The Frozen North

Frequently, while in the South, we come across folks who believe (logically) that since Washington State is so far north, it must surely be colder than places like Ohio, Illinois, Pennsylvania and the like, come winter and early spring.   Others hear of the endless rain that falls upon Seattle and think that we spend our days hunkered down indoors or wrapped tightly in waterproof wear of all shapes and colors. Many days, this is true (the wet part, not the frozen part).  

This year, we travelled through our share of frozen cold land as we headed back to Frogwater from Clearwater.   Unusually cold temperatures were entirely expected with the exceptionally harsh and extended winter that descended on the midwest, southeast, and many of the western states this season. We didn't make any bets on much improved weather as we headed further and further west.

True to our expectations, as we entered Idaho, it started to rain.  As we donned our rain gear, we just resigned ourselves to an extension of the wettest March on record that had just passed in the Pacific Northwest.  We arrived home to a mix of gray, fog, wet, and soggy.... as expected. Much to our surprise though, 48 hours after we returned, during a break from all the work that landed on our plates as we entered Washington, the sunshine came blazing out of hiding and made our whole world brighter:

That's pretty good for both the Frozen North and the Pacific NorthWET... I can't complain.  Of course, this stunning weather is transient, but I still shouldn't complain! 

Not complaining is the right idea.  It's the implementation that can get a wee bit tricky.

Diversifying

And the story goes like this ...

Once upon a time, there lived a crazy couple who thought it was feasible to haul three cats and three dogs (who did not get along with each other) from one end of the country to another in a minivan.   One of the dogs shall be called Lucky for short and one of the cats shall be called Faith.   The dog called Lucky has an obsession with cats.  He thinks about them day and night, dreaming and hoping against hope to catch one today or at the latest tomorrow.  He has no idea what to do with one if he catches it, but that's another problem for another time.

The crazy couple decided to leave the dog called Lucky:

 Alone with the cat called Faith:

while they packed up the minivan for another 600 mile trek from Point A to Point B.   Believing this to be his Magic Moment to catch a cat, Lucky set about the challenge of trying to figure out how to get into the hard plastic pet carrier in which Faith contentedly resided.  Faith believed that she was safe from Crazy Lucky, either because because of the strong plastic surrounding her, or because her name was, after all, Faith.  

Alas, when the crazy couple returned from their brief hiatus from these two furry friends, an equally brief tragedy had occurred.   While unable to open the carrier, Crazy Lucky did successfully roll it 180 degrees:

Whether Faith acquired a concussion or not, the crazy couple will never know.  Upon checking her from paw to paw, the couple only observed that she was appalled that something as icky and inferior as a dog had done this horrid thing to her.

But, unbeknownst to Crazy Lucky, the family had just diversified.   Prior, it was simply a non-denominational Christian family.   Now, on this fateful day, it had acquired a Holy Roller... how exciting is that?

 

What is it?

Your turn to participate! Prizes may be available depending on the accuracy and entertainment value of the responses.

#1.  What is it?  (Hint:  It often follows me everywhere)

Answer:  It's Kickstand (the cat)'s tail!

#2.  What is it?  (Hint:  It's in South Dakota)

Answer:  It's a big rock with Iron Pyrite (Fool's Gold) in it!

 #3.  What is it?  (Hint:   It could be a freeway under the right conditions)

Answer:  It's a frozen lake in South Dakota (very thick ice)!

#4.  What is it?  (Hint:   It won't last through the spring!)

Answer:  Bubbles frozen into what was once an ice fishing hole!

#5.  What is it?  (Hint:   you don't need a hint)

Answer:  It's Ella's Eyeball!

Four Cool Dudes and a Rock

Actually, it's five cool dudes if you count Gutzon Borglum who carved the four cool dudes into this little rock in South Dakota called Mount Rushmore:

Gutzon took some time to carve these sixty foot sculptures out of granite on the side of Mount Rushmore, 14 years from 1927 to 1941.  The only reason the effort stopped at what we see today (and did not include head to waist for each of the four presidents) was that age-old American reason for stopping in the middle of something:   lack of funding.

While on the topic of Americanism, Mount Rushmore is a fabulous example of our never-ending ability to charge something for everything.   However, we successfully ducked the $11 parking fee and additional entry fee by parking by the side of the road, betting that no one would tow a minivan with six animals inside. After hiking onto a little hill, we found our sought after photo-op in old-fashioned American style:  free of charge.  Mission accomplished.

The little town of Keystone, down the road from Mount Rushmore, supports every type of tourist trap known to mankind, but it is rather cute, especially in the winter time when most every tourist trap is closed:

Fortunately for us, the espresso stand and candy shop were very open and willing to satisfy our needs for a well made latte:

Of the four dudes carved into Mount Rushmore (George, Thomas, Teddy, and Abe), we enjoy George's sculpture the best.   That may be in part because George is complete, while the other dudes are only rocky granite heads.  Or it may be that George was just a talented leader and after winning a wee little conflict with Great Britain, was a fabulous model of what politics and presidential leadership in this country should look like.

