Losses and Gains, part II

The week of Dad's memorial service had many bright spots, namely the gathering of the clan. Well, most of us anyway. Kiley and Vivian were missed, but we get to see them at Christmas.


I'll admit, it's strange to look at a family photo with the patriarch missing; pretending that he's behind the camera works for the first few seconds then the reality squeezes in. I know this is part of the adjustment process but that doesn't mean it's welcome.

Having Ty and Caroline, and Bruce too, was a sweet bonus. I know well the feeling of separation that happens when you live across an ocean and there's a family crisis. My hat's off to them for putting up with the rigors of international travel for a short visit.

Bruce, getting to know Rowan.

We brought Ty and Caroline home with us and central Oregon didn't disappoint - there was some snow, a bit of drama on the Santiam Pass, brilliant sunshine and no wind. Goddy and Ty learned that a practice run with tire chains helps when it's cold and dark and the flashing sign at Santiam Junction reads "CHAINS REQUIRED." After a fruitless and surprisingly calm attempt, we drove off in 4-wheel drive, sans chains, and arrived unscathed. And had the snow tires put on the next day.



Ty, who previously complained about snow, claimed that getting rugged up and heading outside was bracing. It helps when you have sensible headgear.


Caroline hadn't experienced Thanksgiving before, so we did a typical feast. Oops -we neglected to share the story of the Pilgrims with her. Hmmm, so much for the educational aspect of it. Should have had my mom there...Sorry Caroline, you'll just have to come back for another one some day and we'll fill you in on the details of why we sit down mid-afternoon on the 4th Thursday of November and eat a big dinner.

When T & C were here three years ago, I'd planned for us to spread the ashes of my beloved Golden Retriever, Sheena, in the pasture at Camp Sherman. Ty ended up with the dog-loving genes and it seemed appropriate to share the moment with him. It never happened because we didn't locate the urn until after they'd left (it was packed in a box in the garage.)

All things work together for good, because in the ensuing years I'd written an essay about Sheena called "The Bond." It sums up the sweet relationship I had with her, a once-in-a-lifetime tie that even now, eight years after her death, brings me to tears. Ty, Caroline, Goddy and I walked to the back of the pasture, sat down under a tree by the river, and took turns reading the essay.


As I poured the ashes out of the urn, I thought about how she would have loved the pasture. It contains an abundance of her favorite things - water, trees and horse poop.


There was still some snow on the ground, so the kids lightened the moment by building the cutest snowman I've ever seen!



And no visit to the pasture happens without some face time with the horses.


Danny is quite the popular soul - he has a way of wanting to be with people that's very endearing.

Logan went riding with me the week before... another shining moment in a month of experiencing the highs and lows of being a mother and daughter of men.

Losses and Gains

Since my last post, my dad has passed away, we've had visits from children and grandchild, and life continues to roll on relentlessly.

I don't feel quite up to writing about the loss of Dad so will dwell on other aspects of past weeks.

Here's a highlight - taking Rowan for his first horseback ride.

All along I've wanted to be the Gremmy and Aunty Kathryn who is known and loved for her warm hugs, great cookies, interesting books but most of all, her horses. My mom used to tell me that her step-father, Les, would have made sure I had a pony to ride had he lived to meet me. I grew up knowing I wanted to provide plenty of warm, furry animal necks for my grandchildren to hug. A bonus is that the grown-up children now think the animals are pretty swell too.

Two years ago I got to share my beloved mare, Misty, with my niece, Vivian. This year it's Rowan's turn.

Never knowing how kiddos will react to horses, we brought Misty close and let him look at her over the fence while I saddled her. He was perfectly happy to look at her and get hoisted aboard for a short ride to look at the cows.

The next day we walked down to the outdoor arena where Logan was helping Goddy trim the alpacas' feet. We watched for a while then wandered off around the arena.

When I asked Rowan if he wanted to go a bit faster, it was no surprise to hear, "Yes!" A little squeeze sent Misty into a rolling canter, which was a bit unexpected since she is 27 years old and arthritic. But she was perfectly happy to go and Rowan was perfectly happy to feel the breeze in his face. I was just perfectly happy.

