I am sitting in a parking lot in Troutdale. There are 5 trucks with horse trailers lined up ready to head out on an adventure. Couples with their horses, headed out to…?? On a wonderful summer weekend ~ who cares, just headed out.

I remember getting ready to go on a camping trip, the feeling something wonderful was about to happen. As a child we had a travel trailer, everyone else had tents. We on the other hand had a self contained trailer. Boy, were we high tech!

I remember you had to pump the water at the sink to build pressure and then you would have running water. Well until it ran down and then you’d have to pump it again.

The toilet had the indigo blue chemical, as a kid I always thought that was cool. Of course there were rules for the toilet, don’t use it unless you have to. For sure the restroom visits that required something we would now call solid waste, were taboo. “Go to the campground outhouse if you are going to do that!”

Being a city kid I loved getting out into nature. Since my father and his friends were fishing nuts, there was no shortage of opportunities for camping trips; notice I didn’t say fishing trips. You see us girls were left to our own devices back at camp. The men and boys headed out to the boat dock with tackle boxes, fishing vests, poles, nets and cooler. I saw what went into that lunchbox, yummy stuff. Saltine crackers, Tillamook cheese, summer sausage, and in my Dad’s case, a six pack of Oly. Off they’d go and we would see them later in the day all sunburned and smiling, and usually carrying a string of trout.
What did we “girls” do while the men were off being “hunter gatherers”? Well, let’s see we washed up the dishes from breakfast, straightened up the camp, hung damp dish towels out to dry and in our case, tided up the trailer. If it was cool we kept the fire pit going. I had the child care detail and spent most of the day watching my sisters and finding ways to keep them entertained. With hikes, and exploring nature that really wasn’t so hard. Of course there were naps for them in the afternoon, a time when the teenagers would head out in search of great adventure. Unbounded energy and enthusiasm, the gifts of youth.

Somehow the food always tasted better, the air was clear and sweet. Birds sang, chipmunks scolded and made us laugh at their antics. The hawks lazily circling overhead, their sharp whistling call echoing through the forest. Sometimes there were those cute little green tree frogs.

In the evening there would be the communal camp dinner. Sharing tables, potato salad, pan friend trout, cantaloupe, garlic bread, and yummy homemade cookies somebody’s mom made. And later after dinner and dishes, we would roast marshmallows over the campfire.

We always had a kid’s only tent for bedtime. I remember crawling in my sleeping bag and falling fast asleep. Between you and the hard earth was an air mattress that may or may not hold air all through the night. But sleep was deep and peaceful.

I am glad I had those times. The days spent together camping seemed to bring function to what I often considered a dysfunctional family. Good memories, happy times.

So with a wistful smile I watched the campers drive out of the parking lot. Five vehicles, people and their horses headed to fun and adventure. “Have a good time” I mentally waved. Thanks for reminding me of a special childhood memory.

Suddenly I have a craving for S’mores ;o)

I'll never get old LIKE THAT!!!

I’ll never get old LIKE THAT!!!!

Today is the day I can officially go online and sign up for my Social Security Retirement Benefits. In three months I will be 62.

Good Lord how did this happen?? As I write this I am looking through little reading glasses and hold on ~ you aren’t going believe this ~ they are hung around my neck on one of those strings old ladies and bookkeepers wear!! No offense to bookkeepers but I never intended to be an old lady. I can so clearly remember when I was a teenager; looking at my parents who were what 45??? And thinking I’ll never get old like that! I won’t ever let myself go and have a wide waist, wrinkles, and for sure no turkey neck hangin’ down. I’ll always have a bounce to my step, stamina, strength, and grace.

What was I thinking? What did I think was going to happen? I should have been suspicious when my first invitation to join AARP came on my 50th birthday.. But I didn’t heed the warning. I was walking straight into old womanhood. It was so sly I never saw it coming. Oh sure the skin under my upper arms had started to wave, even when I wasn’t. The hair that had been intentionally blonde had been allowed to become it’s natural white. It was no longer “she’s the blonde over there” it had become “she’s the lady over there with the gray hair”.

