Reflections on a Tough Year

 

Since the beginning of our original quarantine, people have talked about what a rotten year 2020 has been.  The majority of my being wants desperately to agree.  So many things happened that were life-altering in terrible ways for me.  However, the eternal optimist, who clings to my faith, screams out to remember that God walked every step with me, even when I yelled at him a number of times the past thirty plus days.  Okay, I yelled some at other points in the year too.  Still, I want to remember the good things.  Yes, there was good in the year.

First, the bad stuff is the obvious: politics, masks, mental illness, death, and writing burnout.  Need I say more?  Nope.

Even with all that happened, I accomplished a ton.  In the writing arena, I published three novels and read 38 books.  Sure, I burned out and failed miserably at a writing class, but I attempted the challenges.  That alone is a win.  I also watched 54 movies, crocheted two blankets, finished 11 quilting projects, and quilted two full blankets.  Also, something that I am excited for next spring is that we finally had people put in a beautiful garden retaining wall, a gorgeous back deck, and a rockin fire pit.  I enjoyed all of this in 2020 and will continue to enjoy all of it during the warm months of 2021!

For all the ugliness, God blessed me the entire year of 2020.  He helped guide my surgeon’s hands during my hip replacement.  Sure recuperating during a pandemic was interesting, but He also gave me strength to help my sister clean out my mom’s house three months after the surgery.  I ache, just thinking about all of that lifting and cleaning.  Ugh! 

With the house and funeral of my mom, we were blessed with our Nixon cousins rallying around us to help with food for the funeral reception at the house, lifting, getting rid of furniture, and loving us.  I get misty eyed thinking of all of them.  I thought cleaning and selling the house would take all summer.  God helped us wrap up everything but the paperwork in a month.  He is so good!!!

Even with the world closed for a good nine months, we were able to run away a few times.  For Clay’s birthday, we spent the day at the Headwater’s of the Missouri having a picnic and hiking on my two month old new hip.  The blue sky and warm sun lightened my heart.  In August, we took a road trip through Wyoming and South Dakota.  We made new memories and remembered the last trip so many years ago.  We went back to Wyoming two months later to celebrate Carissa entering the family.  Oh what a blessing she is.

The end of the year found us facing more loss, my sweet son.  Yes, I went down the rabbit hole of despair a couple of times; hating everything I looked at or thought about, including God.  Being the best of father’s, God helped me claw my way out of the anguish both times and has brought a small amount of peace back to me.  How did I know He was helping?  I have never had so many cards sent to us or flowers filling the house.  We have been sent prayers and love from family and friends from all over the United States: old school friends, military family, and our faith family.  During my last dark day, God sent a host of young adults to cheer me up.  I am most blessed by the people in my life.  I know through all of them, He will continue to heal me as time moves ever forward.

I don’t want to leave out two other blessings.  After seventeen years, our dear sweet Tracer Cat had to be put down at the beginning of November.  I was amazed how much I missed her.  So, Madelle and I found a new kitten.  Little Runa has been a blessing.  She cuddles with me and makes me laugh.  Also, Madelle is finished with school.  Since second grade, she has hated the institution because of one bad experience after another.  I don’t know what the future holds for her or us, but this is a blessing and victory.

I have found it a bit entertaining seeing how people are approaching 2021.  Some people are filled with hope for a new beginning, to shed away all the ugliness of 2020.  Others figure more of the ugliness will spill over.  I can’t change the mask/Covid issues that are hurting all of us.  I can’t stop the political environment.  I do think the negativity from these areas will continue.  I had planned to take Madelle on a graduation trip to Ireland.  We may end up renting a cabin at Seeley Lake instead.  Time will tell.

What I know is that I create my own atmosphere: positive or negative.  For the year 2021, I will continue to rely on my faith.  I am making loose plans that I can control.  I am putting the world at arm’s length.  I will be creative in the areas of quilting, crocheting, painting, and gardening.  I will do a little baking of bread and scones and other fun things I have wanted to try to bake for years.  I will write when I feel the need.  I want to heal from all the challenges I did in the past couple of years.  Finally, I will heal my heart by just being, enjoying everyday tasks, like doing dishes, spending time with loved ones, pulling weeds.  I hope to travel, but we will see the world, country, state stages this spring.  Really, I will have joy for the coming year because I choose joy.

