Tag Archives: home

Late March Moon – Walk #12

Dawn broke despite my slumber.

I rose and bolted, then watched the moon lumber.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I ran to catch up with the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then I stopped; some clouds swept the moon away!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apologies, verse and images by E.V.A. Lambert (c) 2017 Rapture Practice! Publications

“Each time he said, ‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.’ So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NLT)

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Avalanch

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I’ve been home here in the northwest, without cable and reliable internet for a few months now. It’s taken some adjusting, forcing me out of habits and especially my comfort zones. With the local library, a $10 antenna, new cell device, changing my cell service carrier and careful timing, it’s working – at least until the landscape melts. I’m not gonna lie, I miss spending hours a week interacting with my family, friends and fellow bloggers on line.

And with the exceptionally hard winter I’ve taken some hits. Falls, colds, joint aches, some tendinitis, bursitis on top of my new, stylish gait from fracturing my coccyx (Hey! I got to say it again). At one point I considered what being trapped in an avalanche felt like. The next morning I realized I was complaining, aloud, actually whining at my mirror, “Really? Aren’t we done with this crazy cold yet?”

Was it me I recall saying, “I adore the four equal seasons here. Just about the time we wonder if the heat or the cold will ever let up, Bam! it does?” Yeah. I said it. Often. Coming home to the old, familiar climate that suits me best was what I looked forward to most. Not. This. Winter.

“Do everything without complaining and arguing,”*

Convicted, I was more determined to 1) stop whining, and then look for new ways to get through challenges. As I groaned zipping my jeans I thought about eating better. I’m kinda big on eating well, so this would take more than merely adjusting my diet.

I began by turning off the TV, radio, Kindle, CDs, setting aside books, newspapers and all other distractions at mealtime and while dining. Immediately I not only spared myself the smells and waste from scorching or burning my food while multitasking, but I honestly became more fully aware of my many blessings. I enjoy the challenges of “saving” a recipe, but not needing to is way better.

After a few days I noticed I ate less and enjoy food more. Soon, my jeans fit more comfortably again; remarkable after weeks without power walks and workouts while I heal. Okay, that’s mostly to avoid treacherous snowbanks, snow and ice avalanching from the rooftops.

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We’re not actually snowbound – now. Despite dark, overcast skies for days on end, the sun teases now and then lighting up the sparkling, pastoral scenery surrounding me. Life is indeed beautiful. After months of frozen white everywhere I’m determined to enjoy the beautiful quiet. And be very ready for spring.

Excuse me a minute while I check the furnace wood stove.

“For it is God who works in you to will and to act on behalf of His good pleasure.” Philippians 2:13 (NLT)

*Philippians 2:3 (NLT)

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Experience

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Helper, Captain Morgan at the helm.

Captain Morgan at the helm.

I laid awake most of the night, tormented over breaking Cole’s old Coleman hatchet. Yeah, the one I hammered into a wet, rather green log until the head broke – right at the notch (so handy for pulling nails from construction wood).

 

The upset tortured me while I should have been sleeping. All. Week. Long.

Cole was completely cool about it. I systematically timed telling him I’d broken the hatchet he’d given me on our first cold morning here. The moment arrived as I presented him with a fine, shiny-new, Estwick Sportsman hatchet with all the bells and whistles.

I rarely get to give Cole anything of value. I was initially giddy until I jokingly said the words, “the hatchet you gave me… …worn out…” and “…broke.” Instantly his entire demeanor changed dramatically – merriment abandoned my presentation. His words, “…my grand pa’s hatchet… he’d used it for years…” shot the loss and hurt straight through me too.

I get it: My siblings and I inherited very few, mostly valueless, common things from our parents. Those humble heirlooms are precious to each of us. Destroying something invaluable from Cole sickened me.

After weeping privately I texted him “I’ll make it right somehow,” (forgetting he was working in town). I’ll never forget his immediate reply: “Oh stop it-only made me sad for a min-it has done its job for a long time.” And then moments later he texted he’d gotten more wood to get me through while the grove is still snowed under.

“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment…” *

While I may annoy Cole with more words than he prefers, I learn from him. Things like his grandfather – who cut wood into his nineties with that old model, Coleman hatchet are important to us both. Had I known, I would have retired the Coleman and bought the new ones immediately.

The experience stung us both, but to me it revealed the character beneath Cole’s cast iron veneer. He is a treasure indeed. I hope for more, far less painful lessons.

“Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.” Matthew 6:21 (NLT)

*Romans 5:3-5 (NLT)

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The Stihl of the Night

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**

Sunday night Cole was plowing after dark. Although I typically avoid working on Sunday, I pulled on my boots to help shovel the pile-up from the walkways. Sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

Almost immediately Cole passed between my cottage and the shop. As he went, he called to Kendra and me, “Let’s build a bonfire!” – long after dusk on a work night. Crazy. Right?

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We often enjoy bonfires at parties or on a relaxing evening after a hard day’s work. But not in 9 degrees and wind with a foot or so of snow. And it was late.

Cole and Kendra also know I typically retire early in the evening. I’m not literally an insomniac. Still, turning my brain off takes hours, so I typically “rise and go to roost with the chickens.”

As we shoveled Kendra shared that Cole had mentioned cutting wood earlier. I’m ashamed to admit my next thoughts were how I’d told him the day before I’d cut all the wood I could with my little chain saw – that he gave me for Christmas. He’d responded saying he’d go to the grove the following day, bring in more wood, split some logs and start up the big Stihl saw.

Another job came to the shop, so that didn’t happen. And then it snowed – yet again.

As Kendra and I worked I realized some other important facts:

  • The main house where they live has forced heat and air. Their wood burning stove is essentially aesthetic, more for ambiance. They don’t need wood for heat. I do.
  • For several consecutive days Cole spent hours on the tractor moving snow from the lots and the driveways. We all appreciate a path to the pastures.
  • Cole and Kendra team up to ensure I have all I need: heat, transportation, food, companionship and even hugs.

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Fortunately, before shooting off my mouth without engaging my brain, I realized Cole was looking out for me. Sure, he teases me saying, “You’ve been sheltered too long. You’re spoiled.” Cole actually doesn’t know better. He sees me today with all my “quirks” – not the scarred and torn Former Me. As Kendra said, “translated that actually means, ‘I have your back, Sister.’ ”

“Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.*”

Daily I thank God for my whole family. While Cole’s manners and personality can sometimes be annoying, Kendra is his soft side. We have shared some rough times together.

Four years ago, with my sister, brother and niece, we were all a family here together on the ranch. Cole, Kendra and the boys occupied what’s now my cottage and the loft. And then all our lives changed forever; Roan and I were barely settled into our apartment in McKinney, Texas when Cole called. Without warning Cole’s best friend, Kendra’s favorite neighbor, my precious kid brother suddenly, unexpected died here.

Jan 26, 2014 5 a.m. Opal, Roo, Seagh, Roan, Cole, Kendra

Jan 26, 2014 5 a.m. Opal, Roo, Seagh, Roan, Cole, Kendra

Yes, life goes on. Still, Seagh is such a huge part of our lives we all miss him – daily. We all occasionally see him in our peripheries. We need never explain those moments.

Initially Cole was my brother vicariously through Seagh. Though he knows comparatively little of my history, today Cole’s close as a brother. In his life Seagh called three men his brother; one is by blood, one a friend from his youth and then Cole. Kendra’s become a sister.

Sunday night was a reflective occasion, only it didn’t hurt as much. Because of Cole and Kendra I was only mildly concerned taking the last of the cut wood early that same morning. At the time I had no idea exactly how much the full wood box would actually comfort me that night.

God blessed me with many brothers and sisters and good friends. Though I miss many of them often, especially Seagh, Cole and Kendra have my back – daily.

I’m glad to see I “Stihl” have room to grow into a better person.

Have your circumstances forced you to grow where you didn’t realize you could?

It’s -3 degrees this morning. With this crazy weather the crib’s almost empty again. No problem, we got this.

“And my God will supply every need of ours according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:19 (ESV)

*James 1:27

**Image courtesy Pixabay

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Something Good

The morning came painfully early. Literally. As the weather report predicted four inches of snow fell overnight. Covering. Everything. Here.

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On a ruler four inches doesn’t look like much. But four inches covering the snow that fell days before on ice where some melted, it equaled a lot of hard labor here at the ranch.

These are chores that can’t wait, even when other time-sensitive work calls. The plowing, shoveling, removing ice – yet again – seemed like the aftermath of a blizzard requiring all hands on deck.

 

After a hard day’s labor Eleven-Year-Old and I made snow angels – a fun debriefing for him, icing my neck and back was therapeutic for me. And I had my full day-job agenda to meet.

