Mauri and Sherry

Here’s an update in pictures of our weekend. Mauri and I flew to Denver on Thursday. My joyful assignment was to look after Cass while her parents attended a CHCC marriage retreat up at Snow Mountain Ranch in the Rockies. Mauri went with them to lead worship at the retreat.

Here’s the little princess, dressed for a ride in the family chariot to the Boston Market drive-thru. Her rosy cheeks resulted from a high-noontide backyard picnic, not a romp in her mama’s makeup.

On Saturday Marissa had a softball game, so Cass and I got to watch her team win, in part because of Marissa’s excellent hitting.

Mauri took his “good” camera to the retreat and was rewarded by many critter sightings, only two shown here.

We returned home to find ants living in the honeypot—not our favorite critter sighting. We buy only the best honey from our beekeeping friends and aren’t about to share, even with God’s creation. So Mauri gave the pot a fresh start and set it in water. We’ll see if those little darlings can swim the moat.

And at breakfast this morning, Mauri created this show-stopping grid with our game “Handful,” which you can only fully appreciate by trying it yourself.

We are daily thankful for our good life.

I got stopped for speeding the other day. I thought I could talk my way out of it until the cop looked at my dog in the backseat.

Just before Mauri left for the coast for three weeks we ordered a new Pentax SLR digital camera. After the first retreat he came home for a day and was happy to discover its delivery. He took it back to the coast to begin learning how to use it, and here are some of the results. I’d say he’s got the hang of it, wouldn’t you?

There they were, two young deer in the fenced clearing across from the mill entrance on Wynooski. They seemed to be playing and didn’t really mind my approach and rolling to a stop. But pretty soon they started to move off…not toward the closest woods, but down the clearing away from me. Adolescent deer look just a little awkward when they walk, all leggy with heads bobbing pidgeon-like, but then they started to canter (or something) and then broke into that leaping thing…jumping easily off all four legs at once with tiny hoofs angled back, and down the slope through the opening at the far end of the clearing…

I sat for a minute or so more…then pedalled off. Maybe they were watching me through a break in the trees…and wondering as well.

The host at our restaurant said it, he really did—Bah Hahbuh. That’s where we are—Bar Harbor, Maine, and just a few minutes ago this was my view across the table: My dear man is much braver than I and he worked on that red lobster until no edible parts remained (okay, except for that mysterious green stuff).

Today we drove the scenic route from Freeport. Of course those back roads take twice as long but we see all kinds of interesting things along the way. But we’re always glad to reach a destination and watch a little motel TV through our feet. Tomorrow we will drive up Cadillac Mountain, the highest point on the Atlantic north of Brazil. Sounds impressive, huh? Elevation: a whopping 1,500 feet! Just a little more than that bump we call Chehalem Mountain.

We’re almost at the halfway mark on our adventure and we still like each other.

Not. The sky is blue and sunshine bright—and ‘word is that Albert will blow through somewhere south of here. We woke looking out at the harbor, took a walk by Mayflower II, and blew a kiss or two toward P-rock nearby. Right now we’re at baked-egg-souffle-heaven (Panera Bread)—or so it seemed, that also offers good coffee and Wi-Fi - life is, uh…good.

Yesterday included a jaunt/boat ride from Cape Cod (Hyannis) to Nantucket. (”Nang-tucket” in honor of our Kentucky rental car plates…you surely wanted to know.) Milly Lou took us (and others) around the island, sharing all manner of insights…about a home that Jack Welch used to own—but then he had some domestic troubles/had to sell it…stuff like that. She did point out one of the ancestral Macy homes (they’ve had to sell as well). We also visited a whaling museum where Macys/Quakers are prominently mentioned…I snapped pictures of anything “Macy,” …and came away sure that whaling would be right up with trucking on my mother’s “never be/do that” list.

We’re having a great road trip…and I’m glad you’re not here…uh huh.

Okay, long-time friends. Maybe you’ve known people who stayed near their roots most of their lives and kept close contact with good friends. And maybe you’ve envied that…like I have. Much of my life had a vagabond quality…living here and there for two or three years. Here is the refrain from an old unfinished song…it’s a little waltz.

Too many places, so many places I’ve gone
Too many faces, so many people I’ve known
Have become all the same, I’ve forgotten their names
Even though they were loved, now they’re gone
Too many faces in so many places and nowhere for me to belong

Then more than twenty-five years ago we were led to a place to stay a while, and give our children roots…and long-time connection with good friends is only one of the happy outcomes.

This week, three old…okay, long-time friends came over and we sang for a while. It was great fun just to hang out, with the singing/recording as a bonus. From time to time I’ll post some of the tunes we did on the music page.

…my commute is short (one block) but often interesting. A bad commute is when I can’t walk right down the middle of School Street. Heading home for lunch yesterday I saw two squirrels in one of Dan and MaryAnn Ritter’s big trees. One squirrel was having his/her lunch, and the other was…on a limb stump maybe ten feet off the ground and very still. After watching for a moment, I said, “you OK?” and the squirrel said…not a word, and still no movement…at all. So again a little louder, “you OK?” and this time one eye opened a little and his/her head lifted…and squinting into the mid-day sunbreak that had been so gently warming, the squirrel distinctly said…”what the heck do you want?” All of which leads me to wonder how you tell his from her squirrels…at least from a distance.