Somehow physical yard work, that had once been easily mastered, was now a chore. A chore that at times, was more than I could sustain and complete.

Words began eluding me. I’d try and explain a thought and lose the precise language I wanted to use. “It sounds like, it’s like, oh you know.” What the heck? Part of my brain, along with many body parts was already headed towards the road to retirement.

I have noticed “old people” behavior slipping into my life. Things like “I don’t like to drive at night” and “is there a smaller portion of this meal?” Yep me and the little kiddies eat on the lighter side now. Oh this is a good one, I start questioning “do I really need to go to the restroom? Or is it because I’m old and I think I need to??” You Seniors get my drift.

I don’t hear quite as well , climb stairs as quickly, and I sure as heck don’t see as well. NO! NO! NO!

Talk about shock and awe. I still can’t believe I am the same age as my grandparents when I was growing up. Gosh they were old. I have used up way more time than I have left. And by the way what did I do with what I used up?? It’s like I was given a bag of golden days when I got here and now it’s ¾ gone. Not only that, I can’t tell you what I spent most of those golden days on, amazing… grace.

My friend Cheryl sent me an article today and in it was a quote, lyrics actually, by Willie Nelson. They seem to sum up my feelings right now so I’d like to share these words of wisdom by Zen Master Willie.

Nothin’ I Can Do About It Now.

I could cry for the time I’ve wasted

But that’s a waste of time and tears,

And I know just what I’d change

If I went back in time somehow

But there’s nothing I can do about it now.

Words written on paper

Rupert age 6 (he was with his family 5 1/2 yrs) One of six who have gone to the Bridge.

People often wonder why I am so adamant about my dogs safety, where I live, how I live. This story will explain all. Rural Clackamas County is a wonderful place to live if you are a responsible owner of canines like mine, Pierce County, WA is not. These are not my animals, they were the furkids of a dear friend.

Words written on paper…

Sorrow disbelief, and frustration fill my heart. A rule, words written on paper have caused the intentional death of 6 beings. Their only crime was carrying the bloodline of recent wolf heritage. They lived in secure containments, and were cared for by responsible owners.

The animals themselves were all rescues of one sort or another. Saved from unfortunate situations and brought to safely and a loving home in a rural setting. Each one had a story, each one special and unique.

In the 10 years there were wolfdogs on the property there had been not one neighbor complaint, no escapes, no bites, no threat to the community. Just a family of people and animals dedicated to loving and living, a reward for past abuse.

I really had to stop and think isn’t that why legislation is written? To make sure animals are contained, cared for, while posing no problem to surrounding property owners? The spirit of the law was kept, the letter wasn’t, couldn’t be. There is no way to legally register and license an illegal animal. Sadly had there been written proof these guys were 10.5 years old or older they would have been legal by description, and not classified as dangerous animals. All requirements could have been met. This because of a grandfather clause included when the law was adopted. As the fates would have it they were 10 and under, and having been rescued there is no proof of even that.

Words written on paper, a decision made in Pierce County WA in 1999 pre-determined these animals were dangerous. Interestingly in the same year the Oregon State Vet did an extensive investigation and determined that wolfdogs are no more dangerous than any large breed canine, and the same good citizenship should and would be required by both. That remains the standard of the state to this day. There is no way to justify the decision made by a political committee in WA but their words, their prejudice, and their power put on paper caused the death of 6 innocent beings. The Commissioners legacy is a sad and ignoble one.

One day last week a worker cutting brush for the BPA visually invaded private property that had been hidden from view. What he saw were 6 wolfy looking canines. They didn’t threaten him, or probably even see him. This “rule keeper”, felt compelled to do what no one who lives in the area had done in 10 years. He alerted Animal Control. I wasn’t his business, but his determination to be a whistle blower created a situation that ended in death and loss.

