~I am~

The snow began Sunday at midmorning with tiny flakes that seemed to float down and melt in the sky before they even had the chance to hit the ground.  Mike and I had been watching the snow line get lower and lower all morning long.  First the mountains went away and then the Black Canyon, the Uncompahgre Range as well as the Grand Mesa.  Then the adobes vanished into thin air and finally, it came to us here in this valley.  

18 hours after it began the snowfall continued on and on and on.
By 4 a.m. Monday there were 10 inches and counting in all.
The grand total was somewhere in the 15-16 inch range, depending upon where you were.

Mid afternoon Sunday, Mike and Sally took one last walk for the day before the snow came down even heavier.  They walk together in any kind of weather, loyal friends to one another.  Sally is a very fortunate dog.

It was bound to happen, this massive dumping of snow upon us.  We have had a mild winter, well at least up until this past weekend.  Mike and I were able to return to Kansas for a week at Christmas time and not have to worry about any storms along the way.  Old Monarch Pass didn't present a problem at all and even the route home through Kansas along Highway 50 was without issues.  The Front Range folks, those on the eastern side of the great Continental Divide have had their share of snow and then some this season.  Those who live on the Western Slope side have been spared the coldest temperatures and the snow/ice combination.  We've been fortunate, as those kinds of things go yet one thing is for certain.

We desperately need the moisture.  
Even a non-lover of winter like me needs to accept that.

In my now nearly 60-year old memory bank that sometimes appears fuzzier by the day, I have no wonderfully happy remembrances of snow and wintertime weather.  There is absolutely no childhood memory of making a snowman or snow angel, having a snowball fight with friends or  even just saying the words~

"Oh I wish it would snow so I could go out to play in it."
Not sure why I was that way.  I just was.  I only recall little hands that were very cold, bedrooms in our old farmhouse that could freeze water in them overnight sometimes, waiting at the end of our driveway forever for Floyd King to pick us up on the school bus and a deep desire for summertime to arrive so we could finally go barefoot.  

Mike and I were thankful to have returned home from California on the day we did.  Had we got a later start in the week in the journey back home to the mountains, we might have encountered a  bit of a slippery drive.  Somehow as I sit here next to the kitchen window typing this blog post, the thought of our week long stay in the sunny and warm high desert country of California seems like a faraway memory.  In reality, it was only 7 days ago.  Time flies when you living your life.

Today it is back to school after a rare snow day here in the mountains of Colorado.  It has been over a week now that I saw "the 21" and I am anxious to be with them once again.  Our time together is growing shorter by the minute and even though we have 3 months yet together they will not last for long.  We have plenty of lessons to learn about reading, writing, math and of life itself but of one thing I am positive.

We will make it.  

On a totally different note, a word about something I learned while visiting southern California last week.  We watched a video that Mike's aunt had received in her email and it was one that made you laugh and smile, big time.  It was a local weatherman out there who was speaking to a group of "seniors" and giving them his version of getting older and the accompanying challenges that go with it.  He was hilarious and I could have listened to him over and over.  Even amidst all of the laughter and smiles, he stopped to make one very somber and serious statement about getting older.

"You should celebrate getting older because if you are then it means one thing.  YOU MADE IT!"
And how right and true that statement surely is.  How many folks have we all known who did not?

As the "seasons" go in our human lives, I realize that in the short years ahead I will be going into my own personal winter.  By the way and just for the record, I hope it has the chance to last about 30 years or so.  I loved my "springtime" and most assuredly my "summer".  Autumn has been interesting and even though it has had a few challenges along the way, I have loved it as well.  I'm not sure what will become of me in the last of the seasons of my life but whatever it is, why not be ready? 

I am.

It kind of put me in mind of an angel food cake when I first saw it at 4:30 a.m. yesterday.  At the time there was 9 inches of snow on the ground. Several more inches fell before it was all over.

Maybe one of the hottest days I will ever remember in the summer of 2011 on day 2 of the Bike Across Kansas.  I swear that the temperature was about 110 degrees that day with humidity to match it.  All of us had just ridden 50+ miles to get there.  In the cold of winter, this photo looks pretty good to me :)

~and I owe it all to Maggie~

First of all, I'd like to say this from the "get go".

"I am pretty sure that if I would have had to make my living doing origami that my little children would have been pretty hungry.  The good Lord knew what He was doing (surprise, surprise) when my life was directed towards being a teacher."

I'm not an origami artist or for that matter, an artist in any sense of the traditional manner.  I don't paint pictures even though I surely love to change the color of the walls inside of our house from time to time.  My hands could never create a beautiful piece of pottery to "save me" but I do enjoying seeing and even sometimes purchasing the clay works of another.  There used to be this burning desire inside of me to make a quilt one day before I died but I have since decided it's not all that important either.  I enjoy seeing quilts and even own a few of my own and that seems to suffice.

But about this subject of origami.

