Summer is Simmering

Like many who dwell in our neck of the woods, we've been hopefully awaiting summer's arrival. It has been a looooong (emphasis on looooong) winter and we are craving sunshine, warm days, and all of the fun things that go with this time of year like camping, boating, fishing, reunions (did I really mention that last item?), etc.

Summer is on its way. This past weekend, we saw glimpses of the sun and it was lovely. My husband made good use of the brief nice weather and helped me plant our garden, and all three flower beds. Then it turned off cold and nasty again and froze 3 nights in a row. Sigh . . .


All is not lost, I'm keeping the tomatoes and pepper plants covered. I only planted hardy flowers that could survive at the North Pole, and our garden isn't up yet. When it does surface, it will mostly consist of root crops that don't freeze, like carrots, beets, onions,  and so forth.


I snapped several photos (I know . . . gasp! . . . .) over the weekend and decided to share a few of them in this post. It is proof that summer is on its way and one of these days, the sun will shine and stay that way . . . at least for a little while.

This is a photo that was actually snapped on May 22, the day my new grandson was born. Yep, that's me holding the cute little tyke.

See, the four foot drift over our front yard has finally melted. This is a quick shot I took the other day of our dog, Brandy, and our cat, Cleo, who were both enjoying a warm nap in the sun.

Here's a shot I took over the weekend at Mud Lake, also known as Dingle Marsh, north of the famed Bear Lake. As you can see, it's full of water due to this year's impressive run-off.

Here is a shot I took that same night near Bear Lake. The past few years, we've been able to drive down that boat ramp you can see to cross the beach to play in the water. That won't be happening this year because of the water depth. We may be lucky to have any beach left when the snow all melts. ;)

This is another shot of Mud Lake, the south end, across the road from Bear Lake.

As you can see, we smacked into a plethora of bugs on our trip around the lake that night. (Yep, our windshield looked the same.) This doesn't bode well for future camping trips. I suspect we'll endure numerous mosquitoes this year.

Numerous homes that line the east side of Bear Lake are enjoying true lake front property this year. =D

The pelicans were enjoying the high tide as well.

This is a shot of the sun dipping low over the lake.

Sunsets are beautiful over Bear Lake. This is a photo I shot near the south end of the lake.

Time to call it a day.

Stormy Weather

Years ago I remember hearing lyrics that went something like this:

Don't know why
There's no sun up in the sky
Stormy weather . . .

Life is bare
Gloom and misery everywhere
Stormy weather . . .

Can't go on
Everything I had is gone
Stormy weather . . .

And so on. It is true that most people associate misery with storms. There are a lot of analogies that stem from this belief. "Storms are dark, scary, and evil." "Only sunlight brings peace and inner joy, etc."

Now as someone who dislikes storms as much as anyone, mostly because of the arthritis I've been blessed with, I've come to realize that we cannot attain the peaceful beauty we often seek without those storms, however they arrive in our lives. Think about it---without spring showers, there wouldn't be lovely May flowers. [Pun unintended, but since I am a descendant of a handful of Mayflower pilgrims, I can probably get away with it . . . at least on this side of the veil. =D ]

I have learned the most from the darkest times in my life. Yes, I'm one of those who has to continually learn things the hard way, but I suspect, most of us are like that. It seems that we require a certain amount of "difficult weather" to learn certain lessons, and to become stronger individuals. What we gain is totally up to us. Two people can withstand an identical storm, and come away with a very different experience. Our attitude determines what that will be.

The other day as my husband and I drove across the valley to Bear Lake, I saw a huge storm coming in. The sky was dark, but it looked beautiful, so I took its picture. =) In fact I snapped several pictures that afternoon and captured an interesting phenomenon: a typical Idaho weather pattern. A popular saying here is: "If you don't like the weather in Idaho, wait a minute!" ;) It's really true. So I will share what I saw move across the lake that day.

You can see the approaching storm and the darkening effect on the lake.

The storm moves closer and in my opinion, it was still a gorgeous view.

The clouds descended and it began to snow . . . a lot.

It snowed so hard, you couldn't even see the lake for a few minutes.

As quickly as it blew in, the storm moved on, leaving a breathtaking photo moment in its wake.

