The Wildest Wildflower on the Mountain

Made our first trip of the season 'up on the mountain'.  Not to see wildlife, (although we did see a moose--in the wild!) but to see wildflowers.  As you might have guessed we have had an unusually wet Spring and early Summer, so it should be a great year for wildflowers.  Here are a few I will share with you.  First, Shooting Stars.  There were meadows full of these.  (The tall green things here will be monument flowers.  Come see me in a week or two and we will find time to get up the mountain to see them in bloom.)

And Forget-me-nots.  I plant these in my garden each year, but either they don't grow, or I forget where I planted them and weed them out.  These grow wild on the mountain.  (Hence their inclusion here in the wildflower post.)

I have no idea what this next one is.  I'm not sure it is fully bloomed.  I had to lean way over to show you that the centers will be white.

This next one is the wildest wildflower I have ever seen.  There was only one.  So I'm not sure if this is it in full bloom or if it has already gone to seed. 

I also saw and took some pictures of dandelions, and some flowers that looked a lot like dandelions.  My Wildflower Sampler Pamphlet identifies dandelions as non-native noxious weeds. 

Which makes me wonder just how long one has to abide here to be considered native, or how noxious you have to be to be classified as noxious.  And what is the opposite of noxious.   Non-noxious?  Unnoxious?  Obnoxious?  And what God thinks about our need to classify His flowers as noxious or wild.  Just wondering if our idea of what is worthy and acceptable is anywhere close to His.

Welcome to My Church

Did I ever mention that the church here in Dodge City had a former pastor who walked on water?  Usually we are glad to serve in a church that speaks highly of their former pastors.  It means that they are capable of loving.  (Always a good thing to look for in a church.)  The problem here is the degree of elevation.  And the former pastor's wife.  The one who not only sang special music, but accompanied herself on the piano, and taught piano lessons, and raised 4 immaculate children (in that tiny immaculate parsonage) and her own vegetables, and worked full time as a nurse (the one job it is acceptable for a pastor's wife to hold).   Once she made a berry cobbler out of NOTHING!!! in a cabin in the woods.  (This may or may not have been the same trip where she was 9 and a half months pregnant, and shot and packed out her own bull elk.)  
Have I also mentioned that I do not play the piano, can't carry a tune, don't cook 6 months of the year, learned all of my pie baking skills from my mom, and for all my talk of fishing, have only ever caught one fish that I didn't mean to catch and had to throw back? 

Not that I am uncomfortable with who I am.  Just that I am a little concerned with my legacy.  You know, my place in Dodge City history.  So in a misguided attempt to make an impression I decided to paint the church doors.  I connived the head trustee into giving me the can of paint that he had in his truck to paint the doors.  The can of white paint.  To paint the white doors.  The previously, from the beginning of time itself, white doors.  (Did I mention I am on a first name basis with the paint tinter at the Dodge City Building Center?)  Because I know that color decisions have power to split even a church capable of great love, I carefully considered the color choice.  That is to say I considered every color except white.  And I pretty much decided on orange.  A warm welcoming color that speaks to the subconsiousness of passersby and says, "Hey, look at these doors.  I think you might like go to church here."  And when I mentioned it to a few people and was met by less then enthusiastic responses I changed my mind picked up paint chips from the DCBC and involved at least one elder, one complete stranger, and several church ladies in the decision process.  (Did I mention that all the paint chips were in the orange family?) 

 I even connived two church ladies into having the paint tinted. The final color choice was a warm terra cotta color called shocking hot.  I had a little girl and an older man help with the painting.  Because if this was going to be the hill I died on, I didn't want to go alone.  And the doors looked absolutely horrible.  Shockingly orange.  Streaked and globby.  And then someone spilled the gallon of shocking hot paint in the parking lot.  And I wished with all my heart I knew how to make a berry cobbler. 

But after several coats, some intense involvement by some very patient church ladiesand men, and more hours than I care to recount, the doors were back up in time to welcome church members and a few passersby on Sunday morning. 

 And years from now when they ask 'who ever' picked 'that color' for the front doors of the church, my name will surely come up. 

And I will be known as the shocking hot pastor's wife. 

Character Revealed

Someone once said that character is who you are when no one is looking. 
The STP and the Goob are away at Kidz Kamp this week and I am home alone.  I'm not sure I have ever lived alone before.  I have 3 brothers and 3 sisters.  I have always shared a room.  My first apartment was a one bedroom and I had two roommates.  The STP has been away many a time, but there were always children at home with me.  But this week, just me and the dog.  And I do not think I am well suited to living alone.  I did not eat at the table last evening.  And I did not make my bed this morning.  I can't find my cell phone (or my battery charger).  I talk to the dog a lot.  I have accomplished less than when the STP is home.  If I was alone for longer would I adjust back to the doing the things I have always told you were important, or would I become a recluse that hoards things, spray paints everything, and knits baby blankets? 
If the STP ever leaves me and the Goob actually becomes an independent adult, can I move in with you?

