~and it was the view from a different window~

3:30 a.m.
Montrose, Colorado
The San Juan Mountains

It seems strange to say that we are here in the mountains once again.  Mike and I arrived yesterday in the early afternoon and as we drove down from Grand Junction, it was heartwarming to see the familiar sights along the way.  The mountains, the Grand Mesa, the sweet little towns of Delta and Olathe, and finally the sign that welcomed us home to Montrose were captured and stored inside of our memory banks and hearts.

The first thing we did was head to the laundromat, a place that we frequented every weekend for two years.  Our old house had no place to have a washer/dryer so each Saturday morning we would pack up our dirty laundry and head to town.  It was nice to see our old friends, Pat and Pete, who just recently sold their laundry business but were still around helping the new owner get started.  We had a nice visit with them and will see them later on this morning for breakfast.

We also had to check out a couple of local places on Main Street and were saddened to see that one of the places has now closed up.  All that remained was the barren store building and a sign on the front saying it was now up for lease.  We did however find our other favorite place, the local Hospice thrift store, open and full of customers.  That store remained our favorite all the while and we were always happy to support it.  The proceeds from their sales benefit hospice patients in this area and since both Mike and I had experience with our parents and other family members in hospice care, it seemed most fitting for us to patronize it.  Our car is already loaded down with things from California, so we made sure that whatever it was that we purchased would fit readily into what very little space was available.  Mike is a genius at organizing things like that so he made it work with no trouble.

Last night we met our dear friends Toni and Scot for supper and listened to the music of Donny Morales, another friend from this area.  How wonderful it was to have the chance to sit and talk about the old times as well as all of our hopes and plans for the future.  We hope to see many more friends in the short time we are here.  We left behind many good folks who became just like "family" to us here.

It seems strange to be writing a blog post from here in Montrose, a place where 2 years' worth of them were written.  I could not sleep and rather than toss and turn, I decided to send a brief hello from this special town.  I always thought it looked like a little kingdom of sorts, nestled safely into a valley deep in the mountains.  I only called it "home" for two short years but in the time that I lived here, many things happened to me.

99.9% of them were wonderful.

Tomorrow Mike and I will begin the journey back home to Texas.  800 miles separate us from where we are now and the new life we have begun in the Lone Star state. We have one last day to make as many memories as we can.  Some day we will return for a visit but until that time we will remember the good people of this community and how they helped us along the way.

God blessed us through it all.
To Him, we give thanks.

The view from a different window was this one.

From a year and a half ago now~He was the one who brought me here.  We have a simple plan in life and it is called "sticking together".

~from a place far away~

From the mountains of Colorado, good morning dear friends and family~

We have been on a long journey, Mike and I.  Almost 2,000 miles on the road later, we have landed in Grand Junction and got a great night's sleep last evening.  It's so nice today to not have to get in the car in order to get to the next state on the travel trail.  We give thanks to our good friends, Mel and Margaret, for sharing their home with us today.  It's always good to be among friends and the Southams are the best folks around.

The trip along the way has taken us through west Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada, Utah, and now our old home in Colorado.  We have seen landscape so very different from that which we are used to in our part of Texas.  The Great American Desert is not a place I would ever care to live in but I did appreciate the chance to see the many sights along the way.  

Sunday's temperatures in Arizona and California pushed well beyond the 100 degree mark. Still 2 hours away from our final destination in Twentynine Palms, the thermometer that registers the outdoor temperature climbed very quickly to 118.  It was a good time to remember just how blessed we were that our car was in good running condition and that the AC was able to keep us reasonably comfortable.  A person never thinks about things like that until they find themselves in the middle of bumper to bumper cars in a single lane of traffic that backs up the better part of 5 miles or more, all in the middle of the Mojave Desert.

God watched over us all the way.

Yesterday we had the chance to visit the Arches National Monument near Moab, Utah.  It was something that we had wanted to do for a long time, especially while we were living here.  Since we were so close by, Mike and I decided to go ahead and make the trip there.  It was hot but this is summertime.  You have to expect it.  The scenery was absolutely beautiful and truly was a science lesson in the great outdoors.  If you love geology, then you will love a trip to the Arches.  I was able to capture some of the photos shown below.

Our first thought was that it looks like someone reclining on a couch, albeit a very uncomfortable one.

The land is filled with such interesting landscape feature.  I loved this tree and the huge clouds that appeared behind it.

It was quite a hike to get to any of the arches and Mike did head up to one of them.  I decided to sit it out in the 100 degree heat.  Maybe when the weather is cooler we will return.

Old Glory was flying in the beautiful blue Utah sky.  It was waving proudly in the breeze.

It was nice to stand in the shade for this photo.  The blazing sun beat down hard upon the park yesterday.