When Mike and I went to visit his step-mom Margaret last year in April, the first thing I saw as I entered her home were all of the beautiful paintings that she had created.  They were everywhere in her house, brightening up the walls of each room.  I couldn't believe it.  I had never seen the likes of a woman who could turn a canvas into a piece of art like Maggie could.  She wasn't afraid of using a variety of colors or different mediums either.  Maggie placed colors side by side that I would have never thought would go well together but in her hands, they did. 

During our 3 day stay there I had the chance to ask Maggie many questions about how she got started being an artist and her very humble responses warmed my heart.  On the day before we had to leave to come home to the mountains, I saw a small basket sitting on a table in the living room.  Inside of the basket were the most unusual origami creations, small orbs that had been fashioned and woven together in a very unique way.  She told me about making them and asked  if I would like to learn to make one.  I eagerly jumped at that chance and so we sat down at the table and tried our hand at it while Mike worked out in the garage going through his father's things.

For two hours we were at it.  We almost got to the point of putting the pieces in place but she was having difficulty remembering how they all went together.  At lunch time we gave it up and I brought home the two little pieces that we could salvage.  Maggie offered for me to take home one that was already completed years ago but I declined.  Instead we made plans to try it once again when Mike and I returned in the fall.  

We never had the chance to meet again.  She was very ill and passed away on the first day of this year.  

At Maggie's house this past week I saw the basket of them again, right where we had put them that day in April of 2014.  It made me think of her and to remember the day that she tried to teach me the fine art of Japanese paper folding.  On the way home a few days back, I told Mike that I thought Maggie would like it if I would try once again to create one of those fascinating orbs.  So last night we sat down and put our hands to work in the process of folding one sheet of paper into a dozen different ways.  

We had picked up this "how to" manual at a local bookstore with hopes of finding the directions of how to make one just like she did.  The title is so very misleading because there really is nothing all that "easy" about doing it.  Well, at least for some of us.

Next to the books was a huge packet of origami paper but unfortunately it was for Christmas creations.  We went ahead to buy it because it was the only kind there for purchase.  After we got home and started making one, it occurred that we might be able to turn these things into Christmas ornaments.

And so it began.  I read the directions (probably not as in-depth as we should have because, well because I never do), chose a piece of paper and began to fold.  About ten folds into it, I hit a stumbling block and in my frustration I put the paper down and looked over at Mike.  Even though it had been a year since Maggie tried to teach me, I remembered well that this was the point at which I was in trouble before.  What had Maggie told me to do?  

Mike came over and we sat together while he figured out what in the heck it meant to "slowly push the center point out and squash fold it into place).  After 15 minutes of trying, a smile came to our faces as we saw finally how to do it.  Now that I think about it this morning, it's some akin to turning your clothes right side out before you throw them into the washer.  It just took another set of eyes and a person with a lot of patience (that'd be Mike) to figure it out.  

 Once we got to going, it became easier and easier.  Six "units" are needed to create one modular unit ball.  Finally we had 3 completed.

About half an hour later, all 6 were done and although I thought it would be impossible it was not.  The experience gave renewed credence to the old adage, "The impossible just takes a little longer."

After joining them together, a process that almost makes you have to stand on your head to complete, they turned into an orb much like the one that Maggie had made.

There are a couple of things that I have learned about Mike.  One of them is that he is patient beyond being patient and he is a very good sport.  Not every guy would be willing to sit down with his wife on a Saturday evening and learn how to fold paper but he was.

I have learned something from this all.  I am actually glad that I realized the true gift that Maggie was giving me that day last year as we sat at that table together.  The gift was not that I should take one of those beautiful balls she had made that day when we first met.  It was not even that I should take one of them when we were in California last week.  The gift she gave me was that of her time and presence, something that I will never have again.  

My gift was priceless.
And I owe it all to Maggie.

One of Maggie's creations~
Ours looked a little different but that's ok.  No two works of art should ever look the same.

~we can only hope~

After spending a week in the high desert country of sunny California where the temperatures often pushed past the 80 degree mark each day, it seems strange to realize that there is a chance of snow for the next three days in this valley that we live in.   Yet this is the state of Colorado and the calendar still says that the month is February.  We should expect to see at least a few more weeks for the chance of winter weather.  Spring is now less than a month away according to the calendar and so I hold on to the hope that we can sooner or later put away the winter coats, gloves, scarves and hats.  

We can only hope.  
And dream.

I've been trying to do a better job of embracing the winter weather and the accompanying cold and snow it always brings.  This winter along the Rockies has been a much milder one, well at least for our side here on the west.  There has been minimal snow and very little sleet/ice in our immediate area and although that is nice for a person who doesn't prefer that kind of stuff all that much, we still need the moisture.  Come the springtime when the water is turned on and farmers begin to irrigate the crops in their fields, the water will be used quickly.  The melting snow from high atop the mountains will make its way down into the streams and rivers below.  The more water there is available, the better it shall be.  

