TURKEY PARADE

They sqawk and sqawk
under the tree
circle around
scratch the ground
They flutter their feathers
and lift their head
try to keep cool
in hot summer weather
The gobbler gobbles
and they're on their way
ready to trot
in the Turkey parade

Gifts of Friendship

My Magpie pal and I have been exchanging birthday and Christmas gifts for over 30 years. The first birthday gift Phyllis gave me was a Wilson tennis racket in 1972. I remember being totally surprised and overjoyed at receiving such a wonderful present - I always credited that racquet with helping to improve my game.

Since then there have been many gifts between us; Some the 'perfect' gift, some not so perfect. It didn't matter if it was expensive or inexpensive, big or small - what was always important and meaningful about the gifts was the love and care, the time and effort given in trying to choose just the right something for a cherished friend. Over the years our gift remembrance became part of our friendship tradition.

So I was taken back somewhat when my Magpal recently said she no longer wanted to exchange gifts as it took too much time and was too difficult to pick out things the other would like. It made me sad not because of the gift itself, but what it represented - the end of something we did for one another, something we had shared for such a long time; Something that said , " I took the time, I picked this out especially for you, because you're special to me".

Phyllis' birthday is next month and it's been hard for me to pass by a little trinket, bracelet or pair of earrings I think she would like - after all, the fun of gifts isn't just in the getting, but in the giving, too.

Instead I find myself thinking about

Gifts of the heart;
Life, love, time and laughter
The gift of joy
the gift of tears
the gift of friendship
thru the years

and know these are the gifts I wish forever for my forever friend.

The Chipmunk

Until recently the most I knew about chipmunks came from watching Alvin, Simon and Theodore - three cute and adventurous chipmunks who sing songs and find themselves in precarious situations. Watching their animated antics on screen is funny and good for a laugh. Real life chipmunks are cute, too. The first time I saw one of those tiny sized chipmunks with the wide stripe down its back scurry up the tree outside our window, I thought to myself , "What a loveable little creature".

However, in the last week I've also learned this sweet, innocent looking critter is also clever and cunning, and can be a real tormenter, especially when teasing Sam E. Beagle and Missy dog. For the past several days our woodsey neighbor scampers back and forth along the retaining wall, stopping every few minutes to tantalize Sam and Missy who are laying nearby ; It's almost like the chipmunk is mocking them; Taunting them in animal speak, "Catch me if you can", until they can't take it any longer. Then, like there was a sudden blare of the bugle and someone yelling, 'Charge', they take off like hounds out of the gate on a long awaited fox hunt. I curse the chipmunk and yell at the excited dogs to stop, but they don't listen.

In fact, they pay no mind at all at what's before them, only the scent of the chipmunk. They trample over flowers, breaking pots along the way in an effort to catch their prey. But there's not a chance, the chipmunk has all the moves and is way too fast. He's long gone; Safe and secure in his protected burrow somewhere under our front garden planter. Sam and Missy finally quiet down, and my anger slowly abates.

I get busy picking up broken stems and crushed flowers and notice two dark eyes peering at me from behind a rock - it's the chipmunk quietly watching me clean up the mess he helped create. I want to shoo him away, but am surprised by how brazen he is that he would return to the scene of the crime so soon, and instead I just stare at him staring at me. We seem to play this game of whose going to blink first for several minutes before a sudden noise startles the ever alert chipmunk and he quickly runs off in another direction.

The Humane Society writes on their website: " Chipmunks are enjoyable animals, and there's more to say about the pleasure that comes from having them around than the problems they may cause". Yes, chipmunks bring more pleasure than problems, but please, no more broken pots.

Patty, Books and Hudson's

My anticipation was high last week as I looked forward to my friend, Patty's visit; Now her few days here have come and gone.

Thursday morning we share warm hugs and happy greetings at the airport curb, load her suitcase into the trunk of my cool blue Charger, then drive off to explore a few interesting sites in the Lilac City. We pose for pictures at Spokane Falls and stop at Starbucks for coffee au lait.

I've known Patty since our long ago days in Bell. She and my brother were childhood sweethearts and dated several years before deciding to go their separate ways. From the moment Walt introduced me to Patty we became fast friends, and have remained so all these years. I am God-mother to her son Nick. He once asked his mother, " If Kathy and Gary are my Godparents, does that mean Gavin is my God-brother"? Sounds perfectly logical to me.

