Hope for Navigating Life | Help for Navigating Yellowstone
Warning Signs
Some summers my nephew and niece visit us. The kids picnic and put on puppet shows; they fish and swim and sleep outside and get bit up. They stay busy--all on their own--and they love it. One year, my daughter was recovering from a cracked elbow. She had a doctor’s...
Soundtrack of Summer
I planned to watch this year. Maybe it was lack of competition from central air units, but this summer's been all about sound. Here's a baker's dozen of my favorites: "Goin' out!" followed by the banging of a door Frogs. Oh, how I love their way of filling the air...
Silver Linings
I wrote this last winter but I couldn't bear to post one more piece about snow. Winter had been too long and too deep. Summer always brings a day, usually in August, when I step outdoors and know that I will again be ready for snow. This is not that day. This...
Together
At 7:30 on a drowsy vacation morning, our daughter burst breathlessly into our room: Our neighbor's boat was sinking. My family was spending the week at Campfire Bay Resort where for the last five Julys my parents gathered the whole tribe-- my brother and his wife and...
Introductions
Several years ago I heard a report which correlated time spent online with loneliness. That was back in the days when I used my computer only for word processing and the occasional email. Then, slowly, along came Google. Facebook. The fascinating and beautiful world...
The Single Seat
During the first months of the year, a friend and I directed a play together: Outlaws, Goldmines, and Whatnot. On performance day, I realized that our directing work was done. Oh, we had makeup to help with, questions to answer, and I gave what one of the boys called...
What Made Her Sparkle
My great-grandma was a woman of summer. She kept a garden and her table overflowed with its bounty. She picked berries for jam and to top ice cream. Once in a while, I helped her in the berry patch or the garden and it always shocked me when she showed up in pants....
In The Silence
Morning is quiet again. Sort of. The distant whine is gone and when I step out on my deck, birds are all I hear. The cicadas started early this summer--not the usual ones, not the dog day ones, not the ones that make me sad. These were the Magicicada Brood III, the...
Broken Bits
I will not be posting during June. Of the months of summer, it is June when my children are least busy and I want to put aside the distraction of the internet for that month. Between now and then, whether we--you and I--find ourselves at the ball field or the office,...
Sometimes the Road is Dark
We don’t always get it right out on the trail. We knew it would be close. Still, we hopped out at the picnic area, grabbed a late lunch, and prepared to hit the trail to Harney Peak, the highest point in the Black Hills. My husband filled our camel paks while I...
Gifts of Spring
Bird song mingled with the rumbles of highway trucks. The force of green marching through the woods toward the house. Pastures dotted with red and black cattle and frolicsome calves on the hills. The sound of a sudden rain--the kind that starts out like it means...
The Quiet Walk
There is more to a hike than a pair of boots, a granola bar, and the trail. There's technique. At least that’s what they taught in the hiking class I took to satisfy a college P.E. requirement. I was slow to come to a love of hiking and didn't yet have it when my...
The Road Ahead: May
Sometimes it's the road behind that illuminates the way forward. A year ago we had a rare May snow. It was wet and heavy and didn't stick around. It couldn't. Our orbit around the Sun was too deep into the warmth of spring. So far, this spring is cold. It could snow...
Yeah, Little Girl, It Is
This is a revised version of one of my first and favorite posts. I'm revisiting it today because when it originally posted, Along This Road had all of five subscribers. (Thank you, by the way.) It's different from the original because I've learned that no matter what...
After the Rain
It was hot when we arrived in Montana. Ninety degrees hot. In October. After sweltering for a couple of days, we drove toward Yellowstone over the Beartooth Highway, where the balmy morning temperatures plummeted into winter, one degree at a time. By the time we made...
The Road Ahead: April
Sometimes the road curves. Some are gentle, bends visible from a long way off. Others stop my heart when their convoluted curve-ahead sign pops into view as I cruise along, a distracted driver relying too heavily on auto-pilot. Three mornings into April, the road...
Slow Saturday Mornings
When my oldest two were four and seven and I was pregnant with the youngest, we went to Yellowstone. It was May. Deep snow lined the roads through the high mountain passes even while the sun made long sleeves unbearable. Because I'm into conversation, every night I...
Falling Down In Denver
Occasionally my husband's job requires him to travel. Once in a while, I tag along. He works while I spend silent hours with books. Our trip to Denver was different. He worked and I discovered HGTV. Forlorn and neglected, my books sat in a tidy stack on the bedside...
The Wrong Things
In their quest to unearth my son's Star Wars chess set, my kids discovered a bundle of cards and letters I'd saved--drawings and cards they had given me, cards from my husband, and a letter from my dad. It was twenty-five years old, written during the early days of...
Lifelong Learning: Compelled
When we drove away from Yellowstone earlier this month, we went only as far as we could get in an hour and stopped for a couple of days at a resort famous for its thermally fed, all-season, outdoor pool. We expected to relax with our bodies submerged in the...
An Uncomfortable Question
We dragged ourselves into Yellowstone's Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel according to plan, just after midnight Sunday morning. We'd driven twenty hours and that last one was hard. We were all road-weary and my husband, who had driven most of the way, was done. I took the...
Winter’s Question
Of Earth's four seasons, Iowa wears them all. Each has its own look, its own color, its own mood; and each its own job. Winter drives the birds south and the people indoors and the renewal of spring invites them back. Summer's heat grows the corn and the crisp days of...
Immeasurable
Linking this weekend with Still Saturday and The Sunday Community.
More
Twenty Januarys ago, the flat monotony of I-80 delivered us to the foothills of the Wasatch Range of the Utah Rockies and the threshold of the Big Cottonwood Canyon. As Dad eased to a stop at the intersection leading to the canyon road, we saw a disheartening sign...
Ponder the path of your feet; then all your ways will be sure. Proverbs 4:26