Friday Animal Control paid a visit, after they left with their intimidations, accusations, and threats the pack seemed to know what lay ahead. They were relaxed but subdued. Tails moved side to side, eyes watched their family, and they knew. At the same time there was an assurance they seemed to communicate, “its okay, we understand, we’ll be fine, don’t worry”. Decisions had to be made, AC would be returning on Tuesday to review documents, documents that didn’t exist. Rather than face darting, forced confiscation, incarceration, and the routine sentence of death for dangerous “hybrid” canines the family made a choice. It would be a peaceful leaving. Surrounded by those whose love they had shared for much of their lives. They were held, good byes were said, tears were shed, and they were released with respect to the bridge.

Where there once had been happy animals there is now a 10ft grave that will be planted with wildflowers. Six crosses painted white will bear a ceramic, wolf print plaque. Each name, Grimalkin, Falcon, Hunter, Jessie, Patience, and Rupert will be held in memory

This tragedy did nothing to make the community safer, it was never in danger. This madness of creating laws that are written to further organizational agendas has to stop. It is time to take a stand, create the vocal community that says NO MORE!! We will not have our families torn apart, by knee jerk politicians. I don’t know how, but I know when. And the time is NOW!!!!! It’s time to come together and create good to replace this terrible wrong.

Please when you give your support to HSUS and other animal rights groups your money is going directly to support breed specific legislation (bsl), the legislation that created this mindless law. Don't do it, give your support to your local Humane Society, they never see a dime from the national group. Animal Welfare is the goal not animals rights adgendas that seek to strip good owners of their animals just because they aren't beagles or boxers.

Who really is Queen of the bed???

Who really is the Queen of the bed??

I have often considered myself a Queen especially when it comes to my favorite spot, my yurt bedroom. It is a little jewel box, looking out the front door there is a view of the pond. In the warmer months at night we are serenaded by the frog kingdom, and always there is the murmuring of the ducks. There is a rich brocade comforter in chocolate brown and wine burgundy. Pillows and dust ruffle to match, a bouquet of roses permanently sits on the antique pie cabinet. A TV, faux fireplace, and red velvet armchair.

Often as I listen to TV and knit my beautiful dog Shawnee will join me and stretch out on the bed. Especially in colder weather I will have the mattress cover pre warming the bed ~ a favorite of hers. The boys Thunder and Storm are not allowed in the girls boudoir, at least not for long. They are quickly escorted out by Shawnee Marie; there is a definite “Girls Only” sign on the door when she is in control.

Normally all is well and benevolent as we two Queenie’s relax and unwind. Shawnee will stretch out her long wolfie legs and cover 75% of the bed, I will have my feet up sitting beside the bed in my red velvet chair; she is so beautiful as she sleeps. Her double coat a soft tri color perfect right down to the natural black eyeliner, a marker of her wolf heritage. And of course the big white teeth, what a beauty she is.

Eventually it is time to turn in for the night. I hang my knitting bag from the rafters as not to become a chew toy for the dogs during the night and turn off the TV. Then the war of the kingdom begins.

Tug, tug, on the blankets, “Shawnee scoot over.” I see a thinly disguised look of irritation and could it be…doggie contempt? She seems to say “Excuse me We are reclining here, take your demands and requests elsewhere.”

“OK Shawnee move it”, this time I have her attention and I see more of those pearly white teeth than necessary ~ let the growling begin.

Tug at the blanket again, more growling and doggie disgust. “Okay Girl that’s it I’m bigger than you”. I put my hand around her muzzle and hold it firmly, look in her beautiful amber eyes and say “MOVE IT!”

She says. “GRRROWL”, then slowly moves off the bed. Front feet on the ground first, a long stretch, back feet down and then sashes out of the room with a walk reminiscent of Rue McClanahan in the Golden Girls.

Ah, slip into bed, stretch out, fluff up pillows, breathe deep. Uh Oh guess who just came back through the door? Why Miss Shawnee. “Hi Mom!”, “Hi Girl.” Hops up on the bed, spins around, finds just the right spot, plop down she goes. We settle in, and so it is, every night the Queen Mom and her Four legged Queen Girl fall asleep dreaming of the adventures tomorrow will bring.

