A Day at Home

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lizard

On Facebook yesterday, as I was “waxing eloquent” concerning the advantage of living here in Crestline, Jocelyn suggested I should post pictures. “Going out in a few minutes with my camera,” I responded to her, and so I did. I didn’t prowl far, only in our own gardens.

Gazing from our front deck, I saw this vision. I cannot tell you how many shots I’ve taken from this point. (Actually the header on this site is such photography.) Between where I’m standing and the far trees is Lake Gregory. Often clouds spill over the ridge, appearing as foamy water being poured from a gigantic bucket. Mist envelopes the stately conifers.

Friendly lizards scamper about our property, and as I descended the steps, camera over my shoulder, this beautiful one, whom I named Liz, stopped to stare at me. Later when I posted her picture on Flickr (where, by the way, I have thousands of viewable pictures), the following conversation arose:

“Liz is gorgeous!! and she looks like she knows it..:) is she yours? how old is she? )”

“She must be your pet if you are on a first-name basis. A beautifully detailed shot of this critter.”

“Liz couldn’t have chosen a better background!”

I responded: “I must confess to having met Liz only today. Actually I may have met her before–not sure, but I certainly am acquainted with other members of her family. They freely roam around our property here in Crestline. Friendly little things. Liz stared at me, and when she saw I was taking her picture, and naming her, she sat perfectly still for several shots. She’s beautiful. Did you see that her belly is blue?”

And in response to her choosing such a splendid background, I said, “That’s because in addition to being beautiful, Liz is smart.”

I snapped a quick shot of the front of our house where rockroses are now in full bloom.

Bill’s yard adjoins ours. His rockroses have little faces like pansies.

Our yards have suffered since we’re gone so much, but amazingly we still have some spectacular flowers. These are blooming in the back.

Come see me sometime!

Moon Night

Tags

biggest full moon of 2012, full moon

As the evening’s end, Melina said, “We should have had Moon Pies.”

How right she was, and how I wish I had thought of such a treat. You see it was the night of the biggest full moon of the year and to our Crystal Beach property in Lake Havasu where we are staying in our motorhome we had invited the Jarrid Younkin and Mike Buxton families. I prepared a few snacks, then we visited while we waited for the moonrise for we had been told it would be magnificent. We had the perfect place to view the sight.

The moon will officially become full on May 5 at 11:35 p.m. EDT. And because this month’s full moon coincides with the moon’s perigee — its closest approach to Earth — it will also be the year’s biggest.

The moon will swing in 221,802 miles (356,955 kilometers) from our planet, offering skywatchers a spectacular view of an extra-big, extra-bright moon, nicknamed a supermoon.

Eliana and Josiah helped us scan the sky for signs of the rising of the moon. Oh, and Mac looked too.

I used the term breath-taking advisedly, for when that spectacular orb began its first showing in the far mountains, it was a stunning sight.

Bulging, and rising quickly, the moon peered over the mountains, the city lights, fastened securely below.

The night was dark; the moon a magical light.

Melina had a little magic going on when she held that brilliant orb in her tiny hand.

It hangs by nothing, does that dazzing moon.

It was time to leave then, and that’s when Melina said, “We should have eaten Moon Pies.” She was right.

Lunch At Fireside

Tags

cast iron skillet, fireside lunch, making potato soup

In a previous post, I told how here in Crestline a couple of days ago the weather changed drastically, taking us from languid summer to chilly winter. Hard rain and strong winds lashed through the night yesterday. and when I looked out the windows in the back of the house this morning, I saw that every blossom on our fruit trees has been ripped off, save for one. The pear, plum, and peach trees are bare of flowers; the apple tree that yesterday was a mass of white flowers today has a single bloom. Drizzle and fog have played the skies all day,

Definitely, it was soup weather. I prepared the ingredients, soon had a pot of potato soup simmering on my cook top, and it was at that time I decided it would be neat if Jerry and I ate our lunch in the living room before the leaping fire that roared in the fireplace. I set in place a small, lightweight table and two chairs, selected neat soup bowls and pretty napkins. Jerry grinned.

