"The Slowed Evening Is Carried In Prayer"

Cliffs and rock formations are common in the Inland Empire, especially around rivers and lakes. Traveling home at the end of the my teaching day these natural forms of beauty shelter me from wind and sun. The words of William Stafford were perfect for describing these breathtaking rock walls. I agree with him- "the slowed evening is carried in prayer. "

Vespers

As the living pass, they bow

till they imitate stones.

In the steep mountains then

those millions remind us:

every fist the wind has

loses against those faces.

And at the end of the day

when every rock on the west

claims a fragment of sun,

a last bird comes, wing and

then wing over the valley

and over the valley, and home,

Till unbound by our past we sing

wherever we go, ready or not,

stillness above and below, the slowed

evening carried in prayer toward the end.

You know who you are:

This is for you, my friend.

William Stafford

Dinner Waiting After a Hectic Day: Slow-Cooker Enchiladas

A few years ago a local caterer prepared a special dinner at school. This was the main dish. As soon as all of us took one bite of this yummy dish, we were asking her for the recipe. I always like slow-cooker recipes that I can leave all day to cook on their own. This one is great to double when a crowd is coming. Enjoy.

Slow-Cooker Enchiladas

1 pound ground beef

1 cup chopped onion

1/2 cup chopped green pepper

1 16 oz. can of pinto or kidney beans, rinsed and drained

1 15 oz. can black beans, rinsed and drained.

1 10 oz. can diced tomatoes with green chillies, undrained

1/3 cup water

1 teaspoon chili powder

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon pepper

1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese

1 cup shredded Monterey Jack Cheese

6 flour tortillas ( 6 or 7 inch)

In a skillet cook beef, onion and green pepper until beef is browned and veggies are tender;drain. Add the next 8 ingredients; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Combine cheeses. In a 5-qt. slow cooker layer about 3/4 cup meat mixture, one tortilla and about 1/3 cup cheese. Repeat layers. Cover and cook on low for 5-7 hours or until heated through. Serve it up! 4 servings.

"Before the Eye Can Focus... Crocus"

"First a howling blizzard woke us,
Then the rain came down to soak us,

And now before the eye can focus

Crocus." Lilja Rogers

One thing I love about these early spring bulbs is how quickly they appear. One cold, windy day you notice some grass like leaves emerging through the bark in the garden bed. The next day you observe vivid, colorful blooms. If you are just beginning to grow spring bulbs, this is a surefire pick. I like to mass plant them, allowing them to come up in big clusters of color. I knew a guy in Spokane that naturalized them into his lawn each year. In March the front yard was always bursting with purple and yellow blooms. It was beautiful . If you haven't planted a crocus before, plan ahead in the fall. Get the bulbs in the ground then. You will reap the rewards the following spring. These lovely blooms just appeared in my garden bed.

Ten Mile Road Trip #1: Lake Beauty in the Spring

Today we took advantage of the sunny spring weather and our scenic area and took a ten mile road trip. We can leave our house and travel ten miles and see some of the most spectacular scenery in Washington. We started today driving along Lake Roosevelt. This is a view looking north along Inchelium HIghway.

This is a view of Barnaby Island looking south along Lake Roosevelt. We were intrigued with the cloud formation in the afternoon sky. This is another view of the lake from above as we headed up a country road southwest toward Lake Ellen.

When we arrived at Lake Ellen we viewed a contrast of green and white. Because of the altitude and location of this lake, it is still covered with a white layer of ice.



Soon this rock formation will become an island for swimmers and boaters to rest on while enjoying Lake Ellen. I was still amazed today that it was covered with ice. This lake has a small campground at each end and a boat launch. I hear it has good fishing, but I am not a fisherwoman so I wouldn't know. Moving west on the lake road we came up to a aspen grove. In early spring with the stark,white trunks still exposed, these trees take on a unique beauty. In a few weeks this whole landscape will change with green leaves budding out and wildflowers beginning to show their colors.Just a half mile from the lake the beaver pond is thawed and the house the beavers constructed has held up over the winter months.
Our last stop was a clearing that is safe for the dogs to explore. They ran, taking in the new smells of spring. We were disappointed we couldn't hike down to Barnaby Creek. It was also still surrounded by snow. The dogs love this spot and always perk up as we drive near. I guess it is a certain pine, moss, creek smell they always remember. It was time to go home. The dogs were tuckered out from their run and I was anxious to see the new slide show of pictures. We are blessed to live in an area where we can do a ten mile road trip and see this much spectacular beauty. I will share other ten mile trips around Lake Roosevelt throughout the seasons.

