Inevitably, every young new mother who flusters her way through church or the store, will run into some sweet Grandma who lovingly states "Oh, appreciate them when they're young...they grow up so fast".  I heard this so many times that I thought Ya Ya, come over and nurse a baby all night and then tell me how lovely it is.  Not that I didn't enjoy nursing my kid, I was just so tired.  So in transition...


But I've turned a corner. We get these little babies, and their spirits are big and bright enough to fill the measure of a grown man.  I imagine their spirits like a package of giant, oversized, sweet, puffy and soft marshmallows.  So you have that package of marshmallows bigger than your head right?  And you cram and squish and cram it inside a small little box of cracker jacks.  That's the spirit meeting the body and coming to earth.  So even though you can pick up that little box of Cracker Jacks, it's got enough calories to fill space and time.

I love to hold my babies up high, around my heart, and contain that sweetness from heaven.  It's so MINE, at least for the moment.


You can't tell by this picture, but he loves it too.


When you're just starting out, sometimes it's easy to lose the perspective of heaven, of time as a fleeting thing. You lose your looks, your waist (well at least SOME people do), your hobbies, your time, and you can get caught wondering if it makes a difference.


I wonder if the people on the left ever wondered these things?


But the fact that they loved me, held my marshmallow spirit close to their heart, fixed me dinner and told me stories and let me jump on the couch and made me a prom dress...well that's how I reason my own mutts will give me a good payoff in years to come.


Can you believe that my parents have been married FIFTY YEARS this year?  Their getting older, coupled with pubescent strained outbursts in my house, have made me sweetly aware of my time.  Not enough to get me to stop playing Words with Friends, but enough that I kiss on my kids every stinkin' day.


We had a reception for my parents this summer.  We had family come from as far as New Mexico!




Clay's family doing a skit re-enacting my dad running Ricks College B-Ball Camps.  Long story, but a classic!




I sang a song to my folks and cried like a stinkin' baby.  Annoying.




This is my family right now.  Good night!

Here's a view from the deck. Lots of intoxicating views of Idaho potato and wheat fields. In the distance, on a clear day, you get a glimpse of the Tetons. Gorgeous! That's just the backdrop to Hoser's dirt patch.


So here's the actual yard. The clean line of the lawn is edged with railroad ties, and then it slopes down down down and gets to the garden. For a good 15 years the slope had wildflowers - daisies, asters, lupine, yarrow, poppies. Sadly, those days are gone, but magic is still happening in the earth below.


uno. Nooooo! Don't take my picture. Can if I want.
 dos. Down the steep path.
 tres. Aspen and pine surround a firepit to the side of the garden.


This is why this garden is lovely. A) Because of lovable little Hoser, Coach, Daddio.  B) It's the untamed slope, meeting the edge of the fields, all teeming with weeds. But his garden path is clear and pure. I love it! It gives me hope that my raspberry patch can be good someday. I threw up my hands when it was surrounded by fields and canals and couldn't keep up.

 When asked why he gardens, my dad just kindof shrugged and said I like to eat corn. Notice the pines and aspen at one end of the garden, with the willow windbreak on the other end. The willows were so thirsty he cut some of them out to help his garden thrive. Oh, and I had to water every damn tree as a punishment for breaking curfew with a boyfriend back in the day. Welcome for the shade everyone. Is anyone reading this? Am I officially making my blog boring? I'm kindof obsessed with gardens right now!


Here lies the major trick with gardening - weed management! Gardens are manageable if you tackle weeds before you start. Compost, manure, tilling - there's lots you can do. So my dad's plot was CLEAN, and his management is EASY. Triangle hoe slices under any seedlings sprouting up. Not many sprouting up because he has a dripline only watering his veggies. Did you know that driplines don't work that well with secondary water? They get clogged up too easily. But when you conserve, you can more readily afford culinary water. That's what's going on here: Driplines with culinary water.

My girlfriend, and The Mister's numero uno secretary is experiencing some stress with a very very sick little boy (and her only son).


So my question is:  Have you bought your shirt yet?

In a movie only a Grandmother could finish, here lies the Olsen kids in 2012.  Tell me with these sights, sounds, you couldn't pretend you were at the beach.  Better yet...ALONE at the beach.

If this shore was 58.6 miles from your home, how often would you go?

On the very northern shore of the big Bear Lake, lies a beach with the swoosh and whir of the ocean tide. The lake is sooo big, the background mountains so perfectly blended into blue sky, the rolling waves so consistent, I told myself "welcome back to the Pacific".

The Mister and I both love the coast. Not in the bikini way mind you. Oregon Coast = perfection (you get my drift: rocks, crashing, calling, exploring).

So since I was fooled, it seemed the perfect test for baby. Does he take after ma n pa?

After watching from afar, I decided I needed to keep the kid from washing away. So I threw off my sneakers, and rushed to the edge with my Tina Fey feet covered in socks.

My life has hit a new low. In my efforts to salvage my pride, I have none. But at least all the Olsen family didn't have to gag, I didn't have to have itchy dry feet, and the baby got to respond to the primal call for ocean.

But watch out, because fruit trees are a delicasse to these goats.

Today I sprayed weeds with a straight vinegar wash (mixed with a touch of dish soap so it clings better).

That means no masks or dangerous chemicals, and hopefully a knock back to the weeds.

Hopefully I'll see some good results in a couple of days.

Saw this yesterday on the farm? What the?

When you crawl out of bed and greet yourself in the bathroom mirror; or get ready to go out and try to look skinnier and prettier than you feel;  or catch a glimpse of yourself in the grocery store's window front and wonder who the raggedy-haired scrounge in front of you is...do you smile? Cringe? Avoid yourself? 


I find myself watching black and white golly-gee-goodness sitcoms and see droves of people coiffed, clean, and respectable.  I audibly suggest people should take more pride in their appearance, all the while being surprised at my own when I venture to the store in my garden jeans and oily braids.


But here's a lesson we got this weekend from the sweet innocence of a baby (not quite a toddler).  The Mister turned the viewer to Giddy, so he caught his own reflection...and registered delight!

How does your reflection register with yourself?