I had a little issue with preparing the soup, not having the celery I usually add. I did have a package of Knorr spinach soup/dip mix that I thought might be a good addition. In a cast-iron skillet, I crisply cooked about 1/3 pound of bacon, then setting that aside, I browned 1/2 medium sized chopped onion in the bacon drippings. Into the soup pot I placed peeled, chopped potatoes that I covered with water, the spinach mix, and the onions. Seasoned with salt, pepper, and Tony Chachere’s Creole seasoning. After mixture had simmered so that the potatoes were almost tender, I added one can of evaporated milk, letting the soup continue to simmer very slowly. The soup was delicious, made even better when Jerry and I added crumbled crisp bacon and grated cheddar cheese to our bowls of steaming potato soup.

Though extremely familiar to us, and very ordinary, the ambiance was exceptional.

Change

Tags

death of loved ones, inevitability of change, sudden temperature drop, Vanessa Willet death

“Why don’t we eat on the front deck?” Jerry said as I prepared lunch a few hours ago.

“Fine with me,” I said as I reached for a large tray on which to place our food and drink.

We’ve been home here in Crestline for a week and it has been delightful summery weather. We’ve had doors and windows open, I’ve padded barefoot on the decks where I had laid rugs and where I had placed furniture that in the winter time I move inside. I plopped down three elegant pillows on the front-deck swing, and from time to time I sit there and gaze at the swaying trees. Always there are birds. At times they call,  the abundant little chickadees saying chick a dee, chick a dee.Tulips were blooming in the back yard when we arrived last Monday, and I picked one and placed it on the sill in the kitchen, where I admired its ragged shape and deep color. Daffodils by the thousands are blooming here in the San Bernardino Mountains and once on my way back from grocery shopping this week, I stopped longside a mountain roadway and snapped these images, admiring the tender light playing over and through the yellow and white forms.

As Jerry and I ate our lunch, we noticed clouds spilling over the southern rim of the rising mountains and then I felt a chill in the air. We napped, and when I awoke it was definitely cold and I noted the wind to have picked up and that now we were completely fogged in. I dashed about bringing in the rugs and pillows and closing windows and doors. At the kitchen window I checked the thermometer. Three hours after Jerry and I had eaten turkey sandwiches in balmy weather, the temperature had dropped 22 points and now read 48 degrees. Amazing.

“A fire,” Jerry said. “I’m building a fire.” And so he did.

Change. This dramatic alteration in our weather brought me to a place in my mind I often go, for in recent years Jerry and I have had to make severe changes in our lives, and I frequently consider them. These changes owe in part to our ages and again to varied other circumstances. Some of our changes have been difficult; others have been pleasant and easy. Change is inevitable. Comes to all. Let us be prepared for those startling, uneasy moments so that with grace we will accept the unavoidable.

This past week, in ghastly ways, two of my friends have had severe change come to them. In both cases the change involved the death of dear family members; one, the loss of a cherished 16 month-old grandbaby, the other, the sudden unexpected death of an adult son. I am not close friends to either of these godly women, yet I grieve for each of them and have prayed sincerely for God’s comfort to envelop them.

Edit Tuesday, April 24: And a few hours ago another of my friends lost her 30 year old daughter…but listen as this godly woman writes of this dreadful change in her life:

Isaiah 55:8

For my thoughts are not your
thoughts,neither are your
ways my ways,saith the LORD.

He has plans for accomplishing his PURPOSES which are different from ours and he secures our own welfare by schemes that cross our own.We must HEAR the VOICE of God in our thoughts.We have to go GOD’S WAY and not our own way.
When I think of the GOODNESS of GOD my soul cry’s out HALLELUJAH!!Thank God for saving me!
I THANK GOD FOR HIS MERCY!

I want to thank everyone for their prayers for my daughter Vanessa Willet….Vanessa went home to be with the LORD. She was a miracle in our life she wasn’t suppose to live but God had MERCY and at 3 moths old she had open heart surgery…She had congesitional heart failure and by God’s MERCY she lived until 30 yrs old.Gilbert & I will miss her deeply and she will always be in our hearts and thoughts..Our greatest JOY is that she made things right with GOD….My heart smiles to know she made it..