It was so wonderful to add this park to the list of those we have visited.  Check out the national park nearest you!

We are preparing to leave the Grand Junction area soon and will travel towards the south and spend time with friends in the Olathe/Montrose communities.  By the weekend we will already be heading towards home in Texas.  In all of our comings and going, we have been safe and well.  The good Lord above keeps watch over us all and for that, we should each give our thanks.

Have a great day friends and family~

~in the red dirt of this land~

Next week Mike and I will return to the mountains of southwestern Colorado to see our friends that we left behind when we moved to Texas last summer.  It's been over a year now that we were able to be with them and they have surely been missed by us.  To actually get the chance to revisit the old places that we used to love to frequent is really a blessing.  Like two little kids waiting for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, both of us are anxious to get there.

Even though Mike lived in Colorado for over 2 decades, my time there was limited to only 2 years.  My first 3 months were pretty miserable as I fought a daily battle with extreme homesickness, depression, and a strong desire to give up and return to Kansas.  A very caring and understanding husband and a teaching position up the road from our home in Montrose helped me to finally get used to life in the San Juan Mountains.  As time went on, not only did I survive but I thrived as well.

For that, I will always be grateful.

We won't be there for more than a few days but in that short span of time there are many things that we hope to see and friends that we plan to reconnect with.  Especially, I am hoping to see some of my former students from my two years there and to give them the biggest hug ever.  My heart is so happy,  just thinking about it!

When I stop and remember my first 3 painful months there in the summer of 2013, I realize that being homesick for Kansas was only a small part of the problem.  I was floundering there as I tried to find my place and a way to carve out my own niche in a new life.  I longed for whatever the heck normalcy used to be, for friends to talk to, for anything that would make me feel like everything was going to be ok.  It took some time but I made it.

The places that we want to see back in our old home are the things that became a regular part of life for me during my time there.  I want to go to the top of the Grand Mesa once again and see the beautiful sight that I witnessed each day as I drove to school at Olathe.  Mike and I want to go to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park once again.  It was the place that he took me to visit on the very first day that I went there to meet up with him in January of 2013.  Both of us love shopping at thrift stores and there is a great one on Main Street in Montrose that we want to stop by before we leave.  Just to go by our old house out on Locust Road and see the million dollar view that we always had will be such a treat to remember.  It will seem kind of strange and kind of magical all at the same time.

When it is time to go home back to Texas, we are going to take the same route that I always did as I traveled back and forth from Kansas to Colorado.  We will love the drive through Arrowhead Canyon and over the top of old Monarch Pass.  There's a great little place in Canyon City to stop and eat a bite of lunch.  We always went there and I'm sure we will try it out once again.  By the time we get to Pueblo, we will turn south and head towards home.  I can almost drive it with my eyes closed but don't worry.  

I won't.

Although I love Texas and our new life here, I have to admit that I also grew to love my adopted state of Colorado.  The sunrises and sunsets were beyond compare, the mountains' majesty was a sight to behold, and it seemed like every day brought the endless parade of wildlife through our very own front yard.  Not sure you could replicate that kind of beauty anywhere else, even if you tried.

I'm glad I stuck it out in Colorado even during those times when I thought that moving there was the craziest thing I had ever done.  It would have been easy to give up and go home but I did not.  Thankfully I held on until God's plan for my being there was made known to me.  The folks of the little elementary school in Olathe, Colorado came to our rescue.  They took both Mike and I in and wrapped their arms around us in friendship and love.  For saving us, we can never thank them enough.  My two years with them were meant to be.

God has been good to us and provided us with yet another wonderful community to live and work in.   Burkburnett, Texas is our home now and we accept the fact that it doesn't look anything like Colorado.  After all, it was never meant to.  We are happy for the chance to go back to our old home next week for a visit but when our time is through, we know that it will be time to return to our new home, a place we'd like to consider our forever one.

Wichita County, Texas.
We belong here now.
The Renfro name is written in the red dirt of this good land.

~the view from the top of Cerro Summit near our old home in Montrose, Colorado~

~and it's funny how life ends up always turning out~

It's funny how life works itself out, you know?

One day back in January of 2013, I was minding my own business and actually getting ready to go to Wichita with a friend of mine to do some shopping at the Spice Merchant.  Before I left my house, I checked my Facebook page and found a friend request from some man that lived in a place I had never heard of before.

Montrose, Colorado.

At first I wasn't sure who he was although his name sounded pretty familiar to me.  Turns out it was a kid, now rather grown up, who used to go to Haven High School back in Kansas just like I did.  40 years had passed by us.  We talked on the phone, corresponded back and forth in emails, and I went out to visit to reconnect with him.  

