Beginnings and Endings

           Thinking about this week, thinking about you, thinking about what I’m going to write about, thinking about the pictures I’ve taken for you. Thinking, thinking, thinking. You, you, you.

          I hardly ever know what I’m going to write about until I start writing. Sometimes I’m actually surprised as a story unfolds and comes together. Last week’s letter blog is a good example as Raini’s antics took center stage when I hadn’t known what I was going to write about. I could tell you that sometimes it’s good to have no preconceived notions. I could tell you I fly by the seat of my pants. I could make light of it and say, “That’s my jam!” But honestly, truthfully, when the perfect word flashes in my mind, when a story pours from my fingertips, I know where it’s coming from! I’m compelled to give credit where credit is due. I take a moment to sit back and thank God. I know that He’s given me the heart to do this week after week, month after month, year after year. If I was this tenacious on my own, I’d be skinny!

          The pictures I take at the beginning of the week are long forgotten by the time Saturday rolls around. The ones I take at the end of the week are fresher in my mind. I don’t remember all the pictures I’ve taken this week but this I know. I took pictures of yesterday’s sunrise and I took pictures of last night’s sunset.

          I could start my letter blog with a sunrise and cap it with a sunset, I think.

          I was reminded of a line from the movie Hope Floats.

          “Beginnings are usually scary, endings are usually sad, but it's what's in the middle that counts. So when you find yourself at the beginning, just give hope a chance to float up. And it will.” — Steven Rogers

          Beginnings and endings. Hey! That can be the title! I think.

          And so it is.

          I know how I’m going to start this week’s letter blog, with a sunrise shot, and I know how I’m going to end. As for the middle part, we’ll have to wait and see.

          Most mornings I eat breakfast at my desk as I scroll through email and Facebook. Most mornings my back is to the door and the sun comes up without me even seeing it. So I miss it — and have been missing it! — if we have a colorful sunrise.

          Most mornings, Mike’s had breakfast before I’ve left my cozy warm nest. Either that or he eats while I tap out the morning’s love note to my peeps. Peeps, that’s short for people, in case you didn’t know. It’s often used to refer informally to the group of people who are someone's friends, colleagues, followers, family members, etc., says Google.

          Friday morning, my handsome mountain man poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat at the table. I’d already fed the cats and decided to pour myself a bowl of cereal and have breakfast with him. That’s how I came to be facing the door when the sky started to lighten and notice the colors starting to appear.

          I left my Cinnamon Toast Crunch to swim in his bowl of cold milk, grabbed my camera and took a few shots.

          It’s been a while, I know, since I’ve shared a sunrise with you.

          This picture was taken after the door picture. It depends on where my camera focuses as to what colors it picks up, that’s why the difference.

>>>*<<<

          Art came to visit us.

          “Who’s Art?” you ask.

          Art is one of the guys who has a share in the hunters’ cabin at the bottom of the hill. He’s taken a shine to us and likes to stop and visit. Art doesn’t hear well but refuses to get hearing aids. “I don’t like things stuck in my ear!” he told me.

          We don’t get a lot of visitors so the girls tend to be a little exuberant, to put it mildly. Bondi loves Art and wants to be in his lap for almost the whole time he’s here. Raini jumps all over him, trying to get in his lap and displace Bondi. Bondi growls. She doesn’t want to share.

          Art doesn’t mind being swarmed by the dogs and Raini usually settles down after a few minutes. Then Bondi gets Art all to herself.

          “You should go up and check out the new wells they’re drilling,” Art told us.

          “Are the gates open?” Mike asked, repeating it three times before his question was understood.

          “Yeah. They leave it open all the time while they’re drilling.”

          The next day we did take the golf cart out and rode up to the well pad.

          A Pileated Woodpecker flew across the road in front of us and landed in a tree on the other side. I was excited. I hardly ever see one of these guys and got my camera up and snapping away as quick as I could. Unfortunately, this is the best shot I got.

          One lone tree growing out the side of the rocky well pad.

