I'm so lucky.

I have a sister. She is my only sister and the only real complaint that I have about her is that she's seven years younger than me. I really think that my mother and father should have made more of an effort to put LESS space between us, but that's kind of water under the bridge now. They waited for me to ask them for a sister before they made one for me. Then she appeared, out of nowhere. Imagine.
Everything was fine until I hit... oh, about 50. Before middle age ( Yes, I might live to be 100 the way things are going.) I kind of had the upper hand with Sis. She was my "little" sister and she was quite helpful when she wasn't being a nuisance and telling Mom that I did something that I didn't.
Most of the time she looked up to me. It was a good arrangement.
Somewhere around that half way point, she started changing. Kind of like her front porch on Halloween night
She went from this...

To this...

She toughened up. She, somehow, became an equal. She grew up.  I couldn't kick her, under the table, anymore. ( She knows what I mean by this.)
I'm not sure what happen, but we've kind of had a role reversal. Now, she is the "older", saner, introspective person who makes me look at things with a more rounded perspective.
I, on the other hand, have gotten more opinionated, grumpy and I tend to let my inner Sagittarius come out... way too often.
My sister is a kind, liberal minded (and I mean this in a good way) person who loves me and puts up with my conservative attitudes, my cowgirl shirts and my inability to understand a situation when I think I have the answer. She has become this tolerant person who accepts the fact that people are sometimes crazy and you can still love them.

When I call and say that I'm coming down to visit, (That includes Sis and her family, my sons, my Beans and anyone else I happen to visit while I'm there.) I always get a "Wonderful... when?" I have a place to stay, a comfortable bed, a private bathroom (that's huge.) and special little things that she leaves on the dresser, like pictures of the Beans, two little Corgi statues and a wonderful new magazine... or some flowers. She includes me for dinner as if I was just part of the family... as if I'm always there. He hubs and her youngest son, Ben, are always glad to see me too. They are comfortable with my being there and even though I come and go a lot, I always find a warm reception when I return.

This post is just to say Thank you, Sis. I'm so lucky to have a sister like you and your generosity has not gone unnoticed... even when you make your point about something I don't want to hear... even when you stand in from of me and ask me if I cut my own hair again... and even when you go on a diet and lose more weight than me. I love you.
Thanks for the Persimmons.

From that beautiful Persimmon tree.

Thank you for being such a good mother. I don't think you give yourself enough credit.
Thanks for helping me and being there, when the sadness was overwhelming, and we lost the two most important people in our lives. Mom and Dad would be so proud of us. They always were.
Thank you for trying to understand why I have a hard time committing to other human beings. You've made me more aware of why I seem to let go of some people so easily and why I feel so trapped other times.
And, finally, for being the best shoe shopping, Ikea hopping, vegetable wrap at McDonald's, driving Ms, Daisy, Sister anyone could ever have.
I may have had to plead with mom and dad when I was seven... and there were moments when I wanted to send you back... but, all in all, it was, and is, a wonderful thing. I'm glad they "brought you forth". I'm glad that you are here and that I have an "older" sister to keep me in line... oh, wait... I'm the older sister. That's right.
I love you, sis.

Revisiting a favorite poem

"This morning I watched the deer...

with beautiful lips touching the tips of the cranberries, setting their hooves down
in the dampness carelessly, isn't it after all
the carpet of their house, their home, whose roof
is the sky?

 Why, then, was I suddenly miserable?

 Well, this is nothing much.
this is the heaviness of the body watching the swallows
gliding just under that roof.

This is the wish that the deer would not lift their heads
and leap away, leaving me there alone.
This is the wish to touch their faces, their brown wrists
to sing some sparkling poem into
the folds of their ears,

then walk with them,
over the hills
and over the hills

and into the impossible trees."

I love this Mary Oliver poem and always wish that I could "...walk with them, over the hills..."
Does anyone else feel like this? 

