Favorite Shots of Summer 2008

Summer is winding down. We've endured two frosts this past week that finished off
my zucchini plants, tomatoes, etc. I suspect this is a hint that fall lies just around the corner. As such, I thought I would celebrate the final week of summer by sharing some of my favorites pictures---shots I took at varying times and places during the past few months. We'll call this one of my traditions---savoring fun memories that were a big part of summer 2008. (The sunset shot above was taken from the east shore of Bear Lake . . . in case any one was wondering.)


Take a wild guess about what we found in a wildlife preserve located just outside of Zion's National Park---something I'd never seen before. I'll give you a hint---here are the proud parents:


Yep, ostrich eggs. Way cool, and again, something I'd never seen before. How about you?


And since I mentioned our trip to St. George, I'd best show off a picture from the famed Zion's National Park. I was excited to see that the road matched the color of the gorgeous red mountains. Wouldn't it be neat if this type of thing was evident all over the world?! Highways colored to match the local scenic beauty. That means in Bear Lake County, our streets would be an aquamarine color to match our claim to fame, Bear Lake. ;) We spent quite a bit of time in this location this past summer. Can you blame us?!


Summer wouldn't be complete without mentioning family reunions. We attended our share of those this past summer. A highlight: floating down Portneuf River in Lava Hot Springs at the Crane Reunion. Aside from a few bumps and scrapes, everyone survived that adventure.


Here's a shot of my husband and I at yet another reunion, after enjoying delicious smoked pork and a plethora of salads, desserts, etc. (Note: that's a bottle of water in my husband's hand, just in case you were wondering.)


We also spent quite a bit of time camping this summer. Our small camper is fairly easy to drive around and we enjoy spending time in the forest. True, I pretty well out-fished my husband this summer, but in way of good news, he didn't make me walk home. ;)


Girls' Camp was another whole adventure in and of itself, something I'm still recovering from. (See the blog post entitled "Climb Every Mountain . . . or not" posted on Aug. 6, 2008 ) Pictured below are the girls from our ward shortly after a performance of the traditional camp skit. They did a great job of hamming things up.

And one of the final adventures of the summer, the traditional huckleberry gathering. We've been out about 4 times now and I can safely state that we will have plenty of huckleberries for the holiday season. I may even be able to stash a couple of pints for our youngest son's missionary homecoming next spring. ;)

All in all, I would have to say that we thoroughly enjoyed this past summer. I don't recall sitting in a corner being bored. ;) And I took enough pictures to document everything. They don't call me the family photo-bug for nothing. ;) Now I'll have to shift gears and prepare for the fall foliage shots. I can hardly wait. =)

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Life by the Inch

In today's hustle and bustle, it's easy to feel overwhelmed. To wonder if we're ever going to cross off every item on our expanding lists of things to do. I've been feeling that way a lot lately. Hence today's blog. ;) We'll call this a therapeutic moment on our busy journey through life.

In college, I came across a wise tiny poem. It is as follows:

Life by the yard is hard.
Life by the inch is a cinch.

These are words to live by, especially in today's crazy world. Don't get me wrong, it's good to set goals for the future, to lay out plans, and to ponder how to achieve all that we desire. But it is also extremely easy to get so caught up in what we're not accomplishing, to stress over events we anticipate in the future, that sometimes we overwhelm ourselves.

Several years ago, my mother gave me very good advice. She told me while I was high school age that it's important to take each day as it comes and to do as much good as you possibly can. Then there aren't any regrets. I'm going to add to this sage wisdom: While you're doing good every day, do not run faster than you have strength. (I know there will be a lot of eyes rolling over this item---it has taken me a while to adhere to this scriptural counsel. I just began this past week.) ;)

I think the best thing to do is to prioritize each day. Obviously, we're not going to accomplish all of the items we've scribbled on our lists. We have to pick and choose, and take each day as it comes, do the best that we can, and let some things go. Last night, I turned down a request to perform today at a local senior citizen center. I actually said that naughty, two-letter word: "No." And I didn't feel guilty. Instead, I realized I just couldn't work it in. We're entertaining company this weekend, and I'm trying to get over a vicious bug that has relieved me of my singing voice. I've come to realize that Heavenly Father doesn't expect us to run ourselves into the dirt. Part of the gift of agency is learning to use it wisely. It doesn't do anyone any good if we allow our cupboards to get as bare as Old Mother Hubbard. ;) We have to take the time to restock the shelves, so we can be of helpful service to those around us.