Praise the LORD!
HALLELUJAH!!!
♥ Gilbert & Katy Buelna ♥

A Snowy Day

Tags

A Snowy Evening, Robert Frost Poetry, snow images, stopping by the woods on a snowy evening

Inexplicable is my love for snow. Some say it is because I grew up in Missouri, so snow and snow play are a big part of my childhood memories. Others, though, who grew up in cold wintry places are of contrary thinking, proclaiming that for years they had enough of that kind of weather and are happy to live in southern California, or similar place, where they are done with such activities. Why do I love snow? Why do I love storms, even lightning and thunder and pounding rain and sleet and hail? though always with the thought that no one be hurt, and that no property be damaged. Is it merely the drama of a storm? Could it be that my subconscious considers the threat of danger and couples this with the assurance of shelter, fire and food, and that attracts me?

Perhaps, though, my love of snow is for the sheer beauty of falling downy flakes  as they fuse to cover the earth and tree branches and rooftops. A miracle is snow, and although comprehension eludes me, I am told that no two flakes are alike. Amazing, a wonder from God, for over time, multiplied trillions of snowflakes have fallen. And none are the same? A quiet waltz is the coming, except that is not always so, for some times when I open the glass, I hear a faint sizzling sound.

Robert Frost shared my infatuation with snow, for he writes of stopping on a snowy evening as, on a dark road, he travels with a horse-drawn carriage. He watches as snow fills a meadow.

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Clouds moving over the lake gave early promise to the snow forecast. I was eager and set up a couple of elements to show the progress through the day. The first flakes came just before 10:00 as I spoke on the phone with Rebecca.

Jerry likes snow, too, although he is not as enthusiastic as I am about it, but he did agree to go for a walk after it had been snowing hard for about an hour. We had decided to invite Mary to join us for a simple dinner of pinto beans cooked with a ham hock, and freshly baked cornbread, so, using snow-ski poles to help with balance, he went over to tell her we would be eating about 5:00. (Turned out to be stubborn beans, so it was after 6:00 when we finally ate. )

It was snowing hard, and I was struggling to take pictures, while at the same time trying to keep my camera from becoming excessively wet.

Finally, the fog and snow mixed so that from our windows it was a whiteout. Later in the day, for a few minutes, the air cleared and I caught a quick view of the houses and trees across the lake–now gloriously decked in white. Then the skies closed again.

In the evening Mary came for dinner. We ate, sat by the fire, talked and laughed, then it was time for her to go. She pulled on her boots, we encouraged her to be careful, and watched as she crossed the street to her little place.

It had stopped snowing quite a while before we went to our bedroom for the night. Lying in bed, I listened for wind, wished for more snow, and imagined the ermine fairyland that might greet me in the morning when I pulled the living room drapes.

Grocery Shopping in the San Bernardino Mountains

Tags

grocery shopping, Rim of the World Highway, San Bernardino Mountain Life

Perhaps to excess so that others find my conversation boring do I speak glowingly of  living here in the San Bernardino mountains, and of how blessed of God do I feel to call this place my home.. “I need to work for the Crestline Chamber of Commerce,” more than once I have half-teasingly said to someone.

My routine trip to the grocery store yesterday reinforced this notion.

The parking lot at Stater Brothers was cramped. On the far corner as I drove about looking for an available spot, I spied this view. Its beauty is rare, yet in one sense, it is common to me, for during routine grocery shopping errands, I see this. How can I not feel blessed?

I’ve never clocked it, but I think I travel between six and eight miles to the grocery store in Lake Arrowhead. (A locally-owned super market is in Crestline where I also shop, but prices, quality and selection are much better at Staters, so for a larger amount of groceries, I go there.) Often on these trips I travel the “backway,” which takes me through Blue Jay and a couple of other little communities. Yesterday, I chose to travel home by way of Highway 18 which–with good reason–is dubbed The Rim of the World Highway.

Spread before me as I pulled into one of the picnic areas off the highway were these scenes.

Perhaps I am peculiar, but I found the sight of that large, freshly fallen pine cone appealing. I’m glad I left it for someone else to admire, but if my grandkids come back before the snow falls, I want to take them to gather pine cones. (Four-year-old Ella calls them pineapples.   ) Thousands lie about.

Eleventh of Eleven

Tags

bald eager at Lake Gregory, image of bald eagle, time with grandchildren

Today was the last day of the eleven that Jerry and I had the oversight of the five children who belong to our son Andrew and his wife Shawnna, who spent the eleven days vacationing in Hawaii. The children range in age from 4 to 16.

