Zoo-ology

When we travel with Mandy - we just tell everyone she's special needs.... she rode in the stroller all the way down the hill at the Zoo - so when they sing, "All the Monkeys Aren't In The Zoo".... they mean it.  It was a perfect day to check out the Hogle Zoo - how lucky we are to have such a fun, clean place to spend time.

 

 

 

So how lucky am I to have these beauties? Pretty lucky... we had the best time laughing and seeing everything. The new Rocky Shores was amazing and we loved sitting in the cool of the amphitheater to watch the bird show.

The rest is history...

can I really keep it?

I think I remember seeing a picture of my cousin Dbug in
front of this same big old bone!

I had no idea my mother in law lived at the zoo!

Nesting... could this be a sign?

alter ego #1

alter ego #2

will I be eaten alive?

maybe so.....

Uncle Mike came to help save me from the female animals...

 

Well - we'll be waiting for those Washington State Kiddos to

come for ZOO LIGHTS in the WINTERTIME!!

You've just gotta do it...

Growing up - my parents grew all of the vegetables you can imagine in our yard.  Trees, and gardens, and flowers oh my... it was all beautiful - always.  But like gravity, what grows up, must come down and be pressure cooked, strained, boiled, frozen, and stamped with the current year.  So that would explain the genetic make up of my brother and I.  Each year the stalks of corn are warmed in the sunshine at the bottom of these Mendon Mountains - growing tall in that rich black soil.

 

Then, when the raccoons and deer start munching on it - you know it's time to get it taken care of.  This process of picking, shucking, boiling, cutting and munching has occurred in every single one of my living years.  I can't ever remember a year that it didn't happen.  It's a beautiful thing to see the harvest tucked away for the cold Utah winters.  I always am grateful when Mother Nature allows yet another harvest.  I feel like the little ants that work all summer long so that they can secure a comfy nest in the winter months. 

 

My Golden Delicious apple tree gives me 4 bushel of apples every other year - they are huge beautiful apples and I turn them into everything under the sun... apple sauce, butter, pie filling, juice, dried apples and of course just dipping them in caramel.  The house smells amazing - and my shelves look happy.

It's getting to the end of the season and the garden is tired from making veggies - but not too tired to accelerate the beautiful flowers of fall.  This is the view from my kitchen window - and it makes me smile every time that I have a little bit of heaven 'in' earth to grow the miracles that grow in this tiny spot.  My parents knew that of all of the things that they could teach me... to teach me to grow things in the earth was the most valuable thing besides, doing something with it when it grew.  Thanks Parental Units - you are loved and live on.

 

Always remembered, written in stone

In my little town where I grew up we celebrate amazing things.  On this particular day - we celebrated our brave soldiers from our community and honored them with a memorial in our little cemetery.  I was there the day the artist and creator delivered these massive monuments and watched his tears as he talked of making them and putting the names on them.  It consists of 3 huge carved rock memorials of those that have served in the various wars over the years, some living, most have passed, too many left too soon.  The town came together for a program of music, introductions to many honored guests - and the arrival of a black hawk helicopter.  The 21 gun salute, the men in uniform and the beautiful day made for a memorable experience, one I was honored to be at, and also see my father's name (misspelled)(dang) in stone.  Here are some of the pictures of that day - some of many many taken, most make me cry.

I love this picture of Rod Sorensen and my mom - they
are total history buffs and they seem to always be in
the Mendon History books somehow together - good good man.

 

my brother, mother and I
 



not something you see everyday in Mendon
 

my dad
 

These are a picture of my Father's hands today - always a mighty Marine.  The reason he is still alive is because his heart is Marine strong!  My hands and his - together he gives me reason and strength.

Walking to the cemetery with my 83 year old mom - she followed my father where ever he needed to be in the military - she was stationed where ever he was.  She was always by his side.  Couldn't be prouder to have my family honored, and be a part of a town that takes care of those that serve.  Now - when my son in law walks into a room in uniform - it still takes my breath away.  Never could I repay that kind of bravery - never could I really find the words to thank them enough.  But I can salute the flag, I can post one at my home, I can stand every time a flag goes by -and reverently remember those that gave some, and those that gave it all.

