Trip to Pennsylvania–Part I

On Monday Jerry and I traversed a couple of jetways, flew through placid, beautiful air, and a few hours later landed in Pittsburg (snapped this shot from the car) where my brother, Junior, picked us up, helped us with our luggage, then drove us to his beautiful home which sets on 80 acres. Since his retirement, he “pretends” to be a farmer. Beautiful roosters scat about the property, one rooster lives in the enclosure where the hens do their business. Their chickens only recently began laying, and with great flourish we visited the egg plant and gathered the eggs.

Sandy lives with her dad in the house that consists of 4500 square feet, 5 bathrooms, two kitchens….I think the chickens are hers.

The bees are Junior’s pride and we spent an hour or so tending them. They are amazing.

I donned protective gear to “help.” My brother wears none, and has never been stung. Sandy went to the barn and came back with an apparatus with small bellows that produces smoke that for some reason calms the bees. Junior pulled out the trays, and even though it is not time to harvest the honey, already were drenched with honey. We poked our fingers in and licked off the delicious sweetness.

o                                                               In the distance are the Laurel Highland Mountains.

Close by in another direction are the Alleghenies.

Deer by the hundreds graze around here. Last night after dinner–around 10:00–we drove around in Junior’s truck to spy on them. He had a spotlight which he would shine across the fields. We saw several.

Lots to tell, but at this moment I must get dressed for we are leaving for Smicksburg which has a large Amish population.

More tomorrow.

Reflections on Mother’s Day 2015

The days leading up to Mother’s Day had found me the recipient of flower deliveries, cards, phone calls, and gifts. On Saturday Jerry said he needed to go somewhere, and when he returned he had in his hands a small azalea plant of the most pleasant pink hue, along with a very touching card. No doubt one of the reasons my children are so good to honor me is because their dad set the bar high throughout their growing-up years. Thoughtful. Never misses an anniversary, and sometimes for no reason, he may pop out into the yard and bring in a rose he has snipped from one of our plants.

None of the children were able to actually visit in our home for the special day, but we had made plans with Rebecca. Sunday morning we drove by her house, dropped off Winston, then drove on to Inland Lighthouse Center in Rialto where with her we worshipped. Before we entered the sanctuary, though, Jerry snapped a few pictures of the two mommies!

The greeting of many friends always makes it such a pleasure to visit the church that Jerry formerly pastored. Multitudes of glorious memories. A great church.

After the service as we continued to visit, Rebecca hurried home to finish preparing our meal.

She had set a beautiful table with her fine platinum rimmed china. A pasta/sausage dish was the entree, the salad was fresh and delicious, and. . .and. . .these scrumptious cheese biscuits. I watched her scoop out the dough and stick them in the oven. I probably shouldn’t confess, but I ate two of them, and they weren’t small!

More gifts, sweet talk, lingering.

Rebecca let us read the hilarious card Nathaniel had given her. We watched on his phone a video of his preaching a few nights before at Bakersfield. So very exciting.

Treats drawn from his pockets sent the dogs running to Master.

Back home. Early evening. I gathered my gifts and cards, pulled out a dining chair, sat down, looked at them, and reread them. I thought of each of my three sons, and of my one daughter. I recalled their births, their childhoods, their escapades, their accomplishments, their disappointments, their strengths, their challenges. I wept for love.

A Day of Curiosity

john Dewey said it:

The curious mind is constantly alert and exploring, seeking material for thought, as a vigorous and healthy body is on the qui vive for nutriment. Eagerness for experience, for new and varied contacts, is found where wonder is found. Such curiosity is the only sure guarantee of the acquisition of the primary facts upon which inference must base itself.

I admit to the owning of a hefty portion of inquisitiveness, to the extent that Jerry has sometimes grown impatient with me if I wander off when a group of us is exploring a new city or a fresh countryside, afraid I’ll get lost or someone will nab me! 🙂 Yesterday our electricity was to be off for four hours while a new pole was installed behind our house, so I decided on a roaming about the mountains shindig, and Jerry was persuaded to come along with me, as was Winston.