I guess you could call this our first date or something.  Mike took me to the Grand Canyon of the Gunnison that January morning.  He was wearing an Oakland Raiders sweatshirt that little did I know, he wore an awful lot.


It wasn't just one visit that I made but rather about 5 of them before we decided that the road was getting too long to just keep going back and forth like that.  And so, we got married.

It really is funny how life works itself out.   I told Mike in April of 2013 that I wanted to get married on the last day of school and it had to be at school in front of all the kids and folks who worked there.  I wanted the kids to witness our ceremony so they would know what happened to me and that I was going to be just fine.  Really, I was just waiting for him to say "no" to that idea but rather than having a problem with it, he just simply replied,

"OK."
And so that's what we did.
I felt fortunate because some guys might have vetoed that kind of idea right away.  
Not Mike.

30 minutes before this photo was taken, I was still running around in my "teacher" clothes for the day.  One of my friends suggested about 15 minutes before our wedding began that I ought to get changed sooner or later.

Never in my wildest of dreams did I entertain any notion of where the road would lead us after our marriage that day in late May of 2013.  I packed up my things and headed west to the mountains with Mike where I figured we would live for quite some time.  I never thought I would find a place to teach there but I surely did.  Exactly 6 days before school began that August, I got the call to teach at a wonderful little town called Olathe.   A fourth grade position had just opened up and they needed someone to take it.  I couldn't make that phone call to ask for an interview fast enough.  I stayed on for yet another year after that as I took one of the spots that opened up in first grade for the 2014-15 school year.  

The class that saved their teacher was this one.  They didn't know how badly I needed them. Those children gave me a purpose, a real reason for being there.  

We were pretty much settled.  My extreme homesickness for Kansas subsided, I made many new friends and began to carve out my own niche in the San Juan mountains of southwestern Colorado.

Then life took a change for us.

By mid-March of 2015 we realized that Mike's job would be downsized quite a bit and since we knew that sooner or later we'd end up retiring in the great state of Texas, we made the decision to move on quicker than we had planned.  I didn't think I'd ever be a teacher in Texas but sure enough, a job came open in the small town of Petrolia where I would complete my 38th year in education.  Mike found the perfect job for himself as the manager of the hardware store here in our town of Burkburnett.  

Life was very good.

At the end of this school year, I knew it would be time to look for a different position.  My Texas certificate was going to expire soon and in order to keep it current, I would have to take a battery of tests.  Rather than going through that process, I secured an Oklahoma teaching certificate and this week was offered a perfect position for me in a small town not even 10 miles from our home here on the border.  It's a wonderful school that I look forward to being a part of.  I cannot wait to meet the 3rd graders that I will have and even more excited to build a strong classroom community with them.

Through all of the changes in the last 3 years, one thing has remained constant and pretty much unfailing.  I have always held on to the faith that the good Lord above was going to show me the way that my life should go.  I remained convinced and still am so today, that God wouldn't just pluck me up from my lifelong home in Kansas and throw me down in the mountains of Colorado or upon the banks of the Red River here in Texas and leave me to fend for myself.  He knew all along what the plan was and when the time was right, He'd be letting me know.

This week, He did.
Funny how life turns out when you leave it in the hands of one mightier than yourself.
Thanks God for taking care of me.  

KANSAS~I remember you each day and carry you tucked deep inside of my heart.

~you can't help but to love them~

The tomato plants in our garden are loaded with green tomatoes that are waiting for the sun to ripen them just one or two days more.  Already we have picked so many of them and I've enjoyed the sweet and delicious taste of more than just a few.  My favorite snack in the summer time has grown to be sliced tomatoes sprinkled with coarse sea salt and freshly ground pepper. I could eat them like candy and sometimes I do.

I don't know what it is about a tomato from the garden but they sure do taste good.  I get a craving for them about this time of year.  I've never found any in the store that are as tasty as one grown in my own backyard.  I'm good with the Vitamin C.

My mom loved tomatoes too and deep in my 60-year old memory bank there are stored many remembrances of the things she told me about the humble yet proud tomato.  When she and my dad got married back in 1940, they were young and poor but very much in love.  They were determined to make it, regardless of what they had to do along the way.  One of the things my mother learned as a child was to grow a garden.  She was actually very good at it, even at a very young age.  Growing things and then canning and preserving them as the season progressed allowed her to be able to cut their grocery bill in half during those early days. Tomatoes were something that she grew lots of and when I say lots, I really mean that.

She told me once that during their very first year together that she grew enough tomatoes to put up nearly 50 quarts of them for the coming winter.  When times were lean, which probably was every other Friday, she and my dad ate tomatoes and bread with butter for their supper.  That was it. They didn't starve to death and I'm going to guess that they didn't have many colds that first year of married life either.  I asked her once if they ever got tired of eating them and I'll always remember her response.