Top Ten Reasons for Doing Spring Cleaning Today

10. I have so many cleaning supplies some of them may go bad if I don't use them.
9. The dust bunnies started having babies under the bed.
8. When the ceiling fan was going it caused a freak mini-tornado.
7. We wanted to see the scores on the T.V. screen during the Oregon game. ( Go Ducks!)
6. Spring came this week...isn't that when you do spring cleaning?
5. We read we could save energy by cleaning the coils on the frig... now where are they?
4. It was time to find those muscles I haven't used since last spring cleaning.
3. We want to enjoy sunlight through the window instead of doggy nose prints.
2. Because the house needed it.
1.When done with Day One it gave me a reason to celebrate with fruit, cheese,and a glass of merlot . Wine is good for the heart, right?

Sibling Assignment #16: The Stock Room, Abundant Supplies, A Black Typewriter, and Stories to Tell

Each week I join Raymond Pert and SilverValleyGirl to do a sibling writing assignment. Topic choice rotates between us. This week we are writing about Silver King School. Our mother taught second grade, 2nd-3rd combination, and third grade at Silver King School for the Kellogg School District. The school was situated below the smokestacks of the Bunker Hill Smelter and next to the creek that carried toxic waste from the Zinc Plant located up the road above the school. The structures of the Bunker Hill Smelter and Zinc plant are gone. The school still stands, but has been closed for many years.

I attended first grade at Silver King School and my brother and I spend many hours there after school and on week-ends with Mom when she stayed late or went back on Sunday to put up bulletin boards, correct workbooks, feed the fish, set up art projects, or organize her annual Valentine Post Office. My brother attended first and second grade there. My sister hadn't been born yet.

When remembering Silver King School I think of the Stock Room. Spending time in this room must have started my lifelong love for school supplies. The Stock Room was right next to my mom’s second grade classroom. It was the small room that held all the supplies teachers needed. It was always open. It was one place my brother and I could be found while Mom did her teacher work. The sights and smells captivated me.

A wall of closets had doors that opened me up to a whole world of construction paper. There were shelves of paper in different sizes and colors. Close by was a big, green paper cutter that I am sure was off limits to us. Nestled on the shelves across the room were stacks of handwriting paper. The size of the dotted and colored lines corresponded with the grade you were in and whether you printed or did cursive. There was also newsprint, ditto paper, and heavy poster board. Colorful crayon collections were always a sight to behold. Powdered poster paint in cardboard containers lined another shelf. Sometimes Mom would have me stock her room with supplies. It was a task I relished. I loved counting out the piles of paper and organizing them by color and size.

One smell that takes me back to Silver King School was the minty aroma of school paste. There were big jars of that white paste in the Stock Room. Teachers would carry the big jars to their classrooms and fill smaller baby food jars for their students to use at their desks. I remember that cool feel of the white paste and the minty smell. I asked my Mom last night if RC was the student that always ate paste. She laughed and asked, “Didn’t all second graders eat paste? It had that peppermint taste and smell you know.” I guess lots of kids did eat paste. I remember the smell and feel. I don’t know… maybe I did sneak a taste.

Another distinctive smell was the fluid for the ditto machine. (This was the machine used before copy machines youngsters). A strong fluid from a silver metal jug was poured in the machine and turned a white ditto master into copies in purple ink. Mom and her colleagues called it the purple plague. I loved to operate the ditto machine. Through six-year-old eyes it seemed magical that this machine could take white paper, a ditto master, and fluid and produce volumes of text.

The old, black typewriter captivated our attention often. We would roll paper in the manual machine and type away like we knew right where to put our fingers on the keys. Again, it was magical to see blank paper produce text. We traded off punching the keys and watching words form sentences. Mom also told me last night that one of her teaching partners frowned on our use of the typewriter. Mom must have understood then our desire to put words to paper. Whether it was at that typewriter, on lined paper from the shelves, or with chalk on the blackboard in her classroom Mom provided ample opportunities for us to put letters to words during that time spent at Silver King School. She never made us stop using that typewriter in the Stock Room. Mom gave us the time and tools to begin telling our stories. That was forty-five years ago. We still continue to tell our stories.