During our trek I became hungry, fast-food places are scarce here in the San Berdoos, so while I was in the market to pick up a few groceries, I snagged a few items. We would have a picnic! In Lake Arrowhead after driving down a steep road that came to a dead end and doing a turn around, I spied wild apple trees. I stopped the car, grabbed my camera and leashed up Winston for a romp. I shook the tree, but nothing fell, so all I left with were pictures. Our picnic area overlooked both Lake Arrowhead and tiny Papoose Lake. No one else was in the area where we were, except that when we first arrived, I saw a gentleman across the road walking his two large dogs.  The day was glorious, our food was fresh, the ambiance remarkable.

It was while I was photographing the gigantic pine cones that Jerry called. “There’s an eagle.” I pointed my camera skyward and caught a shot of this majestic bird as he dipped and wheeled through the magnificent sky.

I also inquire in my mind, and though I would never think of embarrassing anyone, I would love to know why anyone would mutilate his body as has the young man pictured above. We saw him on our first stop of the afternoon trek at a vintage car show where he was displaying the most unusual Volkswagen that runs on, of all things, smoke from burning wood. (I’ll post more of this later.) But why? Why do people want to appear this way?

Right away, there will be some who reject my right to question this action implying that I am judging him, and that I have no right. I’m beginning a thorough study of scripture that warns against our judging others, thinking there surely is a time when we are to be distressed about actions we see around us. Jesus did. Plaited a whip and went into the temple and overturned the tables where deception and dishonesty were being paraded. I’m not suggesting that because of his appearance this young man has low morals or is dishonest. Not at all. I am suggesting that such an appearance likely will make it difficult for him to be gainfully employed.

I’m worried about our country. Concerned about morals and deceit and downward spiraling. I’m curious, so while I fling about the countryside enjoying the splendor, tromp with my great dog through dusty paths, and watch eagles wing and hover overhead, I am thinking. I am gravely concerned.

Of Fathers and Sons

Cole had asked to stay with us a couple of weeks ago when their entire family were here; however it wasn’t a good time, but last Monday was. Jerry and I trekked down to Temecula which is roughly halfway between here and San Diego where we met Andrew and Shawnna who delivered two boys to us: Brady and Cole. I don’t believe any of us had thought about this week as being the one that would lead up to Father’s Day, but a better week could not have been chosen. I’ve watched the interaction of Jerry with these two grandboys, and I’ve thought of leadership and heritage and godliness and progeny and transfer of mantles and of undeserved family blessings.

In the kitchen I made pancakes and eggs and tacos and poured orange juice by the gallon and fried chicken in a big skillet. We filled ice chests and these gentlemen in training carried down the heavy things and loaded in the folding chairs and took them from the car when we reached the picnic area at the lake and set them up for us.

They climbed trees and poked at crawdads and didn’t catch even one. They threw sticks into the water, and when their cousin Nathaniel had been doing lawn work for Bill next door, they both helped him finish his job, and at the end when they had earned no money, I gave them each five dollars. Ambitious, hard working Brady earned seven more dollars from me because the $5.00 job I had assigned was bigger than I thought and because he worked so hard.

The entire family were away from their home several weeks during the school year, so the boys came to us Monday with online and contract makeup work assignments. Cole works studiously. He also is quite an artist, so down at the lake I let him use my camera, and with his excellent eye, he fashioned a fine portrait of his pappy.

Blessed. Here is a father who has a heart after God, who has led his family into righteous living, who worked long and hard to dress the bodies of his children and to give us nice houses and good food and days of fun and who read scripture to us and prayed for us . . . and who does to this day.

And now are the sterling grandsons who weep in the presence of God, who say thank you Granny after every meal and who say thank you Granny and Pappy for taking us to the lake . . . and who take their dishes to the sink . . . and upon whom, perhaps, the end of the world will come.

Shoes. Feet. Paths to follow.

So . . . yesterday Pappy took his boys down the hill to Big Five.

For there remain long, treacherous, happy, rocky, important paths ahead. And one’s feet must be shod . . .

