Grateful For the Land and Robert Frost

 CdA River at the Cataldo Mission

When I drive down the freeway, cruise up the river, move through town, or walk along the path I am reminded of the beauty of the land that surrounds me in northern Idaho. I have never taken it for granted. I work each day at trying to capture this beauty in photos. I was reminded again of this poem by Robert Frost today. I went back and reviewed favorite photo images of the land where I live. Enjoy.

The Gift Outright

The land was ours before we were the land’s.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England’s, still colonials,
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,
Possessed by what we now no more possessed.
Something we were withholding made us weak
Until we found out that it was ourselves
We were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become.

winter tree

fall up the river

514 Sunset

fall on Hill Street

Priest Lake

Today I Am Thankful for Our Dogs

Today I am thankful for my dogs. Tucker and Riley bring so much joy into our lives. They get along famously. They play funny chase games outside that make us laugh. When I am sick or need to take a nap both of them join me in the bedroom and always stay close. We know Tucker would protect us if our lives were in danger. We know Riley would just assist. They are loyal, they love us inconditionally, and they are one reason I get out of bed every day, Here are some of my favorite photos of the two of them.

Today I Am Grateful for Our Cats

This is Grayson

Our cats have a unique life at 514. They all came with us when we moved from Kettle Falls, but then when we rescued Tucker we were told he may not like cats. We didn't really work with him enough with the cats. We just came up with a new living arrangement. All day every day the cats can come and go from the basement kitty door. Their food and water and sleeping areas are in the basement and we come and go and see them during the day.

Every evening the dogs are tucked into their dog carriers (which they love to run to) and the cats come inside and upstairs for the rest of the evening and throughout the night. This has worked well for all of the animals in our house. The cats get quality time with us in the evening. The dogs get quality time with us during the day.

Things have changed recently. Two of our female cats died and we now only have three cats left. They don't seem as concerned about the dogs. Riley gingerly crept down the basement stairs a few weeks ago and William didn't even seem bothered. We will see how it goes with the other two cats and Tucker also. It would be wonderful if all of them could get along in one room at the same time. The last three are also much more affectionate now that they are the only ones left. They brighten up every one of my evenings. I am so grateful for each of them.

All our pets are spoiled and well-cared for. They just have different schedules. I am grateful for the love our cats show me every day and how they can calm me down and destress me just by sitting in my lap. At the top of the post and below are our three remaining cats.

Meet Winnie

Here is William

Here is Riley working on getting acquainted with the cats in the basement.

I Am Thankful Today: No More MRSA

On November 22, 2018 while preparing the Thanksgiving table I took a fall to the floor. I seems fine, just a bit sore. A few days later I went to the ER and learned I had cellulitis. The next day I went in an ambulance to Kootenai Health. I needed a specialist to provide wound care. I also learned I had MRSA. Since that week I have had been on strong antibiotics, struggled with secondary infections, and had to postpone knee replacement surgery. I was no longer contagious, but was a carrier and it was wrecking havoc on my body.
Since March I have worked to rid the MRSA from my body. I can't say what really worked, because I tried so many things. Last week I got the best news this year. The MRSA is now gone from my body.

I was so relieved. I am thankful, grateful, blessed, and happy. I am moving forward to even better health.

Thankful, Grateful, Blessed #4: Thankful for Garden Flowers

Today I am thankful for the beauty of the flowers that grow in my gardens. I am thankful for good soil, perfect weather this summer, and resonably priced water. Here are a few photo images of my garden flowers.

Thankful, Grateful, Blessed #3: I Am Blessed With Music Everywhere

I remember a time when we heard good music on an AM station, but that was shaky. Our local station went off the air at 10:00, I think.  We also heard good music if we were fortunate to have record albums, 45s,  and later cassettes and CDs. There were some good shows on television like American Bandstand that played good music also.

Fast forward to today. I never would have dreamed that in 2019 you could have music everywhere. Music on your computer, your smart phone, in the car, on an I Pod, on the television set, and also on a Dot that has a woman named Alexa that finds your music.

What I find amazing is that lots of it is free. I can explore all genres of music, oldies, new tunes, whatever I want. We have come a long way from those 45 records in the early sixties. I am truly blessed, but do you want to know something? I still listen to my favorite '70's songs more than anything else. 

Here is a favorite on my playlist always. It was the most played song at The Perch at the U. of I. during my college years. "Hello, It's Me" by Todd Rundgren.

Thankful, Grateful, Blessed #2: Grateful for Four Seasons

Throughout the whole year I pause and take time to be thankful, grateful, and blessed. November is a perfect month to share things that surround me that make me thankful, grateful, and blessed.  Here is #2.

Today I am grateful for living in a place that I can enjoy four seasons. I have always been an autumn girl, but now that I am retired and can be home to enjoy the changing of the seasons, I love parts of each and every season. 

Growing up in Kellogg spring was late in coming and very short. There was a long period after winter of gray, foggy days partly due to the smelter smoke. When spring came and the lilacs bloomed it was wonderful, but it came late. 