            Tanks sit just inside the drive to the well pad. “I wonder what those are for?” Mike said.

We went on up the hill, past the entrance, looking for a better vantage point.

          “They’ll go down about a hundred fifty feet with these before they bring the towers in,” Mike told me. 

We sat and watched for ten minutes or so, then, head for home. We’d gotten just past the tanks when we hear metal banging and see dust rising. Once the auger was clear, the operator swung the drill around and sank it back into the hole he was drilling.

We sat there for another ten or fifteen minutes. I wanted to see him clear the auger again.

          A white truck pulls in and just sits there. 

          We are on a road private, with permission, outside the well site so I don’t think we were trespassing in any way. We didn’t know if the guy (or gal) in the truck stopped because of us or maybe he (or she) just got a phone call.

Since Mike loves to watch at worksites, he thought they might be someone else come to sidewalk supervise. I thought it was probably someone associated with the jobsite.

          When I saw the auger coming back up, I turned on my video recorder and took a three-minute video.

          Going back down to the road, I snapped a picture of two hunting stands at the edge of the fields. 

          One of our neighbors from across the hill, Randy Walker, was baling the field next to our house. Mike had gone to check the mail and stopped to visit with him. “Randy’s putting an addition on his barn and said I should come out and see it,” Mike told me when he came in.

          We had such a beautiful fall day the day we decided to do that and even though peak color was supposed to have been a week ago, I think the colors were even more beautiful this day. Every turn of the road gave us a new view of the colors here on our beautiful mountain. This is a pictural tour of the road between our house and the Walker Farm. 

          Looking back toward the well site from the game lands you can see the rigs. 

          “Look at those colors!” Mike exclaimed.

          Bondi looked.

          You can see the compressor station in the trees. 

          And above the trees.

         The Walker Farm spread out before us. 

         The addition comes into view.

          “I don’t think that’s Randy up there,” Mike said. “Is it?”

          “I dunno,” I could honestly say.

          We’re going past the barn and I see a cow. “I don’t think there’s any fence there,” I told Mike as I snapped a picture. There’s a cat in the picture, too, but you might have to look a little to find him.

          “There’s Randy,” Mike said as we see a figure down by the cow gate. “What’s he doing down there?”

          It’s not like Randy can’t be any where he wants to be but to see him out without a piece of equipment nearby startled us.

          “Maybe he ran out of gas?” I guess. The thought that Randy could be out walking for exercise or enjoyment didn’t cross our minds as Randy is the hardest working man you’ll ever meet.

          We pulled in to chat with him.

          “I was just out checking the cows,” Randy said with a smile on his handsome face. Like checking cows was the best job in world. “All of these are bred and I wanted to make sure none of them were down.”

          The cows came up to the fence to check us out and Raini, being a cattle dog, was enamored with them. She never barked, but she couldn’t take her eyes off them.

          “There’s a good shot,” Randy said and I turned the camera to one of the few remaining longhorns that Randy has.

          “He’s got a seventy-two-inch spread.”

          “That’s six foot,” Mike informed me. Then he turned to Randy. “Do you have any trouble keeping him in?”

          “Not yet,” Randy said. “We’ve got him and one more over there.”

          I didn’t have any problem spotting the two longhorns.

          “What happened to all the longhorns he had?” I know you wanna know.

          “Once they get out, you can’t keep ‘em in,” Randy told Mike and Mike told me. They were getting out so they sold them off.

          I heard some grunts and thought it was one of the cows, maybe going into labor.

          “Nah,” Randy said. “It’s that bull in the other yard.”

          “What’s wrong with him?” I asked.

          “He wants to be over here with these cows. His job is to take care of the girls up at the barn and the longhorn is supposed to take care of these.”

          As we watched the longhorn went to the fence and faced off with the other bull.

          “Holy cow!” I exclaimed as the bull pushed through the wire. “What happens if he gets over here?”

          Randy scrubbed his chin. “Well, now, I don’t know. But I’m not getting in the middle of that.” He paused, considering. “I’m afraid one of ‘ems gonna get gored.”