We went out in the forest for a bit too, and I'm thinking this riding deal is going to be a fun aspect of being a grandmother of men (and women. Can't wait for Katelyn's turn.)

Gremmy Godsiff, ace reporter

Don't know about the last part of my new title, but I sure relish the first bit. Being a Gremmy is just what I imagined it would be, and it just keeps getting better.

Back in my b.c. (before children) days, I mused that I'd really rather go straight to grandmother and skip all the mother part. I'm glad I'm not the master of my universe and that God has it organized so much better. I mean, how could I appreciate not having to change a dirty nappy if I'd never done it? But you know what I've discovered? Rowan smells just like his father did...

Alyssa and Rowan's visit, two whole weeks worth, was full of moments. Some were routine, some out of the ordinary, all special. It was nice to have them here long enough to discover a routine to the days, even though Rowan's main routine is to go out of it regularly!

But here's what we did, generally...

Because we were housesitting for the ranch owner, Goddy spent the nights at the big house. But he'd come up in the morning, fix a pot of tea and wait for Rowan to wake up. The he'd have playtime before heading out for his a.m. chores. I'd get up, have tea, play a bit more with Rowan, watch an episode of Backyardigans (my new favorite kids DVD), have breakfast then head down for my chores when Rowan went down for a nap.

He and Alyssa would toddle down when he awoke; well, he toddled, she walked. Max was with me most mornings, so he'd be racing around like an energizer bunny and make Murphy dizzy.

Rowan would do the rounds of the horses, throw rocks and dirt into the creek and then we'd head back to the house for afternoon adventures. We went to Camp Sherman a couple of times to check on the horses there, we went shopping and sometimes he napped and Alyssa and I did projects.

In the evenings after dinner, Goddy would go back to the big house and Alyssa and I watched our fill of Jane Austen and other assorted chick movies. Pretty sweet...

I haven't wiped the sticky fingerprints off the windows or coffee table yet. Some souveniers you just want to keep around.

Here are a few of my favorite pics of the time.
Max and Rowan, on a mission to somewhere.

Watching Gremmy at work in the barn.

Meeting Big Max, the Friesian. I like the eyes in this picture.



Taking a break before doing more work.




Helping Goddy take a toy to the young geldings.

At Camp Sherman, we met the horses then explored along the pasture.

This is Sophie, who belongs to my friend, Kathy.

It was a long walk to where we were going, so we rigged up a ride in the toboggan we tote the hay in.




Life in the big outdoors is more fun than boys should be allowed to have!!!

Here's to you, Mom!

I want to tell you about a special party that happened last Sunday. I was up in Anacortes, and Evan and Crystal were there too.

We plotted with some of Mom's dearest friends to have a surprise luncheon for her, to honor her as my mom and to read from an anthology called My Mom Is My Hero. There's a story in there that I wrote about her called "The Care Package Queen."

One of the aspects of my mom's life just now is that it's really easy to go behind her back and plan things. She had no clue what we were planning, even as she pulled up to the house after church and I greeted her, wearing a skirt instead of my usual saggy sweatpants. I generally have such a hard time pulling these things off but it was scary how easily the lies slipped out.


The ladies had brought salads for lunch, and after eating Crystal and I read from the book. Crystal's story was by a woman from Bend who honored her Aunt Ruth. It was fitting for Aunty Crystal to read it...

I managed to get through Mom's story with just a few tears but I didn't dare look up while reading or it would have been smudgy mascara all around.

Of course, Mom cried. It's nice to bring your mother to tears in a good way!



No party is complete without favors for the guests to take home so the ladies each chose a knitted coffee cozy to put around their favorite coffee-stand drinks. It was supposed to be a choose-or-steal deal, but they're all so nice no one did any stealing. I hope the cozy's keep their hands as warm as their presence made my heart.


To be able to honor my mother in such a tangible way makes me so grateful for the gift of words. I usually choke up or get really sweaty trying to say them out loud, but somehow they come out ok when they get written down.