In recent weeks, I've agonized over heart-wrenching trials some of those nearest and dearest to me have endured. These sisters of the heart are experiencing challenges that would tax the bravest soul. I pray for them, worry over them, and then realize, I need to trust more in our Father. If anyone knows and understands what they're going through, it's our Father in heaven and our Eldest Brother. They alone know how best to heal broken hearts and broken spirits. Some of us may get called upon to help in administering to their needs, but it will be under Their direction and on Their timetable. Instead of panicking over, "Oh, no! Now what are we going to do?!" I'm learning to place my hand inside of our Father's and allow Him to guide me toward what is best.

A few short months ago, our own family was plunged into the icy river of pain with the unexpected death of my husband's brother. We're still healing from this heartbreaking blow. I find that we're adhering to my mother's advice yet again. She learned, following the death of my father, that there were days when survival meant taking life one minute at a time. In the morning, she would awake and think: "Right now, all I have to do is get out of bed." Then she would. The next task would surface: "Now, I just need to get into the shower," followed by, "I just need to get dressed." Etc. She learned that it was too hard and too scary to consider everything that had been heaped on her plate in the days following our father's untimely death. By taking life in mini-steps, she learned to survive. And it wasn't overwhelming, it was do-able.

That is my advice today: take life by the inch. Don't try to do it all at once and risk burning yourself out. These days, it's important to keep that inner flame lit, even if it means taking a time-out once in a while to restock one's spiritual fuel.



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New Contest

Anne Bradshaw is sponsoring a new contest on her blog:
http://annebradshaw.blogspot.com

Follow her instructions and you just might find yourself the owner of a newly autographed book. =)

Mount Rushmore

This week, as presidential campaigns rev up for the general election, I find myself thinking of a handful of past United States presidents. I'm sure we all have favorites---mine would include: George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt and Franklin D. Roosevelt.

I admire George Washington because of his integrity, courage, and leadership during the formation of our country. Abraham Lincoln has always been a favorite because of his wisdom, compassion, and courage during a time that tore our country apart at the seams. I've enjoyed reading the exploits of Teddy Roosevelt and I admire his spunk and his push (the Square Deal) to provide a fair shake for average citizens and businessmen alike. Franklin D. Roosevelt overcame great personal trials to lead our country through the challenging depression era.

To me, these men epitomize what being the president of our country is all about. Three of these four men are honored by the famed sculpture that was carved on Mount Rushmore. Here's a question for you: which of the four former presidents mentioned above are featured on this National Monument? No peeking, no googling---just off the top of your head. =) I'll list all four of them at the bottom of this blog.

Last summer, we had a chance to travel to Mount Rushmore. It's the first time I've ever seen this national treasure in person. I've seen pictures of it before, but nothing compares to seeing the actual thing. I caught a glimpse of it as we drove around a mountain. Filled with excitement, we parked down below, then walked up the cement steps that lead to the mountain sculpture. An alleyway of State Flags lead the way. Then there it was, rising in grandeur before us, this tribute to mortal men who shaped our country during the first 150 years of its existence. There are no words to adequately describe what I felt that afternoon as I imagined the work that went into the creation of this monument.



A man named Gutzon Borglum was the artist who was asked to design and create the sculpture. In an interesting twist, he was born in a little Idaho town called St. Charles, which happens to be here in Bear Lake County. =) Gutzon and 400 workers worked on this overwhelming project for 14 years (Between October 1927---October 1941). Unfortunately, Gutzon died of an embolism before it was completed, in March of 1941. His son, Lincoln Borglum, continued with the project until it was completed seven months later.


Mount Rushmore stands as a permanent tribute to some of the most courageous Americans to this point in time. If you are ever near South Dakota and the famed Black Hills, take the time to see this national monument. I can promise that you'll never forget the majesty of this creation.

(Answer to the question above: George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Teddy Roosevelt, & Abraham Lincoln.)

