Back Porch Break

Grateful for Snow Memories

November 23, 2019 by Nancy 21 Comments

First day we both skied free--March '17. — First day we both skied free–March ’17.

I miss the smell of snow skiing. I know that sounds strange but moist, snow-covered evergreen trees under a sunny sky emit a wonderful aroma nothing like those cardboard pine-scented car fresheners. On your first ride up the lift that fresh smell fills your senses, and you’re off!

We gave up snow skiing almost two years ago by choice. I planned my 70th birthday around skiing for free at Monarch Mountain, surrounded by as much of our family as we could gather. I was crying when I popped my bindings off for the last time, but I knew it was right.

I had made a conscious decision that I wanted a healthy old age that allowed me to take long walks, travel, go to Zumba class, and spend time keeping and playing with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It was no longer worth it to me to risk being wiped out by a 300-pound Bubba from Oklahoma who decided to try snowboarding for the first time! God love his sense of adventure, but I’m staying out of his way.

To be truthful, I was a “fair weather” skier anyway. More than once my husband and I got out of the car at a ski area where the wind was blowing so hard we could barely open the car doors, thought “no thanks,” went to breakfast and drove back home. We preferred fresh snow, bright sun, and temperatures at or above freezing, so a couple of days of March skiing were enough for us. But oh, the memories of skiing over the years.

Last ski day! Jan. '18. — Last ski day! Jan. ’18.

I first skied at age 22 by default while living in Germany. My then husband convinced me to ride the lift up to the top of the Zugspitze in Garmisch because the views were fantastic! Somehow I got down that day, praying all the way that my five-month-old baby boy wouldn’t have to grow up without a momma. Eventually I took lessons from an Austrian ski instructor whose only English was, “Bend zee knees, UP!” That was enough information to keep me happily cruising the blue, intermediate slopes safely for 48 years.

But the time on the slopes is just part of my bank of snow memories! How I remember two little rosy-cheeked boys in zip-up snowsuits struggling to carry their skis through the parking lot because it was time to “hit the slops” as one liked to say! I remember returning to ski condos with a real fire crackling in the fireplace and the smell of chili in the crockpot. I remember hot tubs with family and friends, hot mulled wine, and a lot of board games.

I know there are more snow memories for my husband Jim and me to make in the future. Maybe we’ll take up cross-country skiing again, or try snow shoeing. Maybe we’ll tag along on a family ski trip and just enjoy stoking the fire and stirring the chili while everyone else walks around with bowling balls on their feet and tries to keep their fingers and toes from freezing.

It will happen because the snow still calls to me. This morning the sun came out after a healthy dump of snow over the last two days, and something in my soul said “ski day!” Several Colorado resorts are already open before Thanksgiving so it should be a great season. But this morning, it was enough for me to wake up my husband and convince him to take an early morning drive to a diner for breakfast. Feeling the fresh snow crunching under my feet as we walked in made me happy, as did the hot coffee and scrambled eggs. Of course our view of the snow-covered mountain range against the blue Colorado sky was more than worth our travel over frosty streets.

I’m grateful for all my snow memories. Those in the past and those still to be made! Hope you also find something for which to be grateful this Thanksgiving. When we look for them, blessings abound.

Are You a Season Clinger?

October 28, 2019 by Nancy 10 Comments

You know us when you see us. Those of us who can’t quite let go of the season we are losing to fully embrace the one that is coming. Especially when it means letting go of summer to embrace fall or fall to embrace winter.

We’re the ones in the grocery store in a turtleneck, a vest, shorts and sandals. We’re the ones who keep bringing in our outdoor potted plants every night to protect them from below freezing temperatures because we just know warm days will return. And we’re the ones who leave our hummingbird feeders up until the nectar’s been frozen for several days in a row.

In our defense, however, it’s easy to understand why Colorado residents might be clinging to summer and fall both this year. Summer temperatures and blossoms were late in arriving, and an early frost cheated us of the beautiful showing of fall leaves on trees at lower elevations.

When I left for a trip, the red maple behind our house was just beginning to show tinges of red around the edges of each leaf. I came back a week later excited to see it flaming red as in years past, but no. All the leaves had already turned brown and were blowing away with each wind. “Wait!” I wanted to scream. “You haven’t turned bright red yet!”

In the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, however, the author Solomon reminds us that: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Reading through his reminders of such things as a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to weep and a time to mourn and on and on, I realize it could be time to let go of fall and embrace winter.

What does this mean? It’s time to switch summer T-shirts and sundresses for sweaters and corduroy pants in our closets. It’s time to detach the hose, prune the perennials, empty the pots and store them. It’s time to dig out the boots, the mittens and scarves and fill the hall closet with warm winter coats.