Plus it really was fun being sneaky!

there's always a bright spot

I spent last week in Anacortes, something I'm doing each month while my dad is ill. I'll do it for as long as he and Mom want me to; it's one of the reason's we live in the US now and it's a joy to serve them.

There's also a bonus with Logan and Evan and their little families being in Washington. This trip, I got to spend some sweet time with Alyssa and Rowan. They met me at the airport and we drove on up to Anacortes.



They spent two nights there, then headed south on a day swathed in snow and buffeted by the wind. Of course, I worried all day, needlessly it turns out. Alyssa has become quite the adventurer and got home in fine form.

Rowan entertained us in his usual sweet ways, and I have photographic evidence of it...

Trying on Grammum's hats. Back when I was a kid, great-grandmother hats had veils and pearls and were either black or pink.


Since we were reading Hairy McClairey From Donaldson's Dairy - a book about a New Zealand dog and his pals that we'd read to the boys when they were little - it seemed appropriate to invite Max and Henry, too.


Aw, shucks... aren't we cute?

Ok, Gremmy, enough book stuff. Let's do something fun. This could be a 1000 foot cliff I'm hanging over.



With two book-worm grandmothers, it's inevitable that Rowan likes to look at words and pictures (probably not in that order.)

Also, I didn't spend the whole weekend lying around in bed!

We're sure looking forward to Alyssa and Rowan's visit to the ranch in April.

Family Ties

I've been to Anacortes again this week, and it was a visit that included seeing most of the family. Goddy drove up for the weekend so we could take a look at some tax stuff for Dad. That took about an hour to realize we didn't have everything needed and even it we did, it might be beyond our meager financial capabilities.

So...then it was onto fun stuff, like raiding the garage, walking around town and other places and seeing how many times we could make Mom and Dad laugh.


Mom and I went to La Conner, a cute little town a bit southeast of Anacortes. We stimulated the economy a bit by having lunch and shopping. We both love independent book stores and this one didn't disappoint.



My mom gave Goddy carte blanche in the garage, as long as he carted stuff he didn't want to the dump. A win-win for everyone.


We stopped in with Evan and Crystal for a night on the way home. Crystal was out to a hockey game so we took Evan to the Mongolian Grill for dinner. I wish I'd had my camera handy while our creations were being cooked. Makes my efforts at stir-fry look pretty amateur - I seem to stir a lot of the fry onto the stove!

We had breakfast the next morning with our favorite person under three feet tall, and his mother. What joy there is being a Gremmy, sharing time and space with my grandson, but just as much in watching Alyssa be a mother. She is skilled in a vocation that so many struggle to master. I love seeing the expressions on her face as she talks to Rowan, and his when he responds. Who needs media entertainment when life plays out in front of you?



I've always tended to be a watcher rather than a doer. And then I think about what I've watched. It is joy indescribable to witness the life of my family.

Reliving History

Today I went on a trip down memory lane. That's what folks who keep stuff around and get sidetracked when they sort through it call de-cluttering.

Goddy recently cleared out our storage unit and brought home several boxes of our life history. I've tried to keep it minimal, but at one time I actually had a box labeled "things we never use but won't throw away." That tells you how wide my sentimental streak is. After six moves in eight years, you'd think I'd have it under control. Having it thinned down to four boxes (in storage) is pretty good. I won't mention the ones happily staying put out in the garage.

This is how it looks part way through the project. It's a mess, there's still so much to go through and my brain is starting to fry. All I want to do at this stage is curl up like Murphy is in her bed and turn my aching back to the whole thing.

It turned out that one of today's boxes is Logan's. The last time it was looked through he lived in a barracks, so we kept it. Not any more. It's all ready to go take up space in his garage. Same thing for Evan's boxes. (They didn't come home this trip, but will be delivered to his home next week. It's a rite of passage when you buy your own place that the parents clear out your stuff.)

Goddy's box was little - a squished up shoebox. It took him about ten minutes to sort through. Mine, well, there were a couple and one had a U-haul label on it, so that tells you what size it was. I woke up this morning determined to get through them all and was going to be ruthless and not get sidetracked. Ha! My diary from 1978 is sitting open beside me as I write...