          Hmm, I wonder which one that’ll be!

          Randy checked his watch. “We milk at one. It’s ten of, I’d better get up to the barn.” He started to head that way, climbed the fence, and with a twinkle in his eye, said, “Watch this.” 

        Randy scuffed the ground with his foot. 

        The bull grunted and pawed the ground, dirt flying, but he didn’t charge.

          I laughed. For one thing, it was funny seeing the bull imitate Randy. And for another thing, I had the impression this isn’t the first time Randy’s done this and I trusted he knew what he was doing.

          We went on down the road and I took more pictures.

          Coming up back past the Walkers', we see the bulls are still at it. We watched for a little while, waiting for that bull to get through the fence.

          I asked the next day, but Jenny, Randy’s wife, didn’t think he’d gotten through.

          Our pretty little creek from the lower bridge.

          We were abreast a hawk when he broke. I was so busy gawking it took me a few seconds to think about getting a picture. By then it was too late.

          I wasn’t too late to capture a picture of the rare and elusive orange and black Aged American Dad.

          Okay! Okay! It’s really that handsome Lamar Kipp out for a run on this fabulous fall day.

          Around the Luby house, Mike finished up a little job that had been nagging him for a while.

          “What’s that?” you ask.

          Mike went to work putting the rest of the batten strips up on the patio enclosure while I did my own thing. Namely, sanding down a bunch of sign boards while the weather was nice enough to be outside.

This guy thought it was nice enough to be out, too. When I picked up one of my boards I found this handsome Jumping Spider.

“You can’t use those words together,” my beautiful mother would say. She didn’t like spiders.

          Once I finished sanding, I went to help Mike. He didn’t really need my help but I know he likes it when I help. It makes it easier for him if I hand him tools or fetch something if he needs it. I’m also supposed to help him not screw up.

          That’s where I failed. I try to keep track of the little stuff but I wasn’t even trying this day. I didn’t think I had to. It seemed like Mike had a system worked out. Mark the angle with his adjustable angle finder set for the angle of the roof, measure the length, cut. Easy, breezy, lemon squeezy.

          “Hand me that short piece over there,” Mike said pointing from where he was standing on the ladder.

          I did.

          He held it up to where the purlin comes through the wall, marked it, and put a big X on the part he wanted to cut out.

          Did he cut the part with the big X off?

          NO! He cut the wrong side off and because of the angle you can’t just flip it over.

          I grinned. “The Do-It-Again Lubys!”

          Mike was not amused.

          He got back up on the ladder, marked a new piece for width and depth, put an X on the part to be cut off.

          Did he cut the part with the X off?

          NO!

          This time I laughed right out loud.

          “I have to get a picture of this!” I said.

          “NO!”

          We cut it twice and it was still wrong. I found it so amusing I couldn’t stop laughing. Eventually I convinced Mike to let me take a picture. He hates when he fails, but I convince him he’s only human and everyone fails sometimes.

          Speaking of giving credit where credit is due, I want to give credit to my beautiful old friend Trish. She’s the one that taught me to laugh at the little stuff. She’d find humor in the oddest things, well, to me odd. But as I laughed at this silly mistake, I thought of her. She would’ve found it funny, too.

          Third time's a charm, and Mike nailed it in place.

          We finished and went in to make lunch. I was surprised to see Raini and Bondi trying to occupy the same space.

          “Raini looks like she could get on the table,” you say.

          She could. And she has. But after being scolded a few times, she hasn’t tried it since. Raini does like to lay in this chair though and watch out the door. I think she thinks it’s her chair and she doesn’t really want Bondi in it.

          Putzing around, getting lunch on, I asked Mike for a favor. “I know you’re going to think that I came out and helped you just because I want you to do me a favor,” I started.

          “Oh boy! Here it comes!” he said.

          I grinned. “Nope. I’d ask you anyway even if I didn’t help you.”

          “What?”

          “Will you cut a board for me?”

          Mike would do just about anything for me. After lunch I marked my board and took it out on the patio where Mike made the cuts. I could’ve probably done it myself, but why should I deprive him? Besides, now he can say he helped.