Now, all we need to do is find and elect the next George Washington.

Validated, not Godforsaken

After leaving Badlands National Park, we entered Wall, South Dakota, home of the famous Wall Drugs which extends from one side of a main street block to the other, filled with every sort of trinket, burger, art piece, and toiletry one could imagine finding in South Dakota:

I never imagined being able to shop until I drop in South Dakota, but Wall Drugs make this a very real possibility.  It's a fun place to spend a few hours, enjoying a Buffalo burger with a glass of wine (red, of course), and browsing to my heart's content (and my foot's fatigue).   Barry may not have been as enthused as I about Wall Drug, but he can frequently be talked into indulging his wife:

While the shopping is fun and the food is good, my favorite part of Wall Drug is the history behind its success.   Dorothy and Ted Hustead opened Wall Drug in the 1930's and for years, operated it as a tiny, struggling pharmacy serving the very few and very poor residents of Wall, South Dakota in the middle of the Great Depression.   Regardless of the dismal prospects for success, Ted and Dorothy remained committed to a place and a business to which they felt God had called them.  Their family and friends, however, greatly disagreed, dismissing Wall as Godforsaken.  

Despite being surrounded by naysayers, Ted and Dorothy remained in Wall, living out a five year commitment to see what God had in store for them.   One hot and weary summer day, nearing the end of this five year commitment, Dorothy had an idea.   Why not advertise "Free Ice Water" along the highway to entice tired, hot drivers to stop by for awhile and partake in refreshment?  No other prospect for the survival of the business was available, so they set themselves to the task of making the very first Wall Drug billboards along the nearby highway.  

To make a long story short, the idea took off like wildfire and by the start of the twenty-first century, the greatly expanded Wall Drug sees as many as 20,000 visitors on a hot summer day.  The billboards across South Dakota advertising Wall Drug number almost that many.  

Wall is a wonderful testimony to the fact that no matter what it looks like, no matter how long the wait, no matter how frequent the suffering, no matter how tough the struggle... no place, not even the University of Washington campus or South Dakota or West Texas or even the litter box, is Godforsaken.  

Looks like God covered all His bases, Again.

The Bad and The Beautiful

Sounds like a soap opera?  or perhaps the latest and (not so) greatest reality TV show?

Well, actually, it's "just another National Park".   We had the pleasure of driving through Badlands National Park today in South Dakota.  I can certainly understand why someone coming upon the 60 mile long wall of the Badlands in a wagon a hundred plus years ago would be more than a little inclined to name the area Bad Lands.  But, with the advent of roads and modern conveniences, they are far more beautiful than bad.

Sediments have been deposited on the Badlands for a wee 68 million years but erosion of these wee quarter million acres into the pinnacles, spires, and buttes that decorate the land today began a scant half million years ago.   Eventually, the Badlands will erode away entirely, but I suspect that point will be reached long after my lifespan has passed:

Some of the Badlands are decorated with yellow mounds lying underneath a stripe of pink icing.   Rumor has it that the yellow was created by the first jungle to grow here and the pink by the second. Regardless of which jungle created which color, it's hard to believe that this land was once a lush, flourishing expanse of dense trees and tangled underbrush:

Even in this stage of their existence, the Badlands are beautiful.  This time of year, with few tourists in the park, was a perfect time to not only enjoy the views but the profound quiet of this place, interrupted only by gusts of wind rustling through the dried grass.  

They make them in South Dakota too!

This one was made March 25, 2014 in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, where the temperature failed to rise above freezing all the day long:

Amazing sunsets are not just for coastal locations like at our homes in Frogwater (Washington) and Clearwater (Florida).   They are for South Dakota too!  The cold, the wind, and the landlocked feel to this state make me think that the sun will simply run away as quickly as possible, sinking below the horizon for a brief respite before returning rather reluctantly the following morning.

Of course, my attitude about South Dakota is the problem, not the land, and certainly not the sunset. Anywhere, anytime, these sunsets can appear.  Here, in Sioux Falls, they splash beauty across an otherwise barren winterscape.  This particular sunset owes part of its beauty to the incredibly clean air, unique to sub-freezing temperatures and remote locations.

Tonight's sunset, captured at the end of a long day of traveling, reminds me to toss my stereotypes of places like South Dakota into the trash bin of the mind and instead open up my eyes with a clean slate to the beauty that lies everywhere, if only I would look more closely for it.  

Look to the Left, Look to the Right

... and you'll see a church.

We are traveling in the land wherein any resident may find himself not particularly enjoying a sermon at one church on a Sunday morning and be then tempted and able to simply walk across the street to find another.  Churches are numerous.  Many are Baptist.  I almost feel like a non-denominational heretic rolling down country roads in this part of the country.