It seemed so strange that while we were in Joshua Tree, California last week we came across a pair of snowshoes for sale in a thrift store along the way.  I'd been looking for some since I got here but I just didn't want to give the money they were asking for them new in the store.  All last winter we checked online and in local stores around here but to no avail.  Mike and I caught sight of this pair immediately as soon as we entered the store.  It was as if they had been placed there, just for me to see.  The price tag was right ($35) and they were a good brand in excellent condition.  At first I said "no", not wishing to spend the money on them that day.  Yet Mike kept insisting that they were good shoes and that we would never see them at that price again for a long time.  

And so he bought them.

Sometimes that picture reminds me of the old adage, "it was an accident waiting to happen" but 
what the heck?  I'm going to try it anyways.  If by chance we should actually get any of that forecast snow for tomorrow,  Mike and I will test them out around the farmyard here.  Somehow, jumping a curb while riding a bike still seems much more dangerous of an attempt.  

We will soon find out.

The sun has not come up yet on our part of the world but soon it shall.  In an hour more that golden orb that we all so look forward to will begin to peek over the mountains and a new day will begin.  I woke up this morning and if you are reading this, then so did you.  There is a reason for us to be here and no accident in the planning of it all.  We never know what lies ahead and a darned good thing that we do not.  May whatever you encounter this day be something very "good" and if it's not so good, may you have the grace to deal with it.  That's what I wish for you.

It's what I wish for myself as well.  

The view out of the kitchen window just now.  Morning has broken along the Western Slopes.

~the view from along the way~

We finally made it home.

By mid-afternoon we pulled into the driveway here at home along the Western Slopes and began the arduous process of unpacking the car.  It didn't take that long as we worked together and before we knew it all that was left in the car were the 1,900 miles that we put on it during the course of the trip.  It was good to break the new Jeep in and to do what my father would have referred to as "getting all of the cobs blown out".   Mike drove all the way and when I wasn't busy watching the inside of my eyelids, I kind of/sort of helped to navigate.  It is always a wonderful thing to make a journey of any kind, especially one this long, without trouble along the way.  God watched over us and gave us safe passage in the going out and in the coming back.  You will never convince me otherwise.

And so, it is back to normal here, whatever that might be.

It's the early morning hours and I slept in until 4:30 a.m. instead of my usual 4:00 time of getting up.  Sally the dog was glad to be able to go back to her normal routine of getting a bathroom break and a treat before returning to her place of rest by Mike's side of the bed.  Crosby the cat is glad that someone, anyone decided to come back home.  She is now under the butcher block table and happily enjoying a drink from Sally's water container.  Although both of them were cared for by great people, I think that if we would have chosen to be gone any longer we might have found them walking down 50 highway, their backpacks in hand.  Looks like we might have been missed by them.

Being away from home for nearly a week wasn't easy at times and by about Wednesday we knew that it was time to head back.  Much would be awaiting us and since there was little more that we could do, we packed up the car and left out in the early morning hours on Wednesday.  Mike decided that we would go back another route, one that would take us to see some places that he wanted to show me.  After a brief stop in Las Vegas to see the infamous part of the city referred to as "The Strip", we headed out for southwestern Utah and a chance to see Zion National Park.  It was a detour worth taking.  The photos below show some of the sights we were able to see during our 2 hour stay there.

                                ~the mile long tunnel that cuts through the mountain~

                       
                       ~the beautiful colors and striking rock formations that abound there~

Yesterday as we continued to travel home we caught up with I70 near the Utah town of Richfield.  After enjoying a good breakfast we headed out towards home.  Thankfully we decided that it was "ok" to slow down a bit and to take a moment to enjoy some of the landscape from the scenic views just off of the interstate.  What breathtaking images we were able to see!  They are shown in the photos below.

                                         I have come to appreciate "interesting trees".  

     Flat Stanley from Mrs. Morris' kindergarten class enjoyed the journey with us.

Mike was right when he said that if we didn't stop and pull off the road that we'd miss most of the best scenery.  For once, we slowed down and enjoyed the beauty that this land has to offer.  

And so, it's back to normal now.  It's time for me to return to "the 21" and my life as a teacher at Olathe Elementary.  I have missed them and realized even more just how much they mean to me.  Our time together is growing shorter and there is so much to be done before sending them on to second grade in the fall upcoming.  Those little people mean the whole world to me and I love them each very much.  Where did the past nearly 6 months go?  Time flies when you are learning how to read and write.  It flies even faster when it is spent doing what you were destined to do from the beginning.  

They call me "teacher" and that makes my heart happy.

~it will be for me as well~

It will be soon time to leave the high desert country of southern California and slowly make the journey back to Montrose and the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado.  Our time is nearly through here and although much was accomplished, there will be more to finish at a later date.  For now it is time to go home.  

I learned a lot about this state during my time here, a place that was once the destination point of many people during the Great Depression and the days of the Dust Bowl.  They came here searching for a better life, one that would put money in their pockets and food in their hungry bellies.  Some of them found prosperity and stayed while others decided to try elsewhere or even to turn around and go home.  California is the third largest state in the U.S.  by geographical area and a place where one can find deserts, mountains, lakes and even an oasis or two.  Over 40,000,000 people live here and it was a pleasure to be able to stay with two of the finest of them, Mike's aunt and uncle.  For their kindness and hospitality we are most beholden.  I will miss those two folks and every opportunity we had to sit around their table, drink coffee and talk together.  They are my kind of people.