"Peggy Ann, you sometimes have to do what you must do in order to survive.  We knew that's all there was, so we just made the best of it."

As the years progressed and they became parents to 7 children spread out from 1941-1957, Mom continued to grow her own vegetables and every year there were quarts of tomatoes gleaned from the garden and put up on the shelf in the pantry to feed the hungry bellies of our family.  We had them many times and surprisingly enough, I think all of us still like them today.  I suppose it is all in how you look at it. The lowly tomato is food and when food is not aplenty, you learn to eat whatever there is and love it.  It's called sustenance.

I learned plenty of thrifty things by watching my mom over the years and growing a garden was a very important one.  I saw what she did without, things that she tried to hide from us, but I knew them anyways.  There isn't a time that I go out and pick a tomato that I don't think of her and hope that she knew how much I appreciated what she sacrificed for me.  I regret that I often said I didn't like her breaded tomatoes but I think she probably understood.  They are an acquired taste and I believe that she never lost the love for that particular manner of fixing them.  As for me on the other hand, I never felt the love for a dish of soggy bread with tomatoes floating in it.  My mom would laugh to hear me say that today.  She would say that I didn't know what was good for me.   Mom was a child of the Great Depression and she learned early on in life how to make do when it was all you could do.

Raw, fried green, cooked, and a thousand other ways (except breaded of course).........
Tomatoes.
You can't help but to love them.

She's been gone for 9 years now and so much has happened in the meantime.  Mom was 87 years old when she passed away.  I wouldn't want her to have to live as she did at the end of her life.  Her aches, pains, and anxiety are all gone now but I still miss not having a mom around to talk to, ask questions of, and to love.

~and I trust they are doing just that~

Even though the calendar doesn't reflect it, we are now moving into the third week of what we all call summertime.  It's sometimes hard to explain to kids and even imagine ourselves that the official start date of summer comes well into the month of June.   Spring lingers on, at least until the 20th.

I think about the kids that I had this past year at Petrolia and all kids for that matter, wondering just what it is they do for fun these days.  In one of the very last writing assignments I gave them, the writing prompt was to tell me about how they planned to spend their very precious time this summer.  Their responses were varied, ranging from sleeping in every day until noon to swimming every day they could at the local water park in Wichita Falls.  There was a scattering of other ideas like hanging out with friends, going on vacation to see their families, and being "connected" technologically to the world outside of the confines of their homes.  

It was interesting to read their thoughts and to watch their faces as they wrote.  They seemed happy, eager, and ready to say "good-bye" to school and enter the realm of summer vacation.  I can't say that I blamed them.  

I was ready too.

50 years ago when I was the same age as most of them now are, life was so different for a kid in the summer.  Leastwise, it surely was for me.  1966 seems more than a lifetime ago now and even though I'm now 60 and several of my brain cells have taken their own kind of special vacation, I still remember those days of my youth and some of the great things we did to entertain ourselves during the hot and dry summer.  As I recall them now this morning, I'm guessing that some kids today wouldn't even want to try having fun the way we used to.  It worked for us though.

In 1966, we had one television.  It was small, black and white, and the reception was sketchy at best.  If you turned the tin foil covered rabbit ears just right, you could bring in a pretty decent picture out of the stations from Wichita, Kansas.  There were 3 of them.  Yes, you read that right.  Only 3.  We didn't watch much of it though because running it used costly electricity and when you come from a farming family of 9 people in all, you have plenty of other things to pay for besides the light bill.  There were no cell phones for us to call our friends on and the one phone we did have was actually on a party line.  Lots of neighbors along the way knew when we had calls come in.  I tried to explain that concept to students once and they really thought I was making it all up.  Computers were not even heard of by most folks and certainly no one even dreamed of a time when technology would bring such a vast array of gaming systems for kids to try out.  

Life was so much simpler.

So in 1966, kids like me had fun in the great outdoors.  Luckily we always lived in the country and away from the sounds and traffic of the city.  I liked living that way.  We went barefoot all summer long, hoping to goodness that we wouldn't step on any rusty nails or other debris on the ground that would necessitate a trip to the doctor's office to receive a tetanus shot.  We played on the tire swing our dad built us before he left for the harvest and every once in a while we had a rope swing that hung from the tree across the driveway from our home.  We used our imaginations and went to worlds that we never had seen before as we read book after book after book.  

When it was raining outside, we kids stayed indoors and even though we watched television a bit more than normal, we still found ways to stay busy and occupied.  An old Monopoly game kept us entertained while some of our very best math skills were honed as we made our way around the board, buying and selling properties.  My sister and I cut paper dolls out of the old Sears catalogues that our mom saved back for us.   For hours we could find ourselves cutting out fancy furniture, dishes, linens, and anything else needed to keep house for the paper people that we chose for our very own.  Strange how strong our memories are of times like those because to this very day I can recall the names we gave to the 3 little babies whose pictures we cut out from the baby section.  I can't remember where I put my car keys sometimes but I can tell you their "birth" names.

