In response to the increasing number of church members who prefer to stay in their homes as much as possible, the LDS church has created a hermit ward. The idea is that members can participate in church activities without having to leave the comfort of their homes. The ward also has the largest geographical area […]
This is one of my favorite writings. I actually wrote it about 6 years ago on a writer’s network called Open Salon, which I don’t think exists any longer. Thank goodness I was able to pull it up somehow and bring it here. I have a new bed in a new house with an added surprise I want to write about soon. “Stay tuned”……..
Often, and again this morning, as I’m making my bed, the thought goes through my mind as I spread and straighten the sheets, “I love my bed!”
This past winter, I bought heavy, micro-fiber gray sheets for it that felt cozy and warm on a cold winter’s night, inviting me to snuggle down into this warm bedding.
With the arrival of spring and the awakening of the newness this season brings, I had an urge to replace my fluffy, gray sheets with something crisp and bright. Spring colors. I wanted to feel the different texture of crisp cotton when I crawled into bed and wanted to see some bright, happy colors when I tossed back the covers. I was tired of the dark, heavy winter sheets and wanted something to match the new season. I found exactly what I was searching for, small stripes in pink, lime green, purple and…
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February 1st, 2016….
A few days prior to this, we were experiencing a nice reprieve from the blistering cold (not much snow yet). We were working on outdoor projects and hardly even needed a jacket. I asked my husband, who grew up in snow country, if he thought we might be done with winter, finally! He retorted without a moment’s hesitation that we probably hadn’t seen the last, or worst, of it yet. I really didn’t believe this. Spring was in the air, buds were even appearing on the lilac bushes and I had seen a few Robins, clearly the first signs of spring. February 1st proved him right though.
The next morning, I learned of the big snowfall via a text from a daughter, living 45 miles away in a similar high altitude with the same record snowfall in her area. She told me they had called a snow day so she, as a teacher, and all the kids got a free day off from school! She also said all roads leading into her town were shut down. This was big news. It takes a lot of snow to bring things to a screeching halt like this. And there was a LOT of snow.
I got out of bed and went and looked outside, towards the front of the house where the streetlight revealed just how big! I was shocked at the thick blanket of snow hiding large articles in our yard. Many reported not even being able to see small cars in their yards. Our picnic table, out back, was completely covered as were so many other things. It was, well, exhilarating to wake up to such a transformation overnight!
Looking out my kitchen window to a scene lit by the streetlight.
The first photos I took were partly shrouded by the predawn darkness. A streetlight, in front of the house, was the only means of revealing this wondrous site.
An inner knowing told me this was not going to be an ordinary day. Something sleeping within me was awakening and alert to events that were coming but still unknown to me. I spent a lot of time snapping photos and reveling in this miracle. I found myself being “put back” into the right order of things, no longer the one in charge of every aspect of my life. I was the observer and nothing more. It made me feel giddy.
After the sun came up, my husband dressed for the cold and went out and began shoveling pathways around our acreage to get around to the places necessary to get to.
He claims he shoveled 400′ of pathways and seemed somewhat resentful that I did not help in this chore. I let it slide off and remained transfixed in my magical bubble of this winter wonderland consciously deciding nothing would intrude on my happiness. I was in an entirely different place than he was and exhilarated to slip into this transcendent state of being. I was busy with other important things like being exceedingly happy, excited and beguiled. I felt like baking and began filling our home with smells, the scent of hot bread in the oven and warm teas. I even made myself a cup of hot, peppermint cocoa that is only on my shelf for the grandkids (usually). I never touch the stuff due to my intolerance for sugar but today was different, and found me doing things out of the ordinary. I found “It’s a Marshmallow World in the Winter” on You Tube and played it and other wintry songs, until all that was left were Christmas tunes and this was not about Christmas.