Thank you for everything, Aunt Marli and Uncle Mike.

You know, I also learned a lot about myself while I was here and by the way, that seems to be an ongoing process with me these days.  While I can now cross off "finally go to Utah" from my list of 60 things to do before I turn 60, I am adding on a new one to take its place.  I want to learn how to make origami balls just like Mike's late step-mother Maggie did.  When Mike and I were in California last April to visit her, I asked if she might teach me how to make them.  She happily obliged.  I will always remember that morning on the day before we left to return back to Colorado.  Maggie and I sat down at the kitchen table and had a lesson in Japanese paper folding.  I was very interested in learning from her and she was happy to teach me what she knew.  After a couple of hours worth of trying with limited success, we decided to unfold what we had done and give it up for the time being.  I began the process of unwrapping the two that we had created and to my pleasant surprise, they had taken on the form of two crosses.  Maggie signed her initials on them for me and they now occupy a special place inside of a scrapbook that she made for Mike to remember his father by.  

 I didn't realize it fully at the time but Maggie was giving me a gift that morning that was far more valuable and precious than anything she could have placed into my hands to bring back to the mountains of Colorado.  The real treasure that Maggie gave me that day was the gift of her time and of her presence.  I will always remember that about her and perhaps I can honor her memory by learning how to make my own some day.  At least I'm going to give it a try and not only will it be for Margaret Renfro.

It will be for me as well.

From April of 2014~at Twentynine Palms, California

I actually thought they turned out pretty well.  They weren't origami balls but then again, maybe they were never supposed to be.

Maggie, so glad to have known you if even for just a little while.  You were a very special woman and I will hold the memory of our short time together in my heart.  I learned more from you in 3 short days than some people are able to acquire in a lifetime.

~and life still goes on~

                                   I think that if I was going to be a tree, I'd be a Joshua.

     
I saw them yesterday all along the monument nearby where we are staying here in Twentynine Palms.  Each of them is a marvel of nature as far as I am concerned, trees that somehow find the will and the way to grow in the sandy soil of the Mojave Desert.  They bring beauty and life to a place barren of much other green growth.  It's the great American desert and a place where I have spent the last four days.  

The Joshua's bloom is beautiful and seen for only a short span of time.  Today as we were finishing up our lunch, several park visitors were swarming around our eating spot with their cameras aimed high into the air.  It wasn't just a few but rather a dozen or more, each wielding their Nikon's and Canon's as they attempted to take the perfect photo before heading on through the park.  Mike was able to capture the image shown above under the noontime sun of  midday.  

I was kind of curious about how the Joshua tree got its name and so I checked into it.  According to legend, and you know how legends go, the Mormon pioneers gave it the name of "Joshua" because its uniquely shaped and positioned branches reminded them of the prophet that was going to lead them to the Promised Land.  It reaches its maturity at between 50-60 years of age and some have the potential to live to be 150 years old.  

In the "people world" the Joshua tree would be considered steadfast and determined, right and true.  It's one of those trees with integrity and there is just something about one that calls me to take notice of it and in this journey to the west, I most certainly did.

You know, I never once thought I would go to the desert for any reason.    I just didn't go anywhere and if I  did, it was always a destination that I could return home to that very day.  My life has changed and now I go to many places.  As a matter of fact this is my second journey to the state of California in the past year and although I doubt that I'd make the choice to live here I have a great deal of respect for those who do.  Residents of the "Golden State" are a hearty people who have lived through a host of challenges since the state's birth on September 9th of 1850.  It has been my pleasure to meet some of them during our stay here and perhaps some day I will come back to visit them once again.

Soon Mike and I will return home to the Western Slopes of the state of Colorado.  The Rocky Mountains will once again encircle us.  We will leave the beautiful 84 degree weather and sunny skies behind us and head back to a place where the snow has the possibility of falling well into the month of March.  Sooner or later the skies will clear in Montrose and Winter will once again pass off the baton in the dance of the seasons to Spring.  The cold and the dark will just be a memory.  Whether you live in the desert of California, the San Juan Mountains of Colorado or on the beautiful plains of south-central Kansas one thing is for certain.

Life goes on. 

Yes, I think that if I was going to be a tree, I would choose to be like the Joshua.

~and by the way, I do~

So far, life's been interesting.  

I've had my share of surprises and more than my allotment of  heartache.  There's been the bad but there has also been the very good and it has outweighed it each and every time.  The wonderful things that have happened to me  trump the horrible things so hard that you wouldn't even know you had once had trouble.  For that I am grateful.  Even on days when life seems to suck big time,  you gotta give thanks for that which you don't have to endure. 

And by the way, I do.   

On my list of 60 things to do before I turn 60 this year, item #52 "to love myself way more than I do" and #53 "to find peace in whatever life deals me" seem to go hand in hand.  You can't have one without the other and although I'd love to say that I will be able to cross them off by the time late October rolls around, I'm not sure that it will happen.  I can only hope.

