Keeping the Faith

The friend and I were talking, and we both said we loved to mow lawns.  Something about the never mowing in the same direction, walking in aeration golf boots, getting the right height for the type of grass... all that stuff.  It was a good thing too, since her husband would scalp they're lawn within an inch of it's life, and the Cowman's idea of lawn mowing was to open the gate, run some horses in and close the gate.

My friend had a neighbor with a husband who needed a swather to mow their lawn, if he ever got motivated enough.  So his wife decided she would do the lawn mowing.  She was good at it, but not too up on equipment maintenance. One normal summer day in RB, with the temp around 110, my friend and her hubby were passing the neighbor's yard.  There she stood trying to pull start her old mower.   Yank...Yank...Yank... Nothing, followed by more Yanking and more Nothing.  My friend's husband offered to go home and get their mower.  "No thanks" she said, while staring at her old mower.  Suddenly she bent over, slapped the top of the mower with both hands and shouted at the top of her lungs... "In The Name of Jesus!" The whole neighborhood fell silent.   She calmly yanked the starter rope, the engine fired and off she went to mow...

There are still miracles out there, we just have to keep the faith.

Rock Solid

A friend called today and asked me to come and redesign her office.  She is very kind hearted but a bit of a packrat, I on the other hand, tend toward ranch minimalist.  A member of the "be packed, loaded, and ready to head out by the time the last stock truck is loaded" group.  So why she chose me to do this redesign was a mystery.  Until we walked the space, and I turned to her and asked, "How do You see this space functioning?"  She said, "See, that right there is why I asked you, of all the people I asked for help with this, you are the only one that wants to know what "I" need this space to do."  Oh great, no pressure there.  After four hours of moving heavy furniture, bagging the stuff that needed to go away, and putting a few things in storage, we had a clean neat workable space for her.  I have a few things to place to make it function even better and we will call it good.  She's happy, her man friend is happy, and so I'm happy.

Even a ranch minimalist can have a soft spot. So I told her of the time when moving cowcamp, the Cowman saw a lone box by the door, grabbed it and proceeded to load it in the nose of the stock trailer.  "Jeez, what the hell is in this box?"  The box was plainly marked, but he hadn't seen the label.  I asked him to put it in my truck and I would take care of it. As he loaded it in my pickup he saw the label...  "Box of Rocks".  "So what's really in this box?" he asked.  
"Rocks" I said, "there are three grind stones: two I found on the home ranch, and one I found up on the Sprague.  The others are the heart shaped rocks the grandkids and I have found over the years. They remind me of special people and places."  The Cowman just shook his head and said, "You know, most women collect china, or silver, or jewelry, or shoes, but not you!"  "A Box of Rocks!"  He whistled up the dogs and headed out with a shake of his head...     

The No Show stripper...

 Marymine and I went up to Red Bluff for Dad's 90th Birthday, the end of September. Quite a group showed up, a few relatives, neighbors, and friends, and all of his Thursday Golfing Group.  I do believe he told his golfing buddies there was going to be a stripper. (Wonder where he got that idea?)  They showed up in mass, with big grins of anticipation.  Wasn't happening, but it got them off the course and into Dad's party.

Marymine had not been up to see Dad in a while so he was thrilled to see his oldest grandchild.  He has always called her Indian, as she had long braids and was fearless as a little girl. She in turn calls him Chief.  He introduced her as The Indian, as is his way, to all who had not met her before.  They have a special bond those two.
Gave him his present tucked in a big wrapped box.  While he was glaring over his glasses at me, he had requested no presents, I told him if he didn't want it I could find someone who did...     When he saw that it was the gift certificate for a bi-plane ride, there were tears in that fierce look. He was beyond excited, and thought to go that day.  Whoa, we have to call ahead, and check the weather to make this happen...

Happen it did, a few weeks later the weather was perfect for a morning flight.  Harold flew his bi-plane up to RB and met Dad and I at the airport.  After Dad and Harold talked flying, did an inspection, we put on our leather helmets, wedged the two of us in the front, and took off.  
That's the way to fly: the wind in your face, the smell, the noise, the sense of this is where you were meant to be at this moment.
 
We flew over a lot of places that meant something to one or the other of us. The first big landscape design job I did up in the Bend, Dad's house, a cousin's place, China rapids, the canyon, the river, and the Cowman's family's old home ranch.

After we landed Harold and Dad were still talking flying, when Dad mentioned that he had flown a Travel-Air to SoCal to deliver it for a friend, long ago.  They moved on to talking jets. I think Harold was amazed at the various type of aircraft Dad had piloted.  
Dad was Happy, and that was all I asked for.
We've decided next year it will be flying in a glider... 

 

Veterans Day

Thank You Veterans for your service. 
Very proud of my crew who have and are serving our country:

Dad:  AAF pilot

brother Buzz: USN jet driver

 daughter Mary: USN VP-47

grandson Cody: USN Corpsman (active duty)

Sooner or Later...

Sorry I haven't posted anything in a while, still working on getting moved back to Red Bluff. 

Have a few more trips to make, and the final clean of the old bunkhouse before I can call it good.  This is move #31 for me since I married the Cowman.  I'm talking everything you own moves. My getup and go is lagging... it can't be age related, I'm sure.  
Have always said that Home is carried inside me, this move is testing that to the max.

A few tales of flying, moving, an awesome brother, grandkids, golfing, hunting mules, friends, and the arts are waiting for me to get past the move.  Later...