God seems to be following us everywhere.   His Word stalks our very mile.  The application of His word populates many a billboard and sign:

Where is this land?  Have we already arrived out West?  Certainly not...
Have we ventured deep into the freezing cold mountain ranges?  Not quite today.
Are we still in balmy, tropical climes?  We wish!

Instead, we are in the Bible Belt, traveling from Alabama north and west today through Arkansas and into Missouri, ending in a wee 25 degrees Fahrenheit graciously hosted by Springfield, MO.  

On one country highway, we passed by one white cross after another, each inscribed with a different verse of scripture.  Ah, if only we had our bibles out on our laps rather than stashed in the luggage on the remote rear end of the vast minivan.  

Perhaps I am getting old-fashioned in my increasingly old-age, but I enjoy the reminder that this country is still a Christian nation.  Many Americans continue to strive to know God and to follow His command and desire for their lives.

That's a nice reminder of where I should be and what I should be doing.

Sweet Home Alabama!

After escaping the allergy scene in Georgia (and most of the spring break traffic headed north to Atlanta and beyond), we exited onto country roads and into Alabama.   Therein, we were privileged to see many a cozy and sweet home like the following farm house pass by as we covered the miles du jour:

While these houses looked cozy and safe, our best bet in Alabama (and most of the country for that matter) is La Quinta:

which is one of the only hotel chains in the United States that welcomes pets without charging an arm and a leg (per pet, per night).   Many La Quinta Inns even give out dog biscuits upon check-in and a sweet story about how dogs are no more of a burden than children (and often less destructive).  Dogs are welcomed with open arms, available rooms, and plenty of poop bags!

Upon check-in, we did leave out the part about three cats, but why mention such details? After all, they make up only 18 pounds of our 200 pound animal load!

At La Quinta, we are no longer those second class folks with THE DOGS, but instead just ordinary travelers needing a nice soft bed and peaceful night's sleep.   Today's La Quinta was in Birmingham, Alabama just south of downtown.

Tomorrow's La Quinta... will be wherever tomorrow's adventure takes us.    North and West are the only things we need to know!

Georgia is not on my Mind

It's Day 1 of venturing from Clearwater to Frogwater, from Sunny Florida to Western Washington in the Pacific NorthWET.   And, Georgia is definitely not on my mind, despite traveling along many of its highways this afternoon.

Instead,
Georgia is on my nose, my sinuses, and most of my upper respiratory tract.  The story begins with one of the very few downsides of my dual coast lifestyle.   It is true that one of my (only) regrets about spending the winter in Florida is that I have become unfortunately beset by two separate springs every year. The pollen in Florida gets me going into February and extends until the end of March. Shortly thereafter, Washington State takes over with its many cedar, grass, and assorted other pollens designed to torture my genuinely simple attempts to breathe.  There is nothing like sneezing for four months straight to make you welcome the end of spring with open arms (and open sinus passages). The bright side of this allergy alley is that we are now driving a light green car, so while everyone else's car looks like a coat of pollen, ours just continues to look normal. 


When we entered Georgia today on our first day on the road, I realized that the situation could be a lot worse. No more than five miles across the state line, I started to sneeze inside the car. I am mystified because I just replaced the ridiculously expensive cabin air filter in the minivan that is supposed to prevent this very occurrence. It must be the Georgia pines doing this dastardly deed to my sinuses:

 Or maybe it's the fact that every tree and its brother seems to be leafing out or blooming today:

Regardless, the joy of spring has been threatened by the influx of many allergies.  However, I am certain that I have packed my positive attitude, and it will come to the rescue.  I will be sure to start looking for it, as soon as I stop sneezing!

Tomorrow, we will be headed north out of Alabama, away from blooming trees and into much colder temperatures, with a touch of snow to keep life challenging.  We'll be trading one problem for the next ... therein, lies the definition of cross-country travel... 

Ouch!

Those who read this who are less emotional than I may roll their eyes once, twice, and even thrice.

I closed up a little orange house in Clearwater, Florida this morning:

I closed all the windows, drew all the curtains closed, flipped the circuit breakers to off, and checked twice, even thrice all the possible safeguards to protect this little place that was my mother's home and that has now fallen into my care.   I stopped on the walkway, closed my eyes, and prayed... not just for the walls that make up the house, but for the love and warmth that now make it home.

Reluctantly, I stepped into the driver's seat of the minivan, started it up, and backed out of the driveway. The six animals in the back were busy adapting to the new routine of traveling.  I couldn't help but say quick thanks for how good natured every single one is, both canine and feline.  The husband too is good by his nature.