 

A Surprise, Glorious Visit

The message came by email: “Surprise. Short notice. We’re be at your place by three or four o’clock in the morning,” or something to that effect.

“Jerry,” I called across the room, “Andrew and Shawnna are coming in tonight!”

We were ecstatic. Before I went to bed I walked upstairs, arranged bedding on couches, and pallets on floors, swished out the guest bathrooms, and turned on lamps in the bedrooms.

“Don’t wait up for us, of course,” Andrew had said. “I have a garage door opener and we’ll let ourselves in.”

4:00 AM Arrived eight humans, one goldfish splashing about in his/her bowl, and one basset hound, whose name is Charley, and who drools like you can’t believe, and who is the sweetest, most affectionate dog, and who travels drugged up because of his extreme tendency toward car sickness.

Come daylight, no one was up early, of course, so while the house lay quiet, I stirred around and snapped pictures of my dear ones laid out here and there.

“I heard you taking our  pictures, Granny,” Chloe said later in the day.

Cole was gone.

Ella and Chloe had the floor of the game room.

I fried bacon, whipped up biscuits and gravy, and some of them ate at the bar, while others carried their loaded plates to the back deck where Pappy was drinking coffee.

Chloe wrapped Winston in a doll blanket and carried him about as a baby. He didn’t like it.

Speaking of Winston: At 4:00 am, before either Jerry or I heard them, Winston bolted up in the bed (Yes, we now sleep with him,) and began barking. Such a good watchdog, guarding the castle and all that. However…..by the time the family of seven had traipsed in, bearing a friend with them, and lugging in suitcases, and afore mentioned goldfish and basset hound, the place was in such an uproar with chaos reigning, that Winston yelped, ducked low and crawled under our bed, still barking out commands. 🙂

So much for guarding the castle.

By mid-afternoon they were gone. Sweet, quick, surprise visit.

 

An Anniversary

It snowed, they say, that day in the deep south state of Louisiana when he was born. Now, here he is today 82 years old. Gerald Buxton, my hubby.

We planned a simple day–some last minute shopping for our big trip that is just days away now, a stop at the pharmacy, a little business at the bank, and a run by Costco for fuel and for treats for Winston. Throughout the day our children called to wish him a happy day, as did several of the grandchildren

“I’m taking you out for dinner for your birthday,” I had told him previously and he decided on the Cheesecake Factory where he would order their Jambalya. But as the day wore on, and we were miles away from the designated restaurant, he talked himself into settling for Cocos which was much closer to home and where he would order the Oriental Chicken Salad. As we entered the restaurant, we both stared at the bountiful, beautiful pies in the glass case, and I said, “We could take one of those home for your birthday.” But through the meal as we ate our delicious food, we decided I would whip up a coconut cream pie at home.

I did.

Winston whimpered. . .

. . .and because it was a party . . .

. . . and because that little pup is spoiled . . . rotten, I tell you.

Anyway, it’s Jerry’s birthday, and I cannot imagine my life without him . . .so, I’m wishing lots more pies and cakes. Many more celebrations–rare, elaborate, or simple. But there.

Sage Buxton and Mary Birchett

During the morning as I contemplated that this is the day that will contain the ending moments of the year 2013, and as I thought of my considerable blessings during said year, indeed, throughout my entire life, my mind nuzzled down and settled on Sage.

Sage is eleven years old and is the daughter of Chris and Christina, which makes her my great-granddaughter. She is a changeling. Yesterday she climbed into this tree with her brother and boy cousins, and she grinned down at me as she held Winston, and as I snapped her picture. At other moments, though, it is evident that she will soon leave rank childhood behind, and in its place will embrace the lady-hood that is nipping at the hem of her skirt.

I stood in a large group gathered at the altar Sunday night, and in a few minutes I sensed that Sage had moved from her parents who also worshipped at the front of the church, and now sidled close to me. She wept. I laid one of my hands on her back, then she raised her own arms in worship, and I saw that she was crying. It was a precious moment as we stood together enveloped in the presence of God on the last Sunday of the year 2013.