Interesting, eh? ;) That storm provided much-needed moisture, a little break in our routine, and beauty that is often rare. I hope I remember the lessons I learned that day, so when future storms descend, I can cling to the knowledge that these storms are temporary, and that they will eventually move on. I pray I will be wise enough to ponder what I can gain from that experience, using it to grow into a better person.

Today is a beautiful spring day, even though in our realm, we still have about 2 feet of snow on the ground. I'm choosing to focus on the sunlight and bask in the warmth, storing that memory for the storms I know lie ahead. When those storms descend, and I know they will, (it's part of the joy of living in a mountain valley), I can reflect on the sunny warmth, endure the current downpour, realizing there will be better days in store.

We can't control the type or frequency of storm that often appears on the horizon, but we can control how we will respond to it. So on days like today when the sun is shining and all seems right with the world, frolic and enjoy. And on days like I captured above, look for the good that can come from blustery squalls. You might just find that's part of why we're here.

Falling into Winter =)

This past year has been entertaining here in the metropolis of Bear Lake. Okay, it's not a metropolis, but a wonderful mountain valley. =) Lots of people like to visit here, as is evident from the number of tourists who pass through. Most come to enjoy beautiful Bear Lake, that pristine body of water that resembles the Caribbean. Campers enjoy our tree-filled forests. Others stop by on their way to Jackson, Wyoming or Yellowstone Park to partake of food, fill their cars with gas, etc. Some come to explore the impressive Oregon Trail Museum that lies along highway 30.

After a weekend like we've just endured, several people want to know what possesses us to live in a place like Bear Lake. Spring didn't make an appearance this year. We went straight from winter to summer in one fell swoop about the middle of June. Summer lasted from June until about the second week of August when the temperatures began to plummet. Our first snow storm of the season took place this past weekend, and it was a doozie. Nearly 8 inches of snow fell upon us on Saturday. About four more inches dropped down from heaven during Saturday night\Sunday morning.

We witnessed blizzard conditions about 11:00 a.m. on Saturday morning, from the comfort of the stake center where many of us were busy making things for the humanitarian effort. Myself, I was knitting winter hats with one of those handy loom thingys. I should have made a hat for myself. ;)

When we learned that a winter storm was on its way here, most of us smirked. We figured we'd see one to two inches, not a big deal. Imagine my surprise when I journeyed out of the stake center to see about 7 inches of snow all over my car. Imagine my disgust with myself when I realized I didn't bring along a handy snow-scraper. I had to use my umbrella to wipe the snow from my car windows so that I could see where I was going.

Heeding some advice from a well-meaning local type, I took 8th street out of Montpelier. Bad idea. Not much traffic had passed through that street and it was a slushy mess. I slid sideways a couple of times before I made it to highway 30. Once I arrived home, I had no intention of traveling anywhere else. It was cold, snowy and yucky outside and I began wondering why I live in this location myself. ;)

Sunday dawned cold and snowy. I looked out the front room window, appalled by the amount of snow that had accumulated on an apple tree I've been nurturing for nigh onto 13 years. Lest you think I'm silly, let me share why. My children gave me this tree for Mother's Day one year. It was a beautiful, baby flowering crab tree, and I was excited, since I had always wanted one of those. Then behold, during the following winter, my sons managed to mow it over while giving each other rides on an inner tube strapped behind one of our snow machines. Most uncool.

When the next spring rolled around, I was all set to dig up what was left of this tree and plant a new one. But it had survived. A sprout was bravely clinging to life, poking its way out of the root. So I let it live. I figured if it had that much desire to exist, I wouldn't stand in its way. An uncle of mine examined it later on and he told me that flowering crab trees are often grafted into an apple tree root, since those roots are sturdier. He figured my "new" tree would be something akin to a regular apple tree.

Through the years, this tree has been lovingly pruned, nurtured, etc. This year is the first time it has produced apples that are fit to eat. And not only fit to eat, but delicious. Neighbors and relatives have been enjoying its produce the past couple of weeks. We've harvested quite a bunch of apples from this industrious tree so far. Then this freak winter storm hit.



When I looked out of my front room window Sunday morning, I saw that this tree was in trouble. Its branches were hanging on the ground, weighted down by icy snow. The snow from the day before had melted just enough to freeze into solid ice. And it was still snowing, adding to the weight. So, after church, I fractured the Sabbath a tiny bit and went outside to knock the snow off my treasured tree.