At age sixty-something, the next morning I regretted having abused Younger Me’s body – sorely. I felt every old injury. I’m not old, but this morning I sure know what old feels like. Compound that with more snow, ice, the additional physical activity I haven’t done in well over three years; I’d earned a good whine.

Instead I groaned quietly reminding myself this too will pass soon as I pulled up my big girl boots.

20161215_074333As the livestock thanked me for their morning meal, I continued moving through more new deep powder to the lot. Passing the truck I remembered I must help unload the rest of the wood as well as meeting a deadline – Yikes! Today.

Rather than telling myself everything is as it should be, with the backlog of work awaiting me, the voices in my head recalled negatives people spoke into my life over the years; You at a ranch? In business for yourself? Really?

Here we’re all still getting our heads around my first fall and winter back home, under new circumstances with a different household. I desperately want to help more, but I’m still learning how to. I already learned how not knowing enough can cost everyone more time and cause additional work.

I normally ignore Cole mumbling, not realizing anyone’s nearby. But this morning, without realizing it, I took his murmuring personally and felt like a burdensome slacker. However, instead of rushing to help with his chores, with my head down, I stayed my course and headed back to my cottage – for tea and prayer.

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and who carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.*”

20170110_100153I don’t know about most people, but for me learning to do just what’s needed for the day, maybe the next takes time. Safe at home now I can learn to enjoy life more, rather than constantly brain-storming, considering every possibility for the coming months – or years. For the first time in years I don’t feel like I’m in this alone. This is strange to me and requires considerable adjusting – daily.

As I prayed the Small Voice reminded me I’m in better shape than anyone but God could expect. I began recalling some of the feats the Holy Spirit and I did together since I arrived, the times we met challenges alone and mastered them, let alone my amazing history. My guys and I not only survived, but against all odds, God and I exceeded expectations of anyone that matters.

Getting lost in all the negatives, the what-ifs and the should’ve-would’ve-could’ves in life is too easy.

Isn’t life better when we look at positives instead? I’m positive I’m not broken. I’m mended. We’re all patch worked together into a beautiful, marvelous story.

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Kendra and Cole 2016

 

You’ll have to excuse me for now; Cole just came in asking, “Do I even have to come get my own coffee. Sheesh.” Translated that means he’s glad I’m here too! 😉

 

 

 

“… For those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28 (NLT)

*Matthew 11:28

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Eggsact Timing

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I get eggs from an obliging neighbor’s chicken coop whenever I can. We’re huge fans of hard-boiled eggs (yolks are rarely on for me), so eggs are a mainstay for fast, easy protein.

Knowing which are fresh can sometimes be tricky, especially with free eggs. We faithfully place eggs in water before cooking. Fresh eggs roll right to their sides. Good, but older eggs stand up or roll around. These are best for hard-boiling. If an egg rises to the top of the water or floats it goes away, preferably unbroken.

 

Yesterday I realized a carton had been in the ‘fridge for longer than I could remember. None lifted, so all were edible, but some moved faster than I like. Remembering Cole loves deviled eggs (okay, and inspired by the marvelous Victo’s post), as I went about other tasks, I boiled them and then deviled them.

Sprinkling them with paprika and finely minced parsley for a festive touch, they were so pretty at my kitchen coffee station, I thought to take a picture and went into the bedroom for my phone. Tickled because I rarely think to shoot a photo, I wanted to share the joy. First I texted Cole that they were there, to please eat them. I didn’t realize the time and the shop has been unusually busy so I didn’t think anyone would respond right away.

I’d already seen Cole earlier, and still hadn’t changed from my lounging flannels, when I heard the door open I delayed long enough to make the bed – I even set the pillows that usually stay on the arm chair in the corner unless I expect visitors. When I heard the door again…

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I returned to the kitchen. Instead of a plateful of eggs all dressed up for the photo, four halves remained. The guys were hungry and the eggs didn’t suck.

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Sometimes my plans go better than I expect. But hey, there’s still lunch, a snack and maybe even breakfast tomorrow.

Oh, and I still haven’t changed from my lounging flannels. Jus’ Sayin’.

To perfectly cook hard-boiled eggs that peel easily every time:

 

 

Cover room temp eggs under  2″ of water and bring to a full, rolling boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer for 5 minutes then remove from heat. Let the pot stand (don’t lift the lid) for 10 – 20 minutes. Altitudes (or whatever) vary so you’ll have to figure out the best timing for perfect, yellow yolks. After ten minutes rinse one till it’s cool enough to peel and split. If the yolk’s done to your liking pour out most of the water, fill the pot with ice or ice water and let the eggs cool enough to handle – about 7 minutes.