They were our triplets named Carolyn, Marilyn, and Sherilyn.

The days will pass by quickly and before they know it, kids will return back to the classroom for another 9 months of learning.  My hope and prayer for them all will be one for safety and lots of fun.  In fact, my parting words to them that last day of class were these.

"I love you guys.  Be safe and be sure to have lots of fun."
I trust that they are doing just that.

We had so much fun with our 4th graders in May as we enjoyed our field trip day here in Burkburnett.  I miss them!

~Did I mention that being a teacher has been worth it?~

I ran into one of the kids last night when we were shopping at Walmart for some things Mike needed for the store.  We were wandering aimlessly throughout the store, as often times we seem to do, when I heard a voice come from behind me.

"Hey there Mrs. Renfro!" 

I turned around to see a young man who had been one of my 5th grade students last year.  It was amazing to see him and to think that in less than 3 weeks time, he had already grown an inch or more. Leastwise, that is how it surely seemed.  I gave him a big hug and asked him the questions I always ask kids in the summer.

"How are you doing?  Are you having fun?  Staying out of trouble?"

With a cute grin on his already suntanned face, he responded back that he was doing great and staying so busy that he didn't have time to get into trouble.  It was nice to see him and I told him so.  We talked for a moment there near the front of the store and before I said farewell to him, I reminded him of one thing.

"You remember that I won't be there to teach you next year.  I want you to do your best always for whoever your new teacher is."

He promised me that he would.

Children have been a huge part of my life and now at age 60, I realize that my years in the classroom are soon to be winding down.  When that time comes, I know that I will sorely miss the chances to meet them all on that first day of school and take them through to the last day in May.  I am grateful for the 38 years that I have had so far and wish deep within my heart to have two more years before I say that it is done.  So far, God's plan hasn't been shown to me just yet but I still wait in faith that something good will happen.  Each morning I pray for a school in nearby Oklahoma that could use a teacher like me.  If you are reading this, would you please say a prayer for me that I will soon learn where it is that I should go?  I know God always has a plan for me but in my impatience, I often times get anxious and worried.  Perhaps it has happened to you as well.

Right before the last days of school, I handed out note cards to some of my classes.  I asked them to leave me a message about the school year just completed and I promised that I would save them and read them midsummer.  I have to admit that I broke my promise, at least for one of the cards.  I was missing kids that very first week of school being out and as I was putting away my school stuff, I came across the bag that contained their messages.  So I pulled one out to read it before putting the rest away.

A tear came to my eye as I read the 6th grade scrawl of one of them.  The words that were written on it were priceless and are now forever etched in this old teacher's heart.

"Dear Mrs. Renfro, I'm  sorry you are going.  Thank you for putting up with all of us kids.  Not every teacher would do that.  You gave everyone a second chance and even a tenth one sometimes.  You taught us more than English. You taught us about life.  I will never forget you."

Being a teacher has been worth it.  
I have no fancy home with a swimming pool.
I will never take a vacation to a place far, far away.
My 401ks  are children who live in Kansas, Colorado, Texas and points far beyond.
Did I mention being a teacher was worth it?
You will never convince me otherwise.

One very important lesson that I have learned as a teacher is this.  There are a whole lot of "classrooms" out there to receive an education in.  We teachers would do well to remember that always.  Thanks Carson for teaching me about what it is like to show pigs on that Saturday morning, now so long ago.  You are a fine young man.

~and we lived like we were dying~

I have always been in favor of the philosophy of making the most of every day you are given.
Last night, Mike and I did just that.  We lived like we were dying.
Although we hope to have many more good years on this earth together, we know that tomorrow is never guaranteed for any of us.

For that matter, neither is tonight and so I write.

Mike and I made the journey home to south central Kansas yesterday morning.  It's a trip of about 350 miles one way, give or take a wrong turn or two along the path.  Mike took a couple of days off from work, we packed up our car with a change of clothes and headed out by 8 in the morning.  We were off to see the group "Kansas" perform at the Fox Theatre back in Hutchinson.  It's been an event we've been looking forward to since early March when Mike bought the tickets to celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary this year.  We were bound and determined to see them and one way or the other, we were going to be there.

Everything worked out just fine.  We made it in plenty of time.

