Orchards and Pianos

 Our days here in East Wenatchee and Wenatchee are passing pleasantly. On a walk down to the river I snapped this photo and was thinking about how it will look in a few more weeks when the fruit trees burst into bloom. The buds are beginning to swell already. I think these are apple trees. The apricots are the first to bloom, so beautiful in their pink and lavender dress!

There are apple trees next to our rig. I always wondered who wrote the old song, "It's cherry pink and apple blossom white..."  He must not have known that cherry trees sport purely white blossoms, while the apple flowerets are pinkish white. I can't wait for these to bloom, but we may be gone by then.

A wonderful fact about the Wenatchee Valley is that there is a paved walking trail completely around the cities along the riverbanks, up one side, across the river, and down the other side, depending on where you begin. There are probably close to 12 miles of trail. Just up the road from where we are is the beginning of the trail on the East Wenatchee side. Or maybe it's the ending. Hmmm! We picked the wrong day to walk. The wind was fierce, raindrops began to pelt us, not to mention tumbleweeds zooming about. I caught this one with my cane as it tumbled by.

When we began full time RVing I knew I had to have a piano in our rig. I researched and found this Yamaha digital piano and I have been very happy with it. One slideout is my music room, complete with 3 file boxes of the music I also couldn't dispense with. Selling, giving away, donating almost all our possessions in order to move into our 5th wheel was not easy. The one thing I couldn't part with and also couldn't take with me was the Yamaha upright that I used to teach my students for many, many years in my home studio.

So... my solution was to ask the pastors of our home church if my piano could come live in the fellowship hall. They, both musicians themselves, gladly agreed, and I believe it does some service for recitals. Knowing we would be in the area for a couple of months, I obtained a key to the church so I can come practice whenever I have a chance. The other day, I let myself in, found the light switches, walked up to my beautiful instrument, lifted the lid, and got  teary and emotional as I sat down and tenderly began to press the keys. I've missed this lovely and very important part of my past life. I hope someday I might have my big Yamaha with me again. In the meantime, I will be happy with my little digital. It serves me faithfully and well and I am grateful to have it.

Dear Departed

As we approach Christmas time I've been thinking about my mother and about our times together as I was being raised. My parents moved us from the California metropolitan Bay Area to a 90 acre farm way out in the country near Salkum, Washington in 1947. The last time I lived there was in 1963, but I've returned many times over the years to revisit old haunts. A really big part of my childhood was our church, the Church of the Brethren in Salkum. The people there were our family. Someone sent me this picture of the church, probably not too long after it was built. By the time we started attending there was a covered front porch and an added steeple. There is a cemetery to the right of the building.

This is a picture of my mother at about age 18, when she graduated from high school and began her college years. Eileen was a school teacher for many years in California, a social worker in Chehalis Washington, and then again a teacher in the small town of Mossyrock, at the school I had attended for 12 years. My mother was faithful in taking my sister and me to church every Sunday.  We participated in nearly every service and many potlucks, quilting bees and other gatherings. The folks came from miles around to be part of our "family". Sadly, when I was 12 the old church burned down when the furnace malfunctioned. We met for a year or so in the Silver Creek Grange Hall while a new church was being built. About that same time the congregation needed a pianist, and since no one was available except me, I was drafted, at age 12, to play the Sunday hymns. It was a crash course in accompanying for a student only 3 years along in piano study! The congregation was very patient and encouraging as I learned to plug along, always keeping the beat. I continued to be church pianist till I married and moved away at age 19. My very early experience prepared me well for future years of accompanying and performing.

My mother lived with me in Wenatchee Washington for the last 8 years of her life. She went to her heavenly home just a couple of weeks after her 89th birthday in 2002. Mr. Keith and I held onto her ashes, not sure where to put them, until in 2005 when we began our RVing adventures. Since my mother's very favorite thing to do was to travel — she'd been all over the U.S. and in several foreign countries, including the British Isles, Australia, New Zealand, and other parts of Europe — we decided to take her with us on our journey! As we workamped in different states I always felt she was right there with us, enjoying the trip. Our campground job in 2006-2007 happened to land us near Olympia, so we were able to take several day trips down to Salkum, Mossyrock, and surrounding areas. Of course I had to show Mr. Keith all the places that were important to me in my growing up years! The dirt driveway in the picture above is between the Salkum Cemetery (to the right) and the plot where the old church stood.

This is where I made my decision. My mother's ashes would find a perfect home on the spot where she began and continued to attend church for 50 years. It was winter when we spread her ashes in this grove, hallowed ground where the old church stood. I told no one in the church what we'd done. It was our secret! I knew she would be happy with our choice. I could imagine the trees leafing out in the spring, glad to be in the same ground as one of God's most faithful servants.