She is so pretty when she’s asleep, but oh my what a challenge as we once again establish who really wears the crown in this yurt ~ me of course…no me…no me…grrrr.

Growing into a grownup

As I watch my wonderful grandchildren mature and grow I think of how the pressures of this life will mold and affect who they will become as adults. Like a master pruner, clip a branch here, take a lot off this one, not so much on that one. All so the tree will grow and become all it can be. Everything must be balanced, otherwise in a strong storm branches will be broken, maybe it could even become uprooted and die. Take too much off and it might not have substance to survive.

But in life the trimming can be painful. I wonder if trees hurt when you prune them? I know sap immediately begins to run to the wound to cover it and begin the healing. Oh well, I guess that’s a question for the tree and god. What I do know is some pruning is necessary for the overall well being of the tree, and so it is for people.

Remember the days of free growing times? Unhampered, no boundaries, just enthusiasm at full throttle. At my age I know that kind of unbridled expansion cannot be sustained. It seems our strongest base comes from our most difficult times. The times when we were forced to expand our roots beyond that what we believed we could endure.

Oh how I wish I could keep those painful, but necessary lessons from my grandchildren, smooth their path. I want to say “I’ve walked the same road, I made those mistakes, dealt with that betrayal, caused that hurt. Listen to me, be careful, don’t choose that path it is a brutal dead-end.”

But that’s not reality, not the way it must be. Each one will face their challenges, create their own heaven, and live their own hell. I see them becoming the strong, compassionate, connected beings destiny intends them to be. Their parents and I can be a part of their base, the mulch and added nutrients need for healthy growth. As a gardener cannot grow their garden, we cannot grow for them. We will provide the healthy soil, fertilizer, water, add sunshine. They will face their own storms, their own strong winds, and ice, and they will thrive. Growing someday to be an elder, to replace the ones who have finished their time on this earth walk. They will become the new forest, the strong ones that nurture the new seedlings for generations to come. As it is and always will be.

The day the coyote came ~

Life was forever changed. The voices and promise of two brooding female ducks were silenced. There would be no continuation of the Coco and Peeps line.

Our beautiful black and green iridescent feathered Peeps was gone and so was her mother. They had chosen a site for their nesting away from all the commotion of the backyard. Down in a quiet space, adjacent to one of the dog yards. There was concern that they had picked a spot that too far away for safety, but it was within and area observed by the arctic America and his enclosure mate Chance. Surely a marauder would be scared off by the part dog, part wolf vocalization and scent. Most coyotes cut a wide swath away from anything that sounds like or smells like wolf. Wolves being the top dog on the canine totem pole for millennia.

Even when the females are sitting their nests they will take breaks and make their way to the pond for a bit of food and refreshment. This procession of two females and their three males always included the raucous sounds, duck voices murmuring and quacking. Their own language, one that I always found comforting. Then the females would be escorted back to their nests by the three male entourage. The duck boys protected the females from unwanted advances by the other competing duck camp, which includes three males and a sitting female of their own. If there was any raping or pillaging of their females it would be done by them, thank you very much!!

All the unique sounds of the duck community had filled the air, had become a shinning thread in the tapestry of my life lived in the country. Then it was gone. Only a sad silence filled the air, my life had a little less humor and sweetness.

That day started with a surprise and ended in sadness. I had just come out of the yurt and was headed up to the house. All of a sudden I saw ducks flying by 3 feet off the ground headed for the pond. I had never seen them leave the ground before, they don’t fly! It was crazy, like they were being chased…and they were. Standing about 30ft away, outside my fence was a coyote that had been in duck pursuit. My mind couldn’t process what it was seeing. Was it one of our dogs? How did it get out? No, too small, why aren’t the dogs reacting? No noise, nothing, time stopped. The coyote stood at the ponds edge and we locked eyes. “Hey! Hey! Get Outta Here!” He looked again at the ducks then back at me. “Hey What Do You Think You Are Doing? Get Outta Here!” waving my arms helplessly. Then he was gone, back the way he had come, by America and Chance’s yard.

