I want to go back to my cozy tent at moose camp. No phones, no email, no nothin'-- just a lot of walking and sitting and listening to the river, the rain, the low hum of distant waterfalls, the thunder of the calving glaciers, the patter of the wind in the cottonwoods. There is nothing quite like just sitting still, looking, and listening in such a beautiful place. We'd sit for hours, silently watching and waiting. We saw (and heard) swans trumpeting, hawks catching mice, ravens swishing overhead. There were eagles too, and a screech owl.
Heather Lende's blog
I'm off for a march in the swamp moose hunting-- with Chip--Wish us luck. Oh- and Lexie and Stuart had the baby, little Charles Steven is named after their fathers. Everyone is well and happy.
"I stole your double-boiler" Chip said as he stuffed one more thing into the plastic bins and dry bags piled up in the hall. I have packed the cooler. The boys are heading up the river to moose camp this afternoon, I'll get to go for the weekend. In much more exciting news, Lexie and Stuart DeWitt are at the hospital in Sitka and the baby is on the way. A perfect gift may be to get their name on the pre-school waiting list, since both are all full and if this baby boom keeps up, may be for a long time.
I wish I had the camera with me when I pedaled by three young children waiting for the school bus this morning so you could have seen them, too. The little girl especially, with her braids and sturdy backpack, looked so eager, so wide awake and freshly scrubbed, so ready, so proud to be prepared for a day of learning and play, with her lunch all made and her supplies all organized. Chip has that same look when he goes hunting, except his pack is camo, not pink. Right now he's doing his last minute homework, making lists and checking them three times.
"From the time you were very little, you've had people who have smiled you into smiling, people who have talked you into talking, sung you into singing, loved you into loving... [some may even be in heaven] let's take a moment of silence to think about those people now."
From Fred (Mr.) Rogers 2001 commencement address at Middlebury College (my alma mater) on the 10th anniversary of 9/11 (and my husband's 55th birthday.)
A few snapshots of a sunny fall day. I think they're pretty, although I did get a cryptic email from photographer and pastor Ron Horn yesterday, asking for one hour of my time each week for the next three weeks. Of course I said, "sure." Then, a minute later, "why?" He answered "photo lessons." I replied, "I thought you wanted to save my soul."
(Luckily, God intervened and produced a glorious day, just when we needed it most.)
(My Gretchen Dow Simpson shot.)
I took a golf lesson yesterday afternoon. It was my summer resolution to learn to play, but as usual I'm a little behind in my personal life. I'm a little ahead, writing wise, and was struggling some with a column for the December issue of Woman's Day. I should have worked on it more last week when at least it was snowing on the mountains and we had all that rain. But on a blue bird last cruise ship of the season day like yesterday, it seemed a good idea to go golfing. Presidents do it, why not me? "Wear your boots," Kathy, who with her husband Stan (formerly known as Dr.
The rain has helped me to meet my deadline on the revisions of the novel, and it is now off to my agent (I love to say that. I can't help it. It sounds so Hollywood.) So it is time to breathe and take a walk. Thought you'd like to see the fall colors, too.
Just when you think there is no news, the governor comes to church and a bear comes for coffee. Stoli was at the Presbyterian Church Sunday with Governor and Mrs. Parnell, but she didn't think it was newsworthy, and didn't tell us until we heard about it and then asked if anyone special had been there. She said they didn't introduce themselves the way Grandma Joanne did, and that they sat in the back near her and stayed to chat with everyone afterward. Isn't it nice to have a governor who doesn't sign autographs?
Leslie got the idea for the community garden Labor Day weekend picnic from Martha Stewart (the domestic arts diva, not the Haines river boat guide and restaurant owner.) "At Martha's picnic everyone was in sleeveless dresses," Leslie said on Saturday as we watched the rain sweep off the metal pavilion roof at the fair grounds during the last, gusty cold farmer's market of the season. But Leslie was undaunted, positive, chipper even.