Wordless Wednesday: Saturday Soccer Games

Time Traveling on a dark and spooky night

Thursday night was filled with anticipation. I arrived at the Bean's house in time to walk down to their school with my daughter in law, Robbin. There was a crazy thrill in the air. Children were running everywhere.
My Beans could only talk about Halloween and what they were going to do.

The monsters were lying in wait.

We did other things, but the anticipation of the coming night activities were looming.
We carved Jack-O-Lanterns...

the new improved way... with an attachment for the Ryobi, that made a quick job of the pumpkin debree.
Then we carved the pumpkins.
 I started transforming the squash, which went from this...

...to this, faster than you can say "Happy Halloween."

Which took on an errie presence as the night turned to dark.

And another little pumpkin was waiting on the lawn...

 along with a "little pumpkin" waiting patiently, at the door, for darkness.

The Beans were Delta Force Army Rangers this year. It was the first year they had decided to wear the same costume.

Very cool uniforms. Big Bean looked really good in this uniform as he set his Halloween blinker bracelet in motion.
Little Bean had to roll up the sleeves and cuffs on his outfit... but he wore the uniform with pride.

 They were ready for any counter terrorism that might happen on their street... as long as they had their candy bags with them.They were ready for combat.
The darkness came... and so did the creepy fog.

How many nights, in my childhood, did I venture out onto this same street to knock on doors and ask the magical words, "Trick or treat?"
 This home was my home. This street has my memories floating on its air and it breaths names. There are ghosts here... real ones. I see them... even when others don't. The Cantrell's, Hansen's, the Tieman's, the Woyteck's... I see all the kids, with names I remember so well... Tom, Bob, Barry, Dawn, Jimmy, Sandra, Anne, Donna... running down the street on Halloween night. Then, the lawns were new and fewer leaves fell from the Sycamore Trees that were planted in 1950. I see the same curbs and wide streets that we followed from one house to the next.
It was a good place to grow up.
It is a good place for my grandchilden to grow up.

There's a  pirate ship out in front of the house that, for the third year, beckons the children and a machine behind it that makes the fog that fills the street, that waits for the little ones in their fearless pursuit of goodies and their wonderful costumes.
There is a lady giving out candy on the porch with me, but it's my daughter in law... now.

A blurred image of what could be my mother sitting there. The same dark hair... the same lovely smile.
Is this the same ivy growing under the bedroom window?  Has it really been so many years? Is this the same concrete porch, the same brick and shingle siding?
Do you know how happy it makes my heart to know that our son and his family live here, now?

Hey, funny face, do you know how happy it makes your Noni that you live in my old house?
It's your house now.
I hope you build memories that will someday float down the street with mine... holding hands and talking about the good old days when we waited for darkness and goblins ruled.

Wordless Wednesday: Leaving home for Halloween

Leaving today to spend Halloween with the Beans. Be back Sunday.

Returning to Pinecrest Lake and memories of Summer.

This is where the Prospector and I went on Thursday. We drove south on highway 49, then east on highway 108. Pinecrest is 30 miles east of Sonora, at about 5600 ft elevation.

This is where I came, this summer, to camp with our boys, daughter in law and the Beans (our grandchildren).
The water level is much lower than it was when I came in August.  You can see the huge boulders

and old dead trees that folks swim and boat over in the summer.

Now the bottom of the lake is exposed and the people are gone. 
It is quiet and beautiful.

This is the hiking trail we climbed up to the dam on, this summer. Hardly any people walking on the trails now. Just a man in a Kayak on the water below.

The campground is closed and empty. We walked C loop to the site that our family filled with tents and camping things a few months ago. Remember the posts on my experience as an old lady camper? Here's one.
The site is empty now.

Seemed so different without people, activity and children running around.
 The autumn leaves were in abundance.

 It was peaceful, quiet and even the animals seemed to be gone. No ground squirrels, no raccoons... I think they come because people are here... and food.

How different a place can look within such a short amount of time.