The dogs never said a word, they fluffed out, tails up, on alert, but not a sound. If a dog could stand slack jawed then that is a good description. The fierce wolfdogs I live with once again proved to be great watch dogs, they stood there and watched the whole thing unfold.

I am sure that is when we lost Coco and Peeps. The remains, black and white feathers, and one lone egg were found a couple days later. I understand the circle of prey and predator; I understand survival and natural instinct. But the loss, the empty space is still there. There won’t be the loud squawking of Coco as she assumed her role as the matriarchal power of the flock. There won’t be ducklings to watch grow and mature this season. Even the males look lost.

As with all things death is the loss of those left behind. The empty space, dreams that seem too quickly ended, silence where there had been connection. So it is and always will be. If the ducks had not lost their lives to coyotes, in a few years natural causes would have claimed them, will claim us. Interesting isn’t it? We all board the life train when we come to this earth, we all have tickets that will bring us to that final destination we call death. No excuses, no exceptions, it’s just the question of when and where. So I have decided that for me, each day is a privilege. A privilege to live, a privilege to explore and consume. More precious on a day like this when I mourn the loss of two beings that brought humor, beauty, and connection to my life.

Bye Coco, bye Peeps you will be missed.

San Francisco Road Trip

Imagine walking through a large specialty mall in San Francisco, Abercrombie, Hollister, Aeropostale, and American Eagle. Carrying so many handled shopping bags your ability to go through doors is compromised. Tissue wrapping dynamite tops, chic jeans, and a bit of luscious make up thrown in for good measure. Was I in the company of a Rock Star?!? Almost, I was on a shopping spree with a vibrant beauty we in the family call Lauren Elizabeth.

Why did this most delightful trip come about? As a celebration of their 13th birthdays I had offered my grandkids an adventure with Nana, all the while knowing I would enjoy it as much as they would. Shelby chose Colorado, Kendal adventured in Disneyland, Taylor a Mariners trip, and Lauren a shopping holiday.

This was to be a no holds barred shopping frenzy. Lauren is a perfect petite size, gorgeous and glowing. There is nothing she puts on that doesn’t look better because she is wearing it. It was decided, a trip to San Francisco for fun, sightseeing, and shopping.

I rented a fancy car that had a satellite radio. Lauren was the music director as we cruised down I-5 looking mighty fine. The weather was great and we arrived at the Embassy Suites without a hitch. Our room was a spacious two room suite, one side was the shopping Queen’s the other was the Nana’s. Perfect!

The second night, after a very strenuous day of shopping we went downstairs to the lovely garden restaurant for dinner. We had a late lunch so weren’t super hungry. After looking at the menu we decided we didn’t want dinner after all we just wanted dessert. So that’s just what we did, we ordered an ice cream sundae, chocolate cake with raspberry sauce, and a slice of cheese cake. Decadent! What we couldn’t finish went back to the room with us and became breakfast ~ oh so naughty, and oh so much fun. There was no grownup there telling us what to do.

On the third day it was time for sightseeing. We hopped a ride on an open air limousine called “Mr. Toad’s Scenic Ride”. Really! We toured, and were taught, all about history of San Francisco. Up hills…OMG down hills ~ Eeek! Had a lovely meal along the old dock area, and of course shopped a bit more.

On the fourth day it was time to put the luggage, bags, sacks, and us, back in the car. I put on my new sunglasses and we were “on the road again”. Lauren had convinced me to buy a pair of DNKY sunglasses, ones I would never have chosen for myself. Glamorous, as usual she had impeccable taste and they have received many a compliment in the years passed.

To this day when the sun shines, a warm breeze is blowing, and I’m headed down the highway, I put on my shades. I am once again on a road trip filled with fun and adventure and my very own Rock Star. When can we do it again Lauren?? It was a blast…