 

Rats...

Tuesday will go down in history as a really stunningly awful day.  I'm trying to do my 29 days of gifts and trying to get in a place in my mind where I can do this project, and then Tuesday happened.  Now Tuesdays are usually a pretty good day... it's my favorite workout day, I'm usually ok at work, it's (one of many many) Missionary days, and I had a gift to give out.  Hit a wall about mid-day with a family heartache, work dumped the masses on me, I was exhausted from the night before worries, and I was missing my workout because I had to go and take care of a service emergency on my Mission.  It was quickly turning into an ugly ugly day.  But as I left the 4 children I had cared for in a home where the mom had to go to the er, and we did homework, and made them dinner from absolutely nothing in the house to eat, and we folded up clothes that didn't have a dresser to put them in and I tucked them in on the floor because there was no bed to sleep in.... I headed home, with a truck load of heartache.  Stopping at a stop sign in the middle of Gang Territory, I was a little afraid of the darkness and the spirit of the area (which was frightening to say the least)  The streetlight only had a flicker of light left before it was going to go out... I went to drive on, because this area was creeeepy and right in front of me a giant rat started to cross the road.  I just sat there watching it - it looked at me as if to say.... "What the heck lady, I mean I looked both ways, and I think I have the right of way..."  the tail was as least 10 inches long and it was huge from head to tail.  I wasn't going to argue - and I didn't want rat guts on the car... so I just let it pass to the other side and disappear into the darkness.  (It knew where it was going - but I didn't!)  I still sat there with my heavy heart and then just started laughing - because there wasn't anything left inside of me but a good laugh... So when someone says to you, "Hey don't let the rats win" sometimes, it's ok to just let them cross the road.  We let the chicken didn't we? 

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It was quite the experience today to sit through one of the dedicatory sessions for the Brigham City Temple.  President Packer was by far my favorite - he was so sincere and emotional.  I often wonder if his faith and pleadings with the Lord allowed him to stay for this special day.  A Brigham City boy, one of 11 children, he can now attend a Temple of the Lord in his own hometown.  I loved the prayer, how it encumbered every needful thing.  The choir was amazing.  This is now the 4th temple dedication I've been able to attend - each unique to it's area and each a precious memory.  I loved the story of the jewel - about a man that had a precious pearl, and he wanted to share it with the world.  He made a beautiful box to put it on display in, and all the people commented on the box, not the pearl.  What goes on inside these temples are the precious gems of life, and of eternal life.  Today - I was approached by a friend, not of my faith, and I was able to say a few things to him.  it wasn't a confrontational conversation, but yet a gift of time to be able to discuss my beliefs.  I sat there with my husband - but I knew that my children all had the opportunity to attend the temple when they married their loves.  The rest is up to them on keeping those covenants - and the blessings that can be poured out upon them will be their choice.  I trust they'll choose wisely - as it has been the anchor of my life, and the purpose of my Patriarchal Blessing - to do the work for those that cannot.  Since my first time there 30 years ago - over 2,000 ordinances have been prepared, and provided for those on the other side - with the help of my children.  My connection to my ancestors is real - and sometimes creeeeeepy - but never the less - priceless.  I was married in the Salt Lake Temple - and I did my endowments on that same day.  Every year on my birthday I go to the temple.  During the week - I attend a session, or my week is not complete.  Can the world or the next world do without these holy Temples?  No... amen and amen....

