On Tour

We twirled our way through the Nebraska panhandle last week, a road trip coming home from our visit with the relatives. All six of us were packed into John's big black pickup, pillows and coats piled in laps, backpacks under our feet. When it was time to eat, we kept rolling, passing around water bottles and crackers and salmon on bagels. When it was time to sleep, we kept rolling, sharing pillows and blankets and shoulders.

Our panhandle tour took us through the hills and bluffs of Western Nebraska. Did you know there were hills and bluffs in our state?

These internet photos were taken near Scottsbluff.

Travelers on the Oregon Trail used to pass this area on their way west. Their most famous landmark in these parts was Chimney Rock, a lone tower in the bluffs that often had covered wagons parked in its shade.

Times have changed, but travelers still park their vehicles by Chimney Rock, this time to review history, rather than to make it.

We laughed hardest when we got to Carhenge, a structure reminscent of England's Stonehenge. Perhaps you are familiar with Stonehenge, the ancient momument in England, constructed from monolithic boulders, probably around 4200 years ago.

STONEHENGE, Wiltshire County, England                      CARHENGE, Alliance, Nebraska, USA

There's something quite cozy about traveling together, packed into truck with no DVD player. Passing the miles is not all bad, and can be peppered with sweet treasures.

Like listening, really listening, to a daughter pour out her joys and fears about moving to a new place.

Like listening, really listening, to the solo mandolin lick in a bluegrass song, and then singing together when the chorus comes around.

Like listening and laughing together as someone reads out loud several chapters from a Jeeves and Wooster tale. Or having the back seat put up a blanket screen to shield them from the front, and then hearing laughter creep around the screen.

And sometimes, after staying up late and getting up early every day of vacation, and after taking in a few of Nebraska's tourist attractions, even catching up on sleep is not a bad idea as the miles bring you closer to home.

Woods Carry Wood from the Woods

I read in the paper that some people in the city are paying up to $2500 for a "farm" weekend - gather eggs, make bread, toss hay to the cows and horses.

That whole scenario sounds to me a lot like Tom Sawyer charging his friends to whitewash the fence.

If we ever do farm weekends for pay, should we charge extra to gather firewood?

Winter Wonderland

Because you people were so kind yesterday, making many complimentary comments about my photography, I feel that I must once again point to the truth: I am not a great photographer. I am a sorta medium maybe sometimes OK photographer who knows how to use Photoshop Elements.

I know, deep down in my heart of hearts, that my picture editing is much better than my picture taking. I shoot lots and lots and lots of pictures, and throw most of them away. I edit a fourth or a third of the ones I put up on this blog. And, about every hundredth time I click the shutter, I take what I think is a really good picture before editing.

I also know I have an eye that can at least see the shot I want, even if I don't very often capture it with my camera. So then I come to the computer and try to make the image match up to what was in my head in the first place.

When you see the two photos below, both straight out of the camera with no editing, I think you will have to agree that my photography often needs major help. These were both pretty mediocre pictures to begin with. But with a little cyber editing, they capture what is recorded above -- which is what I saw when I ventured into our winter wonderland yesterday morning. Or what I thought I saw. Or what I wished I had seen. Isn't that what art is all about?

If it makes you feel any better, it really was blowing snow in front of the bicycle when I first walked out. I tried to catch the snow drifting sideways past the bike, but if I held the shutter open long enough to record the drift, the photo was overexposed. Before I'd figured out how to deal with that, it stopped snowing. So, when I got inside, I kicked up another little snow flurry, to make it reflect what I saw in the first place.

Thank you for all your kind comments. In all fairness, yesterday's blog photos were not edited, except to crop and lighten. I also intensified the sunset colors in the third one, which the vast expanses of white light washed out when the scene got translated to pixels. Even film photographers crop, and edit, and apply color filters, so I don't really consider that cheating.

Dashing Through the Snow

In a two-horse open sleigh

O'er the fields we go,

Laughing all the way.

A Post About CowgirlE

CowgirlE got a chance to ride a horse and herd cattle again yesterday.

To fend off the cold, she put on an old Carhartt jacket that her dad has abandoned; one that is frayed and stained with oil and diesel fuel. She really wants a Carhartt of her own - new and well-fitting - but yesterday she had to make do with Dad's. I told her that the soil and tears made her look like a genuine working cowgirl, but she wasn't buying.

Perhaps she wants to mix some fashion in with her authenticity.

To a mother's eye, the stains and rips are invisible, covered over by the smile.

What We Miss

When you live in the country, you get a chance to do some pretty special things.

Like mess with animals.

(photo by Rachel)

and work outside with your dad in the beautiful weather.

Or the not-so-beautiful weather.

(photos left and below by Rachel)

But sometimes living in the country means you miss some basic life experiences. Such as getting pizza delivered to your house.

We've NEVER had pizza delivered to our house.

Last weekend while in Colorado, we got to be city slickers.