Sometimes I even wonder why I put them on the list in the first place, you know?  I've been wrestling around with those two things for nearly all of my life and I'm not alone either.  I've known a lot of people,  just like me, who are harder on themselves than they ever would be on anyone else.  In fact some of them are my very best of friends.  We share the same character attribute, one that comes out time and time again.  I'm in good company.

We hate to let people down and when we make a mistake, it eats upon us.  Sometimes little by little in tiny bites while other times it swallows us up in one big and satisfying gulp.  The end result, either way it happens, isn't a good feeling.  I've got to keep working on it.  If I ever have the chance to make "Peggy's list of 70 things to do before turning 70", perhaps those two things shall be there as well :)  

This list of mine, the one that admonishes me to do 60 things by the 26th of October, is actually kind of being whittled down a bit.  Some traveling is ahead in the very near future and soon I will be able to see my sweet little granddaughter Catherine and her family, taking care of item #26.  #6 will be taken care of tomorrow when we cross over the state line into Utah on our way west for a few days.  Although I could have taken care of #28, by attending the Judy Collins concert here this Friday, there will be plenty of other opportunities to go to one.  It would have been nice to have finally seen in person the real "Sweet Judy Blue Eyes".  The performers of my youth are still going strong and I'm sure that when I least expect it, a ticket will find its way into my hands.

I have to believe that it will happen.

I'll be away from my blog site for the next several days as we travel to take care of some family things that need our attention but before I go there is something that I want to say and the something is this.

"Have I told you lately how glad that I am that we are friends? That without you in my life, I'd be in a big world of hurt?  The material things of our existence, well they come and go.  Mostly they go.  But the love of our friends has the ability to endure forever.  Just wanted to say it, in case you already did not know."

The day is upon us and in our part of the world it is not quite 5 a.m.  A lot is ahead of me in the next 36 hours and it's time to get off of the computer and pack it away for the trip to school in just a couple of hours.  Wherever you may be this fine Wednesday morning, my prayer is for you to be well and at peace with life.  I am alive and most assuredly well as I move towards peace in my life too.  God saw fit that a little girl from the plains of Kansas should find a wonderful man in the mountains of Colorado.  

And happily, here I am.

~for one to call "my own"~

It was on a Friday during second grade "show and tell" time that I first met her.  She was this beautiful doll that had a magical string embedded in her back and when you pulled it she said the most marvelous of things.

Things like~

"I love you!" and "Please take me home with you."

She belonged to a little girl in my class named Kathy and the doll had been a Christmas present to her only a few weeks back.  The doll was called Chatty Cathy and how I wished that I too could have one but I knew that would be impossible.  Those special dolls cost more money than my family would be able to pay.  I was sure that only rich little girls would find one in their arms and most of the other regular girls, kids like me, would only be able to wish for one.  Funny how you think when you are 7 years old and the world revolves around the things other kids have and you do not.

I remember once that I asked for one from my folks and the look on my mom's face when she gave me the answer will always stick with me.  She knew that I wanted one because every time that doll's commercials came across the old black and white TV screen in our living room I ran to watch it.  She'd even heard me tell of my friend Kathy having one.  It wasn't because she was mean or uncaring that Mom gave me the answer of "no" when I asked for one.  The reasons I couldn't have one were pretty much plain and simple.

1. We were a farming family, a household of 9 people all together.
2. Chatty Cathy was way too expensive.
3. The bottom line was this.  We couldn't afford it.

I soon got over it and moved on to wishing for bigger and better things.  Things like the little chimpanzees that were always on the Ed Sullivan Show on Sunday nights.  For two years straight I begged my folks to let us have an "8th" child, one that we could dress up in little clothes and teach tricks to.  They always looked so cute and well behaved as they jumped rope or rode a little tricycle.  I never once saw them do anything naughty and thus in my way of thinking, they would be a great addition to our already huge family.  My folks said "NO" to that idea too.  I simply could NOT catch a break. They did however wrap up a very cute chimpanzee holding a banana in his hand for my Christmas of 1962.  It satisfied me enough that I quit asking and I have no recollection of begging for anything else in particular for the rest of my childhood days.

I have retold those memories over the years to all of the students that I have taught, both here in Colorado and back home in Kansas as well.  They smile as I tell them of my furtive pleas for a toy that I already knew I could not have but one that I just had to ask for anyway.  This year I relayed that memory to some very special little girls in my first grade classroom as we were reading a new book during our after school book club in the fall.  They listened intently as I told them my "sad" story of never having a fancy doll when I was a little girl and how I still secretly longed for one from time to time.  That little trio of good friends and their sweet mommas put their heads together and secretly hatched a plan to help me get one for Christmas just this December. When they handed me a Christmas card that contained a gift certificate towards the purchase of one, their eyes lit up like it was they themselves who would receive it.  They have loving hearts, ones acquired by watching the examples of their own mothers.  Yesterday at long last, after waiting for a month because she was "out of stock" until mid-January, my own special doll arrived in the mailbox.  In the winter of my soon approaching 60th year, the "little girl that still lives inside of me" could smile as she held a special treasure.