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Huckleberry Season

Huckleberry season is upon us. I've been scouting known patches for quite some time, in the hopes of harvesting these luscious berries. Last year most of the blossoms froze, and the berries that did survive didn't flourish because of drought conditions. It was quite possibly the worst year ever for huckleberries in the history of Bear Lake Valley. Instead of my usual 15-20 pints in the freezer, I only found enough berries to fill one pint. Yes, I was extremely sad. So was my husband and our offspring, who love the huckleberry desserts I usually create for the holidays.

I was introduced to the great huckleberry tradition by my mother years ago. Sometime during the first two weeks of August, we would usually journey to her homeland of Wyoming to pick enough of these purple berries for tasty treats like pie, homemade ice cream, and oft times, pancakes. My maternal grandmother could create huckleberry delights that amazed us all, and her recipes are closely guarded secrets. Sometimes. Usually, I give them out to anyone who wants a copy, but don't tell my family. ;)

You can understand my excitement when I married into a family of huckleberry enthusiasts. That first summer, a few months after Kennon and I were married, marked the beginning of my education on where to find the elusive huckleberry in Bear Lake County. Here are some important rules regarding this fine tradition:

1) Never reveal where your huckleberry patch is located, unless you want to be disowned by the family. Most patches have been passed down from generation to generation. (I kid you not with regard to this information.)

2) Make lots of noise, since huckleberries are favorite treats of the local bear population. Noise tends to scare them away. I've often been tempted to borrow the neighbor's dog for just this purpose. =)

3) Wear clothes you don't mind ruining, since these berries tend to stain. They'll also stain your fingers, but purple is a lovely color, so I don't mind. ;)

4) Never spill your bucket. Not only is this shameful, but it causes tremendous grief to the one who has spent hours filling that bucket. (You earn every berry picked.)

5) Bring plenty of treats to snack on since berry picking adventures usually take a few hours. We also bring plenty of ice water and insect repellent.

6) Bring a bucket with a lid. I usually cut a small hole in the lid. This way you can drop the berries in and they don't spill out. Ice cream buckets work great for this.

7) Wear a hat in case the squirrels throw things at you while you pick berries from "their" patch.

Huckleberries only grow on mountain hillsides. Sometimes it takes quite a bit to reach their isolated location. I only know of one patch that is easily accessible. Most times we resort to using a 4-wheel drive vehicle to climb the steep dirt roads that lead to huckleberry patches. Other times, the berry patches can only be accessed by way of horse or a contraption known as a 4-wheeler. Earlier this week, my husband graciously drove a friend and I up to a huckleberry patch on his 4-wheeler. He dropped us off at the patch, then rode around the hillside exploring since he doesn't much enjoy picking the berries. By the end of the day, we were all happy. My friend and I had picked a lot of berries and my husband bonded with nature (ie: took a nap).



If you are extremely lucky and your berry patch is loaded, it doesn't take forever to fill a bucket. Here is what my friend was able to pick during the time we spent in a secret location I will never reveal:



Actually, I'm one of those who usually tells people how to get to the berry patches. Yes, I know, I'm breaking with tradition. =) If someone wants to go to all of the trouble to pick huckleberries (ie: this is a lot of work) I think they should know where to go to enjoy this pastime. Besides, my husband and I are the only family members still residing in Bear Lake Valley, so it's time to share this information. ;) This year, the bushes are loaded, so people who really want berries will go home with a bucket full.

As an insulin dependent diabetic, I've had a few adventures during huckleberry season. One year, after we had spent a couple of hours picking, I felt rather yucky. Thinking my blood sugar level had dropped drastically, I ran a quick check with my blood sugar meter. To my surprise, it flashed a number in the high 500's. (Normal range is 80-120.) Panicking, I gave a large dose of insulin, via my insulin pump. A few minutes later, I felt worse. So I ran another check. This time the meter flashed a number in the 30's---which is extremely low. That's when it occurred to me that the first check wasn't valid---the first finger I had poked for a blood sample had been covered in huckleberry juice. Evidently, those berries contain a lot of natural sugar. =) As you may have guessed, I did survive that episode. My husband made me eat an entire package of cookies as he drove us down the mountain, fearing he would have to take me into ER. I didn't have to visit the hospital that night---by the time we reached our house, my blood sugar level was fine. But I will never be able to eat that particular cookie ever again. ;)

This month I've enjoyed berry picking adventures four times during the past 2 weeks. If the berries continue, I may go one more time, just for kicks and giggles . . . and delicious desserts. And if any of you would like my grandmother's recipe for huckleberry pie, let me know. Just don't ever tell her that I shared this prize-winning creation. If you do, she may want to have a little chat with me on the other side of the veil for sharing a family secret.