Our day went on in this manner. Chatting with friends on Facebook who were experiencing similar things on this beautiful first day of February. Their stories were also filled with awe and wonder. I felt exceptionally creative and used my newly painted chalkboard for the first time! I was waiting for it to “cure” before writing on it and wasn’t sure it would even “work”. I wanted to make some kind of statement about this magical day that was inspiring me to go to work creating the event in chalk, colored chalk no less, as my first artwork on my newly made chalkboard.
I regret very much that I did not take a photo of my Feb 1st artwork. It had big snowflakes and was a wonderful tribute to the day. My creativity was really overflowing and I was very caught up in this sphere of magical energy spilling out in so many forms.
A Favorite Picture
More photos of the day….
This is a natural arbor formed by two trees we usually drive under
to enter our parking area:
The day wore on in this manner and then the tractors began arriving…
Living in a farming community has its advantages, as I was to soon learn.
Being a “city girl” I missed the amazing bike trails and almost daily events going on in my favorite city, St George, just 36 miles away and always wished for the day we could return there to live. This has been my constant rhetoric, pleading with my husband (the country boy) to return to the city I loved. I never really allowed myself to bond with the beautiful country we now call home. The people were all kind, really great people to know and live among; the summers were much more appealing than the triple digits of St George and even the trips to St George were inspiring, driving through the forested mountains to reach it. I just wanted to “go home”, back to the place where my roots began, my mother’s home town.
As the bubble began wearing thin and the stark reality of the state of things began interfering with my happiness and glee in this winter wonderland, I could see there was going to take some real labor to get us to even become mobile again. Our vehicles were locked in. At first I didn’t even care. I had no place to go, no place other than this beautiful, magical area I wanted to be in for the moment. But, as all good things wind down, I began to realize we would have to leave at some point and matters of reality slowly interrupted my sense of living in a wonderland forever.
At first a man we have become friends with, who helps us quite often, arrived in his big green farm tractor. He shoveled our driveway out so we could at least get our main vehicle out. When questioning him about all this, he admitted he got up at 4:00 am and when seeing the situation got his tractor going and had been out doing this all morning. It was about 11:00 when he showed up at our place. I brought him out a big mug of steaming hot tea and our gratitude could not be rehearsed in a mere cup of tea but that was all we had to offer as he would not take any monetary or even trade for his work. We exchanged a brief conversation and he had to be off to help others in the same situation.
“What joy to see people helping one another.”
My husband, who has a small (broken down) Kubota Tractor felt perplexed that he too could not be out and about, helping others in need..as he used to do in his home town. We were totally dependent upon the goodwill of someone coming to our rescue now.
Harv got in our old farm truck and began bouncing over drifts of snow, trying to break them down so that the rest of our driveway could be driven over and to free the rest of our vehicles from their snowy prison. As luck would have it, at one point he slid into a tall water hydrant (faucet) and found the truck “high centered” right on top of the faucet! He had crawled under the truck to see what damage may have been done and clearly the faucet was bent and probably broken and it looked like even some parts to the underside of the truck might have been tangled up in the faucet. It didn’t look good. As we were wondering how he could even untangle the truck from the faucet another friend passed by on another huge farm tractor. Harv waved him down and he came and plowed out the other sections of driveways we have. He lifted the truck up and over the faucet with his mighty tractor then got down on hands and knees in two feet of snow to help Harv dig out the now visibly broken pipe, spurting water. He spent a good 45 minutes or more helping Harv find the main water shut off valve, buried deep in the snow then worked on digging up the 4′ faucet and capping off the pipe. He had been up since 7:30 and had not eaten all day. I fixed him something to eat, that he didn’t want, as he and Harv were working and set it on the seat of his tractor so he could eat it before having to leave to go help someone feed cattle before it got dark, which was quickly approaching.