We ran into so many folks at the concert that we knew from life in the "land of long ago and far, far away" and how wonderful it was to see that they too realized how important it was to see this group perform.  We knew that many more of our friends were going but as it was, the multitude of people gathered there made it next to impossible to find them all.  It was a packed house but we were fortunate enough to have two of the best seats in the theatre.  For the next nearly two hours we listened to some of our favorite Kansas songs and even heard new ones that we hadn't known existed. It was loud, so much so that I pulled out a pair of earplugs to soften the blow to my already tired 60-year old eardrums.  The music was great and the reaction of the folks in the audience was priceless to watch.

Kansas put on a great performance.  None of us were disappointed.

Our night out didn't come without a price.  The tickets together were $150, our motel room to stay the night was another $80, gas for the car was around $46 round trip, food to eat and other incidentals probably added in another $50 or so.  I guess you could say it was about a $300 date but that part doesn't even matter.

Not even one bit.

What did matter was this.  Instead of staying home and fretting over the multitude of things on my mind these days, like where I am going to find a job to teach next year or how am I ever going to get all of the weeds and grass out of the garden, we opted to go home to Kansas and have a great time. We chose to have fun and in so choosing, had the time of our lives.

There were plenty of added benefits to our journey.  Had we stayed here, we would not have seen dear friends from back there, many of whom had gone to the concert as well.  It was a gift to us, an added bonus if you will, to be able to make those reconnections with ones so dear and priceless to us.

These 3 kids were in my graduating class from Haven High School in 1973.  43 years later, we all found ourselves at the same concert in downtown Hutchinson.  Mike, Linda, and Jack all stopped to pose for a picture to remember that good night.

It was great to run into my friend Lori as well.  The last time I saw her was back in September when she walked with my family to honor the memory of my late brother, Mike Scott, at the ALS Walk on the Waterfront in Wichita.  Lori has been a good friend for such a long time.

Before the concert, we had the chance to stop off and see Gary and Rosie Price for a nice visit.  Mr. Price was our high school principal back in Haven, Kansas.  Later he would hire me as a teacher for Hutchinson Public Schools.  The Price family will always a hold a special place in my heart.  They are good folks who care about people, all people, including a young girl who grew up to be me.

So now we are home and the weeds and grass in the garden didn't magically disappear.  I still don't know where or if I will have a teaching position for the fall.  Nothing changed while we were away. Yet the truth is, I think we changed a bit. We are tired, but we are so happy to have gone.  Both of us have been taking life extremely seriously as of late.  There is always something to do here but just for last night, we made a change in our way of thinking.  Rather than worrying about things we probably couldn't do anything about in one day anyways, we did something different.

We lived like we were dying.

~waiting in faith~

I've been thinking about the kids from school these past few days and wondering how things are going for them.  I miss them and the predictable routine that my days with them would provide.  Mike and I had to make yet another trip to Lowe's a few days back and we happened to run into one of the 4th grade girls in the garden section.  She was there with her parents, shopping for things just like we were.  How wonderful it was to see her face light up when she saw us coming in.  I heard her yell my name, so we stopped to exchange a good hug and five minutes of conversation with one another.  It made my day.

It is with those kids in mind that I am working on something this summer.  I always told them that I would try to make it to the 1,000th blogpost of this site before school ended in May. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.  Too many other things seemed to get in the way and before I knew it, I was out of time.  This particular blogpost is the 958th one and if I do the math correctly, I am 42 stories shy of the mark.  So my new goal is to reach the 1,000th post by summer's end.  Perhaps I shall make it, perhaps I shall not.  I'm still going to give it a try.

I have used this blog as a teaching tool since its inception back in May of 2011.  Five years have passed since then and many stories have been told and some retold once again.  In the classroom I have used it to teach story idea, revising and editing, sentence structure, word choice, conventions, and oh yes....one other thing.

I have used it to teach children that I am human, just like anyone else.

My stories have told of my life from the past 5 years.  I have written them honestly and with purpose. I never kept the story of "old lefty" a secret from them.  They know what a stupid, split-second decision can do to a person's body, especially a left arm.  Those children are aware of the fact, just by reading what I write, that sometimes I get sad and depressed about life. They also realize that when those times come that the best medicine to get over the sadness is to sit down at the computer and write until the bad feeling goes away.  Any student that I have taught ends up knowing a whole lot about me, just by reading this blog.  By the way, as if you already didn't know it, children are very smart and savvy about the ways of this world.  They figure everything out rather quickly.

Although I won't be with them with the school year starts up in August, I will still be thinking about them and wishing them very well.  I don't know yet what I will be doing but I sure hope to find a school very soon.  Until that happens for me, I wait in faith that God has already put a very mighty plan into place and a school teacher from Kansas/Colorado/and now Texas will have a classroom of kids in nearby Oklahoma to teach as well as learn from come this August.  If you would, please pray for me that I will find a place to make a difference once again.  Wherever I can help is where I want to be.  I'm thankful to have had 38 years and keep hoping in my heart that I can make it all the way to year #40 before I say that I am truly finished.