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Enjoy the Journey

Summer is winding down. I think that's kind of sad. This summer has been filled with adventures like camping, reunions, weddings, gardening, and so forth. Yesterday I overheard someone say that they could hardly wait for summer to be done---that it would be good to have a routine again.

A part of me agrees, but the other part is already missing summer. I guess that's human nature. Here's my take on this strange aspect. Actually, it's a little poem I learned while in college a "few" years ago:

As a rule, man's a fool
When it's hot, he wants it cool
When it's cool, he wants it hot
Always wanting what is not
Never wanting what he's got.

So while a part of me is looking forward to the fall colors, I'm going to do my best to enjoy what is left of summer. Today, I'm heading off to the mountains to pick yet more huckleberries. I love frolicking in the forest. I love how the pine trees smell, and I enjoy watching the squirrels who usually throw a huge fit when we invade "their" huckleberry patch. They have been known to launch pine cones at human intruders. We've had a few thrown in our direction the past couple of weeks. Last week, as an irate squirrel chittered at us in a lecturing fashion, he\she fell out of his\her tree. We laughed over the poor squirrel's humiliation most of the afternoon. It was hilarious, especially when the poor thing hid and refrained from sharing its opinion the rest of the day. =) Even squirrels get embarrassed. Food for thought.

The point I'm attempting to make today is that we need to learn to enjoy the moment we're in. I suspect that's what our Father intended when the seasons were created. Each season possesses attractive qualities---spring is a reminder of the sacredness of life with the arrival of baby animals, flowers, etc. Summer gives us a chance to get out and about to enjoy the beauty that surrounds us. Fall beckons to us with vivid colors and bounteous harvests. And what would Christmas be without snow? I know there are a lot of places in this world that don't get the chance to enjoy the white fluffy stuff, but in our neck of the woods, we usually have an ample supply during the winter months. True, it seems to stick around much longer than we would wish some winters, but the snow serves an important purpose. It's crucial for the spring and summer months, not to mention fall. Without adequate water, there wouldn't be a bounteous harvest. Spring rain inspires the flowers to bloom. Storms make growth possible.

The seasons of our lives are similar. For us to grow and flourish, there must be seasons of trial and pain. These storms pave the way for eternal happiness. There are also seasons of beauty and joy. It's important for us to learn to savor those moments when they arrive.

A few years ago, I wrote a song for a special occasion in Young Women. The girls I was working with at the time did a beautiful job of performing this number. I will end today's blog by sharing the lyrics:

Enjoy the Journey

Enjoy the journey, enjoy life's ride
Your attitude determines who you are inside
Happiness can often prove to be the key
That shapes your eternal destiny.

Are you searching for a path
Free of thorns that hold you fast
Are you running from a test
That might lead to happiness?

Are you weary of life's load
Smiling makes an easier road
Enjoy life as it unfolds
And . . . (repeat all)

End: Happiness can often prove to be the key
That shapes your eternal destiny.

Cheri J. Crane
1995

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School Days

Earlier today as I was returning home from a jaunt to Utah, I swung by a couple of stores in Logan. Since my husband and I are now considered an empty-nesters (our youngest son is currently serving a mission in Canada) I'm obviously out of the groove for the yearly tradition known as "Back-to-School Shopping." Both of the stores I happened to visit today were filled with harried parents and their offspring. It was rather fascinating to watch.

"Here's a pair of pants on sale," a hopeful mother offered.

Her daughter, who looked to be between the ages of 12-14 replied: "Puh-leeze. The zipper is like gi-nor-mous!"

"What's wrong with the zipper?"

"It's like 5 miles long!"

The mother examined the pants in question, then rolled her eyes. "It isn't either. It's barely 4-5 inches. Now stand still so I can see how they'll fit."

"Mother! They come up to my armpits!" the teenage girl wailed.

"They'll barely cover your rear-end."

"That's what layered shirts are for." With that, the sweet young thing turned and began to send a flurry of text messages, her thumbs moving so fast they were a blur.

"You did not just text your friends about this. And just so you know, you are not buying those low-cut pants your friends all wear!"