Solomon goes on to write that God has made everything beautiful in its time (Ecclesiastes 3:11). The pot of impatiens I couldn’t bring myself to sacrifice is almost as beautiful in the house as it was on the front porch in July, and I only have to look outside my window this morning to remember that the coming winter season will have beauty all its own. Okay, God, I surrender. You’re telling me it’s time to let go and move on, so I will. As always, I trust Your timing.

What’s So August About August?

August 28, 2019 by Nancy 18 Comments

To describe someone or something as august means you believe the person or event to have great importance, inspire reverence or admiration, or be worthy of respect. The long list of synonyms for august includes: distinguished, eminent, venerable, hallowed, illustrious, acclaimed, esteemed, impressive, magnificent, majestic, and lordly. Whew!

So why is the eighth month of the year called August? Evidently the Roman Senate changed the name of this month in an attempt to curry favor with Caesar Augustus, who completed the calendar reforms begun by Julius Caesar.

But does this last full month of summer merit its moniker? What’s so august about August? How does it inspire reverence or admiration? Oh, let me count the ways!

First of all, August is the month when summer reaches its fullness. It’s the month when the Black-eyed Susans, Colorado’s “lilies of the field,” flourish on the roadsides and spring up in the most unexpected places. In fact, it’s the month when beauty abounds.

Sweet little peach Andie gets ready to sample a Palisade peach! — Sweet peach Andie with a Palisade peach!

Recently we were invited to the home of friends who live in the Black Forest area of Colorado Springs in a wonderful log home surrounded by evergreen trees and lovely woodland gardens. As I gazed at their planters overflowing with blossoms of every color, and heard and watched the hummingbirds cavorting around their feeders, I breathed in the balmy evening air and thought, “Now this is summer. This is August.” Definitely a moment of reverence and admiration.

August is also the month of harvest. The month when we can find rows and rows of colorful, fresh produce at the farmers’ markets instead of just the vendors with their homemade soaps and honeys. In Colorado, August is the month we finally get to feast on Olathe sweet corn, juicy Palisade peaches, and Rocky Ford cantaloupe. All venerably acclaimed for their delicious, rich flavors. One might even describe the first taste of each as magnificent!

Liam and Peter in 2013. — Liam and Peter years ago!

And then there are all the darling “back to school” photos on Facebook and Instagram. Are those moments captured of great importance? Oh yes. How distinguished the children look in their new school clothes, toting backpacks with zippers that work. The hope that shines on those little faces that this year they will find a place to sit at lunch, make a new friend, like their teacher, and get to the bus on time, is hallowed for sure. And the loud, collective sigh of relief from all the parents once school is back in session could surely be described as impressive! Even those of us who remember when school didn’t start until after Labor Day have to admit that an important event like starting a new school year fits nicely in a month called August.

So we revere and respect you, August. We even dub you lordly because only the Lord who is the Creator of all could give us such an illustrious month! Come back next year, OK?

The Wonders of Wildlife

July 29, 2019 by Nancy 14 Comments

My husband and I just returned from an anniversary trip to Banff National Park in Canada. As much as we loved seeing the massive Canadian Rockies, the crystal clear blue lakes and charming old hotels, it was the wildlife that made the trip extra memorable.

What is it about sighting wildlife that gives us such a thrill? Maybe it’s because each encounter is so unexpected. Also because it’s nothing that can be planned. No matter how many tourists ask the park rangers, “What time do you let the animals out?” that’s not how it works, folks. No travel agent can guarantee a wildlife sighting either. It’s the very serendipitous nature of it that makes it seem like such a joyful gift.

On our drive down Sunshine Mountain from the high vista lodge where we stayed for two nights, we were surprised to round a corner and see a mountain goat staring at us from the side of the road. “So, you folks are checking out,” he seemed to be saying. “Hope you enjoyed your stay. Come back and see us, eh?” No doubt he knew we were tourists by our rental car with the Alberta license plates.

A day or so later we were driving from one mountain lake to another when we came upon a bear seriously going about searching for the thousands of berries he needs to sustain himself. Unlike the goat, he didn’t seem to give us any mind at all. Canada is having a late summer this year, so it’s possible he just came out of hibernation. Food was his biggest priority and we were too encapsulated in steel to be enticing.

We also saw a herd of elk from a distance, and though we didn’t spot a moose, we had such a good sighting of one outside of Jackson Hole last year that we didn’t feel at all deprived. When Jim shared a bit of his lunch at a café near Lake Moraine with a chipmunk, he delighted a family with children nearby. We are certainly hoping the fine we saw posted later for feeding wildlife doesn’t apply to chipmunks!