I pray all people choose joy.

Madelle's Graduation Blanket

Jerry's Christmas Quilt with a Patriotic Theme

Runa, our new little blessing.

Art Quilting

 

I lack the desire to write.  I sat down a week or two ago to write another story about my mom, but I fail to feel anything but a deep lethargy.  This past week has been super busy with Madelle’s birthday, early Thanksgiving, and a busy schedule, so I haven’t went back to the topic I started.  Today though, I thought I would share pictures of the quilt I finished on Monday.

When I pulled out the quilt “sandwich,” I was confused.  Sure, the quilting looks wonderful and the pieces are put together with perfection, but there was no pizzazz.  I went to Joann’s to find some fabric for the binding.  I bought enough to also sew on a sleeve on the back.  Though the quilt is huge for a wall hanging, it is also super small for a lap quilt.  What was my mother thinking of doing with this?

 

 

Each time I finished up working on the quilt for the day, I laid it out on the end of the bed to look at it and contemplate as I passed by.  One day, I finally realized what it might be.  The last couple of years, Mom talked about making quilt art.  Now, I think all quilts are art.  She and many others are taking quilting to a new level.  They are adding things to their quilts, embellishing in other words.  I don’t mind an occasional button, but she talked about metal and other things.  Her “art” quilt books are coming to my house and they are doing weird stuff.  I am not into this type of art.  I like the standard quilt art instead.  But my mind started racing.  I went on a shopping trip to Hobby Lobby.

I bought a ribbon, plastic snowflakes, tiny Christmas ornaments, and stockings.  When I got home, I decided right away that the snowflakes were out.  I didn’t like them.  I arranged all the other items and thought it looked good.  Once I finished the binding and sleeve, I got to work sewing by hand the stockings and ribbon.  I stopped there.  The ornaments are cute, but the quilt would lose the quilting part of the pieces sewn together.  Mom would probably argue with me and put the ornaments on.  Of course, she must have had a completely different thought about how to finish the quilt in the first place.  But I am happy with how it turned out.

Held Back

 

I can’t recall ever feeling unloved while I grew up in my mother’s home.  A lot of other feelings come to mind, but I truly thought she loved me.  Looking back, I could analyze everything and come to a different conclusion.  However, I felt very confident that I was loved.  I didn’t see the wonkiness of the things that happened between my mom and me.  My mom constantly watched out for me.  She kept me by her side all the time.  Smothering is a good word that comes to mind.  In one situation, this turned to craziness that changed the course of my life.

 

My first grade teacher was old.  Even looking back at pictures, she must have been in her seventies.  She kept her white hair short with curls that ringed her head.  Her glass filled her wrinkled face.  She wore pantsuits on her plump body, grandmotherly in all the right areas of personality.  Though I think she might have been tough.  We all behaved.  I adored her.  At the end of the school year, I felt so special when she invited us to dinner.

 

She lived just a few houses up from the doctor’s office and on the other side of the street.  Her house fit nicely on the bottom slop of a hill on the nice side of town.  I thought she was rich as we walked into the lovely furnished house with beautifully decorated walls.  The two stories made the house look like a mansion compared to our small singlewide trailer house.

 

Mrs. Delapp’s husband died years prior and her children lived far away.  Only the four of us sat at the table.  I haven’t a clue what we ate.  I do remember feeling comfortable and happy.  When we finished eating, she took us into the living room.  The conversation turned serious.  I couldn’t read well enough for her to feel comfortable with me continuing on to second grade.  She told my parents that they could let me go onto the next level, but she warned them I would struggle because I was so behind my classmates.

 

Concern crossed my dad’s face, “is she slow.”  I chuckle at how politically incorrect that response is for today.  Life was much different back in 1974.

