Winter Break

I dislike using the term "Winter Break" to describe what we have always called "Christmas Break'. To me, if we take a break because we want to drink a cup of coffee we should call that a "coffee break". If we need to go to the bathroom, should'nt we call that a "potty break"?
Okay, then. If we celebrate the birthday of the most influential person to ever live, let's call it Christmas!
I say this to lead into talking about my "winter break". I am layed off from work over the winter. I call this a winter break. I have lots of fun things planned for my winter break. I will celebrate Christmas for an extended time at my family's homes. I may even put up Christmas lights this year.

Deception Pass - - Day One

The last time I posted, I said I was going to Baker Lake to camp and pick berries. I lied. Strike me with a wet noodle for my deception. Ya get it deception - - - Deception Pass! Sometimes I amuse myself.

I did go to Baker Lake and look around. I checked with the locals who assured me that the berries were not ripe yet. I found a few thimble berries and a very few himalayan blackberries that were ripe enough, but that was it. As for the lake itself, it was covered with drift wood so far from shore that there was no place to put a kayak into the water unless you paid money to stay at a campground. The weather was very cool in the mountains, so I came back out of the woods.

I cut some branches from maple trees to make into treking poles. I always have a collection of them for anyone that wants one. I was looking for vine maple, but could not find any the right size and straightness to suit me. The maple tree as opposed to the vine maple are much straighter by nature. The vine maple is much stronger though.

I took several pictures of the lakes in the North Cascades. They are truly magnificent. I stopped and compared my wildflower guide with what I saw beside the road. It is amazing how many prolific species were brought to the Americas from Europe.

So, I arrived at Deception Pass State Park in the afternoon on Tuesday. This is a day earlier than I planned to arrive. As I was checking out my campsite, a couple from Moses Lake engaged in conversation. We enjoyed a conversation filled evening. He is orriginally from Germany and she was born in Spokane.

The noise from the Naval Jets are horrible here. Somehow, I got some sleep. This morning, as I was returning from the restroom, I engaged in conversation with a couple that have the site that Stephanie et al will stay in starting this evening. They are visiting here in the US for four weeks. They are from Germany. He is an attorney and she is a journalist. They are having a wonderful time traveling around the US. Their last stop was at Riverside State Park in Spokane, Washington. As you know, that is my home town.

Steph will arrive here shortly. She called to say she is still a couple hours away, but doing okay. Jenny will arrive tomorrow sometime. Life does not get better than this. I can hardly wait.

Kayak Bandit

Walking to Work

When you walk a familiar path, where do you look? Do you look for the spot to land your next footstep? Do you look at something far ahead? Or do you stare at nothing special as you think deep thoughts?
When I walk to the bus stop en route to work, there are lots of interesting things to look for. I see the work a neighbor has done to build a retaining wall. I see the new addition that another neighbor is building. I see that a neighbor has brought some fence material home. Now I need to watch to see how quickly he moves forward with the project.
Some times I notice the cracks in the sidewalk and remember back to when we chanted the line "don't step on a crack, cause it will break your mama's back." Boy, would we walk gingerly to avoid stepping on a crack for this cause. But if the cracks got too close together, someone would change the chant to "don't step on a crack, cause it will break your teacher's back." When that was the chant, we were eager to step on a crack if our teacher was perceived to be mean.
Some times you must stop all progress to marvel at the way a tree leaf emerges. Recently, I noticed that a laceleaf maple tree leaf grows to full length before it starts to unfurl. Then each day you notice that the leaf grows broader and broader somewhat like a fan stretching out. You know, the fans like the elegant people used at the theater before air conditioning.
But some times you notice things that gnaw at you. There is this duplex where the people come outside only to smoke and talk on the phone. The yard has a birch tree that was broken at Christmas when someone must have tried to climb up the scrawny thing to put Christmas lights on it. Well, the partially strung lights are still in the tree and after six months no one has removed the lights or the broken tree. The yard has not been moved, no weeds have been pulled, the sidewalk is almost overgrown like the jungle and bear cans where they landed.
I was told by a friend that I need to let things go. I take too many things too seriously.
But then there are the times that you no more have started toward the bus that you are already there. Those days I have been thinking ahead to when I will be riding bicycle with my grandkids at the beach. Or sharing popcorn over the campfire. Or tutoring the next generation how to carefully heat up graham crackers and chocolate on a flat rock by the same fire that you are toasting the marshmallow.
And then there are the times I compose, in my head, good stories to tell my grandkids at bedtime. I always try to think up stories that can have characters with the same names as the grandkids that need their rest for another day of bicycles, dogs, popcorn and s'mores.
Kayak Bandit '(*!*)'

The Waltons

I often talk about my childhood. I was raised in a Christian home on a farm in Minnesota. There were nine of us kids born to two loving parents. Believe it or not, they stayed together through life's struggles.
Many people are intrigued by the large family and farm life. I often am asked if our family was like the "Waltons". I want to scream when asked this. I am insulted that anyone would suspect we were that shallow. The farm life depicted by that show rarely shows the depth and complexity of real farm life. It feels like the precursor of the political correctness that is destroying our social fiber today.
It is not that we were impolite to each other. We were not. We did not pour honey on top of our politeness.
This might be a quote from the Waltons, "Why, Mrs Hess, I would so very much love to have the honor of just one little taste of your wonderful fried chicken."
We would have said, "Please pass the chicken." Notice that we did say please.
Dad always asked God's blessing on the meal. Mom would be scurrying around getting the food on the table, but we would wait until she sat before any of us started eating.
During the meal, we would often compliment the food. We were encouraged to say nothing bad about the food, even when we did not like it. If we did not like something enough that we did not want to eat it, we were expected to quietly move it to the side of the plate. In that case, someone would often ask if we were going to eat it. Another would likely ask for it, most often my dad.
I am most proud of how we were able to resolve differences. We rarely let something fester. If we were upset with someone, we were encouraged to talk it out right away. It was the philosophy of not going to bed angry. I remember some potato fights with my sister Barb, right sis?
All in all, I would not ever, never, no way trade my life. I am so very happy to have the two loving parents that God afforded to me.
Kayak Bandit '(*!*)'