Only God knows what lies ahead.
Waiting in faith is where you will find me.

                                         Year #32 back home in Hutchinson, Kansas 

                           God blessed me with 6 years more.  Who would have thought?  

~with dirt covered hands~

It took two rows of potatoes in the garden to make me realize one thing.
I miss my mom.

Yesterday we decided that it was time to dig up the potatoes from our garden.  We put the seed into the ground around St. Patrick's Day back in March.  When we bought the seed the weekend before, I was a little worried about it.  It didn't look quite like what I was used to back in Kansas.  Some of the seed had already started to sprout and one or two of the little potatoes had to be tossed away.  But it was time to get them into the earth and so we did.  We watered them faithfully, pulled grass out from around the rows, and then did one more thing.

We waited.

Burkburnett had an abundance of rainfall in the days that would follow.  Just this past week alone, we saw around 4-5 inches of rain fall in our part of the world.  I kept looking at the garden all week long and saw that if it ever did stop raining, Mike and I were going to have our work cut out for us with all the grass and weeds that had started to grow along with our little crops.  So when the rain finally quit falling down yesterday, I headed out with the mower, rake, and hoe to see what I could do.

That's when I noticed the potatoes.  Their leaves were all curled up and seemed to be dying out.  I thought surely that something was wrong with them.  As a matter of fact, I told Mike that we should just pull all the old plants out of there and start over.  I never dreamt that there would be much to salvage.  I figured that days and days of nonstop rain at times might have taken their toll on them.  He agreed that it was probably time to take them out of there and go on to something different.

That's when we got the surprise.  Each time the potato fork dug into the earth, potatoes of fairly good size came out with it.  I was so shocked to see them all.  I imagined that all we would get would be rotten potatoes that hadn't had the chance to grow at all.  We only had two rows planted to begin with and each of the rows probably contained less than a dozen plants.  When it was all said and done, we ended up with two 5-gallon buckets full of them.  We got way more than our seed back and my mom would say that's a good thing.

I started the digging process before Mike got home from work at the hardware store.  It was there in that first row of potatoes that I had a conversation with my mom.  Each time the fork would dig into the soil, I'd say something to her....  

"Wow!  Mom, take a look at this!"
"I wish you were here to see these things."
"They aren't quite as good as yours were Mom but I hope you     are proud of me."

Some people would say it's crazy to speak to someone who no longer is here.  I beg to differ.  I do it quite often.  Although I don't miss my mom every single minute of the day any longer, because I know that's not the way she would wish for it to be, I do miss her at certain times. She taught me so much about growing things and sometimes I find myself wishing that she might still be here so I can ask her questions about things I should have paid more attention to in this life.  I want her to see the flowers that I'm growing in our flowerbeds, the blooms on the Magnolia tree in our backyard, the bird feeders that are all around the house, and a dozen more things that I think she would have enjoyed.  

Those times on this earth are done for Mom and I.

This is the summer before my 61st year.  In many ways, I definitely feel my age.  It's a natural thing I suppose and one that we all must face sooner or later.  Yet in many other ways, I still feel like a little girl, one who still needs her mother to talk to and confide in.  I suppose that is kind of a natural thing as well for some of us.  When she passed away in 2007, the end of our times together came to a close.  Until we meet again in Heaven, I cherish the times like yesterday afternoon.

With dirt covered hands that held an old potato fork~
And a heart filled with memories and love~

There is nothing better than growing something in a garden.  I hope I can continue doing it for many years ahead.  Playing in the dirt is good medicine, for little kids and old kids as well.

~rain, and plenty of it~

Rain, and plenty of it, continues to fall here in our part of Texas.  From the land of the "former drought", good morning dear friends and family.

The rain has been good for a lot of things.  The flowers that we have planted are really enjoying it and they seem to grow bigger and stronger each and every day.  I have always loved flowers and find them very therapeutic to grow and care for. Back in Kansas, I always had flowers growing everywhere.  They did very well in the rich earth of my backyard on 14th Street.  When we lived in Colorado, the soil wasn't always as good and healthy as we have found it here.  Our home in Montrose was surrounded by soil that was filled with clay.  Try as I might, I never was able to get much to grow from seed there.  This year it is different and I'm happy.

One of the most interesting experiences that I had as a teacher this past year at Petrolia, was the time when I asked the kids to tell me about what it was like to live through the 5-year drought that had been recently broken before Mike and I arrived in Texas.  We spent an entire day doing nothing but just talking about what it had been like to endure those hard times of little or no water.  It was interesting to me to listen to their stories, ones that were told from the deepest parts of their memories and their young and tender hearts.  They all had an experience to share and I could tell by the looks on their faces and by hearing the sounds of their voices that to live through a drought was something that I didn't want to ever have to do.