Here it comes.....

I think the pizza delivery lady was a little befuddled by all the attention. But she was a good sport, so Carolyn gave her a good tip.

Silhouette of Audrey

In honor of the fact that Rachel is making her way west across Iowa at this very moment, and because I happen to be sorting through my photos at the same time, I am posting this shot that Rachel took when she was home in November.

Just because I think it is beautiful, and because it will be nice to have her artistic eye around here again. Georgia's loss is Nebraska's gain.

Behind the Scenes

Well of course the reason we went to Colorado was to see this man marry this woman.

But sometimes what goes on in other quarters is almost as much fun as what happens at the altar.

Like the makeup sisters, helping each other out at the last roaring minute.

And Merrill, always two steps behind the bride, keeping her dress clean,

and the impromptu jam session that took place during the reception. Musicians drifted to the front to sing and play in various combinations.

More sisters, singing a capella.

Father of the bride.

If you ever get a chance to hear Brother Charles belt out "....oh, when the saints".......... don't miss it!

Erica had a job, too.....keep a four-year-old out of trouble. This might have been one of the more difficult contributions to the day's success.

Back at the house, that same happy four-year-old sure wasn't thinking about making a family portrait for posterity.

This family is a good illustration of brown-eye dominance, for all of us homeschoolers. Nonetheless, you couldn't miss the sparkle in Chrisondra's baby blues all weekend.

When it was over, Gary finally quit juggling his many wedding responsibilities, and found some time to entertain his grandson. When are you going to teach that boy to juggle, Gary?

Breakfast Time

Isa 50:7 For the Lord GOD will help me; therefore shall I not be confounded: therefore have I set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed.

These two young horses follow me up and down the fence line while I tend to other animals. If I walk south, they walk south.

When I turn to the north, they're right with me. We could dance like that all morning, but I tire of it before they do.

Ginger's another story. She's the oldest and wisest and bossiest mare in the herd. She stands like a sentry---doesn't even turn her head to look at me----while I feed the other horses. She is focused, and she is focused on alfalfa and on nothing else. She is not planning on taking ONE SINGLE STEP away from her feed tub, thank you very much.

The only way I can get a head-on shot is to reposition myself between her and the target.

See that tub full of the leafy green goods? That's what's on Ginger's mind this morning, and there will be no distracting her. She is a good picture of what is written in Isaiah: "I set my face like a flint."

Isaiah's goal was a bit loftier than Ginger's. His singleminded determination to pursue God profited him greatly. Poor Ginger's constancy doesn't speed up her breakfast the tiniest bit.

Homeschool Huddle

Daddy, pleeeeeeeeeeease could we turn the heat up just a wee bit?

Something Hiding Underneath

Something forever plump and firm above the ground.....
the itch forever of something small but ripening underneath.


Nebraska's poet laurate, William Kloefkorn, wrote that. It's been painted on a wall mural in a nearby town for as long as I've lived here - twenty-four years.

I thought of it again when I took this picture. Is that a promise of spring hiding under all that ice?

Snow!

We're a little short on hills around here.

That's OK - gravity isn't the only thing that can power a sled.

(thanks to Erica for the photos)

Arctic Cat

Wrong Horse

I made a mistake. Well, actually, I've made several recently, but one of the more innocent ones was thinking that I needed a new name for a little filly, "Pride". It turns out instead that her mother, RanSome Honey Bee, needed the new name. And now she has one, (thank you, Rachel). It is...........

KickedSome Head.

Mine.

Purple and green and yellow are pretty colors, but not on my face.

Seems that KickedSome Head doesn't like having her feet cleaned out, which I was doing when she bolted me so quickly that I never felt it. I thought she had just knocked me down by slamming her hips into me. I stumbled to the ground. Even after I righted the ship, I didn't feel anything wrong with my head or know I was wounded until I saw blood on my clothes. Maybe this is why my friends sometimes call me hard-headed???

KickedSome's daughter, "Pride," has a hard head, too. But her attitude is worse than mine; she pins her ears back and flips her legs out whenever she doesn't like what you're doing. I'm wondering what sort of tigers I have by the tail here; I'm wondering if maybe it's time to let go. Rather than needing new names, I'm thinking they need new homes, with someone who has lots of time and patience to work with them, and no kids who might wind up in the line of fire.

But the main thing I'm thinking about is God's mercy.

Saturday's Ice

It used to be that every Saturday morning found Audrey poring over a cookbook, or paging through the glossy photos of a cooking magazine. "Baking day!" she would cheerfully announce.

Then my baker grew up, and took a grown-up job at the vet clinic thirty miles from here. She works Saturday mornings, and she gets up for school or church every other day, so baking day disappeared.

Winter sneaked in this morning around 4:30, coating everything with ice.

The world is too slick to even think about keeping Audrey between the ditches for thirty miles.

Guess what that means!!!???