Gary, in Spokane on a tractor repair errand, joins us for lunch at Cyrus O' Leary's. Patty suggests I try a drink I've never had before , an Arnold Palmer - half lemonade, half iced tea. It's refreshingly good on this hot summer day. The three of us laugh and talk and pose for more pictures. Soon Gary leaves to pick up the part he needs for the tractor while Patty and I head for Aunties Bookstore in what once was the old Liberty Furniture Company across the way. Placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1994, the Liberty Building is a perfect location for Spokane's prime literary hub.

Patty and I are drawn to books like sailors are to the sea, so our entry to Aunties isn't a quick in the door out the door stop, but a long afternoon stay; A book lovers delight. Together we browse the aisles taking turns to lift an interesting title or cover illustration from the shelf , i.e. "Remembering the Bones" by Francis Itani and "Little Heathens - Hard Times and High Spirits on an Iowa Farm During the Great Depression" by Mildred Armstrong Kalish.

When I was in my early twenties and Patty in her teens we both enjoyed reading historical novels by Frank G. Slaughter, Frank Yerby, and Victoria Holt. Today Patty chooses a non fiction about the history of Impressionist art while I discover two I know I can't leave the store without : " Service Included-Four Star Secrets of An Eavesdropping Waiter" by Phoebe Damrosch and "The Yellow House - Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Nine Turbulent Weeks in Provence" by Martin Gayford. "Service Included" is an interesting choice for me as I've never been a waitress or worked in a restaurant, nor do I ever plan to - not because I don't think it worthy employment, but because I seriously doubt I could balance food and drinks on a tray before I stumbled bumbled about, bumping into something and sending glasses and plates crashing to the floor, but the title and cover picture peek my interest. I read two chapters before purchasing, and am drawn in to what Entertainment Weekly writes of the memoir : "Both a sparkling stylist and the sassy heroine of her own narrative, Damrosch balances the sweet and the tart". Sweet and tart. I like that. I will actually read " The Yellow House' first then mail to Patty before she leaves for Paris in November.

Back at Dobbs' Retreat I open a bottle of Full Sail pale ale, Patty pours herself a glass of white wine; Gary is already on the deck ready to grill a rack of baby back ribs for our outside dinner.

A jillion stars twinkle in the night. I'm grateful for Patty in my life and tell her so.

My mother arrives on Friday and there's more hugs and happy greetings; Love is in the air and genuine feelings of friendship and care swarm all around. When in Coeur d Alene the three of us decide to only patronize local retailers and eateries, including Hudson's Hamburgers on Sherman Ave. Patty had sent me an article from the June issue of Gourmet magazine touting the famous northwest hamburger place and wanted to go there. The sunny afternoon is humid and the line to find a spot at the small lunch counter is long, but worth the wait. Hudson's has been serving the same style hamburger since the Great Depression. There are no side dishes at all, the only choice you have to make is : ketchup, hot ketchup or mustard.

While still in line outside the door, I notice an elderly gentleman standing in line, too. When he turns his head I recognize it's Monsignor Tim. I take his hand and quickly say hello then proudly introduce him to my mother and Patty. He kisses my cheek and says, "Kathy, how good it is to see you. Have a wonderful afternoon". Monsignor Tim is a well known priest in north Idaho parishes, his kindness and gentle spirit has touched many. Today, his greeting adds something special to my already special day with Mom and Patty.

July 19,2009

Twenty five years ago today
a baby boy born
beautiful, pleasing, perfect
in every lovely way
The joy of my life
nestled in my arms;
Forever in my heart

Summer Rain

Everyday since mid June I've enjoyed long days outside planting flowers, working on landscape projects and walking in Dobbs' Woods, but today is an inside the house day as everything outside is soggy wet from the steady stream of rain outpouring from the sky since the wee hours of the morn. During the night the rumble tumble boom of thunder and razor sharp lightning flashes penetrating our bedroom window provided quite a sight and sound show. Then the rains came; I know what the songwriter meant when he wrote " Listening the to rhythm of the falling rain". I laid awake listening as long as I could to the rhythm of the rain, and what reminded me of a mid west summer storm experience , but eventually grew too tired and I finally fell asleep.

It is now 3 p.m. and what should be a warm summer day is instead dark and gray with not a hint of sun; The temperature is cool. A short while ago I found myself in the kitchen pressing my face against the window watching the rain come down - like a kid waiting and wanting to go out and play, tired of being in the house all day doing puzzles, coloring and reading books.