Recharging

I have not seen my battery charger for my camera since we returned from vacation.  I didn't really look for it until this evening.  Which means it has been missing for over a week.  By this time it could be anywhere in four states.  Or lost in my house or car.  (I'm not sure which is worse.)  So I am going to try and upload a few pics for you before the battery dies.  My reformatted hard drive has recognized my camera as new hardware.  I hope it won't ask me to locate the software that came in the box with it 6 months ago. 

So here goes.

So that took me about 15 minutes, so that is it. 

As I was trying to locate pictures I would share with you I realized how many posts I have to do.  So stayed tuned for:

Red Rocks From Sedona

Is The Sun Setting Again Tonight?

Arches National Park

Things to Photograph When You Finally Grow Tired of Red Rocks

How To Take Excellent Photographs Without Ever Leaving Your Car

Say What?

sorry, that domain isn't in my list of allowed rcpthosts

So, evidently you can e-mail me, but I can't e-mail you until you somehow get on my  list of allowed rcpthosts.  Good luck with that.

Data Clear Without Backup

The new machine I learned this week has a sample data clear button.  When you push it, it gives you an option of data clear with backup or just data clear.  My brain needs a button like this.
The STP reformatted my computer's hard drive this week.  He claims my pictures are safely stored in a totally disorganized manner (just the way I keep all my photos) somewhere very safe and invisible to me.  I just have a little twitch about this.  In the process he asked me a myriad of times if there were any files I needed off the computer.  No, no, I assured him.  Anything I needed was lost in the last reformatting of the hard drive. 
Turns out it also cleared out my e-mail contacts and inbox, which had my addresses and 986 messages I might have needed.  All the emails my siblings had ever sent me and any I could intercept between themselves (book research).   Addresses of people I certainly meant to keep in touch with.  I'm choosing to look at this as a fresh start instead of a data clear without backup.  But if you want me to be in touch, you will need to email me.   The good news is my e-mail works again.

Pool Days

I miss summer afternoons at the pool. I had two of them this week.  Finished two books and two magazines. Declared 'adult swim' whenever I wanted to cool off. Tomorrow we head for home and my 'real life', which doesn't include a pool.  I will apply sunscreen to go to the hospital on Monday to facilitate the transition.  I'll adjust, but not easily.

Keep Your Mind on the Traffic

In addition to 100 pictures of the sun setting, I have about 1000 pictures of rocks.  Mostly red rocks.  I have at least 500 taken out the window as we drove by them.  Zoomed in on them.  Zoomed out from them.  Landscape and portrait.  The same formation from several angles.  I hiked over red rocks.  I hiked under red rocks.  I slid down red rocks and climbed up red rocks.  (Okay, you know its true--I have a red rock in the trunk of my car.)  Stop the car...I need one more picture of rocks. 

So I was thinking that the road signs should advise you to keep your eyes on the road.  Because watching the rocks is just too easy.

Sunset

We watched the sunset at the Grand Canyon.

I took a few pictures.

A few hundred pictures.

And none of them are as good as the real thing.

Which was awe inspiring.  And praise worthy.  Even the Goob said so.

Other People's Children

One of these things is not like the others.








One of these things doesn't belong.







Can you guess which one is not like the others, before I finish my song?

Why is it my kids respond to a camera by making a face which usually includes a clear view of their tonsils?

Just wondering. 

Over The Edge

As you already know I am not a fan of standing close to the edge of a cavernous drop with jagged rocks below.  The first sight of the Grand Canyon found me standing well back from the edge with heart papitations as the rest of my traveling companions got as close as they could to the edge and then...dropped over the edge.  (I found that the ones I had given birth to caused me the most anguish.)  But I managed to overcome my totally paranoid well founded extremely rational  fear enough to take a short hike down into the canyon.

Which gave us some spectacular views of the canyon. 

This is a picture I took of someone else's child out on the edge.  

 This also gave me palpitations because I have an excellent imagination and I was imagining having to tell his mother how he fell into the Grand Canyon while I stood against the cliff wall and snapped his picture. (Here.  I thought you might want this.  It's the last picture of your son. Umm, look how happy he was, just before he, umm.....)  

 None of the pictures of the canyon can even come close to capturing the grandeur of the place, so I will not post them.  You will just have to go yourself.

We hiked down the West Kaibab Trail to Ooh! Aah! Point.  Here we are ooohing and aaaahing.  And looking like a rock band.  Or maybe like a band on a rock.  Or maybe bandits on the rocks.

There is a rule on the trail that what goes down must come back up.  And going up is harder than going down.  I'm just saying.  Here is the Goob starting back up.

I stopped to take a few more pictures on the way up.  And I stopped to encourage the STP.  And I stopped to get a drink and eat chocolate, because hydration and nourishment are key to getting out of the canyon alive.  (That and staying back from the edge.)  And I stopped to let my heartrate return to normal.

This is a picture on the way back up.  At this point the kids are already at the top.  See them up there?  Okay, let me zoom.  (X12)

And here is the most amazing part of the hike.  While we were at Ooh! Aah! Point the Goober says, "I have to admit that of all the outdoor places you have taken me this is the first one I don't totally hate."

SCORE!!