That's Goddy's wee box on the right. The one in front is full of photos. The things arranged on the big carton sum up my life. There are pictures from the New Zealand farms, memories of happy times there. A photo of Evan and Logan in their boarding school uniforms. My scrapbook from high school. And a rendering of Rockwells "Spooners", given to us before we were married.

There were many photographs to go through, and of course each one had to be looked at. A large pile of toss-outs accumulated, which is a very freeing thing. Especially when you realize there are still several hundred left so you couldn't possibly be throwing out any vital ones.

I get torn every time I go through these boxes, agonizing over which of the photos and keepsakes really have the sentimental value that'll get them repacked. The pile gets smaller each time, making me wonder if future moves will end up erasing our past altogether.

Somehow I don't think so. There will always be some photos that bring a tear or smile or both and have to stay in the collection. Then there's the thrill of discovering a hidden gem, something that takes you back so sharply you forget what moment you're in. Like this set of jacks that I've had since grade school. The ball still bounces, which I'm sure has some sort of life application.



Then there's the amazement of finding that an old piece of clothing still fits...(That's my Campfire Girls ceremonial gown. I keep it around in case I have granddaughters. And to try on every 20 years or so.)

I think about our boys and the lives they're starting with their sweet wives and fiancee. They're living fully, and their future boxes will be proof. Everyone starts their grownup lives with pieces of childhood hidden in the garage or a closet and the things they add to that create a panorama of life. And we all know that life, whether in a box or in reality, needs clearing out occasionally.

Just make sure you have plenty of time, or lots of storage space.

Murphy

This one's for you, Ty...

He and our dog, Murphy, have a love-love relationship that began the day we acquired our funny little misfit.


We've always had dogs, both working and pets, and Ty has been the one who bonds with them. For some reason, he was enamored with bulldogs during his entire childhood, and may be still for all I know. I'll admit I looked into bulldogs as pets and quickly crossed them off the list after learning of their narrow comfort zone and outrageous price.


A compromise came along in Murphy, a brindle Boston Terrier. Her ears don't stick up like other Boston's and she doesn't have any black in her coat. And since Boston Terriers were derived from a cross between bulldogs and a now extinct terrier breed, you could sort of imagine she was a small bulldog, if you had a good imagination, which Ty and I do.

Ok, a really, really good imagination.


She'd lived her previous four years as a breeding dog, until an attack by another female (in heat, surprise, surprise) damaged her left hind leg and disrupted her breeding schedule. The owners didn't want her any more, and I was looking for a mature, house trained female. A match made in heaven!

Murphy hadn't ever traveled in a car, had never gone for walks, and hadn't been part of a boisterous family. The day Ty and I got her, she rode on his lap from Terrebonne to Sisters, a stinky, shedding, long-toenailed bundle of cuteness. Ty endured her BO, and the first thing we did when we got home was give her a bath. She raced out of the tub and into our living room, bouncing onto the couch like she'd been there forever. She jumped into our hearts that day and we haven't been the same since.


We now plan our trips around places that welcome pets, have a basket of Murphy toys, always keep baby carrots in the fridge for treats, and allow the dog onto our bed. We've become fans of small dogs and put up with minor annoyances such as constantly losing sight of her (18 pounds of dog disappears into the tall and uncut a lot faster than 45 pounds!)

She likes to imagine she's a mighty hunter but we know better (though she has snagged a couple of squirrels that ran in front of her!)

The problem of her snoring was solved when we moved into our present home, which has a large closet far away from our bed. We've dubbed it Murphy's bedroom and it's the best feature of the house!



Murphy enjoys life as a ranch dog, except on very cold or hot days. Then she's content to snooze the day away, unless someone offers a carrot or a toy.


She can't come with me when I ride, but she's good at waiting in the car or in a stall while I'm out and about. She won't go near the alpacas or the cows but waits a safe distance away until we're done with whatever we need to do.

And whenever we're at the table, she's sitting with her back against our feet. She's my constant companion while I'm at my desk, an extension of the joy that lurks within, just waiting for the chance to do something, anything...

Not bad for a dog without a lick of training.