Later I was reminded that Sage’s great, great, great grandmother, Mary Birchett, was also a recipient of the precious gift of the Holy Ghost, and that such a remarkable link, such a treasure of heritage has been passed not only to Sage, but to all my other great grandchildren. Have there been failures in our family? Of course. Is there shame in our family? Of course. But overriding this negative reality is the sure Word of God and His sure Spirit that has been protected and treasured by many in our family.

With joy I write this year-end missive, with joy I speak of God’s Spirit, and with joy do I celebrate my remarkable heritage.

Onward! 2014 stands at the door.

A Casket for Milo

The dad went to his workspace. Scraps of lumber were there that he believed would work for the job he must do.

The death had occurred a few hours before, and if a casket were to be, the dad would be the one. At the workbench he gauged the size, (At the vet’s office yesterday, the nurses had said Milo weighed four pounds.) then fastened the pieces together and made the little box. It was a casket for Milo.

When the box was finished, for a lining, Chloe brought Milo’s favorite blanket, the one he had died in, the one she had wrapped around him that last time when he staggered to her bed. Parvo is ugly and little Milo was bleeding, but in his final night Chloe cleaned up her puppy and lay down beside him in her bed. She slept an hour or so, and when she woke, she looked at his little body and knew that Milo had gone away. . .

The family gathered in the back yard for the service–one mom, one dad, five youngsters, and they buried him on a little hill. Chloe told me this afternoon they  placed a cross there too.

On her facebook site, Chloe wrote this:

Rest in peace to my little milo you were one of the best things to happen to me. Ill always remember and miss you. I love you baby

Prayer for Milo

Is it sacrilegious to pray for the healing of an animal? Is it disrespectful to God?

While I don’t at all equate animals with humans, and while I see no evidence in God’s Word that animals have an eternal soul, as do people, God did create everything that is living, and I suspect he has an interest in His beings. After all He is aware of every sparrow that falls. I know He loves Chloe and her little puppy Milo who is very sick. Milo has parvo, is being treated by a veterinarian, but his situation is quite serious. If you don’t find it irreverent or disrespectful, would you say a little prayer this morning for Milo.

Update 9:30 Sunday:

Weeping in the Buxton homes. Milo has died. Chloe is devastated.

 

Thanksgiving at the Buxtons 2013

Here it is only five days from Christmas, and I have not posted about Thanksgiving, so tonight that little problem will be remedied, for indeed it was a special Thanksgiving. I believe we will remember this holiday of 2013 as the Thanksgiving of The Dogs. Oh, there were plenty of humans about, wonderful humans–Rebecca and Nathaniel, Andrew and his family, and Scott Shoemake and his family, and of course Jerry and me. But there were also dogs–three of them to be exact. Winston’s litter-mate brother, whose name is Milo was here, as was Charley Brown, a lumbering, slobbering, wet-eared Basset Hound who belongs to Shawnna, and whom Andrew had originally planned would be housed in the garage, but who within one day had nosed his way into the house, for after all there were two other dogs bouncing about, were there not?

Charley Brown snuffled about mostly ignoring the two little black and whites who nipped and yipped, and he’s so sweet, and once during the day he and Gentry took a nap together on the floor. Our patriarch read scripture of thanksgiving as we stood around the table before we were seated for our grand meal.

A drive about the area to show the Shoemakes our beautiful San Bernardino Mountain area, including Lake Gregory here.

Whoops! Almost forgot to tell you about Brady. “I brought my fish, Granny. He has to be fed every day, so I couldn’t leave him home.” So besides the great humans we had two lively Shih Tzu puppies, one sweet Basset Hound, and one blue fish who swam about in his container, and who survived, although once or twice, he missed a meal.We explored Dart Canyon and took pictures of the old buildings and cars there.

And then came the time when after all the games, and laughter, and puppy business, and eating good food, and tasty leftovers, and hugging and loving, and being thankful . . . the people, the fish, and the dogs were gone . . .except for Jerry and me who stayed here in our home for it seems a pretty good place to be. Winston stayed too, our newest treasure, a little pup who has entwined himself deep into our hearts.

Onward…it’s almost Christmas!