The real magic of the day
was my finally falling in love with this little farm town and the good people living here. My heart was so full I felt like it could burst with love and gratitude. I realized what a very special place this little hamlet is, nestled on all sides by beautiful forests and farmland. Something happened to me on this wonderful first day of February. I decided to stay and “bloom where I was planted”. Someday, hopefully, I will return to the place of my ancestors. I still must go back, there are so many memories deep in my heart and soul and missing too many of the old folk who have moved on from there. I miss it very much. I miss my adult children, some of whom live there with my precious grandchildren. I miss the cousins I was just starting to bond and connect with once again. I miss my family as I see the people in this small farm town living and doing things with their families who live here also.
But, in the meantime….
I will strive to be happy wherever I am and whatever the circumstances. The events that transpired on this wondrous day on the very first day of the month of love taught me some new lessons I hope I never forget. My heart was filled to overflowing both from the magical wonder of nature’s beauty as well as the goodness of our fellowmen. That is a good feeling to carry around.
A post note:I couldn’t let our truckload of snow go to waste and came up with the idea of taking it down to “Sunny St George” and sharing it with my grand-kids living there, one of whom has never seen snow in his young life. I waited about three days before going down, hoping (ridiculously) that the snow would not melt from the truck before I had a chance to go down…it was like a walk in freezer the whole week and I should not have worried about the snow melting before I had a chance to deliver it.
Before we “dropped it off” in my daughter’s front yard, we stopped to eat at a restaurant and my husband nudged me and pointed to some other diners who had left and were out in the parking lot, taking a little nibble of the snow in our truck! How funny to have shared it in ways not even intended!
This is a very enlightening, educational post about a holiday in Catalan, near Barcelona (I think). I’ve never heard of Catalan but the title of the blog post caught my eye since I live near St George, UT and my family roots grow abundantly in this area. I enjoyed reading about something new, a new place with a “new” (to me) tradition associated with Roses and Books. What could be better than that!
La Diada de Sant Jordi (Saint George’s Day), also known as El Dia de la Rosa (The Day of the Rose) or El Dia del Llibre (The Day of the Book) is a Catalan holiday held on 23 April, with similarities to Valentine’s Day and some unique twists that reflect the antiquity of the celebrations. The main event is the exchange of gifts between sweethearts, loved ones and colleagues. Historically, men gave women roses, and women gave men a book to celebrate the occasion — “a rose for love and a book forever.” In modern times, the mutual exchange of books is also customary. Roses have been associated with this day since medieval times, but the giving of books is a more recent tradition originating in 1923, when a bookseller started to promote the holiday as a way to commemorate the nearly simultaneous deaths of Miguel Cervantes and William…
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Loving my times in New Mexico, this blog caught my interest. What a lovely little get-a-way they described. This is a very short blog on pure relaxation as well as learning things about their exact vicinity. Very nicely written and I enjoyed “the break”.
Larry is a keen astronomer so he was looking forward to our trip to New Mexico where the dry desert air promised excellent conditions for stargazing. He came across a place to stay in the southwest of the state that advertised dark skies as well as spectacular views and incredible quiet. It couldn’t have been a more accurate description.
We drove 30 miles northwest from Silver City on a secondary road to reach the tiny village of Gila. Already feeling like we were in the middle of nowhere we then had a further 4 miles to go on a dirt road. As we entered the entrance to the Casitas de Gila there was a sign “Entering Stress Free Zone”, another very accurate description!
Becky, our hostess, showed us to our adobe casita, one of five positioned on a terrace overlooking Bear Creek…
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I like this saying.
Back in the film era, there was an adage—really, something between a saying and a mantra—that went like this: f/8 and be there. It was, in essence, a statement that suggested that, when it came to getting “the shot,” the technicals were a whole lot less important than being in position when the opportunity arose. (The “f/8” part referred to the optimal aperture setting for most situations and most lenses.)
We’re now more than a decade into a mature digital age of photography, but the meaning behind the phrase still applies today, even if we’ve effectively left the analog age of film in the rearview mirror. In fact, if anything, the technical nuances of photography have become less and less of an impediment to the successful image making process with each passing year. The key has always been recognizing a good photo opportunity and being in position to take…
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