 

Mrs. Delapp reassured him I was quite capable of reading.  The problem was that I missed so much school that I wasn’t getting the right amount of exposure to the lessons.  He had no idea I missed school.  In the morning, he left for work at five and returned at six in the evening.  Never did he think he had to check on my attendance.

 

The rest of the evening, I don’t remember what was said though I do think Dad agreed at her house that I would be held back and repeat the first grade.  I didn’t feel good anymore.

 

At some point, my parents had a long heated talk.  Dad wanted to know the reason why I missed so much school.  Mom said I couldn’t go to school if the weather was bad or if I was sick.  He questioned all of this.  In the end, he learned she kept me home if it rained, snowed, I sniffled, and every excuse in the book that made complete sense to her but not the rest of the world.  I imagine Dad was angry and told her how life would be the next year.

 

From that time forward, Dad took me to the library.  We worked on my reading and continued to talk stories we read until the day he passed away.  Each night, we talked about school.  I never had perfect attendance, but I had to be sick by his standards to stay home.  I didn’t miss much school.

 

Holding me back was the right decision.  I was teased.  Some would say I was bullied.  I hated that, obviously.  I blamed my mother for having to be held back when kids asked questions like why I was a year older.  I worked my ass off to get good grades to prove I wasn’t “slow.”  I also felt something was amiss with my mom’s thinking.  Sure, I was only six when this happened, but Dad and Mrs. Delapp didn’t approve of her keeping me home.

 

Over the years, I asked Mom a lot of questions about her behavior.  She threw her mother under the bus a lot by saying she was never taught to be a mother.  Grandma was sick a lot.  I would get mad and say Mom didn’t teach me either, but I figured it out.  Granted, maybe I didn’t do much better.  The jury is still out on that and I know one person who thinks I was a terrible mother.

 

As I quilt, I think of the changes my life took due to being held back.  I got over the shame I felt when being teased.  By high school, no one cared.  I was blessed with the friends I made as part of the Class of ‘’87 in both Eureka and Libby: Terri, Stacey, and a host of others.  Of course, I was led to study hard and go to college, meeting my dear husband.  I learned to love story and to write.  Who knows how my life would have turned out if I had graduated in 1986 instead?  The quilt of my life definitely would have been different.

Here is the fourth project I have finished for Mom.  I did the binding.

Content

 

A few months ago, life weighed on me.  As I always do, I went out to see what I could read to help me get through the days.  Jerry was at annual training in Iowa.  I thought maybe a book about faith and an absent husband might help.  I picked a book called “Faith Deployed” by Jocelyn Green.  The book is for military wives.  The topics aren’t applying completely to me because it comes from the viewpoint of an active duty wife, but I have enjoyed the chapters I have read.  They are short.  I read one a week to think about throughout the days.

A couple weeks ago, the Bible reading at the top of chapter 8 resonated with me.  She cut parts of the verse out, so it began with “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances”.  I liked the idea of being content.  I need to be more content in all things.  With COVID, I have found myself not at all content.  I want to go to activities that have been canceled.  I want to travel.  I want my daughter socially healthy.  The list of my discontent can go on and on.  If I keep being restless, my life will become unbearable.  I had a lot to ponder for the week.

I went to Mass that Sunday, nothing out of the ordinary.  The Bible reading at Mass caused me to sit up straight.  The New Testament reading was the exact same as the one in the book.  Okay, God is telling me this is really important.  I love it when he makes his message abundantly clear.  I looked up the verses in a couple of different versions of the Bible.  The one at the bottom of the page comes from my Catholic New American Bible, just like the reading at church.

Yes, I need to be content.  I need to be resilient with all the things happening in the world and in my life.  In fifty-two years, God has taught me resiliency and so many other things.  I need to rely on all my life experiences.  I need to rely on the friends and family God sends to me who enhance my life, my attitude, like the Philippians helped Paul.  Most of all, I need to rely on God to get me through the good days and the bad.  He never has let me down and he never will.  My strength comes through the Lord.  This will keep me healthy and smiling.