It's difficult, raising trees in our climate---and this tree is important to me, a symbol of not giving up when life mows you down. As I carefully removed the snow from each branch, I figured I would repent by going to choir practice that afternoon. However, after saving the tree, I saw that I was snowed in.

In the tradition of our valley, we have a metal roof on our house and garage. Since winters here are usually vicious, these roofs are a necessity---they allow the snow to slide harmlessly to the ground. Unfortunately, it always manages to slide from the roof above the garage to the driveway below, effectively blocking the way for one to travel out of the garage with say, a car.



Locating a snow shovel, I began the tedious task of removing just enough snow to permit my car to back out of the garage. At that point, there was about a foot and a half of snow blocking its way. Keeping in mind that it was the Sabbath Day, I only shoveled enough snow for my tires to fit through. Just as I finished, a bunch of snow came crashing down on top of my head from the roof. Nice. I wasn't seriously injured, but I couldn't see for a few seconds; part of the snow had slid between my face and my glasses. Most of it plastered my head, effectively ruining my hairstyle. The rest went down my neck, saturating the sweater I was wearing.

Realizing there were about 10 minutes before choir practice, I hurried inside. Then I caught on that I didn't feel very good. So I checked my blood sugar. I'm a type 1 diabetic, and sometimes when I exert, it causes that level to drop. It was low, so I grabbed a container of Gatorade and hurried to the bathroom to fix the damage to my hair and face. Mopping off the water, I dried my hair, changed clothes, then restyled my hair before I left the house. And there was the little matter of my low blood sugar level. It usually takes about 20 minutes for that to return to normal. Since I only live about 3 blocks from the church house, I waited an extra five minutes, to make sure I wasn't going to pass out. Then, deciding I would live, I headed down to the church.

It was all for naught---the only ones who showed up for practice yesterday afternoon were the choir director, the pianist, and myself. Everyone else must have decided it was too yucky of a day to venture forth. =) Isn't that the way?!

Back to why I live here:

1) The people in Bear Lake Valley are awesome. We're a small enough community that there are no strangers. Most are willing to help whenever life's adventures descend.

2) Huckleberries! Der!!! Need I say more?! These delicious berries don't grow every place. But you can usually find them on the mountain sides of Bear Lake.

3) It's never too hot in the summer. ;) [This is called looking on the bright side.]

4) Winter lasts 9 months. Okay, maybe that's not a plus, but it does give me a chance to catch up on all of those projects I don't have time to tackle during our short, but busy summers.

5) We seem to only have 2 seasons: Summer and Winter. I kind of miss spring and fall, but in way of good news, the mosquitoes only last 3 months. =)

Bear Lake might not be the perfect place to live, but I seriously doubt that such a place exists. There are pros and cons to every area. I saw this when my family moved around . . . a lot . . . while I was growing up. I've lived longer in Bear Lake than I've ever lived anywhere else and for now, it's home. There's something to be said for that. When a place feels like home, I think it's a good idea to stick around. ;)



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Land ho, swab the deck, and all that jazz . . .

You may have noticed the new look here at Crane-ium. I decided it was time to move on from the "tiny bubbles" format. I actually thought of it as random bubble thoughts. (The past Crane-ium template featured lots of circles that could have been interpreted as bubbles, but I digress.)

I recently embarked upon a boating adventure. And since I've always loved water, I picked this template to use for now. It features a lighthouse, something that has taken on a new meaning to me.

When you think of lighthouses, you probably envision those tall, slender, remarkable buildings that line seashores. Beacons of light to sailing types, these items come in very handy during stormy seas. They warn of dangerous passages, and are a symbol of hope and safety.

So about a week ago, my husband and I borrowed his brother's boat and set out upon an adventure. We took it out on beautiful Bear Lake, intent on catching big fishies. The first dock (known as Rainbow Cove) proved to an unsuccessful launching moment. I climbed inside the boat, then my husband backed the boat trailer into the water. I was instructed to toss him the rope as he continued to guide the boat into the lake. But the water wasn't deep enough for the boat to float free of the trailer. So we had to pull it out of the water and head somewhere else.



We drove down to Cisco Beach, also along the east side of Bear Lake, and found that others had successfully launched from this location. They were out fishing, having a good time. So we tried things again. I climbed back inside of the boat and prepared it to release from the trailer as my husband backed down the boat dock. This time the water cooperated and the boat floated free. I tossed the rope to my husband and he pulled the boat in close enough so that he could jump in beside me.