These have been wonderful days, but I think today was the finest of all. Started this way: Rebecca and Nathaniel came up about 10:30, we loaded everyone in two cars–Rebecca’s and ours, tossed in a few snacks, chairs, fishing tackle and headed down to the lake which is about 5 minutes from our house. It was a glorious day, brilliant sky, temperature in the mid ’80s, hint of a breeze, and we found a perfect spot beneath trees where we set up and the kids set to fishing and traipsing about.

Suddenly a bald eagle began flying over the lake, soaring through the crystal sky and then settling into the top of a large pine tree. I snapped several pictures from where we sat, then began walking, until finally I stood beneath the tree where the majestic bird still perched. What an opportunity to see and to photograph such a splendid bird.

At home, I had left food in a crock pot and we would eat a late lunch-early dinner, but when several hours had passed at the lake and we mentioned going home, no one wanted to leave. They hadn’t caught one fish, but were having a blast. We discussed options and decided Rebecca would stay with the youngsters while I went home to make sandwiches and then return.

When I arrived at the house, the sky had slightly darkened, and then a little rain sprinkled down, so I called Rebecca and asked how it looked at the lake. “Same here,” she reported, saying she would call me back in 15 minutes with a decision. The decision was: Come back to the lake. I did, stopping at the store to pick up ice cream drumsticks for dessert. We stayed another couple of hours, the youngsters still didn’t want to head home, but I insisted then, for they had chores and by now it was getting toward early evening.

(Slight attitude adjustment indicated above.)

Everyone has had a shower now and the young ones are asleep. Not sure about the older ones, but the house is quiet. Their parents are leaving Hawaii at midnight…be here sometime in the morning. Change is in the air!

Picnicing at Gila Box Canyon

Tags

Gila Box Canyon, Pastor Keyes

Summer road trip. Day 20 Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Picnic! I cannot remember when last we had a picnic, and I was eager for it to come around. I took our small ice chest from its place in the bay the night before and cleaned it so that it was ready in the morning when I filled it with soft drinks, cold chicken, cheese, tiny tomatoes, strawberries and grapes. I stuck cookies, chips, sourdough bread, paper plates and such into another bag I keep in the motor home for such events. We were ready when the Keyes arrived. They loaded their things into our Jeep, Brother Keyes took the wheel and we headed to the Gila Box Canyon area, where he served as our gracious tour guide for the afternoon. He spent many years of his childhood in this area, and is very knowledgeable of its terrain and its history.

First, though, before we left town, we drove to a facility here in town that interests them as a site for a new church building. We couldn’t get inside, but we peered through the windows, and Brother Keyes has a call in now to check on its availability. If you are reading here, and care about the effective spreading of the Gospel, pray for this pastor and the church congregation here in Safford that God will direct them to a new building.

Sanchez was at one time a thriving settlement, which now has little to show except for an abandoned school house, a cemetery, and a few scattered houses. There is a strong Mormon influence in this area.

The scenery was spectacular, and even though this whole area is suffering from lack of rain, the river bottoms were lush, and the Gila River was flowing.

This picnic table was situated perfectly. Although it was hot, this beautiful tree provided great shade. The river was close by, and after we had feasted, three of us walked down to the water. I waded in–shoes and all. Sister Keyes was neater than I; she removed her shoes.

Despite the dryness here, the profusion and beauty of wild flowers was amazing. A tiny bug was exploring this yellow one.

Can you believe these are weeds? So beautiful.

This last two flowers are my favorites; they look like water color paintings.

Pastor and Mrs. Kris Keyes, my friends!

Shirley Buxton Obituary

Tags

contentment, pouting

Because I’m not of a nervous disposition, I laughed when I saw it, but through the day I couldn’t help but remember and wonder about it a bit. Before the day was over I took a screen shot and wish I could post it here, but so far I can’t seem to figure out how to do that. On the stats page of this blog there is a report of the phrases people use in search engines to bring them here. Yesterday, 3 people typed in the words Shirley Buxton Obituary…and because that request shot them to my blog, it was reported on my stats page!

My obituary! What’s with that? for here I am, alive and well, and reading that someone is interested in my obituary. Maybe they were planning to attend my funeral, wanted to know the hours of the viewing, location of the services, where to send flowers   and such…not sure!

I am an early riser, and nearly always get out of bed ahead of Jerry, but this morning was an exception. I was up several times through the night peering out the windows in hope of seeing the massive snow storm that has been forecast for the San Bernardino Mountains. Nothing. It rained most of the day yesterday, but by evening even that had stopped, and because I am a lover of snow, I was deeply disappointed.