 

“Not that I say this because of need, for I have learned, in whatever situation I find myself, to be self-sufficient.  I know indeed how to live in humble circumstances; I know also how to live with abundance.  In every circumstance and in all things I have learned the secret of being well fed and of going hungry, of living in abundance and of being in need.  I have the strength for everything through him who empowers me.”  Philippians 4: 11-13

 

The Quilt

 

Where do I start a story about the patchy relationship between a mother and daughter?  Do I begin with the beginning of the relationship?  Or do I begin with her beginning to point out the clues that might have made my mother who she became as an adult?  I really don’t know where to start our story.  The relationship was like a patchwork quilt.  Some of the blocks did look beautiful in all the right patterns and color combinations.  A good many blocks came together at wrong angles with ugly fabric that clashed, especially at the bottom of the quilt.  Ugly!

Last year at this exact same time in November 2019, I envisioned writing this story as a memoire with the theme of prison.  I felt I was being held hostage by my mother.  I didn’t have one positive, nice thing to say about her besides she was an amazing quilter.  My anger and frustration consumed me.  I dreaded Sunday afternoon calls.  Her hopelessness covered me, suffocating as if a quilt was being pressed against my face.

Now, I sit in my bedroom with all of her leftover quilting projects.  Though I was still angry with her after she died, I couldn’t bear to throw all of her unfinished work away.  All the piles of quilt tops, cut strips of fabric, various stages of done projects were her legacy.  So, I packed them in boxes, nine totes to be exact.  I drug them to my garage, except one I took to my writing room along with the sewing machine stand and her travel machine.

As we prepared the house to sell, I thought of writing.  Traveling the five hours back and forth from my house to hers, I thought of how I wanted to heal through writing like I did when my dad died.  I thought of the coming year of working on the quilting projects, learning as I sewed.  I thought of my daughter’s senior year of high school and my amazingly supportive husband.  The last thing I wanted for them, our home, or myself was to be in a black hole of anger.  Maybe writing our story was a bad idea.

I also listened to people during this time of closure.  People loved my mom.  They mourned her.  Those who knew her well felt sorrow at her mental state.  Yes, my story of anger is a true story, but their story is true as well.  The little girl in me wanted to find the love I lost for her, to remember happy times with her.  Sure, the snarky teen and angry adult wanted to hold on to the injustice of her actions, I still do on some days.  The combination of the young and old wants to burn the guilt I harbor.  The older, mature adult in me ultimately wants to find peace and finish the damn quilt.

Besides, sitting at the sewing machine, emotions bubble up.  Some stories play in my head.  I need to get my thoughts out on the page.  I am a writer.  That is what we do.  Whether I do either my mom or me justice or the topic, time will tell.  All I know is the story needs told.  The quilt needs to be done, so I can use it without wanting to take it apart with the seam ripper.

While I write my story, I will be finishing her projects.  Below is the majority of the work I have in front of me.  I have finished a couple of things.  I have more projects in my writing room as well.  In the end, I should have a count of everything that I have accomplished.  I am sure the project of sewing will take me longer then a year.  The writing?  I will see what happens.  I declare the year of the quilt starting today.

MIA Status

 

As I washed dishes by hand tonight, the hot water felt divine on my achy hands.  I let my mind wander.  All sorts of ideas for a blog post filtered through my thoughts: quilting, Mom, my father-in-law, life in general, art class, masks, mental illness, and writing blocks.  With an excited step, I left the kitchen, crossed the dining room, and entered the writing room.  Of course, I checked my email and TEAMS to see if I had received a note from one of Madelle's teachers.  After I saw she finished that class with flying colors for the block, I stupidly looked at Facebook.  My desire to write depleted like a hot air balloon half a mile off the ground due to negativity.  When will I learn?  Yet, I am not one to turn from a mission.  Well, most of the time.  So, here I sit trying to collect some semblance of a thought or two.

For a month and a half, I have been MIA on my blog.  This entire year has been hit and miss with my postings.  I would love to say I have been busy writing great fiction.  Nope.  In fact, I was told my stories lacked depth and the reader could care less what happened to the characters of the three short stories I sent into the workshop I attended last month via the internet.  Wow, if that doesn't kill the desire to write!!! 