He drove around for a little bit, getting acquainted with his brother's boat, since neither one of us had ever done this sort of thing before. We've been passengers in boats belonging to other people, but we've never navigated a motorboat ourselves. After a while, Kennon taught me how to drive the boat while he started the trolling motor, and baited the two large fishing poles we had brought along.



Large Mackinaw and Cut-Throat Trout live in Bear Lake. Those were our target fish that day. We eventually learned that most of them were frolicking down about 180 feet below the surface of the water, too deep for our poles to reach. So while my husband kept track of the poles, I was instructed to drive the boat slowly, over water that was around 80-90 feet to see if we could spot fish that were closer to the surface. Since there really aren't any lighthouses around Bear Lake, my husband picked out a large, white house in the distance and had me focus on it as I drove the boat. It gave me a goal to strive toward as I steered the boat. I aimed toward it and we stayed in the depth of water that would bring us the most success.

After a couple of hours had passed and we didn't catch any fish, my husband decided we would go for a boat ride around the lake. He shut off the trolling motor and took over the wheel. Then he taught me how to drive at a fairly good speed, across the middle of the lake. I lost track of how deep the water was, somewhere around 200 feet (this boat comes equipped with a fish-finder that shows where the fish are, and at what depth) but I was having a good time. Then without warning, the wind came up.

My husband immediately adopted a look of unamusement. I didn't realize the danger we were in, and continued to drive around until he stepped forward and said he would take over. I had noticed that the boat was a little more difficult to steer, but it wasn't until I stood up and looked around that I saw why. The waves were getting a bit intense, averaging around 3-4 feet high. That might not sound like much, but when you're sitting in the middle of a huge lake like Bear Lake, it can mean trouble.



My husband picked a landmark, this time our white truck. He aimed that direction, knowing we would find safety and a boatdock. Things got a little entertaining, but we did eventually make it to shore. Because of the direction of the wind, we were fighting waves all the way across. Once we reached the shore, I figured we were out of danger, but then the real fun began---getting the boat out of the water. Can I just say that the waves were not our friend?!

Kennon drove the boat fairly close to shore, then hopped out into the water, instructing me to throw him the rope that he could use to secure it to the dock. Once we had managed to accomplish this, I hopped out onto the metal walkway next to the dock and did my best to keep the boat under control while my husband backed the trailer down to the boat.

The waves were really picking up steam and I learned why my husband had looked so grim. It is a difficult thing, getting a boat out of the water and onto a trailer when the water is filled with whitecaps. We had our hands full. I was kneeling on the metal grate, pushing against the boat, keeping it from hitting into the walkway. I soon realized I'm not as strong as I think I am. =) Those waves were hitting that boat without mercy and my poor shoulders and knees took the brunt of the impact as I tried to keep it safe. Good times. ;)

In way of good news, we did finally get the boat onto the trailer and out of the water. Then we both stood there, contemplating all that could have happened. It could have been a lot worse.

Every year, people die on Bear Lake. Usually it's from things like swimming out too far, or the wind wreaking havoc with the rafts, boats, etc. True, I was wearing a trusty life jacket the day we went boating, but with the water temperature around 64 degrees that day, it still wouldn't have been a very good scenario if we had capsized.

I also pondered the importance of guiding forces, like lighthouses. These beacons of light are crucial, especially when storms arise and we lose our way. We can look to them and find the path we need to survive.

You've probably gathered by now that I'm making an analogy out of this. ;) It's what I do. Storms come into all of our lives, most without warning. When the darkness descends and peril seems imminent, how important it is to look for the lighthouses in our lives. These guiding lights can appear in various forms: friends, relatives, the scriptures, prayer, church leaders, and our Savior. We are never as alone as we sometimes think we are when our lives are filled with turmoil.

Years ago, I wrote a song about this sort of thing. I'd like to end this particular blog with the lyrics I wrote for a musical production we performed with the Young Women I was teaching at the time:

No Matter How Dark the Storm
(From: “The Adventure of a Lifetime)

1st: There are times when the world seems an awful place to be
When the sky is full of thunder and the sun is hard to see
Sometimes fear and inner pain make you want to run and hide
And you cry all alone in a world filled with pride.