This is Addy, an American Girl doll.  The after school book club kids have been reading her story, one that tells of what it would have been like to be a slave back in the early 1860's.  I chose her because of the historical importance of the time and because she is so pretty :)

It felt funny, in a very nice way, to open up the box that she was in.  The company that makes these dolls takes great care in their shipping and poor Addy was fastened in there pretty well.  Good thing that I am 59 and not 7 right now.  I might not have been patient enough to wait for someone to help me get her out of there.  Mike took his pocket knife and cut through all of the many fasteners.  As I picked her up and held her there was actually such a happy feeling inside of me, one that I had been waiting for nearly all of my life.

Tomorrow that wonderful doll will head to school with me and there she will become a part of our classroom community.  There is a special seat, high atop a bookshelf, where dear Addy can watch all the kids as they do their best work each and every day.  It will be nice to show her to the rest of the kids and I will promise to be "good" and allow everyone who wishes to hold her the chance to do so.

As I look back on it now, with the eyes of someone quite removed from the days of my youth, I survived quite well without an expensive doll underneath the Christmas tree.  Perhaps it was meant for me to wait for nearly half of a century before I could actually call a doll like Addy "mine".  Never in my wildest of dreams did I believe that I would own one.

Nor did I ever imagine that I would meet the three special little girls whose gift this was to me.  
They are a part of "the 21", a group of children whom I love very much and will hold close to my heart forever.

~it was my privilege to know you~

Sometimes I find the best things when I least expect them and just when I need them the most.

     I was looking for something totally different last evening when I came across it once again.  It was on the bottom shelf of the bookcase stacked alongside several notebooks where I found the beautiful scrapbook that the students and staff back at Lincoln Elementary in Hutchinson, Kansas had made for Mike and I.  It was our wedding present, a parting remembrance of a time so very special to me.   When one of the teachers asked me what I would like as a gift before leaving that week I could think of only one thing.

"Please make me a scrapbook of the memories that are here.  I will miss you."
And so they did.

     It was on the last official work day of the year for USD 308 staff members that they presented it to me on the day before we left to go home to Colorado.  We had just gotten married there in that same spot underneath the basketball goal in the gym/school cafeteria little more than 12 hours before.  The adults sitting in the chairs and the little children scattered all around us would forever have their memories preserved in that beautiful album.  I was way too overcome with emotion to even pretend to look much through it that morning.  I packed it away with my other things and it was well into my first year here before I ever dared to get it out again.

     I looked at it one day early in 2014 and smiled at the remembrances.  About midway through I began to feel those old familiar twangs of homesickness mixed in with loneliness and decided to put it away.  Having come so far in feeling better about living way out here in Colorado, I didn't want to start feeling sad again.  I tucked it away, out of sight and out of mind.  I never thought about it again.

Until last night.

     Yesterday, February 5th of 2015, 3 months shy of two years since receiving it, I made it all the way through.  Instead of feeling sad and lonely about it, I felt happy and very much loved.  Each of those pages were filled with special pictures and kind messages.  As I finally reached the end of the scrapbook, it was with the realization of just how blessed I was to spend my last 3 years of education in the state of Kansas at that little school on the corner of Bigger and Maple streets.  They were 3 years that I had not intended to have but after having failed retirement miserably in 2010, it was where I found myself.

And the weird thing was this.   I didn't even realize that I was lost.

     There was a page dedicated to the memories of our 4H club back there, one that I helped to begin along with my dear friends Jessica and Alicia.  Lincoln 4H was only a couple of years old but we were able reach a group of kids who had some special talents and gifts.  How fun it was to watch them grow and change, right before my very eyes!

     My dear and sweet colleagues in the Title I room added their own special page.  We shared a lot of memories together during that time as we tried our best to develop small group rotations of students in both reading and math throughout our building.  I learned from them and that was a great thing for me.  That knowledge came with me, over the big mountain and down to the other side to a little town called Olathe, Colorado where it is being put into practice each and every school day.

     The 4th graders of that year are now getting ready to finish up their 6th grade year.  One of them, a sweet little boy named Ezequiel, is a good artist.  He designed the picture that would be placed upon the top of the wedding cake that his teacher, my good friend Kris, made for us to enjoy that day.  I still have the original drawing, one that he discreetly hid inside his school desk so I would not see it when I came into his classroom.

     Each and every message is so sweet and heartfelt and although looking at the book didn't make me sad this time, I have to admit I choked up at a few of them.  I think that is ok though.  It shows that I am still very much alive and that my heart is filled with so much love for them still.  I hope that they know that.

I want them to know that I still remember them.  
Always.

     I keep up with the folks back there through daily visits to Facebook and through emails and occasional visits back home to Kansas.  I admire each and every one of them for what they continue to do for the good of children.  Of course it is not easy, this business of making sure that every child receives the education that they not only need, but deserve as well.  Yet they are just like teachers everywhere in this great world of ours.

They don't give up.
Ever.