Since I was in this particular store to find a pair of shoes for my husband, I moved out of range of the ensuing argument. Hurrying toward the back of the store, I passed a mother and son combo. They were looking at shirts.

"Here's a nice looking shirt," the mother said, retrieving a striped polo-style shirt from the rack in front of her.

"You're all up in the Kool-aid," was the indifferent reply. (Incidentally, I looked this phrase up online when I returned home and learned that it means: "You're getting in my business.")

"Well then, what do you want to wear?" the tired mother inquired.

The teen in question sauntered to a rack of t-shirts that looked like something from a frightening Halloween movie. "Aight!" he exclaimed. (I looked this term up, too. It means: "All right, or okay.")

Casting a sympathetic glance toward the appalled parent, I moved on past, finding the shoe aisle. I passed a small girl, possibly about 6-7 who was looking at shoes with her mother. The only requirement this young lady stressed was that the shoes had to be pink. Her mother was trying to convince her that pink wouldn't necessarily match everything in her wardrobe. This discussion didn't seem to be going well as I moved on toward the mens' section.

As I searched for the shoes my husband wanted, I began pondering what the conversations might have been like during shopping adventures when my parents were teenagers:

"Jane, what makes you think you need a poodle-skirt?"

"All of the other girls are wearing them."

"What's wrong with this nice black wool skirt?"

"Puleeze! There's not a dog on the front of it and it's black!"

***

"Son, what is that stuff in your hair?"

"Gel. All the guys are using it."

"If all of the guys were jumping off a cliff, would you do it too?"

Here's a hilarious blast from the past. I came across this set of lyrics that my grandmother wrote with regard to a hairstyle she and my grandfather had no doubt discussed with my father:

My Pompadour

Years back, when I was just a lad
A notion in my head I had,
Each year I asked my dad once more
To cut my hair in a pompadour.
Each time he only shook his head,
“A plain haircut for you,” he said,
“Is so much better now my boy,
“And other people won’t annoy.”
Which only made me want the more
To have my hair cut pompadour.

Chorus:
A pompadour, a pompadour
Oh how I want a pompadour;
To others it may be a roar,
But I sure want a pompadour.

And then one day when I came in
And with a firm, determined chin,
Said, “Dad, I’m asking you once more,
To cut my hair in a pompadour.”
“Alright my boy,” he said, “you’ll see.
A pompadour your hair shall be.”
The clippers he began to work
And with no time to rest or shirk
He clipped and clipped and clipped some more
And gave to me my pompadour.

Chorus:
My pompadour, my pompadour,
At last I have my pompadour,
To others it may be a roar,
But I sure love my pompadour.

-------Elsie C. Jackson

I guess my point is, the styles and speech patterns may change, but the arguments stem from the same source. Teenagers are trying to establish who they are. They are striving for independence and anything considered cool by their parents is automatically out of the question. And on the other side of the coin, parents are usually appalled by the current fashion trends. This is a time-honored tradition. I predict that in years to come, today's teens will be having similar conversations with their offspring:

"What are you thinking? That metallic suit is atrocious. The colors don't even match!"

"I like it! It speaks well of my individuality."

"Your what?! Don't you use that kind of language with me young lady!"

"Talk to my robot."

"Come back here! We are not through discussing this! And I refuse to speak to a stupid brain in a can!"

"Warning, Tercel's mother unit, your blood pressure is dangerously high. Refrain from this behavior."

And so on. I suspect conversations like this began with Adam and Eve's posterity:

"You are not wearing that leopard skin skirt!"

"Why not? Cain slew the beast. It's not like anyone else is using it. And it looks great with my emu-feather top."

"I've asked you not to wear that thing. It looks disgusting."

"You don't understand me!"

"You did not just slam that wooden door! The house collapsed. Are you happy now?"

Here's what I've noticed: Trends and fashions change. The relationship shared with our children is what matters most. I learned to pick my battles. My kids picked out interesting hair styles and clothing through the years, but I usually let that go, standing firm on items like curfews, etc. I did stress that my sons had to dress modestly---to me, that's important. But if they wore colorful, sometimes outrageous looking garb in the process, I tried to be tolerant. After all, I'm from the era that made bell-bottom jeans popular. I don't have a leg to stand on. ;)



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