          “What are you making?” you wanna know.

          I’m so glad you asked! I’m making a reversable KEEP OUT/WELCOME sign.

          All week long, I was keeping my peeps up to date on the progress of this sign. I don’t usually do that. I usually make them wait and see it when the rest of you see it, but I was looking for feedback.

          “I don’t know whether to use red or white for the letters,” I told them. “I’m thinking white because as dark as my board is, I’m not sure red will give me enough contrast.”

          I sent them a picture so they could see how dark my wood was.

          Then I looked at my pants.

          Hmmm. I should’ve put my paint clothes on? I bet it won’t come out of my jeans but maybe they’ll look cool anyway.

          Of all the people I sent the note to, only two replied. Both said red, like creepy blood!

          I’m working on the sign and not happy with it. So, what do I do? I add more color. White highlights, namely. That still wasn’t doing it for me so I added black highlights to the white and outlined it in black. Now I was getting happier — and a little too proud maybe?

          I’m getting really good at outlining, I think. I don’t mess up nearly as often as I did when I first started making signs. And I took a picture to show you the difference the outline makes.

          I finished and sent a picture to my peeps. “What do you think? I asked.

          Lorraine. She’s my cousin. She cracks me up. “Maybe you could outline it?” she suggests. “Make it stand out a little more.”

          I grin and in a weird sort of way, I’m pleased. My lines are so thin and so neat they blend in. Thinking about it, I’m guessing she was looking at it on the small screen of a phone. I pulled my phone out, pulled up the picture and looked. Yep. You can’t really tell it’s outlined.

          “Do you use paint or a Sharpie?” you wanna know.

          I know, right! Lorraine wanted to know that, too. It’s paint all the way, baby!

          I guess I could make the lines fatter but I can’t bring myself to do that.

          I know my picture makes the color look more orange than red but the label on the bottle named it Bright Red.

          Speaking of Lorraine, she sent us a picture of her new glasses. Look at that beautiful face, would ya!

          And I grin. I got new glasses, too!

          “Peg! Didn’t you just get your eyes done?” you ask.

          Yep. I did. But I like wearing glasses. I think they make my face more interesting. Besides, my face feels naked when I go out without them.

          On a recent shopping trip, I found a pair of clear glasses that have no magnification, only blue light blockers. So here’s me with my new glasses!

          Lorraine also sent us teasers about her Halloween costume before she sent the pictures.

“I'm working on a thunder cloud costume for the Rotary Halloween party. No sewing required. Amazing that I got all the supplies in Boquete. I went to several different stores but at least I got everything I need. I even found battery operated lights for the cloud part and the lightning bolt. But I'm not going to use them. I put the AA batteries in and turned them on and it was so cool that they could flash or be constantly on. Well in a short time the battery pack got hot and melted the on /off switch!!! Could you imagine the disaster if my costume caught on fire!!!?”

Isn’t it fabulous!

Can you guess who won the Rotary Halloween party?

If you said Lorraine, you would be right!

“Someone picked the top five, and then the attendees chose the winner by who got the most applause. Throughout the evening I did get a lot of compliments on my cloud costume. When the announcer got to me, a lot of them actually stood up and applauded!” she told us.

“Peg, I don’t see a lightning bolt,” you say.

Oh, yeah, right. Her handsome husband Mark is the lightning bolt.

>>>*<<<

We needed to run to town for milk.

LOL!

“Peg, why are you laughing about that?” you ask.

Sorry. I wrote milk and it reminded me of something funny, but we’ll get to that.

So. We needed milk.

          “We should try to take Raini with us,” I told Mike. It was one of those tips I saw while reading up on Blue Heelers. “She’s stuck here at home all the time. It would be good for her to go on short car rides.”

          “She gets car sick,” Mike reminded me.

          “I know, but maybe if we take her on short rides, she’ll get used to it.”

          We loaded up the dogs and off we went. Raini’s only been in the car a few times and she was anxious this time, going from one seat in the back to the other.