I have learned to love summer much more in recent years. I enjoy watching the gardens come to life with blooms and a bounty of vegetables. I also enjoy the longer days, the slower pace, and garden tours with my camera.  A highlight now is birthday gatherings and family dinners outside in the yard.

Autumn has always been my favorite season. I remember that smell of Dad burning leaves in the street after he raked the leaves. Even with the smelter smoke, the trees burst into vivid colors of red, orange, and yellow when October came around. Autumn also evokes memories of comfort food on Sunday and birthday celebrations,  Today autumn represents the slowing down time of the year. It the time for dinners in the slow cooker, putting the gardens to bed for winter, warm,cozy sweaters, and coffee in the morning by the fire. Also, there is Thanksgiving, a holiday I truly love.

What I loved about winter as a child was building snowmen, sleighriding on Chestnut Hill, hot chocolate when we returned home, and Christmas. What I didn't like were slick roads that made Mom nervous and getting wet on the playground and trying to warm up back in the class. Now I love winter almost as much as autumn. Why? I don't have to go anywhere unless I want to. It is a photographer's dream when the snow falls and it is frosty and cold. It is hibernation time. Life slows down even more. More books get read, more craft projects get done, and the holidays bring friends and family together. 

Here are some favorite photos of the four seasons where I live: 

Cataldo Mission in autumn

Winter sunset at 514

bird in the spring

summer up the river

Thankful, Grateful, Blessed #1

Throughout  the whole year I pause and take time to be thankful, grateful, and blessed. November is a perfect month to share things that surround me that make me thankful, grateful, and blessed. I am a little late into November, but I will catch up.

Today I am thankful for my digital camera and the camera on my phone. I was revisiting photos from the last ten years today as I prepared to order some prints and create some gifts. I am thankful that all my photos are intact in one place,  I am thankful that they are in chronological order so I can easily find a photo based on the time of year I took it. I am also thankful that I have remembered to capture so many images with both cameras.

Photos tell the story of your life. They capture moments, vivid images, those special places, and important people and they are in a cloud, on a back up drive, on my phone, and on my computer so I can revisit them over and over.  For that I am thankful.

This is one of my favorite quotes by a favorite photographer of mine :
“You don't make a photograph just with a camera. You bring to the act of photography all the pictures you have seen, the books you have read, the music you have heard, the people you have loved.”
― Ansel Adams
There it is... everything I love brought together with photography. Here are a few of my recent favorite photos.

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: Ending With William Stafford

I have enjoyed celebrating National Poetry Month by revisiting favorite poems, finding new poems, and sharing my love for poetry on the blog. I am going to wrap up my poetry poets today with this poem by William Stafford. I have taught this poem, I have read and reread this poem, I have shared this poem often, and have always loved it. It provides the reader with a simple reminder. Be present. Capture this moment now and embrace it, then "keep it for life".

You Reading This, Be Ready
by William Stafford

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life —

What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: "Why We Write"

My sister first introduced me to Julia Cameron many years ago. I have been inspired by many of her books, and practiced her writing techniques. This poem has always been a favorite at helping me articulate why it is important to write, whether is it a journal, notes on a scrap of paper, a blog post, or an essay. Enjoy.

Why We Write

By Julia Cameron

There are many things which resist naming,

And that is why we write.

We write because language is slippery,

And the truth is.

We write because

The light we have to see by

Is always shifting

Never forget that writers are prophets.

We speak in tongues.

We testify.

We are for each other a believing mirror.

Our words make us visible.

Our listening makes us heard.

Never forget that writers are soldiers.

Our writing is the long march,

The walk into time.

Each word is a drum.

We sound it across great distances,

Reaching one another and ourselves.

Every poem is a day's march.

A celebration more necessary than water or wine.

Every poem is a drink of blood.

Never forget that writing is an act of courage -

Not on the days when it is simple and we discount it.

Not on the days when it is hard and we write like sand.

Our words are torches.

We pass them hand to hand

And mouth to mouth

Like a burning kiss.

Never forget to say thank you.

Every syllable is a grace.

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: " An Afternoon In The Stacks"

I think the best way to spend an afternoon is in the stacks.

An Afternoon In The Stacks by Mary Oliver

Closing the book, I find I have left my head
inside. It is dark in here, but the chapters open
their beautiful spaces and give a rustling sound,
words adjusting themselves to their meaning.
Long passages open at successive pages. An echo,
continuous from the title onward, hums
behind me. From in here, the world looms,
a jungle redeemed by these linked sentences
carved out when an author traveled and a reader
kept the way open. When this book ends
I will pull it inside-out like a sock
and throw it back in the library. But the rumor
of it will haunt all that follows in my life.
A candleflame in Tibet leans when I move.

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: Vintage Judith Viorst

Judith Viorst's poetry has resonated with me since I first read "If I Were In Charge of the World and other worries" which came out my fourth year of teaching. I also loved reading and teaching with her children's books. As I got older I began reading her light verse volumes on aging which she has written for each decade of her life.  I loved how she could identify the ups and downs, and cheers and jeers of each decade.
I read an article about her today and was dumbfounded to realize she is 88 years old. How did that happen? She said she has never been happier and said  "I'm only a girl of 88." I want to be just like her at 88. I revisted her "Suddenly Sixty" anthology today and had to share this favorite. I can sure relate.

