Wild Blue Yonder-Ponderings about my Dad

 My dad....

Crank it up, Dad

I could feel him on that pass.

My dad and his love for flying.  Can't be matched.  For as long as I can remember, my dad has talked, breathed, bled airplanes.  When we were small and even into our adult lives, driving in a car with my dad always led to an airport.  I have been in every small, broken down airport hanger west of the Mississippi...and even a few in Mississippi.  Long before there was Internet so he could check, his basic instinct of all that smells like airplane fuel, could guide him blindly to the next small strip of blacktop at the end of a windsock.  It seemed it was always hot, your legs sticking to the plastic chairs in the "office" (usually just a small room right of the hanger door) and the coins he gave each of us bought us stale peanuts and a pop in a glass bottle.  I didn't understand as a small child what I do as a grown adult.  I was watching... and learning too, about how a passion and love for substance turns into a lifelong quest, not for perfection, but for pure joy, gratification and solace. 

He builds and rebuilds old airplanes, venturing into exotic places like Mexico to old crash sites to find the parts he needs.  His latest project is coming to a close, I see the excitement in his eyes and he tells me about his plans for the "test flight".  I love that sparkle when he makes me go into his "hanger" he just had to have on his property, in the middle of the night (cause that is when I arrived), with a flashlight to see the engine he just rebuilt.  I don't understand what I am looking at but I understand what it means to him. 

His prominent affection is crop dusting.  He is the best I have ever seen. I always said when I grew up I wanted to be a flagger for my dad.  I had not had the chance to photograph and preserve for all time, his passion.  He went along with it "cause there is that one field that needs spraying".  As I felt him pass me that day in the field, hearing the deafening roar of his Supercub, I could sense his pride in a job well done, his excitement for living his dream, and watch his true love holding him in the palm of her hand...

 and I wondered what it must feel like to soar.

I love you , Daddy.

Is it Spring?

Winter has lingered on and wrapped itself around me like an old blanket.  I see glimpse of affirmation in a few warm afternoons, but I wonder.  My promise of spring came not in a bloom in my garden but a self purchased gift from the produce section of the local grocery.  It's spring to me even if it came in a cardboard box from Ecuador.

Letter to Dane-Leaving for Army Basic Training April 23

I want you to know how proud I am of you. Your choice to serve our country is a huge one and one I know you don't take lightly. Whey they say "the price of freedom isn't free" I know the true meaning. The sacrifice you make wont be easy but know I am here at home, cheering you on, praying for your safety and longing for your homecoming.

Jordan and Dane

 Dane and Dad

Dane and Bradley

The time we've had together since you moved home has been a blessing.  I love that you love to sleep in late, that you help me with laundry and dishers.  I love that you are a giving, loving, kind spirit, always with a easy smile.  I love your layed back attitude and you are easy to feed!   I adore your corny jokes, they make me giggle every time.   I cherish the moments we get to spend together alone, our little catch me up chats and our heartfelt discussions about life.  I will miss you from the very depths of my being and soul.

I am so excited for you to start this new part of your life.  It's going to define who you will become but never lessen who you already are.  Live every moment, soak in all the adventures and remember to listen  carefully in the quiet of the day or night and you will hear me whisper "I love You".

Mosaic Monday-Longing for Spring

It's Mosaic Monday....Here's my longing...Spring...Will it ever get here?

Join me at Little Red House for wonderful mosaics.

Lessons Learned

Our newest grandbaby comes to visit us often.  We take the responsibility of some of his learning very seriously.  We make sure he had educational books and toys, we encourage his baby talk, we show him how to brush his hair and teeth...all the things his parents do but we reinforce his learning.  I am mindful of the lessons we teach all those around us.  But in the kitchen, during a quiet moment between the three of us, Gran, Poppy and Bradley, I had the joy of watching simple lessons learned.  Jim was eating Oreo cookies dunked in  milk, B was sitting on the counter watching him and then picked up an Oreo and dunked it in Jim's milk...whole hand and all.  Results...no words spoken, no plans made....lessons learned.

It's My Birthday

Today is my birthday.  It's not going to be a huge celebration, just family and friends over a couple of pizza's but mine just the same. 

Windsor HIgh School Boys Basketball team was playing in the championship game in Boulder last night...
We lost but I am proud of the kids.
I talked Jim into taking me to Black Hawk for my birthday.  He said yes.

We sat down at a table of 3 Card Poker, played one hand and in the next the lady sitting next to me got jackpot hand dealt to her.  This hand won her the progressive, $1500.00 plus her winnings and all of us playing with her $100.00.  We then spent the rest of the night playing on the house. 

At midnight, I after telling the entire casino...or maybe just my Blackjack table...it was my birthday, the dealer let me cut and on the first hand dealt me a Blackjack.  We were playing single deck blackjack and on the second hand from my cut....I stood up and shouted

"It's my birthday"  and flipped over another Blackjack.

Two Blackjacks in a row!!!  It's going to be a very good year for me.

On the corner of 71st Ave and Hwy 34 there was an old homestead.  The place called to me for the longest time....begging me to find it's inner beauty.  I stopped one afternoon and it revealed itself.  I stood for over an hour listening to it whisper of families who lived there...happy times and of neglect to destruction it had become.  I loved that old house with but a few windows and when the light was just right....artistry.

I drove by today and all that is left of my little house is a pile of junk...peices of the past lying in a heap.

But I remember...