I have a friend who sees every sighting of a hawk as a special message and gift from God. If she sees a bald eagle, she feels blessed beyond belief! We are all blessed to share this earth with God’s marvelous creatures, and when our paths cross unexpectedly, my gratitude abounds.

Grand Ol’ Flag

July 4, 2019 by Nancy 12 Comments

All the recent controversy about people dishonoring our flag reminded me of an old Gazette column I’d like to share again. Long may she wave! And Happy 4th of July weekend!

One of the best parts of celebrating the Fourth of July is seeing so many grand ol’ flags on display. In store windows, on car antennas, or lining parade routes in all the small towns of our memories, the Stars and Stripes say America like nothing else can.

I inherited my love for the flag from my dad, although I’m not sure I remembered to tell him I had finally caught his passion while he was still alive.

It used to irritate me that he loved flags so much. Whenever our family visited a new city or national park, my dad would want us to pose for pictures at the base of a flagpole. To get the whole flag into the picture, he’d have to move to the other side of the street with the camera, so we have lots of vacation shots with my sisters and me barely discernible as we rallied ‘round the flagpole for dear old dad. In the 8-millimeter home movies, we’re trying madly to out-wave the flag, along with occasionally pinching or shoving one another, but you have to look closely to see who’s who because the flag is still the star.

I think my dad was born a patriot. He was proud to be able to trace his roots back to the American Revolution, and although he served in the FBI instead of a branch of the military during World War II, he staunchly defended his country and its flag at every opportunity.

Fran and Amanda, now all grown up, with the cake they made!

I’m not sure when the flag took on so much meaning for me, but living on foreign soil, then sending a young (first) husband off to Vietnam, had a lot to do with it. To this day, I can’t get through the national anthem at a football game without tearing up as I focus on the unfurled flag.

The flag I put out on national holidays year after year, home after home, was a gift from my dad. A few years ago it began to show signs of so much time in the Colorado wind, so I retired it to a corner of the hall closet and got a brand new one.

In addition to flying the flag, I usually make a flag cake with blueberry stars and strawberry stripes each 4th of July, along with homemade ice cream of course. And we even had a cat named for Betsy Ross because she was discovered abandoned on the Fourth of July.

But like old friends, old flags are best.

My second son, Tim, was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Army Reserve by his dad. The ceremony was held on our back deck with all of our blended family seated in rows of chairs as the audience. Tim’s two small nieces and half-brother waved little flags in celebration. Draped from the deck railing behind him, as he raised his right hand and promised to defend the Constitution of the United States, was the tattered old flag he and his brother helped me display so many times throughout their growing-up years.

I know my dad was proud.

The Balls of Summer

June 28, 2019 by Nancy 8 Comments

My husband and I were relaxing by a pool on a recent trip to Tucson, AZ, when a beach ball caught our eye. It wasn’t the bright colors that drew our attention, however, nor even the joyful way the breeze caught the ball, causing it to bounce merrily past our chairs. We retrieved it to examine because we noticed a giant caution warning, printed on one whole panel, which was too obtrusive to ignore.

What we read astounded us. First, in very large letters, was the warning: “Use Only under Competent Supervision.” Do you suppose some people would prefer incompetent supervision instead? And then, in several different languages was printed a warning, along with all the licensing information, admonishing us not to stand on the beach ball. To make their point even clearer, the manufacturers drew a sketch of a foot on a beach ball with the international symbol for “don’t do this!”

You know what I’m going to say. We both became nostalgic for all the summers of our youth when people knew just how much supervision children needed, and knew not to stand on beach balls. If you did try to stand on one, you didn’t do it twice! That’s how we learned in the “good ol’ days!”

This whole experience started me thinking about all the balls of summer. Foremost, of course, is the baseball and how stadiums across the country this summer will be full of fans wiping hot dog mustard off their faces and waiting for their favorite batters to hit one over the fence! These same people will be whistling “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” on the way to their cars.

Golf balls are most prevalent in summer, too, as they land on greens, sink into holes, or find their way to nearby sand traps, bodies of water, and neighboring lawns. An older woman in Florida claims that she hit a low ball over a body of water and an alligator jumped up and swallowed it! She messaged a golf site asking how she should score that shot.

I hope there still will be plenty of kick balls around this summer, too. My sisters and I played that game barefooted every day in the summer until it began to get dark and we ran home for supper. Soccer balls, bocce balls and juicy, delicious watermelon balls will no doubt appear at many picnics and family reunions, too. It’s summer, folks. Use competent supervision as necessary, but have a ball!