I shouldn't be surprised by the response.  One, I started the class with a political piece that goes against his beliefs in the world issues of today.  Jerry loved the story.  Oh, well, not the right audience.  Two, I didn't go deep.  I have lost my edge at the moment due to everything going on in my life.  Three, I pulled every one of the words for all the stories like pulling nails off my fingers.  It hurt like hell to write those stories.  I just wanted to do anything besides write.  No wonder they were crappy.  Where does this leave me with writing?  Well, I think I will still write non-fiction for the blog posts.  The fiction I will take slow until life levels out for me.  Jerry doesn't want me to quit.  I am not promising anything yet.

I will say that I have been a bit bored without the writing.  Even if I didn't write during the day, I thought about the stories all the time.  Now I have only my thoughts about the world bouncing around.  Not a great topic at the moment.  I am working at quilting and crocheting.  The house is a little cleaner than normal as well.  I am still working on de-cluttering.  With the beautiful fall, I am even getting out in the yard to do more clean up.  I am keeping pretty busy.

A life change is hanging over my head.  Once this takes place, I hope to have a consistent schedule that will enable me to at least write for the blog.  November 1st will be the start of a new focus for me.  I am kind of excited.  Actually, I have been working on the new focus, but I will be going at the new direction with more gusto.

Until November, I am not sure that I will be back on the blog.  I am giving myself time to be with family.  Last weekend, we picked up Clay and drove to a family wedding on the Richard side.  Tyson and Carissa, we wish you the very best.  This weekend, Jerry's brothers and mom will be coming to visit.  Who knows what will pop up after that!  Though I still feel un-tethered, I am thankful for each new day.  Life is meant for living.  And living is change.  Bring it on!  I am so ready to get this started.

A Dream and the RNC

 

So, I did this thing yesterday that caused me to have a dream.  In the dream, I was attending a political convention.  The person speaking was asking questions of the people.  This person turned to me and asked about the environment.  I talked about the harvesting of trees.  Northwestern Montana needed to be able to go back to logging.  The eyes of a man in the crowd brightened up, and he cheered.  The commentator turned to another person which made me sad.  I didn't get to talk my favorite topic of my soldiers or my retirement fund.  After the convention, I was asked to run for a position in the Montana government.

The thing I did to cause the dream was that I watched night 1 of the Republican National Convention.  I have never done this before.  My husband and daughter talk politics ALL the time.  She worked for Matt Rosendale earlier this summer.  We were hoping to attend some rallies for him and such before COVID hit.  We went to South Dakota where patriotism abounds with everything presidential.  I will do a post on that next week.  All of these things set me up for dreamland.

Now, the last thing we need in this country is another person being a talking head for the political machine.  We don't need more negativity on either side of the aisle.  We are all tired of the rudeness and negativity.  I have been called a small town Montana woman with the ugly connotation that I am stupid and know nothing.  Because of my beliefs, I have been pointed at as being selfish and ignorant.  Yep, I am a small town Montana woman and proud!  I can be a bonehead at times, and I certainly don't know everything.  I can be selfish and with certain topics I am ignorant.  However, I am also giving, knowledgeable, humble, and smart every now and then.  With all of that said, I wanted to point out some interesting things I saw and heard as I watched night 1.

The overall feel of the night was positive and hopeful.  The convention started with a prayer and almost everyone praised our country and asked God to continue to bless the U.S.A.  A democrat from Georgia spoke in favor of President Trump.  That blew me away.  He talked about free thinking, and he likes the President's track record so far.  The owner of Mountain Mud Espresso from Billings talked about the quick turn around for her small business money from the federal government.  Go Montana!!!  Hershel Walker talked of his 37 year friendship with the President and his family.  Finally, a gentleman who came here from Cuba and became a citizen spoke.  His story was very moving and positive, but he worries.  He brought me to tears.