Teasing, I said to Jerry when I finally slipped from the bed and joined him in the kitchen, “I thought of staying in bed all day, with the cover pulled over my head in a pout because of the lack of snow, but…I smelled coffee, so here I am.” He grinned and poured me a cup of steaming fragrant coffee.

So in consideration of the Shirley Buxton obituary search yielding no authentic and reliable results, I’ve decided to put aside my absence of snow pout, and enjoy the day. For actually, as far as this world goes, I live in paradise, and looking through my windows or stepping onto my front deck and seeing such as this, tells me of the silliness of a pout.

How is your day? Probably rather good, for no one reading here also has an obituary printed in the local newspaper. Lots of joy for us today, lots of pleasure, lots of beauty around. Oh, there may be a bit of fog in the mix, a disappointment or two, a hefty challenge poking at us…but all in all, this is a great day. We’re alive! We’re abundantly blessed. Let us rejoice and be glad!

I looked in one direction this morning and saw dark and fog, and some would call it gloom. Turning another way, however, I saw blue skies and promise of another glorious day.

Storms Cause Christmas Celebration Disruption

Tags

Crestline CA., LA Times flood images, mountain roadways flooding, Sea World closed, southern California floods

It is not as we had thought–this week of Christmas. Things have gone awry, and here, alone, we sit, Jerry and I.

The plan was this: On Monday Steve and Dearrah would drive up from San Diego. Chris and Joel and their families would meet here too, driving down from Carson City, Nevada. We would eat together, exchange gifts, they would spend the night, then leave on Tuesday.

In the middle of the week, Andrew and his family would drive up from San Diego, Rebecca and Nathaniel would also come, and on Friday, Michael and Melina would drive over from Lake Havasu City. We would exchange gifts and have our special dinner on Christmas day.

I was content with these plans (actually I want all the kids and the grandkids and the great-grandkids here for the holidays–every holiday–all at the same time, but that just can’t always happen, you understand. Too many other people involved who also need a turn at having the loved ones at their places on the holidays. I get that.) and after Brother Reece’s funeral on Thursday, at Costco and Stater Brothers, we again filled our car as we laid in groceries for the feasts and festivities we were expecting.

Trouble began. Storms. On Friday, it began raining in earnest, and to this moment here on Wednesday evening, it has not stopped. We didn’t even go to church on Sunday, for by then the ground was so saturated that news of dangerous mud and rock slides were numerous. On Sunday, alone, the skies saturated Crestline with a drenching that measured ten inches! Our annual precipitation is nearly 42 inches. In this storm alone, we have received more than 34 inches. It is a rare thing–a weather phenomenon. Lake Gregory has risen more than two feet.

We called Steve on Sunday afternoon to report what was going on, and talked with Chris and Joel who were trying to make up their minds about coming down at all. Massive snow had fallen in the mountains around them, and conditions were treacherous. By Monday, they had decided. Steve and Dearrah would stay in San Diego, and the boys would drive straight there, bypassing us here in Crestline. We understood the danger in traveling here and agreed with the plan. The boys started out together, Joel in a four-wheel-drive truck, and Chris in a passenger car with chained tires to cope with the icy and snowy highways. Conditions were so bad that Chris was only able to drive 15 miles an hour and was sliding all over the place. When a chain broke, he decided to turn back, so now he’s in Carson City alone with his wife and two babies. Joel made it to San Diego about midnight Monday.

Andrew was set to drive up today, as was Rebecca but we advised against it. Roads are closed, roads are flooded, the earth is saturated and boulders with no notice let loose and bound onto the roadways, houses in Highland have been swept away, a bridge broken, and it is still raining. Today we had thunder, lightening, snow, hail, sleet…and rain…and rain.

Forecasters say this storm should move out tonight, so we’re hoping our children can dash up here tomorrow and Friday. In the meantime, we’re all safe with little damage. Rebecca’s garage playroom has flooded ruining the carpet and the lower walls, but it could be much worse. Jerry and I are cozy, our house is dry, phone service and electricity haven’t floundered, we’ve plenty of wood for the fireplace…..and lots of food!

There are graphic pictures from the LA Times here showing flooding in southern California and more details from Fox News here. A hotel was evacuated in San Diego, and even Sea World was closed for one day because of rising water.