Pickle Boats

My daughter, who was home from college in the spring, planted a garden in our backyard. Sadly, she left it to me to tend while she went away to volunteer at a camp. Not having the time to care for it, I could only salvage two lone cucumbers from all of the work she put into it.

Those two cucumbers made me think of something though. They took me back to when I was a kid.

One of the things we kept ourselves busy with was to go into the garden and take the old, yellow cucumbers; carve out the inside (somewhat like you'd do with a pumpkin on Halloween); add toothpicks for seats and masts; and make yourself a boat.

Taking those boats to the creek I talked about a few blogs ago, would keep us busy for hours sailing them down the stream and following them into the woods around the curves and over the ripples.

We didn't have a lot of money when I was a kid. We didn't have Nintendo; or eighty-seven channels on TV; or a Mall nearby we could go to. But we did have our imaginations.

And we had our pickle boats.

Second Chance Unfullfilled

Lower Falls of the Yellowstone

It seems like I talk about second chances a lot, and this is another one of those images that have a story about second chances.

The first time Denise and I were in Yellowstone National Park (when this picture was taken), I read that every day at 9:00 in the morning a rainbow can be seen at the bottom of this falls.

We got up early and drove to this overlook in anticipation of the rainbow and were the only ones there except for one plein aire artist.

The only problem was that it was COLD. After several minutes waiting, I thought we had missed the rainbow; took this shot; and went for breakfast.

We stopped there about an hour later and the artist (who hung in there despite the cold wind) told us "sure missed a nice rainbow".

I kicked myself for leaving and promised myself that if I ever got back to Yellowstone, I would see that rainbow no matter how cold it was. I needed that second chance.

One trouble with the next trip---It was this spring and we were stuck in a Memorial Day snow blizzard on the other side of the park and could never get to this side. Missed it again.

I'll probably never make it back to Yellowstone again, but if I do I'll need a second chance at my second chance.

Thirty Two

Today is Denise and my 32nd anniversary.

We've gone through a lot together.

The birth of our three kids.
The death of our parents.
Kids graduating.
Kids getting married.
And Nolan, our first grandchild.

 

This is a picture of our family that was taken during a weekend trip where we all stayed in a cabin in Northern Michigan a couple of summers ago.


We look like a rag-tag bunch, but that's us. None of us pretend to be something we're not. With us, you get what you get. That's the way we like it.

I give credit to Denise for teaching us all that. She's the glue. The strong one. The one we can all count on.

I know I don't tell her this as much as I should, but I hope she knows.

Denise, I love you.
And happy anniversary.

Spoiled

Statue of Buffalo Bill in Cody, Wyoming

The West.

We fly there; rent a car; stay in hotels; eat in a different restaurant each meal.

I can only imagine what first the Native Americans and then the European settlers had to go through each and every day just to survive.

The vastness and the harshness of the land make it difficult even with the advantages we have today.  We moan and cry when it's hot; or cold; or wet; or dry.

How did they manage? Are we just spoiled rotten? Or were they really that much tougher?

I don't know about you, but I like my hotel bed.

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Just Little Blue Flowers

Nothing fancy about this one.


Nothing serious to say. 






Just little blue flowers to look at on this nice Summer day.


(Oh, crap---I think I just wrote a poem. Denise must be getting to me.)

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I'm a Painter

I painted this.    Well, I kinda painted this.

Cody Wyoming has the best museum in the world, the Buffalo Bill Historical Center. The last time we were there, they had recently installed computers in the Whitney Gallery of Western Art that let you take pieces and parts of famous paintings and put them together in your own "painting".


As Denise and Sloan looked around the museum, I sat there like a little kid and put together several of these paintings. It was sort of odd sitting there amongst all of the paintings by Thomas Moran and the sculptures by Frederic Remington and all of the other artists, both old and new. I don't have a lick of painting skills and just sat there in awe of their skills and vision.


I'd give just about anything to be able to create something like this for real.

Today's not bad

Clingman's Dome Sunset, Great Smoky Mountain Nat. Park

Finally the heat seems to have let up a little. Today's not bad at all. It's still warm, like summer should be, but it's not one of those depressing hot humid days it's been for a couple of weeks.

I don't want to get too comfortable though.

Like the sun setting below this horizon, it'll be back.

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Tradition

Basillica of the Sacred Heart, University of Notre Dame

In my real job as a project manager for a large construction company, one of my main clients is the University of Notre Dame. I'm often on campus several times a week and can never get over the feel of the place.

The campus has a sense of it's own. It has the history of it's football team of course, but it's the look and the feel of the old buildings that always make me happy to be there.

The new work we do on campus is unlike any work we do anywhere else. All of the new buildings are designed to fit into the scheme of all of the other buildings. The trim; the doors; and the other finish work we do are like no other place we work.  They are built to last 100 years; not to be used and thrown away after only a few.

Tradition lives on in those buildings. I hope those 18 year old kids who go there appreciate what they have.

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Making Time for Art

Portion of Newspaper Rock, Southern Utah

In my last post, I considered how much time the residents of Mesa Verde had to spend just surviving. Time had to be precious to them with very little to spare.

Yet everywhere in the southwest are panels of petroglyphs with amazing representations of animals and people, and designs not easily understood.

I've heard is said that these may be maps of sort; or territorial claims; or sign posts meant for others. And then there are others who feel they may be simply just art.

I like to think of them that way. That they are art, for maybe just art's sake.

I also like to think that even then, with everything that had to be done to survive, the artist found time to express themselves on the walls. For others to see and appreciate.

Maybe that's what I'm trying to do.