The next day we wrote about it and their words reflected the memories that had been shared with me the day prior.  One little girl described the story of how she secretly planted a tomato seed and tried desperately to get it to grow.  She watered it as she could but then it succumbed to nature's elements.  Another little girl spoke of how the drought brought an unplanned blessing as it allowed her to learn how to do dishes by hand instead of running the dishwasher.  She and her mom had many wonderful discussions about life as they stood over the sink washing and drying the day's dirty dishes.  Others spoke of how they were slightly envious of children who lived where water was aplenty.  Still others told me that they didn't even realize that there were kids who didn't have to worry about water.  I learned so much that day through a lesson that I never intended to teach but found myself doing so anyways.

Their stories, written back in November of last year, have stuck with me and are on my mind this very morning.  I learned the lesson from them of just how precious this gift of water really is.  They taught me that day much more than I could have ever begun to teach them.  We are trying to practice water conservation here at home as much as we can.  The plants that we buy are ones that are drought tolerant.  Mike is devising a system to collect rainwater and although we have only one collection barrel at present, we have plans to get more.  The drought can return again and if we are going to call this area of the world our "forever home", then we need to be ready to adapt to any changes that the climate brings us.  It's better to begin now than to wait and start it in times of severe change.

The wheat fields have not been cut here and the weather continues to slow down the process.  Harvesters came into town over a week ago now and many of them must sit idly by as they wait for the rain to stop and the sun to come out and dry the fields.  As the daughter of a custom cutter, I know all too well the stress and anxiety that rainy weather brings to the harvest season.  Sunday is supposed to be a day without rain chances and much warmer so with any amount of luck, things will soon dry out and the combines can return to the field.

In the meantime, we say "thank you" for the rain.  We hope and pray that all people will be safe from the flooding and the storms that bring it.  We are soggy but safe here in Burkburnett, Texas.  May your day be well, dear friends and family.  Always we are thinking of and remembering you.

 3 years ago, I planted about a gazillion sunflower seeds in the clay filled rocky soil of southwestern Colorado.  Twelve of them managed to survive.  It was a dismal start to life there for an already homesick Kansas girl.

The ones that DID survive were the most beautiful ones you could imagine.

~summer's first week~

From Burkburnett, Texas~
Good morning friends and family!

Last week at this time we were winding down the final days of school.  Boxes were packed up, lockers cleaned out, addresses and phone numbers exchanged, and a whole lot of "good byes" being said.  A few tears here and there, then we were all out the door.  

Summertime, here we are!
As for our household, it promises to be a full one.

We've been busy here as we try to get things done outdoors that have been begging for our attention since we moved here in mid-January.  One of the very first things that we did after our arrival was to have someone rip out all of the bushes that had been planted around the outside of the house and in the backyard as well.  It was a bit of an ordeal but we are surely glad that we did it.  

We took this photo back in early February just prior to removing the bushes.  The ones that were planted here had been uncared for and had grown up all over the place.  They were all around the house.  

A treasure trove of things were found underneath them.  If some kid is looking for them, well at least they know where they were now.

In place of the bushes, we have begun the process of adding perennials and annuals that bring a little bit of variety and color to the yard.  It's nice that now, nearly 2 months after the initial planting began, we are beginning to see the fruits of our labor.  We have had an abundance of rain for the past several weeks and last night received yet well over another 3 1/2 inches of it all.  Everything is growing in our flower beds, grass and weeds included!  There will be plenty to do when it finally all dries out. For now we are enjoying the colors and varieties of many different flowers.  

I love everything that we have planted but these remain some of my favorites of them all. Gardening and growing things are very therapeutic for the spirit and our overall good health as well.  I give thanks to my mom and grandmother for showing me how much fun it truly is to play in the dirt.  Sure beats taking medicine for what might ail you.

 That old wheel came with us from Colorado.  Mike wasn't going to leave it behind.

The Russian Mammoth sunflowers are nearly 5 feet tall now.  We're still patiently waiting on a hummingbird to show up.

 The very first clematis opened up a few days back.  It looks like a little purple pinwheel.

 Mike loves dahlias and this is one of several that are up.  Their beautiful flowers are very stunning.

The zinnias are alive and thriving once again.  This ring of them was from seed saved back from last year.  We have them planted all along the fence row.

 Mike redid the area where we originally had put our water collection barrel.  He put in new paving stones and redid the guttering.  Soon that birdcage will house a fairy garden.

 The first fairy garden that I made is doing well.  It's been fun to watch it grow.

This is one of many bird feeders around the house.  It's been so enjoyable to hear their songs each day.  Although we've gone through a lot of feed for them, it's been worth it.