          “No wonder,” I told Mike. “Every other time she’s been in the car she went to the vet.”

          The colors as we get into town.

          The new park sign. 

          The blazing red of the ornamental pear trees that line the street in front of the shopping center.

          Raini didn’t get sick until we were on our way home, halfway up Welles Mountain.

          Luckily, Raini knows to go to the floor when she feels sick and we have those rubber floor mats so it wasn’t a hardship to clean up.

          At home I Googled it. It said most dogs will outgrow car sickness by the time they’re a year old.

          We had frost! Denver got snow before we did and that makes me chuckle.

          “I hate snow,” my cute little redhaired sister says and moved to Denver.

          I went out and took pictures for you.

          Our pear trees as I go up to the upper barn. On the lower left of the picture you’ll see my patch of fluffed out milkweed.

          Keep that in mind. 

          At the milkweed patch is where I spent a lot of time. The colors! The light! I took more than sixty pictures! 

          I made this No Peek Beef Tips for the second, no third time. Mike really likes it, and so do I. We have it over mashed potatoes, but it would be good over noodles, too.

          I make mine in a nine-inch square pan because I use one tri tip and that’s not enough to fill a nine by thirteen pan. We still get two meals each from it.

          You could convert the recipe for a slow cooker if you wanted to start it before you went to work.

          I was washing my pan, up to my elbows in warm soapy water, when I remembered this is the pan I use when I make Aunt B’s lemon bar recipe.

          Lemon bars would be good, I think. Then I think of that feisty redheaded neighbor of mine, my Miss Rosie. She loves lemon and she loves this lemon bar recipe as much as I do. It’s the best!

          Lemon reminds me of another beautiful lady. Lorraine’s sister, Rosemary. She makes the best ever lemon meringue pies! I don’t think her secret is a secret, just a little trick to bring out the lemon and make it taste so fresh. She adds lime juice. If it’s a secret and I’m not supposed to tell you, then forget I told you, okay?

          I’m going to try that in my lemon bars, I think. I make the bars and take some to the Kipps.

          “Mmmmm,” Miss Rosie says after taking a bite. “I don’t think I could tell there was lime in there if you hadn’t’ve told me.”

          “I couldn’t taste it while I was eating it,” Lamar said. “But it sorta blooms on the tongue afterward.”

          “Blooms, Peg? Really?”

          Okay! Okay! Maybe not his exact words, but that’s what he said.

          Mike and Lamar started talking about something that didn’t interest me. I spotted some of Miss Rosie’s fall decorations and got up to take a picture.

         Changing decorations for the seasons is a tradition in the Kipp household and I knew that changeover had recently taken place. I started wandering around, taking in all the beautiful things.

          Mike noticed. “Stop being so nosy!” he hissed.

          “Why! Miss Rosie doesn’t care!”

          “No,” she said pushing up from the table. “I don’t care.”

          “Besides,” I added, “what good is it to decorate if no one comes in to appreciate it?” Then I got a tour of the house. It is such a warm, comforting, inviting home. Almost as warm, comforting, and inviting as the Kipps themselves. I love them!

          “You didn’t tell us why milk made you laugh,” you say.

          Right. I didn’t did I? Thanks for the reminder.

          Mike always saves part of his cereal for Raini.

          Yesterday Bondi got the milk and little bit of cereal. “Poor Raini,” Mike says.

          Sometimes, when I’m pouring milk for something, I’ll give Raini a little. “You could put a little in her dish for her,” I point out.

          I’m on the computer, doing I don’t know what, when I hear the fridge open. I knew Mike was getting her a little milk. Then, much to my amazement, I hear the crinkle and shake of a cereal box. I laughed and grabbed my camera, forever preserving this moment in the annals of history. That mean ole grumpy mountain man of mine has a heart of gold.

          “You made her cereal!” I was incredulous.

          “What‽ Don’t take my picture!” he says.

          We don’t spoil our dogs.         

          With that, and a sunset picture for an endcap, let’s call this one done!