     Very soon it will be time to head just a few miles up the road for the final day of the school week at Olathe Elementary.  There I will find my new friends and colleagues who all work very diligently themselves to provide a quality education for the children who live along the Western Slopes of the Rocky Mountains.  I continue to learn every day, and although sometimes I seem to learn the hard way, I usually never forget the lesson.  I'm fortunate, blessed beyond measure, to be able to teach with the fine staff that I am with here.  I have made friends and found an anchor in a place that I didn't even know existed three years ago.

What a gift!

     I would never be able to relay each and every message written inside of that special book in this blog post but some of the ones that made me smile are shown below.  To those sweet people and dear friends that I had to leave behind that day, please know that I am doing just fine here.  I think of you each day with a grateful heart.

It was my privilege to know you.
Please remember me.  I will always be remembering of you.

                                         From the 4th graders~

From my principal who helped me to escape from being locked inside of my windowless classroom after the longest 14 minutes of my life one day, a couple of weeks before school was out for the year.

  From the classroom of my dear "friend forever" Pat~                            

~Don't we all?~

It will soon be time to convince zinnias to grow from seed here at our home along the Western Slopes of the Rocky Mountains.  The plan to do so occupies the #10 spot on my list of 60 things to do before I turn 60 this year.  The last two gardening seasons of trying to get those beautiful flowers going from seed have been most disappointing.  The clay-filled soil around our house  just seemed to swallow them up and the one or two defiant seeds that did decide to sprout never lasted long.  It was just all that they could do to make it to the top of the soil and when they did, well it was over.  They had used up all of their strength in such a short amount of time.  Their blooms would never been seen.  It was sad and most defeating.   

Back in Kansas it was always fun to grow them along the east side of my house back in Hutchinson.  Each year during the cold months of winter, I would order a bunch of seeds of differing varieties; ones of various sizes, types and colors.  I would plant the seeds inside of an old metal ring that came off of a piece of farm machinery.  It was just the right size to get them started in.  Once they sprouted I removed the ring and let them grow.  Zinnias are a hearty flower and ones that withstand just about anything that summertime weather in Kansas can hand to them.  I even had them in my backyard in pots and little corners of the garden where they could show off their colors throughout June, July and August.  I learned to appreciate that beautiful flower from two master gardeners that I knew back there.  My mom and grandmother both had the greenest of thumbs and I'm thankful that even though I didn't pick up their culinary talents that at the very least I received their "gifts" in the area of floriculture.  

Growing things has always been a part of my life and the things that I have nurtured have not always been of the "plant" kind.  As a teacher, now for nearly 4 decades of my life, I've been in the business of "growing children" for quite some time.  It's a pretty big responsibility, this growing of children idea and one that I have never taken lightly and certainly not for granted.  I've seen so many children coming in and out of my classrooms over the years that I long ago lost count of how many I've taught.  Hundreds upon hundreds, that's for sure.  Yet even though I have lost track of a few of those classes, one thing remains certain in my mind.

"Not all children "bloom" at the same time.  Each one has their own growing season.  The sooner you realize that very fact, the better off you will be."

We had a class meeting yesterday morning at school, "the 21" and I.  It was time for one and in fact, it was way "over" time.  Sometimes life gets stressful, even for little people.  I could tell by the way that all of us were fussing with one another last week that we needed to slow down and brings things to a momentary stop before even thinking about the week ahead.  So there around "the campfire" we listened to one another tell about what had been bothering us and how we could make things "right" once more as we started a brand new week at school.  I'm so glad that we did and the 25 minutes that it took before we did anything else yesterday helped us to have a more productive rest of the day.  Slowing down and taking the time to listen to one another was the only way to do so.

#21 on that list of 60 things asks me to make a difference in the life of a child somewhere.  #54 reminds me to continue teaching and make a difference wherever I might be needed.  Perhaps I am accomplishing those two "wishes" every single day that I go to school.  One thing I have learned, not only here in Colorado, but for many years back in Kansas as well is that the differences we make are sometimes very subtle ones.  In fact, they are many times not even obvious until some time later on.

Yesterday one of my former students that I taught in the 4th grade came up to me in the hallway after school.  We got to talking about how the day had gone and how she was doing in school this year.  I told her how much I missed not being their teacher but I was always glad to see them all in the hallways.  She told me that yesterday at school they were talking about me and when I asked her what they were saying, her response made me stop and think.

"Well we were talking about how you a lot of times had snacks for us, especially in the afternoon when we were really hungry and how it helped us to do better in our work.  All of us kids were really glad to have something to eat.  How did you know that we were hungry Mrs. Renfro?"

I smiled at the remembrance of it all.  She was right.  I did bring them lots of snacks.  It was the way that they met "Mr. Renfro" for the first time.  He was the "bearer" of so many of them.  It was Mike's "breaking in" moment of being the spouse of a teacher and that guy loved every minute of it.  Mike Renfro is just that way.