Chorus: But no matter how dark the storm
There’s a harbor safe and warm
Where the Savior holds forth His hand
See His footprints in the sand
Though life is hard, you’re not alone
The Savior’s love will guide you home
Through the darkness He shines a light
An endless glow through the blackest night
And life’s shadows will fade from sight
Through the gospel’s light.

2nd: Close your heart to empty voices that seek to cause you pain
The sun will always shine after a chilling rain
Lift your eyes to the heavens there is hope shining there
A silver lining lies hidden in every cloud of despair.

Cheri J. Crane
1994

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September Morn

My husband is a huge Neil Diamond fan. One year for his birthday, I managed to procure tickets to a Neil Diamond concert in Salt Lake City. He loved it and it was a lot of fun. That said, for some reason, the music to September Morn is going around in my head this morning. Here is my version of the lyrics:

September morn what is it that you truly do intend?
Pretending to be nice you are no friend
You arrive and summer's at an end,
September morn, you came and froze my garden yet again.

Don't get me wrong, I do look forward to fall, it's just that this summer has sped by so fast, I'm not ready for cooler temps, and I'm a bit miffed about the sorry state of my garden affairs. We work hard to grow gardens here in the heart of Bear Lake County. Spring usually arrives about the middle of June. We can expect a frost or two just about the time our gardens come up. It has been known to snow in July and by August, we've usually thrown our hands in the air, pondering our silliness to attempt growing anything but weeds, which seem to flourish in this area. A few years ago, I wrote a poem to document this strange tradition that seems to be part of our pioneering culture here in Bear Lake. It is as follows:

Ode to Garden ‘93

Eagerly I clutched my hoe
In anticipation of things that grow.
New seeds needed to be placed in the ground,
'Though my husband felt they would not abound:
“This is a waste of effort and time!
“You can’t raise veggies in this clime!
“Every year the frost descends . . .”
“But we can’t control what the weather sends,”
I pointed out with a stubborn grin,
“And this year I know my green thumb will win!”

Despite his misgivings, he helped me rake and till
And plant every row and future squash hill,
Until at last our task was done,
Our new garden was ready for rain and sun.
Excitement gripped me with each passing day,
As tiny seedlings grew without delay.
But the joy was short-lived, summer never came,
And record lows achieved national fame.

The first frost took out my squash and beans,
Inspiring a series of emotional scenes.
Eventually I pulled myself together,
Determined to outwit the frustrating weather.
But a few days later there came a second freeze,
Which brought my strawberries to their blossomed knees.
That freeze was followed by frosts four and five,
My garden survivors were barely alive.

Meanwhile my husband strutted around with a glow,
His little smirk indicating, “I told you so!”
Undaunted I fought for the life of my peas,
Losing them in the next severe summer freeze.
I’ve lost the battle, if not the war,
My canning this year will come from the store.
For the only thing thriving through this summer’s foul deeds,
Is a bounteous crop of unruly weeds.

My green thumb is suffering a case of the blues
Garden ‘93 has given my ego a bruise.
But there is one thing I know for sure,
I’ll have a beautiful garden in ‘94!”

Cheri J. Crane

Yes, hope springs eternal, when and if it ever arrives here in Bear Lake. ;) I will no doubt attempt growing a garden yet again next year. It's tradition. And and as my dear friend, Tevye might sing out:

Who every spring must fiddle in the dirt
Plant seedlings by the thousands, coddle them with care
And who pulls the weeds and waters the precious garden
Hoping for a harvest to enter produce in the fair

The gardeners, the gardeners, Tradition!
The gardeners, the gardeners, Tradition!

Or something like that. ;) We silly gardeners here in Bear Lake County are rather like Fiddlers on the Roof. Borrowing yet again from one of my favorite musicals of all time:

A fiddler on the roof...
         Sounds crazy, no?
         But here, in our little village
         you might say
         every one of us is a fiddler on the roof.
         Trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune
         without breaking his neck.
         It isn't easy.
         You may ask,
         why do we stay up there
         if it's so dangerous?
         Well, we stay because
         [This] is our home.
         And how do we keep our balance?
         That I can tell you in one word!
         Tradition!