I didn't at all become uncomfortable about the tone of the night.  Sure, they talked about their interpretation of what they consider as Mr. Biden's bad track record in politics.  A few people talked about the basement which isn't praise, but I am not at all sure what they were talking about.  Of course, they talked about wanting to change and fix things.  Their way of going about it is different than the Democrats.  Yet, this was talked about in passing more than anything.  They actually concentrated on President Trump's track record and how he wants to continue his work.

All in all, I enjoyed the speeches and learning new things.  I loved the patriotism and open talk of God.  Now, I do have biases towards the Republican Party.  I would never deny them.  Is it the best party?  No, but it is the best party for me.  Today, I am going to watch night 1 of the Democratic National Convention.  I really hope to be pleasantly surprised.  Will I switch parties?  I highly doubt it.  What I want is to be away from the media's, and frankly obnoxious people's, interpretation and negativity.  And yes, I cringe as I write that last sentence.  I can be obnoxious as well.

Un-tethered

 

The last couple of weeks I have felt un-tethered.  My ability to concentrate on one task is less than normal.  I have no focus on finishing a project.  I am lost in the sky with nothing holding me in place.  As I think about the feeling, I realized an un-tethered bird is free to soar where the wind will take him.  Right after Mom died, I felt free.  Well this is what un-tethered means.  I loved the freedom.  What is different now?  Why don’t I like it anymore?

I honestly don’t know.  Okay, maybe I should say that I honestly don’t want to admit that I am mourning the loss of my mother, my family of origin.  The Sunday calls home kept me grounded.  The responsibility of checking in with Mom and traveling to Libby in the summer gave me purpose.  Yes, I have purpose in all sorts of other ways, but this purpose has been with me for 52 years.  The purpose is gone.  I feel I am floating willy-nilly all over the place.  What do I do with this?

At the moment while writing this, I am sitting in a hotel in Missoula.  I came over to get away for a couple of days to write and read for my fantasy writing class.  The trip is a multiple layer trip in that I left my pickup at the dealership to fix the air-conditioning unit.  I also met up with a couple of cousins to hand over things we saved for them from Mom’s stuff.  My feeling of being un-tethered has to do with family as well, I think.
     Libby has been the center of family on both sides: Nixon and Hedahl.  When Dad died, I worried about not seeing the Nixon family as much.  I worked at staying connected with Aunt Shirley and Uncle Albert.  They are gone now.  Mom’s passing left me with no home base with
which to keep in the loop and visit from.  Being un-tethered isn’t just about Mom and the house, it is also about the extended family.

I need to learn to navigate in the extended family without the older generation.  On the Nixon side, I am now that older generation.  How did that happen?  My dad was great at staying connected.  Of course, most of his family lived in Libby,
so at the worst, he ran into them in town. But I know he visited all the time.  My mom wasn’t good at staying connected in person.  She didn’t like to travel.  People had to come to her.

Now, I live five hours from the majority of my Nixon cousins.  The majority of my Hedahl cousins are two to five hours away.  I need to go visiting.  I have to organize various trips in the summer that are now cousin trips instead of parent trips.  This will help me to feel grounded again.

Last night, being with Heidi and Holly meant the world to me.  We talked for about three hours and could have talked longer, but the hour grew late.  Yes, I keep up with some of the cousins on Facebook.  This isn’t enough.  I need to see them.  Hang out with them.  They all mean the world to me.  So, as I was sitting here this morning, I
will continue my plan of traveling to Libby at least once a year.  I need to continue to make the trip a
responsibility.  A good responsibility.  I also need to travel to the Missoula / Thompson Falls area.  When that becomes a common occurrence, I believe I will be less un-tethered.

Nervous Energy

Nervous energy pulses through me, leaving me scattered and animated.  Jumping out of my skin, climbing the walls are sayings that bounce around in my flighty brain.  I move from one unfinished task to the next.  The condition began earlier this week to crescendo yesterday afternoon.  I hoped today I would return to a calming presence, but alas, I still feel jittery.