We went down to the water and the Prospector fished for a while. I took my tripod and camera and walked about taking photos and resting on old logs. The fishing was not very good and we probably didn't stay long enough to give the fish a chance to taste the power bait... or Paulski's... or whatever it is that attracts their attention. I don't fish so I don't pay attention to the critical aspects of catching them. But my ol' fisherman does.

 He only caught one fish and fried it for breakfast the next day. The fish were not jumping that day and are all safe in the bottom of the lake.
We drove to Strawberry for lunch. This is on the south fork of the Stanislaus River and a way over the Sierra Nevada mountains. This is called Sonora Pass.
Strawberry is a very small community of people. There are 86 people who live here year round. It's beautiful... I can see why they live here, but this is a rough winter area and they are hardy folks.

 I slept here once,

  on the open ground

 for the first time... just after we were married. Those were in the days when I didn't care if a spider crawled over me (I guess.) or a bear got curious about us laying on the ground in a sleeping bag. I was young, unaware of the consequences of sleeping in the wild and kind of a half-baked flower child ...  but it was fun. Now... you wouldn't catch me dead sleeping ON THE GROUND... without, at least, a tent around me.
I guess, somewhere along the way, I grew up. Darn...

We ate lunch and headed home. The traffic through Sonora was a nightmare. They are building a bypass but this has been an ongoing project since as long as I can remember and still, downtown Sonora is bumper to bumper traffic.
 Pretty town...

Just no way around it. No way to go south accept through it, unless you want to go west to Jamestown and take some country roads over to Columbia. But... I need to bring my sister and come for the day because this town has got some great stores... and looks like a fun place to SHOP.
We drove home, past Mark Twain's cabin, New Molones Reservoir, the towns of Angel's Camp, San Andreas, Mokelumne Hill and down into Jackson. Home again. This was a wonderful day's ride for the two of us. Next time we will take the dogs and stay longer.

Bu the way... I have to tell the Beans that we saw Big Bird's foot prints on the beach at the edge of the lake. They had to be his because they were huge next to the puppy prints. We looked around, but we didn't see him. He's quite yellow you know. I'm sure we would have seen him if he was there... but maybe he was walking around in the campground, looking for some kids to play with and we just missed him.

Guess where we went yesterday?... and something in the mail when we got home.

I can't write a long post today. Have to do some things I should have done yesterday but didn't, because the Prospector and I took a drive.
It involved fishing.

and hopes for a limit of fish for dinner.

A day of sitting in the sun.

and taking lots of photos that sparkled in the Autumn sun.

But the story will have to wait until I have an early start and some time to organize some shots from my camera.

When we got home there was a small package in the mail. My handmade winter hat came from Amity, Oregon. It happen like this.
 A woman named Michelle writes a blog called Boulderneigh. It's about her homeschooling, horse training, animal loving, garden growing farm, her Shetland sheep and her love of spinning and knitting.You have to take a look because, first of all, you are going to love her blog header photo. This is the all time greatest sheep photo I think I have ever seen... and you will never see such beautiful sheep with names and personalities on any other blog.
Anyway, I read this post... a week ago, and fell in love with the little hat that nobody wanted. So I wrote in my comment that I loved the little hat and if she wanted to sell it to me... I would buy it.
She wrote back and said to make her an offer. I did. She said "Yes", and she promptly sent me the lovely hat.

It's beautiful, very well made...

And... it fits.

I can wear it like this to hold my hair back or I can pull it down over my ears for my hikes on cold, windy days and working in the garden.
(The color is really different in the last photo because I took the hat into the bathroom with different light and forgot to change my white balance setting from sunlight to incandescent. Oops!)
The hat is charming, made well and I just love it.
Since I still have socks on my knitting "bucket list" I think I will take "knit cap", off ,because my attempt would never look this good... so why would I even try. Socks will be a big enough effort.
The hat is washable and the most beautiful blue... It doesn't have the wool from one of Michelle's sheep in it, or their name attached, but I love it anyway.  
Thanks Michelle, the little hat has a loving, new home and will be well used.