourists. We could take no more! We took a picture and drove on, skirting around travelers, dodging cars and finally breathing a sigh of relief as we left the colorful canyon and millions of people behind.

Poem written by my sister

Part Four          Part Six

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The Unseen

‘If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

Do you think just because you can’t see something, it doesn’t exist? We’ll let me just say that I sure can’t see that little bitty killer virus, but it’s there, it’s real, and it is wreaking havoc on our world. The evidence is undeniable.

Some people don’t believe in God because they can’t see Him though there has been evidence of God’s invisible attributes since the creation of the world. Hope looks beyond the visible and grasps that which it cannot see or explain. It shines light into our dark tunnel and gives us a path to follow. He is our light and hope.

“Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.”

‘The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.’ Haldir, Lord of the Rings

  • Light shines on the horizon
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Tomato Juice, Please

I thought I was alone in my quirk of ordering tomato juice at least once per flight. When I mentioned it to my daughter, she got a funny look and said my son-in-law does the same thing. That piqued my curiosity. There had to be an explanation. Why else would someone order tomato juice in the sky but not on the ground? Howbeit, when I travel on the ground for long distances, I sometimes will get a small can or glass of tomato juice at least once. If I buy juice at home, I never drink it all because it just doesn’t taste the same.

After asking Google about this strange compelling urge, I discovered a few things. It turns out that science is involved. Scientists say that the altitude and the high noise level both have an effect on our taste buds. At 30,000 feet, the juice appears more acidic and has a mineralic taste. It’s refreshing. 

So what will you order when the flight attendant rolls the drink cart down the aisle scraping your elbow? I’ll have tomato juice please with two ice cubes – just enough to cool it.

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Hope Grows in Unlikely Places

It was the early thirties and the log business was booming. Fire started in the canyon and swept down the mountainside. The livelihood of the sawmiller’s family was at stake. Could he salvage enough from the burned timber to provide for his family? The Forest Service land that adjoined the family’s property suffered damage, too. The fire kill trees needed to be cleaned up. The Forest Service made an offer to Ward & Parker Sawmill to harvest the dead trees on Forest Service soil. They sawed the trees on three sides and sold them as house logs. The thing is, the fire did not compromise the worth of the timber. In fact, the fire cured timber wouldn’t twist or bow. The heat caused the sap to harden and actually strengthened the trees and made them more valuable. Logs were sold for ranch houses, bunk houses, and other ranch buildings. Hope grew from the ashes of devastation.

  • Sawmill

Fires of adversity, sickness and uncertainty consume us and yet, they make us stronger. Hope rises from the ashes of fear. God’s light shines through the firestorm as neighbor reaches out to neighbor and strangers work together to help one another. It may be someone simply taking food to a widow or a health care provider placing themselves in harm’s way to care for another. Hope often comes in the most unlikely of places and in the hardest of times. Bloom where you are planted.

  • Hope grows in unlikely places
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Red Cliffs in the Desert

Cross Country (Part Four)

We caught a last glimpse of the blue waters of Theodore Roosevelt Lake in our rear-view mirror as we continued our drive through the desert. Our road took us north to the KOA campground in Camp Verde, Arizona. That was one barren place, no trees, just scrubby vegetation at the edge of the campground. We found our tent site, which was just like all of them, unloaded the camp gear and attempted to set up our tent. That was useless! The ground was as hard as cement. We pounded a tent peg partway into the ground but not deep enough to hold. More than one tent peg was bent at the attempt. The ground was just too stubborn. We folded the tent and packed it away. As had become our camp routine, after we set up the tent (or in this case didn’t), we cooked our supper on the Coleman stove on the picnic table. One good thing about the KOA campgrounds – they had showers and most had laundry facilities. After a shower to wash off the day, we crawled into the car to sleep for the night.

I was glad for morning to come. Sleeping stretched out on the ground would have been more comfortable than being folded up like an accordion in the cramped back seat. After fixing some breakfast we were off to spend the day exploring parts of Arizona. Driving past cacti and desert grasses, we saw red cliffs rise out of the wilderness. The desert town of Sedona, Arizona is surrounded by red rock buttes and pine forests. There in the middle of the red buttes and cliffs above Sedona stood a cross framed by walls around a window of glass. Chapel of the Holy Cross served as a beacon and beckoned travelers to enter the refuge for a moment of spiritual reflection. It offered a cool, quiet, peaceful resting place.  