Like most people, I have never been in charge of an estate.  My mother didn't have much, so luckily the process isn't half as complicated as it could get.  However, I have still been nervous about taking care of everything, especially the sell of the house.  As the original closing date grew closer, my anxiety increased.  Not hearing anything caused more stress.

Well, the process went a bit nuts yesterday.  Emails flew back and forth.  I waited.  I wondered if I needed to drive up to Libby.  I kept my schedule open, but I didn't hear yes or no.  Finally, the agent said everything would be done via electronic signature accept the signing of the deed.  A notary needed to witness that and the title company would email it to me.

Around two o'clock, the email arrived.  I printed everything glancing over it a bit.  I headed out to the fort to see the JAG office.  Within about an hour, I signed and initialed not only the deed but the buy, sell contract.  I dropped the package off at the UPS Store.  On Monday, the buyer will do their part.  The house is almost out of my care.  I am over the moon with excitement.  We have been so blessed with a buyer and no problems.  I couldn't have asked for it to go smoother.

With that said, I was bouncing around the house all day yesterday.  I tore into the bedroom closets.  I finally found all of the quilting items I accumulated years ago.  For about two years, I played at quilting.  In that time, I made one quilt top that I had planned to have professionally finished.  I never accomplished the task.  I also was close to finishing a baby quilt for my nephew who died at birth.  Finally, I had a material cut and block done from all the practice I did to learn.  I stopped quilting because I became pregnant and lost my sewing room and sewing time.  Geez, now I have a lot to accomplish between my mom and myself.

I think the sewing is feeding into the nervous energy, so I put the energy to work this morning.  I have eight finished blocks from twenty years ago.  I am not sure what I wanted to do with them, so I laid them out on the bed.  I need twelve more to make a lap quilt.  I have started with this as my first "big" project.  I have even turned on the sewing machine and finished a block that was partway done.  Her (the sewing machine) and I need to bond before I work with my mom's projects.  I have decided to name her Elna, Ellie for short.  We are hitting it off so far.  Hopefully by the end of August, I will have the face of the quilt done.  Until then, here is a picture of the blocks laid out over a lap quilt my mom did for my cousin.  I am including a picture of my block I did this morning with Elna.  Isn't she just cute?

What a Dipstick

Twenty-two years ago, my little family moved to Helena.  Everyone talked about Mt Helena and the wonderful trail system right in town.  I knew about the trails from an annual training a year prior.  I loved hiking the trails.  About sixteen years ago, I joined a group of ladies that mountain biked.  I am not a biker on mountains that steep, but I heard about the Scratchgravel trails.  I attempted the trailhead off of Norris.  I didn't care for it.  Years later, I tried finding the trailhead off of Head Lane.  I wasn't impressed because I saw nothing.

With the loss of our field for walking by our house, I thought I would try Head Lane again.  Madelle and Jerry have hiked it the last two summers.  Now, the mountain that is part of the Scratchgravel Mountains I climbed once.  My oldest son and I tackled it one Christmas Day.  We basically went straight up.  Ouch.

So, with Leo next to me, I drove up Head Lane.  I made it to the bus turnaround like last time and didn't see any trails.  Stupidly, I get nervous with country roads that look like they only go to people's homes, but I was determined to find where the trailhead began.  I kept driving.  I sighed with relief when I saw a sign that I followed to a nice parking spot.

What a perfect spot!  The trail system is extensive and the old roads are perfect.  Yes, all of them have uphill climbs, but the options are easy and hard.  I loved it.  Flowers were blooming all over the place.  The views were beautiful.  I even saw plenty of prickly pear, which I love.  I didn't notice any barrel cactus.  I probably will later, but if not, the rest was stunning.  I am so excited to be able to come here to walk the dog.

Of course, I pushed myself a little too far on my sore leg.  I went .75 in one direction.  I stuck to an old road until on the way back I saw a trail that would be a bit of a short cut.  Not the brightest idea.  Luckily it didn't get steep.  I loved snapping some pictures.  The funny part is that I am such a dipstick.  I have lived so close to the perfect spot to go hiking.  I only saw three people and two dogs.  Oh, well.  Better late than never.