Once cooled, crack the eggs and then roll them between flattened hands enough for air to get between the membrane and loosen the shell all around, then peel the shells off. Voila!

Quinn’s Deviled Eggs:

For 6 hard boiled eggs, 12 deviled eggs

Slice eggs in half placing yolks in bowl and arrange whites on a serving plate. Into yolks mix 2 tablespoons mayonnaise, with a splash of mustard. We like dijon, but brown or plain yellow prepared mustard is good. You may also like a little more mayonnaise. Be brave and experiment. Add salt and white pepper and mix thoroughly.

We like to grate a tablespoon of onion into the yolks, 1/2 teaspoon of sifted Coleman’s mustard, and a tiny splash of white balsamic vinegar or drops of lime juice. Be bold – find what you like best! Quinn also likes to add a hint of ground, prepared horseradish. Personally I think the horseradish is too many flavors for the pallet, but to each his own.

Pipe mixture into the whites (a zipper sandwich baggie with one corner cut off works) and sprinkle with paprika. I also add a tiny pinch of finely minced parsley during the holidays or chopped, fresh dill is delightful any time.

Advisory: Our family throws caution to the wind and typically prepares at least 3 dozen eggs for family gatherings – and they’re gone before we sit down to the table together.

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31 (NIV)

Eggs Freshness Test, Water video courtesy YouTube and HappyEggDelivery.com
Chicken image courtesy Pixabay

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Total Recall

human-1138004__180You probably don’t experience moments when your brain seems to freeze up. I do. I can easily imagine what a car overheating would feel like; you’re suddenly stuck where you are, unable to move and it’s all you can do to understand what just happened. You’ll get around to wondering why.

I’ve moved around a lot lately. Having driver’s licenses from three states over seven months, that brain fade lately happens to me frequently. I experience the phenomenon especially when I encounter people I haven’t seen or thought of in years. Maybe it’s a normal homecoming thing. Maybe. It has nothing to do with aging.

This week a woman visited our Small Home Group adding a fresh touch to our 6 members. I noticed upon entering the house she looked familiar. I assumed I’d seen her in church. I’ve only attended for 5 weeks, so familiar-but-unplaceable faces are commonplace. Hand extended toward her I crossed the room, when she surprised me by standing, opening her arms to me. I welcome hugs among the brethren, so a hug from a newcomer was nice.

Before letting go she said, “Eva.” And then she repeated, “Eva!” I looked more closely and suddenly recognized the woman I’d worked with at the radio station some fifteen years before. Unlike me she hasn’t aged a day! Nice.

With jumps, squeals, more hugs and lots of oh-my-goodnesses, we derailed the meeting for a few moments covering the broad strokes. I doubt anyone realized I sat across the room from her so I could see her clearly without glasses (mid-range works best for me). Through the study we bounced ideas off each other like we’d done brainstorming ad campaigns. And the memories kept on coming. Please don’t ask me for any minute details about the lesson.

Later at home, during my prayers I marveled over how well she’s done. She married, just sold and bought a new home in town in one of the newer, upscale neighborhoods, her boy grew up and did time in the Service, she and her husband have a growing business and she still screen writes their advertisements, only at the local TV studio now.

I also realized she drove the late-model Cadillac SLT that was parked where Kendra’s Chevy typically awaits us on Wednesday evenings. She and her husband have been charter members of our church since its early beginnings – the one I diverted from, going to Illinois instead of joining ten years ago. The girl’s done well.

Strangely, sleep didn’t come easily that night. I debated whether or not to start a fire, settling for setting up the stove for the morning. I couldn’t even keep my mind on the latest mystery novel I’d begun the night before. So I paced around the apartment looking for little tasks. The rustic character of the place affords them in abundance.

For the first time since my arrival, I wasn’t entirely enchanted with my life. Soon I realized I’d wandered onto the slippery slope of the comparison game. Certain my prayers didn’t get past the ceiling, I decided to burn the midnight oil. Before long at all my mind slipped back into how well my former workmate’s done and I began pacing the open spaces of the apartment trying to clear my mind – again.