When Asked If I Thought That I'd Finally Got It Together

I had it together on Sunday,
By Monday at noon it had cracked.
On Tuesday debris
Was descending on me,
And by Wednesday no part was intact.
On Thursday I picked up some pieces,
On Friday I picked up the rest.
By Saturday ,late,
It was almost set straight.
And on Sunday the world was impressed
With how well I had got it together.
But spare me the cheers and applause,
For as the world turns
Every sixty-plus learns
That among life's immutable laws
Is one that we're bound to be bound to
Right through to the end of our days:
That although we may get it together,
Together is not how it stays.
-Judith Viorst
from "Suddenly Sixty, and Other Shocks of Later Life

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: "i am a little church"

At peace with nature, always

i am a little church

by e. e. cummings

i am a little church(no great cathedral) – i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth’s own clumsily striving (finding and losing and laughing and crying)children whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness

around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope, and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains

i am a little church(far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature – i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing

winter by spring, i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence (welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness) 

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: Daffodils

As I took a walk through our gardens today I was reminded how much I love daffodils. They are the brightest and hardiest sign of spring. These are some of my favorite daffodil bouquet images.

To Daffodils 

by Robert Herrick

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see 

You haste away so soon; 

As yet the early-rising sun 

Has not attain'd his noon. 

Stay, stay, 

Until the hasting day 

Has run 

But to the even-song; 

And, having pray'd together, we 

Will go with you along. 

We have short time to stay, as you, 

We have as short a spring; 

As quick a growth to meet decay, 

As you, or anything. 

We die 

As your hours do, and dry 

Away, 

Like to the summer's rain; 

Or as the pearls of morning's dew, 

Ne'er to be found again. 

Add caption

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: Hope

I always hold on to hope.


Hope     
   
It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,  
it shakes sleep from its eyes  
and drops from mushroom gills,  
it explodes in the starry heads  
of dandelions turned sages,  
it sticks to the wings of green angels  
that sail from the tops of maples.    
It sprouts in each occluded eye  
of the many-eyed potato,  
it lives in each earthworm segment  
surviving cruelty,  
it is the motion that runs the tail of a dog,  
it is the mouth that inflates the lungs  
of the child that has just been born.    
It is the singular gift  
we cannot destroy in ourselves,  
the argument that refutes death,  
the genius that invents the future,  
all we know of God.    
It is the serum which makes us swear  
not to betray one another;  
it is in this poem, trying to speak.    
   
Lisel Mueller

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: "Let Evening Come"

Jane Kenyon is one of my favorite poets. The reason I like this poem is because it reminds me of those evenings after sadness, illness, or work has filled the day and you just wait for the time when you can rest, find comfort, and reflect on the beauty the day held.

Let Evening Come

Let the light of late afternoon

shine through chinks in the barn, moving   

up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing   

as a woman takes up her needles   

and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned   

in long grass. Let the stars appear

and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.   

Let the wind die down. Let the shed   

go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop   

in the oats, to air in the lung   

let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t   

be afraid. God does not leave us   

comfortless, so let evening come.

by Jane Kenyon

Jane Kenyon, “Let Evening Come” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2005 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon. Reprinted with the permission of Graywolf Press, St. Paul, Minnesota, www.graywolfpress.org.

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: "The Last Battle"

Our sweet Lily died during the night in her sleep. We didn't have to make a decision to end of her life today. I still love the heartfelt meaning of this poem.

The Last Battle

If it should be that I grow frail and weak
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then will you do what must be done,
For this — the last battle — can't be won.
You will be sad I understand,
But don't let grief then stay your hand,
For on this day, more than the rest,
Your love and friendship must stand the test.

We have had so many happy years,
You wouldn't want me to suffer so.
When the time comes, please, let me go.
Take me to where to my needs they'll tend,
Only, stay with me till the end
And hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time you will agree
It is a kindness you do to me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I have been saved.
Don't grieve that it must be you
Who has to decide this thing to do;
We've been so close — we two — these years,
Don't let your heart hold any tears.

— Unknown

Remembering Lily: 2005-2019

We said good-bye to our sweet Lily this morning. We adopted Lily and her brother Sweet William from our friend Glen after his wife died in 2005. Lily always marched to a different drummer. For long periods of time she would spend her time in solitude.  Ohter times she would be close to us and the other pets. 

When they were younger they loved being close to each other.

She always watched her back!

The greenhouse at Martin Creek was her favorite place to hang out.

She was a beautiful cat.

She lived the good life. She loved to hang out outdoors when she was younger. I never knew where I might find her. She had a shelf in the garage, a spot on the woodpile, and a chair in the gazebo she loved, We are all in mourning today at our house.

“When the cat you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.” – Unknown