Even though I've been growing plants and children as well for such a long time, I've got a lot to learn about taking care of them before my stay on this planet is through.  Both need a lot of help along the way, occasionally some pruning, and additional stability to help them grow straight and tall.  Provisions of food and water are a must.  And oh yes, one another thing.

They all need a lot of love.  
Don't we all?

My very first attempt at growing succulents was last spring when Mike's dear step-mother, Margaret Renfro, showed me how.  I'd never tried it before but have had a whole lot of fun with them since then.  Maggie passed away on New Year's Day this year but the lessons that she taught me about growing things will stay with me forever.  

For all of the people who have helped me to grow straight and reasonably tall, I am much beholden.  

~They were worth it. Each and every one of them.~

The calendar turned to February today and with it marks the beginning of yet another month in this year of 2015.  It's hard to imagine, almost unbelievable to think of at times, just how fast life goes.  The age old saying "time waits for no one" is most certainly true and if you think you can slow it down a bit, you will most certainly be proven wrong.  The very best that we can do, in fact the only thing, is to live each day to the fullest while we are here on this place called planet Earth.

My 60th birthday will be looking me square in the eyes in exactly 268 days more and although in print that looks like a lot of time to spare, in reality it is not.  Early in the fall of 2014, I came up with a list of 60 things that I was determined to do before I turned that wonderful age on my birthday in late October of 2015.  Although I have 8 of them done there are 52 more just waiting for me to accomplish.  I wonder to myself if I can really do it, actually finish this list before 10:32 in the a.m. on the day of my birth.  Time itself will tell the answer.

I never returned back home to Kansas in time to do #23, one that said I'd get back to Wichita and enjoy some very tasty garlic salad at Doc's Steakhouse there.  Sadly, about a week or so before I could return there it closed down.  It was a great place where I often met friends when I lived in Kansas.  So I changed it up a bit and chose to just to never forget the happy memories that dining there provided me.  Lots of great stories were told around the table in that place.  Funny how sharing a meal with someone can be one of the most therapeutic times in life.  Some of the best advice I have ever received was freely given while dividing a bowl of garlic salad onto two plates.  It's the little things I remember.

The little things.

#35 on the list is becoming somewhat easier as the days go by.  I have found it quite satisfying to simply give things away as I attempt travel more lightly.  This business of downsizing is very intriguing to me and the more I realize how much stuff I have, the more I want to let it go.  Really, I mean that.  Approaching age 60 has brought an awareness to me, one that says it is perfectly fine to not own everything under the sun.  I don't want any more and as a matter of fact, I want a whole lot less.  I'm not saying by October 26th that Mike and I will be living in a house barren of most everything because I am sure that we will not be.  But in the weeks ahead I intend to be thinking of what I can easily part with, extra things that get in the way of really enjoying the life that remains for me here.  It's time.

As I'm reading down my list of things just now, I realize that I probably have already taken care of #41.  It was my wish to find a really good deal on a rental car for a change.  That idea made the list because of all the miles that I had already put on my 2012 Honda.  Mike and I seem to travel quite a lot these days and I didn't want to keep putting more additional miles on the car's odometer.  We have at times rented a car to make the journey back to Kansas and elsewhere but the costs of doing that are sometimes quite expensive.  Just last week I traded my car in for a new one, a vehicle that will probably take us wherever we may need to go for the next foreseeable future.  Although I am very thankful for a new vehicle, the memories I made while driving the old one will stay with me for as long as I shall live.  That old car took me on a more than 4,000 mile journey to visit my very first lighthouse at Cape Elizabeth, Maine.  It took me to the quaint New England village of Owego, New York where I met and made new friends with good people like Kevin and Diana.  Perhaps most importantly of all, it took on my first journey over the big mountain they call Monarch and brought me to a new life here along the Western Slopes.  Vehicles can play an important part in what happens to you in your life, you know?  It happens all of the time.

The next 268 days lie ahead and the important thing to remember is that I am promised none of them.    It is with the somber realization that I feel ever more determined to enjoy my life each day and so maybe that is why #59  (Enjoy life.  Enjoy life.  Enjoy life.) made it to the list in the first place.  So for this day, I go forth in faith that whatever happens to me is yet one more part of an ever unfolding "plan".  I surely don't understand it always.  Shoot, some days I never do.

It's strange how all of the items on my list of 60 things somehow will manage to work together, as they carry the same theme for the remaining days of whatever time I am given.  They speak of less in the material sense and much more in the things that all of the money in the world can never buy.  Though it has been broken many times,  I am glad that God gave me a kind and loving heart, one that has proven to be very expandable.  Even when I downsize my material possessions of this world, I never have to get rid of all the memories that I have made.  There is room for all that I have acquired as I store them up inside of me.

The even greater thing is that there is room for plenty more.

                                                    Cape Elizabeth, Maine  2012

                                                        Haven, Kansas  2013

                                                   Monarch Pass Summit  2014

                                               Ouray Ice Climbing competition  2015

                                         ANY trip that took me back home to Kansas.

                                    ALL of the trips that brought me back home to Colorado.

70,000 miles on a 2012 Honda?  They were worth it!  Each and every one of them.