As I drug my hand across the polished chrome of Cole’s custom Harley Davidson (yeah, in my living space), feeling the smooth, cold metal against my fingertips, I imagined my far more traditional, conservative workmate’s face upon seeing my new digs – and the jokes about the pair of immaculate Harleys inside my home. For the first time I questioned if I actually liked them here.

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I normally enjoy the bikes wintering indoors. Both my brothers cherished not only the exceptional machinery and stunningly beautiful detailing, but the memories they made riding them all over the country side, just as I enjoy envisioning their stories, usually seated one of them.

But I realized I don’t hold title on either bike.

Looking around the rustic apartment, the stained concrete floors (artfully colored, of course), mismatched area rugs, the shabby chic tables (Joanna Gaines would drool over – jus’ sayin’), boxes wrapped with contact paper for storage (and temporary makeshift occasional tables), the dated sofa, love seat and my late brother’s recliner I won’t disown for love or money, strangers would imagine I’m impecunious. Of course I am, but that rarely bothers me or even slows me down.

Sure, I don’t own a motor vehicle or real estate today. I drive Cole’s vehicles and occasionally Kendra’s car. I actually like hanging my wash to dry rather than run the meter with the dryer and I don’t mind the workout from foraging and chopping wood for heat – yet. It’s been a mild autumn.

With microscopic record-able income, six years after near financial ruin my credit score is now average. Still, on paper my estate’s essentially worthless.

But any time I walk out my door, the pack of dogs are happy to greet me. Girlfriend neighs from the pasture and the cows moo whenever they see me walking westward (they’re always happy to receive any tasty offering). A couple of times a day, no matter what’s going on in the shop, Cole bursts through the door, “just counting noses,” often tossing out some task for me to reinforce I’m wanted – I know, awww… Kendra is always nearby to lend an ear or a shoulder to lean on if ever I need one, the boys help fill the gap when I find time to miss my grand kids and I can text or talk with the rest of the family.

“If you do what you love you’ll never work a day in your life.*” 

I spend most of my days doing what I love, so it rarely seems like work. I can walk the acreage without speaking to anyone or find a kindred soul to chat with any time I need to or work on my Spanglish. My age-old dream of a living on a self-sustaining property is gradually becoming a reality.

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Life could be better, but I’d need some serious time to think how. I’ll rest well tonight.

 

It’s good to be home.

 

 

 

”Pay careful attention to your own work, for then you will get the satisfaction of a job well done, and you won’t need to compare yourself to anyone else.” Galatians 6:4 (NLT)

*Ancient Chinese Philosophy (or Marc Anthony)

First Image courtesy of Pixabay.

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The Long Haul

I just made another addition to my voided driver’s license collection. Over the past three years, exactly 35 months, 3 weeks and 3 days, I’ve lived in Illinois, Washington, Texas and Colorado, also visiting family in Arizona and driving through New Mexico twice in that time. I’m now back near the Tri-Cities in Washington State; near enough to the delta of the Columbia and Snake rivers to hit a ball into either major waterway.

Speaking of hits, Cubs Win! But this isn’t about baseball or the 2016 World Series. That’s a confirmation it was time to come back to the only place I actually felt at home. Surely I earned some time to drop a line in some water and rest a bit.

This latest chapter began with our branch of the family together here on The Ranch. Over the last decade Cole became our brother here – Lord, help him – and his love, Kendra, her two boys, the dogs, cats, etc. learned to accept love us. Although sister Roan and Opal are still in Texas and Seagh walks beside Jesus now, such fond memories were born here I never wanted to leave. But that’s another story.

Six weeks ago I Googled the stats: It’s 908.6 miles from Erin’s house on the Western Slope of the Rockies to the hills and slopes of Finley. Days later Cole drove from Finley to Erin’s to collect me.

Five weeks ago Erin and I had talked it out, cried it out (separately, of course – it’s how we roll) so there was nothing left to do but the leg work. Days after I’d decided it was time to move on it took one phone call. In a few more days Erin and I loaded the boxes, and Cole tied down most of my worldly belongings into his trailer. With quick, teary-eyed, squishy hugs, very aware we were running out of daylight, Cole and I left Erin’s company and were on our way. Home. Where my hiraeth impetus can find peace.

Another four weeks later I’ve unpacked, burned the well-worn boxes and arranged the apartment to my liking, so I’m ready to return to work.

Following are photo highlights of our journey north and west. The photography from a constantly-moving vehicle doesn’t do the scenery justice, but at least we made excellent time. It’s not like I’ll never make the drive again and take the time to shoot it right.