As I travelled out via the surface streets and then down the long causeway that separates Tampa Bay from Clearwater, I held my breath and my tears.  If I could make it to Interstate 75 and its standard neutralized freeway scenery, I could make it without crying. I could feel my heart lurching, protesting the severing of attachment that had to happen as I made my way across the country.  Fortunately, technologies of phone, e-mail, and the occasional old-fashioned letter would prevent those attachments from lapsing entirely.

I could feel the tears lurking underneath my driver's composure, desiring to burst into one very messy crying jag.   Perhaps, only because I was driving and felt compelled to do so safely, I made it to the Interstate without crying.  As I headed north, I could feel my heart chastising me... reminding me that it will have its time to cry, that I will not escape the need to express all those many emotions that rolled around inside of me.

In the interim, as I wait for my heart to demand my attention, I can be both calm and immensely grateful for the new additions to my memories.  Long walks with Trudy on the beach.   Long talks with Marilyn over breakfast.   Couples dinners that are just as much as an adventure as the one-on-one times.  An incredible farewell dinner, courtesy of our neighbors Deb and Tim.  Sunsets with Jennie and Mike.  Smiles and conversation with Cindy.   New friends, including Marilyn our neighbor.  And the list goes on and on and on and on.

It's time to go back.  God said so, so I'm going.

What will the Babies look like?

What Will they look like?

I confess.  I have had this thought more than once at a wedding.   Watching a couple in love take vows to commit the rest of their lives to each other, in front of God, family, and friends... should generate warm thoughts and fuzzy well wishes.   Instead, in the middle of the ceremony, my ever wandering mind will do exactly that... wander.   And, when the couple isn't quite as well matched in looks as the ideals of Bride Magazine would dictate, I find myself imagining the many different configurations the future babies may take.  

I had this same thought when I caught my cat Faith on the recliner the other day:

Faith is a mix of Maine Coon and Tortoiseshell.   What will the offspring look like?  What will I call the babies?   Maine Bugs?   Lady Coons?  Bugsie Torties?  

Unfortunately, Faith is spayed.  So, I guess I will never find out the answer to this intriguing riddle.  

Seven Habits of Healthy Organic People

#1:  Plant the Lettuce next to the Lawn Chair --

This habit has the obvious benefit of tempting the lawn chair occupant with fresh healthy green things while relaxing in the sunshine.  But, it also reduces the likelihood that said occupant will gravitate back toward the kitchen in search of the next most convenient snack:  whichever bag of potato chips stashed in the cupboard happens to be open.

These greens, in particular, are a mix of this, that, and the other spicy leaflike edibles:   arugula, radicchio, dandelions, and their cousins.  In more sophisticated circles, the young greens clan has another name:  Mesclun.   While sounding exotic, mesclun simply derives from the French word for mixture.

In properly warm weather, these mesclun rascals germinate so fast one can record the whole process on a cell phone camera.  After germinating, they mature equally fast so that the nondescript pile of dirt this planter was only a couple of weeks ago has now become an overflowing snack bowl.

And, believe it or not, these delicate greens go quite well with a beer.  Newcastle Ale was today's choice, but really any beer will do.

Try it.   You'll like it!

Raindrops

It's raining today in the Sunshine State.   Those in the Frozen North or the Pacific NorthWET may find this funny.  To some extent it is.   To watch Floridians scurry for cover even before the first drop falls out of the sky is amusing.   Even the dog park empties out at the threat of rain, much to the dismay of the canine furry class who could care less about getting wet while out walking and socializing with the rest of the canine world.

While rain for days and days on end can be nothing less than miserable and demoralizing, the occasional rainy day can soothe the spirit and calm the mind better than any man-made tranquilizer, over the counter or otherwise.  This seems to be the best kept secret of a gentle drizzle as it bounces gently among blades of bright green grass or taps lightly on the roof overhead.  

The meditational magic hiding behind a curtain of soft rainfall has not been lost in the world of music.   B.J. Thomas told us that while the raindrops may indeed keep falling on my head, trying their very wet best to send me the blues, nothing will ultimately worry me about the result of such raindrops.   

Edwin McCain went even further, deeply romanticizing something as simple as a rainy night:

"Lying here with you, 

Listening to the rain

Smiling just to see the smile upon your face.  

These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive."

How's that for next week's date night?  It sounds wonderful.  Where do I sign up?

Fortunately, I have yet to see modern music, dark and self-absorbed as it can be, make a single mention of rain in the context of seasonal affective disorder (SAD).  The dark depression of SAD is serious, brought on by the deficits in sunlight that too much gray and too much rain can produce.   Yet, rain alone, when taken with an appropriate shot of adequate sunlight, is a chance not only for nature's thirst to be quenched, but also for the quiet of the soul to be restored and peace to be returned to its proper place in the heart.  

Last I looked, that's something the i-Phone, i-Pad, i-Pod, i-Etc soaked culture we live in could use now and then.