  • Chapel of the Holy Cross

Just beyond Sedona is Oak Creek Canyon, a smaller cousin of the Grand Canyon. The twelve-mile-long canyon is a river gorge cut into the Colorado Plateau in the Coconino National Forest. It is a popular tourist destination that offers hiking trails, a swimming hole and fishing. We hiked into the canyon to enjoy the scenery and a bit of the rich history of the area.

Further up the road near Flagstaff is Walnut Canyon National Monument. This canyon was once home to the Sinagua, an ancient people who possibly came from the Mogollon culture. Sinagua means “without water” in Spanish, acknowledging that they were able to live in this arid region. When the Sinagua left the area, over 80 cliff dwellings were abandoned. Being able to walk down the trail and see into their dwellings gave us a glimpse into their lives. We also received a greater appreciation for the people who survived this rugged place and harsh conditions to live in the canyon. The Sinagua Indians were able to grow maize, beans and squash as well as harvest plants and animals from the land and streams. 

  • I know the picture’s blurry – it’s old – but you can see some of the dwellings in the cliffs of Walnut Canyon

Leaving behind remnants of the past, we drove on to Flagstaff, ready for a good night’s sleep. We set up camp, had our supper, and crawled into our sleeping bags. As sleep came, there was a deep satisfaction of the history we had shared and the unique beauty we had seen. What would tomorrow bring? Each day had been an adventure and there was more to come.

Part Three Part Five

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Bertha – the “Black Dutch”

1918. My grandfather was overseas engaged in World War I. There was another world war raging – H1N1 virus – influenza – Spanish Flu. *“With no vaccine to protect against influenza infection and no antibiotics to treat secondary bacterial infections that can be associated with influenza infections, control efforts worldwide were limited to non-pharmaceutical interventions such as isolation, quarantine, good personal hygiene, use of disinfectants, and limitations of public gatherings, which were applied unevenly.” An estimated 500 million people were infected with the virus, about 50 million succumbed to death, 675,000 of those in the US. 

  • one of the family homesteads

My grandfather lived near the McNeil uncles’ homesteads in Phillips County, Montana. There was another homesteader that lived nearby – Bertha Meyer. There was something to be said for a single lady proving a homestead in that rough country. My grandfather had great admiration for Bertha, called the “Black Dutch,” a title given because of her dark complexion and German descent . To hear my grandfather tell the tale, some of the people looked down on her because she was different. He saw her as a perfect wife for Uncle Al. The matchmaking scheme worked. Al and Bertha had only been married a short time when the country was invaded by Spanish Flu. Even in those rural areas of the plains, there was no place to escape the virus that reached into the darkest recesses of the world. 

This is my grandfather’s account, “I was away in the army when the 1918 flu epidemic struck.  Al and Bertha hadn’t been married long.  Lee was staying with them.  Both Al and Lee came down with the flu.  A few miles away their brother, Uncle Claude, was coming down with pneumonia.  All three died and were buried in Sun Prairie when the ground thawed enough to dig the graves.  In the meantime, Bertha moved down to the folk’s place to nurse Ma and Leone, through the epidemic.  Later Bertha had Al’s body brought to the church cemetery in Malta.” When my grandfather recounted the story, he also added that some of the family didn’t quite approve of Bertha. She rose to the challenge and became priceless to the family and community. Their opinion of Bertha changed drastically after the flu passed. Three of the McNeil boys died, including Bertha’s husband. They all lost much and their lives were never the same.

  • My Great Grandmother with her brothers, three of which died in the epidemic

We now find ourselves being attacked by another enemy – Coronavirus. The past few weeks, mankind has become one people – not in the manner that they are all in agreement – but in the manner that disease is no respecter of persons. The playing field has become level. Old, young, rich, poor, white, black, social standing or not, clean, dirty, famous, unknown – all stand on level ground beside the other, though the older seem the most fragile.

I personally know some people who are sick with high fever, cough, and other symptoms that are shared by thousands of people across the world. I know of a young couple in our corner of the world who have been hospitalized with the same symptoms. None of these have come in known contact with anyone who has recently traveled to a foreign country. 

And I think, as mankind, do we learn anything from this? We usually don’t understand the gravity of a situation until we are directly affected. Be diligent. Be wise. Check on your neighbor. Be proactive. Learn from history. Handle with prayer. Handle with care. Don’t think it can’t happen to you or yours.

You might just be that “Bertha” to someone! Priceless.

  • Bertha, the “Black Dutch”, to the far right

Can you imagine how devastating it would have been had they had the mode of transportation we have today? My ancestors traveled mostly by horseback or wagon.

*CDC