Two turkeys, their feathered bodies slick and oily from being too long in the rain, take shelter under a tree; a short distance away a cocoa colored rabbit hippity hops out of his burrow, sniffs the air and quickly hippity hops back in. The lake is covered with a misty haze, like a scene from a medieval fantasy novel. Although, it's not the sunny day I planned on, it is a beautiful day; unique and special in its north Idaho way.

I stare and study the pine trees, some 50 years old. It might be my imagination, but it seems the trees, both young and old are joyful, happy to be drinking in the rain. They look taller, more majestic; Their long piney branches seem a deeper, darker green and I'm grateful for what the rain provides, giving needed relief from dry, hot days to earth and all living things.

SUNFLOWERS and other things

I was going to write about
sunflowers facing the sun
looking so cheery and bright,
of a red wheelbarrow, shiny and new
and a small wooden horse
waiting beneath a tree
for Cowgirl Annie
to tie a ribbon on her tail;
All so different,
but all a delight.
Instead what seems to prevail
is sad stories told
too often of late
of strife and heartache
when family and friends
drift apart;
Monetary stress and growing old
days made fragile
with hurtful words,
lack of joy
no laughter;
When that is what is needed most
to lift the day, lighten the load.
Understanding, encouragement
compassion
and care
Precious gifts to give
if only to share
like the beauty
of the sunflower
in early morn

Beagle Sam

Sam greets me each morning with the same happy wag of his mostly white tail; It moves back and forth like a metronome setting on a piano keeping time for a practicing student. Always faithful, always true, Sam never complains or debates my point of view. I respond with the same glad to see you, too words, "Sam E. Pajammy, do you want a treat"? He watches and waits as I grab a peanut butter flavored bone from the bag of bones I keep in the kitchen cabinet under the sink. It only takes a second or two for Sam to move to his favorite spot on the family room floor to enjoy his biscuit, then a few minutes later he leisurly strides to where I'm sitting and burrows his muzzle into my lap, letting me know he's ready for the 'scratch behind the ears' routine.

Beagles are known to be obstinate, and Sam E. can sometimes be just that, but mostly he's good natured and sweet. My Sam is getting older and isn't as fit and trim as he once was, but he's still handsome to me. And although he cherishes his naps and likes to laze around, he still likes to go where I go and do what I do. The moment I say, "Let's go for a walk", Sam never hesitates but lifts his Snoopy shaped head and stands up and stretches. Then, like a puppy on a new adventure he swiftly scampers down the trail, with me not far behind.

4th of JULY

Independence Day
a nation born ;
Life
liberty
the pursuit of happiness
Not doled out
like potato chips
from an opened bag
but something to
strive for
aim for
work towards;
Freedom
celebrated.
Picnics
backyard barbecues
a day at the beach;
Family fun
flying "Old Glory"
and fireworks

INSIDE OUTSIDE

The outside
appears different
than the inside
The outside reflects
an aging body, greying hair, wrinkled skin;
The inside still feeling young and vibrant,
ready for challenge with goals to pursue.
The outside all light and laughter;
The inside profound deep thought
Unexpressed. Lessons learned. Life lived.
A family loved
cherished friends
faith in a faithful God
Joy in the morning;
Victory at day's end.

HOME

It is 7 a.m. The sun is bright, the air feels cool and clean. The scent of pine and brush is all about me - a summer smell.

I have already filled the feeders with seed; A Grosbeak and Finches are first on the scene. Soon the Starlings arrive then the mighty Blue Jay makes his presence known. A small but speedy hummingbird spots the flower shaped glass bottle hanging from one of the limbs of the tree, and quickly moves from opening to opening until it gets its fill of the sweet sugary, red colored mixture.

As I chant over and over again, "Here turk, turk, turk", I feel like a farm girl as I toss grain from my bucket onto the ground - the resident turkeys hurry, scurry close to where I'm standing; Heads bopping up and down they waste no time before starting to pick and scratch for the coveted kernals.

While watering pots of purple pansies and red geraniums Sam E. Beagle and Missy dog greet me with wagging tails; They nudge my hand letting me know they're ready for their morning biscuit.

My husband joins me on the deck and sips coffee from his Starbucks cup; We admire the beauty of the lake and talk about our plans for the day.

The poet Edgar A. Guest wrote :

" This little world of ours wherein we live
Holds now the richest joys which life can give"

The simple pleasures of home bring such delight and solace to the soul. Routine, common place moments often taken for granted, but upon reflection worth more than the weight of gold.