Here are some of the pictures from the hike.

I have also meant to write about a fishing trip Clay and I took last Saturday.  The weekend's plan originally were to host a family gathering.  We canceled do to Covid, but Clay still came home.  I was so thankful that he did.  Anyway, here are some of those pictures as well.  We dropped a line in Holter Lake and the Missouri River.  No bites.  Next time.

Loss and Gains

This week I feel very scattered.  I look at my life around me and wonder what is the next thing to conquer.  My thoughts flit from blog posts, to yard work, to de-cluttering, to cleaning, to sewing, to writing, to crocheting.  Oh, then I throw in walking and hip exercises and other projects that I can dive into.  I am not at all focused.

If I add my thoughts about what to write about, I worry my head might explode.  As I walked around with Leo this morning, my thoughts returned to loss over and over.  Then I would remember Father Shea's homily about not whining.  I would think of the positive mixed into the loss.  Yep, my head is spinning.  This means I should probably write.  I worry my theme is always the same.  My poor readers, but this is what is on my heart right now.

As I have probably said over and over, I have lost all my travel for the year.  I lost my mom.  And again, as I have said before, this has been an ongoing loss, so I am amazed at my emotions with this loss.  I have lost my ability to breath when I go shopping or go to church.  I developed allergies in the last year.  I have always been claustrophobic when something is over my face, so  between the two, I have lost the freedom to breath if I go out into the world and have to wear a mask.  Adding to this, I have lost my garden nursery two blocks from my house.  I have lost my writing spots at the library and Scenic Brew.  Yesterday, I lost my walking area.

Behind the subdivision I live in, an area of over ten county blocks has stayed empty.  People walk in the area over a bunch of paths and dirt roads.  Meadowlarks, fox, and rabbits live in the tall grass.  Barrel and prickly pear cactus bloom in the spring.  I love walking in the area with Leo.  Yesterday, I finally decided to walk a little further.  I had to turn around because a fence is blocking the road on the Mill side of the land.  Today I walked through the Scribner section.  The new fence will block my way soon.  In fact, I won't walk it again.  Today was my last time.  Yes, I was trespassing.  Now Leo and I only have the courts to walk in which is boring for both of us.  I will have to load him up in the pickup now to take him for fun walks.  I will miss the field dreadfully!!!

Alas, I know that I have to face one more loss this year.  In a couple of months, a dear friend will be moving away.  Part of me wishes I could just rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with.  The other part of me wants the time to drag by before the big move so I can enjoy my last days with this person.  But this is what life is.  Loss.  Fortunately, life is also filled with gains.

I have gained an appreciation of life before 2020 with no masks and the freedom to travel all over the world.  I mean, I always appreciated those things, but now they seem so much sweeter.  I don't think I will ever see either the same again.  I have gained a new deck and wall.  For years, I have wanted both but the travel took all my extra money.  I am really excited to have both of these projects close to being done.  In the evening, I sit on my deck and enjoy the backyard.  It is delightful.  Once it is finished, I am excited to have dinner outside.  And the wall???  The front of the house finally feels finished.  Sure, I need to work on the flowerbeds the wall has created, but that will happen in time.  Even if my hip doesn't let me dig, Clay is going to help.  I am blessed!!!

I have also gained two sewing machines and a million projects.  Blessing or curse?  I mean really, I don't need anymore hobbies and projects.  My house feels like it is overflowing with stuff.  This morning I moved a big chest after taking everything out of it.  Now, I have a bunch of quilting stuff in the cabinet.  But where to put the stuff that was in it?  A lot will go in the garbage.  Other stuff will go into the library.  I have room on the book shelves for all of Jerry's sports cards.  I have to figure out what will happen with some photos and art stuff.  De-cluttering and reorganizing is a process!

Gains and losses abound this year.  I have conquered finding a place to put all the sewing stuff and the sewing cabinet that is in the garage.  I will bring that into the house later this week.  Now, I need to finish finding spots for everything that is still on the floor.  Oh, the work of a crafter is never done!!!