29 Days...

This has to be my favorite picture of these two.  I love my grandkids so much - I miss them more than my heart can stand, but I know they are watched over and loved by their amazing parents.  I have a million things to do today - and yet here I sit blogging.  Sometimes it helps to just write those thoughts out.  It's difficult to find where you fit into life after your children leave and start their own lives.  I think I started to disappear within myself, feeling that I didn't have much to offer.  Every second is full of things that have to be done, but nothing that brings much peace.  Mission excluded - because there are always moments (or hours or days) of caring.  I recently read a book called, "29 Gifts"  about a lady with MS.  Her life was basically headed in a pretty sad state of being until she encountered a visit with someone that gave her insight about giving.  She was to give for 29 days - gifts, anything, some monetary (small), some gifts of time, or of self.  As she gave, her life became free, her mind opened, and her body responded by self healing what it could.  She did not overcome MS, but learned the great lessons of lessening the burdens that it carried.  I've heard of doing this before, but this book was a little more real to me as she explained some of her gifts, and how they effected her, and the receiver.  Learning how to receive was also part of the giving days.  I'm not one to announce, "Hey I'm going to be a do-gooder today and look out - because I'm just so amazing and lookie at me I'm doing this!..." - kind of person.  The gift doesn't count if the gift is announced.  There needs to be no return gift - you cannot say, if I do this, then I'll get that... it needs to just be given.  When I look at this picture of Princess Em and Prince Dbug, I see great things in their future.  Little does their mother know, that it was a gift to me on a very difficult day.  (she can count that as her gift for the day!)  I need to start giving more than I'm taking right now.  So I've started doing the things I've just read about.  If you miss a day - you must start over on the 1st day again.  I'm pretty sure that a 'higher being' or in my case, the feeling of all that is good from above.... will be more evident in my life.  But just for now - I need to find a little joy.   A quiet place where I can belong.  I need to be more observant of those around me instead of focusing on that person in the mirror with a heavy heart.  The last couple of days have included some eye opening moments, and a rare look into times that perhaps could have slipped away if I had not read this book.  It's not a religious attachment, but yet another way to try to change something somehow in my life.  I may comment on a few things, but personally I'm going to keep it private.  It's the smile inside that will count to me.  I think I'll stick with it... nothing to lose, lots to gain. 

Self Preservation... 'n stuff

As I was growing up (many of you already question that comment) my mother bottled everything moving.  She also painted everything that stood still - but that's another story.  She was part of the starvation era, kinda like the Obabma era we're having now (yet another story)... when sugar was rationed, and meat was scarce, and dinnertime was passed by for many (sounds like "if we get 4 more years).  I also know that there was a garden every single year of my life, and produce grown there like none other because my dad was a master gardener.  Nothing went to waste.  Most of it was given away.  Many blessings came and went in that garden of dad's.  So every year I pull out the larger than life preservation tools of the trade... dehydrator, food processor, steamer, canner, pressure cooker.  I also pull out all of the chick flicks I have on DVD and just line them up to play them.  I spread a big sheet on the kitchen floor because I have come to learn that you can actually rip a tennis shoe off after doing sticky peaches.  The bottles come out and are run through the scalding hot water and the lids and rings are counted up.  I can grow several things in my garden at my home - but our soil is 'sandy' of course, so most of my feastings come from the garden in Mendon.  The corn grows outrageously tall, the pumpkins are huge, and the tomatoes are as big as your hand.  There are raspberries, and cucumbers, sunflowers, squash, asparagus, apple trees and grapes. The cantaloupe would be set up on Pepsi cans to ripen, right before the stem fell off... and of course - Walla Walla onions make their home there too.  It's a bit haphazard during canning season - the kitchen fills up with bottled this and that - the freezer loses it's summer ice cream spots to frozen corn and squash.  But there is a peace about it all.  I've promised God every year that whatever he'll let grow - I will bottle - and someday I will use it to feed the masses.  He, as always, never fails me.  So far the corn is in the freezer, happy and yellow and ready to be salted a buttered.  Yesterday, 1 of 4 bushel of apples churned themselves into cinnamon applesauce and pie slices.  Frozen raspeberries from those amazing Bear Lake Bushes growing along the fenceline are freezedried for winter jams.  Beans are snipped and stacked in the basement, peppers are being dried, and soon it will be soup and chili making time.  How good it is to have a harvest - and to have been taught by my mother how to do it, and a dad who created it.  People think I'm crazy when I talk about gardening - and about my connection to my dad and the earth and the harvest - it's a lost art now to many - but maybe one day I'll pass it on.  Until then - I wanted to share my favorite idea for one of my least favorite items in the garden.  It didn't break my heart one bit to see this tragedy happen... in fact... I wish it would happen more!  Happy Canning!

Die tomatoes Die....