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Idaho's Version of the Caribbean

This past holiday weekend, I had the chance to hang out at a favorite local attraction, Bear Lake. It has often been referred to as the Caribbean of the Rockies. Once you see this beautiful lake, you'll understand why it has earned that nickname. The water is often an aquamarine color, not typically seen in a mountain valley. There are a variety of stories, legends, and some scientific data that explain why it's this vivid color of blue. I especially like the tales that include the famed Bear Lake Monster, a distant cousin to the Loch Ness character that Scotland brags about on occasion.

When my family first moved to Bear Lake Valley in 1979 (don't make fun, I'm not senior citizen material just yet) this lake was a huge attraction. We played in the water whenever possible. At that time, we stayed primarily on the north beach, which is open to the general public. There is a slight fee for this privilege, but it's worth it. On a hot summer day, the cool water is inviting. We usually brought along a picnic lunch of some kind, taking advantage of the numerous picnic tables that line this beach.

The east side of the lake offers several picnic areas and campgrounds. One state park provides a couple of large pavilions which come in handy for reunions and such.

This past weekend, we spent time with relatives who were enjoying the west side of this lake, along a private beach for Bear Lake West residents. We drove down a dirt road and parked off to the side to stay out of the way of the numerous vehicles that traveled that particular road on Saturday. The beach was crowded, but we still had a lot of fun.

It is advisable (during hot days), to set up items that will provide shade. Our clan had set up a tarp tent that offered a bit of cooling shade after we were through playing in the water.

My husband's uncle had brought a boat to enhance our enjoyment of the lake. We took turns going for rides, but some of the braver souls waterskiied, tried out the wake board, as well as a large inner tube that was attached behind the boat, and at times behind the wave runners (picture snow machines that run on water. That pretty well sums up what these items are like---tons of fun)

We ate, we visited, we played in the water. Some of us got sunburned, but we had a lot of fun. The biggest smiles were inspired by the small fry group who did what came natural and were adorable.

All in all, it was an enjoyable day, something we'll strive to do again in the near future. If you're ever in the area, be sure to drive by this lake, and if you have the time, stick your big toe in the water. You'll be hooked in no time; this lake has a way of getting under your skin. Before long, you'll have to journey back to enjoy this little slice of heaven on a repeated basis.

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Water Moments

Is it me or has the stress factor in life increased several notches lately? Everyone I know seems to be enduring a plethora of challenges. Our family has been hit with a variety of unpleasant trials in recent months, including the untimely death of a loved one.

Whenever I'm feeling a bit down, it helps to have what I call a "water moment." I find that I'm drawn to water. I'm not sure why, but water has always fascinated me. [No cheap shots about how easily entertained I seem to be ;) ]

I especially like waterfalls, which is why you'll probably see a lot of those posted in this blog from time to time. During my high school years, we lived in a beautiful area close to Island Park, in a little town called Ashton, Idaho. Ashton is often referred to as a gateway to Yellowstone Park, since West Yellowstone is only 43 miles north of this small town. In the towering hills above Ashton, two spectacular waterfalls exist. They are called Upper and Lower Mesa Falls.



I've always been partial to the Upper Falls. I've often sat quietly watching the water as it tumbles below. The sound of rushing water is calming. The atmosphere is inspiring. It is a place of peace. (Unless you happen to stop by when a tour bus hits the area. During those adventures, it's still inspiring, just a bit noisy.)

I've found other such places wherever I've lived. To me it's crucial to spend some time basking in the beauty that our Father in heaven created for us to enjoy. When worries descend and I feel bogged down in life, it's time for a water moment. A time for quiet reflection as I sit near a bubbling creek, an impressive lake, or a waterfall. These experiences help me sort through a myriad of troubling thoughts, heartache, and sometimes life in general. I think it's important to find a place where you can quietly meditate and draw closer to God through silent prayer and reflection.



It doesn't have to be far from home, and since we're all different, a variety of beautiful options lie in wait wherever you live. Since I live close to the mountains that lie behind Bennington, it only takes me a few minutes to arrive at tiny stream or pond. If it's a particularly bad day, I will sometimes drive thirty minutes to spend some time pondering life's mysteries near the famed Bear Lake.



These moments always seem to help. I come away feeling better, which I think counts for a lot these days. Try this sometime, when a bad day hits. Spend some time enjoying nature. I think you'll be surprised at the healing that can take place when we stop to savor the beauty our Father made certain was included in this mortal realm.



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