Looking back up the road, we faced the "new" church, though it has been there for 50 years. I spent my teenage years there and have many fond memories of the wonderful folks who helped in my growing up. Most of them are also dear departed ones, along with my mother and the old pioneer church at Salkum.

One last good-bye to the horse who watched us throughout our little private ceremony. He can be seen in the photo above this one, too, curiously wondering what we were doing, or if we might have a carrot or a hunk of hay for him. It was a blessed and memorable day for us.

Silly Things

 Today I was in the mood to make a blog post! Didn't really have any recent trips to write about, so I thought of some silly things. Since we've been fulltiming and workamping I seem to have collected some teddy bears and other  "bearaphenalia". I don't remember having teddy bears as a child, though I probably did, but working at Bear Country USA in Rapid City gave me a love for the critters. Here are my bears sitting on my bed cover which also has bears on it. The first one on the left is Annie Bear, to remind me that one of the cinnamon black bears at Bear Country is named after me! I got to bottle feed the real little Annie. Included in this collection is a Pooh Bear, center, my son's first teddy bear. He's a little ragged. The others I've picked up here and there.

 My newest bear! I'm taking an online course in creativity from my cousin, a published author, and one of our recent chapter assignments encouraged us to find a "totem" to remind us of our artistic inclinations. I couldn't think of a thing, till we were instructed to empty out the prizes in one of the games in the entertainment center at our KOA. Digging through the stuffed animals I was surprised to find this small red bear with my initial on the front and KOA on the back. The red color goes perfectly with my red and black bedroom. What a find! I asked to buy it, but the owner said I could have it. So...here she sits on my computer to inspire me!

 On a totally different subject — driving home from Denver the other day Mr. Keith spotted this odd looking domed church and had to have a photo of it. He did a little zigzagging through traffic trying to find the entrance to the church, a feat he's pretty good at when he sees something out of the ordinary!

We found the sign telling what kind of church it is, and, not to be disrespectful, at first I thought it said "Dagnabit"! The language must be Ethiopian. That's one thing about Denver and the surrounding cities. We've seen about every kind of ethnic peoples and languages, stores, businesses, churches, schools, signs. We enjoy the education we're getting!

Call, Wall, Fall

Deadwood, South Dakota

One thing I miss since we've been full-time RVers is being in a regular church fellowship and having close relationships with other members. We enjoyed going to Mt. Rushmore all summer but the only regulars besides us were the 3 young men who held the service! Moving to the Roo Ranch has given us opportunity to find a new church to attend every Sunday. Today we went to Spearfish to one called "Countryside Community Church". I thought that sounded like a good start, possibly a non-denominational body. We loved it! It is a large church with 2 packed services, about to go to 3 services every Sunday. The worship music was great and the sermon was what we needed to hear. I wondered how we would ever get to know anyone with that many people attending, but possibly there is a small group we can join.

One part of the sermon sticks with me. The pastor said that first we get the "call". We realize that we are here for a purpose, God's purpose, and we respond to that call. Very soon we come up against a "wall" and find we can't do what the word says all on our own. Next, if we're smart, we "fall" on our knees and ask God's help to do His will. It's simple, catchy, easy to remember. I've been at the "fall" part for a long time. I know I am helpless to stand on my own so I run to Jesus like a small child runs to its mother and I am comforted, helped and strengthened in His arms.

I am including a picture of Deadwood, South Dakota, 1 1/2 miles from Roo Ranch. (Click to enlarge.) This whole town is an historical landmark! It was the place where gold was first discovered in the Black Hills. Tragically, that discovery led to the breaking of the U.S. treaty with the Lakota and other tribes of Indians promising that their sacred Black Hills would always belong to them. It's one the darkest parts of American history. The town now is quite fascinating for the old buildings, Mt. Moriah Cemetery, etc, but is totally a gambling town. It's all about Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane!

A Morning at Mt. Rushmore

It's a beautiful morning at Mt. Rushmore. The air is cooler than it has been for the last few days. We love coming here early in the day, before the crowds arrive. Our reason is...church in the amphitheater, a service held by A Christian Ministry in the National Parks. This ministry sends college students to most of the National Parks in the U.S. The kids have regular jobs in the parks and then on Sundays they host a service for the tourists. That usually means they have a new congregation every Sunday, unless it's people like us who also work in the area and like attending there.

I love this photo of Mt. Rushmore, with the clouds streaming out above the 4 presidents.

This photo is of the 3 young men, all college students, who are serving at Mt. Rushmore. They didn't know each other before they arrived—all are from a different part of the country. They work well together and seem to enjoy their ministry. It's a great opportunity for the volunteers to practice serving and to get to experience a beautiful part of the country at the same time. It will be a lasting memory for them.