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With your unfailing love you lead the people you have redeemed. In your might, you guide them to your sacred home..” Exodus 15:13 (NLT)

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Indulgences

As Kiera advances[*] her stylish, world-class mom hat continues to adorn her entire persona. For Erin and me, Kiera’s bi-monthly (or so) visits are occasions for tea. I enjoy entertaining, take each opportunity to put on slightly more festive airs, and I continue to learn from her.

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Kiera and my mother were friends before the latter departed when I was thirteen. In her absence, Kiera and Newlyn stepped in aiding Daddy and our family whenever appropriate. For that we shall be eternally grateful.

Early after my arrival here I noticed that though any number of canine fur kids typically join their family, cats do not. Only the most stubborn, crafty feral felines dare challenge the pack of five Amstaff and Pit Bull Terriers to retain their standings in the family properties. Kiera is also allergic to cats.

Soon into Kiera’s visits here Erin will ask me for Benadryl. That would be for Kiera, who quickly becomes congested, her eyes redden and water, and soon afterward she develops headaches – much like me. I stock diphenhydramine for those occasions when elevated pollen counts disrupt my rest. I prefer to control symptoms of fur and dander allergies with more natural foods, a vigilant cleaning regime, exercise and supplements, but occasionally I too must pop a pill.

During the waterworks challenge I noticed Kiera resists our fur kids no better than I do, caving in to pet and scratch them. After asking how she does it, she explained, “Well Roo, I will leave soon and get over it. I’m just careful to not touch my face or neck after petting Coco and Lucky, brush my clothes and wash my hands – often.”

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While Erin is away the fur kids become pitifully anxious. Before long at all, empathy drives me to distract them if only to silence Lucky’s mrowling and hopfully dissuade them both from joining me in my room/office space. Over the months we’ve developed a routine of cooing, brushing, chasing a laser beam, and finally spreading dried catnip on the carpet – in the living room. Their antics with the catnip is entertaining for me too since vacuuming is a daily task no matter what other chores await Erin’s return.

I will continue to be congested, head achy, marvel over occasional, colorful rashes and my nose continually feels like it is lined with cracking concrete. No. Matter. What. I know, TMI. The point is, I afford it for my dear old friend and the beauty of the Western Slope.

At least misery continues to love company. I can always walk it off – every hour.

“There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life [or sinuses] for one’s friends.” John 15:13 (NLT)

[*] While she’s clearly finished child rearing but enjoying great-grand parenting, Kiera isn’t aging mentally whatsoever. In her middle eighties she is advancing.

Himmie image courtesy Cattime.com, Tabby image courtesy Google Free Images Public Domain

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Walk #2

Inspired by the amazing Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha’s Echoes of my Neighborhood. If you haven’t already met her, you must visit A Cooking Pot and Twistedtales for a taste of this, a sampling of that and you never know what else. You won’t be sorry. Thanks for all your masterful advice, Jacqueline! My phone will do for now. ❤

 

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Every hour my fitness device reminds me to get up and move. Typically I stretch and then power walk around a different block each lap, each hour. Depending upon the time of day these strolls are usually uneventful. My third tour this morning was an exception.

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*

Returning home, I found Steve, our charming next-door neighbor. He confirmed my suspicion that he’d actually popped by to chat as I barbecued the other day  – annnd to identify the dog that’s permeated our once quiet neighborhood with constant, loud barking. I’m glad to know he pays attention. I’m also comforted knowing I’m not the only one the dog annoys. I informed him the property owners the other side of our house are in the long process of moving back in to their rental property. Misery loves company.

Steve also identified the cars belonging to their property. I can now tell at a glance who’s around and who’s away – mostly. We laughed at how he learned the names of 100 young campers the week before, yet he forgets Erin and my names. He artfully worded how even from a distance he knows me on sight as he does construction work around the neighborhood. It’s nice to know he’s watching out for the two old broads neighbors.

underpass 1Most notable, he too leaves provisions for the people living under the bridge. And he directed me to other neighbors who work at local food pantries where they need volunteers. I’m in.

What a marvelously invigorating, inspiring 15 minutes!

 

“Pay attention to this, Job. Stop and consider the wonderful miracles of God!” Job 37:14 (NLT)

*Image courtesy Pixabay

All other images, property of Rapture Practice! Publications (c)2016 are not to be shared or otherwise distributed without prior written permission. Thank you!

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