The Titian-Haired Detective

Our latest sibling writing assignment was posed to us by InlandEmpireGirl. She wanted us to write about a book that made an impact on us while we were growing up.

With me, it wasn’t one book, but a whole series.

When I reached about third grade, I was drawn to a certain special shelf at the Kellogg Public Library that held a series of books and I decided I was going to read every one of them.

These were the Nancy Drew books.

Each mystery took me to River Heights, into the world of Nancy Drew and her family and friends who would often stumble on a mystery to solve, or would get some help find the mystery from her lawyer father Carson Drew.

However she would find her mystery, the words on the page sucked you into Nancy’s world. I remember some of the books described her hair as titian. I always wondered what color titian really was…but I guess I knew she was some kind of blond. And she drove a blue convertible.

Besides her father Carson, there was her housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, who was more like a mother figure to her.

Her two best friends were George Fayne, the tomboy, and Bess Marvin, George’s cousin who they always described as plump, but pretty. They often were right there with Nancy, helping her solve the latest mystery.

Occasionally, Nancy would get help solving the mysteries from Ned Nickerson, her boyfriend, and his two friends Burt Eddleton and Dave Evans, who would often hook up with the cousins.

Nancy was always brave and self-assured. She never seemed too scared of what might happen on her sleuthing trips. Bess was usually the one who got scared.
I remember being up in my bedroom at night reading the books, and trying figure out the mystery before Nancy did. Sometimes they got a little spooky. I enjoyed that too.

Some of the titles I remember are and that were my favorites were:

Secret of the Old Clock
The Hidden Staircase
The Clue in the Diary
The Whispering Statue
The Secret in the Old Attic
The Clue in the Old Album
Ghost of Blackwood Hall
The Clue in the Old Stagecoach
The Clue of the Dancing Puppet
The Moonstone Castle Mystery
The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes
The Phantom of Pine Hill
The Mystery of the 99 Steps


My daughters have read some Nancy Drew mysteries. I don’t like the modern ones. They have Nancy breaking and entering, and doing things “my Nancy” from the 60’s and 70’s would have never done.

She had more class.

#25 My Tree--Goodbye To Winter

And forever goodbye!

Forever!

Oh, Sir, can you imagine

how dreadful this cruel word sounds

when one loves?

- Jean Racine

#24 My Tree--Starting to Bud

Craving for Spring

I wish it were spring in the world.

Let it be spring!

Come, bubbling, surging tide of sap!

Come, rush of creation!

Come, life! surge through this mass of mortification!

Come, sweep away these exquisite, ghastly first-flowers,which are rather last-flowers!

Come, thaw down their cool portentousness, dissolve them:snowdrops, straight, death-veined exhalations of white and purple crocuses,

flowers of the penumbra, issue of corruption, nourished in mortification,

jets of exquisite finality;

Come, spring, make havoc of them!

I trample on the snowdrops, it gives me pleasure to tread down the jonquils,to destroy the chill Lent lilies;

for I am sick of them, their faint-bloodedness,

slow-blooded, icy-fleshed, portentous.

I want the fine, kindling wine-sap of spring,

gold, and of inconceivably fine, quintessential brightness,

rare almost as beams, yet overwhelmingly potent,

strong like the greatest force of world-balancing.

This is the same that picks up the harvest of wheat

and rocks it, tons of grain, on the ripening wind;

the same that dangles the globe-shaped pleiads of fruit

temptingly in mid-air, between a playful thumb and finger; oh, and suddenly, from out of nowhere, whirls the pear-bloom,upon us, and apple- and almond- and apricot- and quince-blossom,

storms and cumulus clouds of all imaginable blossom

about our bewildered faces,though we do not worship.

I wish it were spring

cunningly blowing on the fallen sparks, odds and ends of the old, scattered fire,and kindling shapely little conflagrations

curious long-legged foals, and wide-eared calves, and naked sparrow-bubs.

I wish that spring

would start the thundering traffic of feet

new feet on the earth, beating with impatience.

I wish it were spring, thundering

delicate, tender spring.

I wish these brittle, frost-lovely flowers of passionate, mysterious corruption

were not yet to come still more from the still-flickering discontent.

Oh, in the spring, the bluebell bows him down for very exuberance,

exulting with secret warm excess,

bowed down with his inner magnificence!

Oh, yes, the gush of spring is strong enough

to toss the globe of earth like a ball on a water-jet

dancing sportfully;

as you see a tiny celluloid ball tossing on a squirt of water

for men to shoot at, penny-a-time, in a booth at a fair.

The gush of spring is strong enough

to play with the globe of earth like a ball on a fountain;

At the same time it opens the tiny hands of the hazel

with such infinite patience.

The power of the rising, golden, all-creative sap could take the earth

and heave it off among the stars, into the invisible;

the same sets the throstle at sunset on a bough

singing against the blackbird;

comes out in the hesitating tremor of the primrose,and betrays its candour in the round white strawberry flower,

is dignified in the foxglove, like a Red-Indian brave.

Ah come, come quickly, spring!

come and lift us towards our culmination, we myriads;

we who have never flowered, like patient cactuses.

Come and lift us to our end, to blossom, bring us to our summer

we who are winter-weary in the winter of the world.

Come making the chaffinch nests hollow and cosy,

come and soften the willow buds till they are puffed and furred,

then blow them over with gold.

Coma and cajole the gawky colt’s-foot flowers.

Come quickly, and vindicate us

against too much death.

Come quickly, and stir the rotten globe of the world from within,

burst it with germination, with world anew.

Come now, to us, your adherents, who cannot flower from the ice.

All the world gleams with the lilies of death the Unconquerable,

but come, give us our turn.

Enough of the virgins and lilies, of passionate, suffocating perfume of corruption,

no more narcissus perfume, lily harlots, the blades of sensation

piercing the flesh to blossom of death.

Have done, have done with this shuddering, delicious business

of thrilling ruin in the flesh, of pungent passion, of rare, death-edged ecstasy.

Give us our turn, give us a chance, let our hour strike,

O soon, soon!

Let the darkness turn violet with rich dawn.

Let the darkness be warmed, warmed through to a ruddy violet,

incipient purpling towards summer in the world of the heart of man.

Are the violets already here!

Show me! I tremble so much to hear it, that even now

on the threshold of spring, I fear I shall die.

Show me the violets that are out.

Oh, if it be true, and the living darkness of the blood of man is purpling with violets,

if the violets are coming out from under the rack of men, winter-rotten and fallen,

we shall have spring.

Pray not to die on this Pisgah blossoming with violets.

Pray to live through.

If you catch a whiff of violets from the darkness of the shadow of manit will be spring in the world,it will be spring in the world of the living;wonderment organising itself, heralding itself with the violets,

stirring of new seasons.

Ah, do not let me die on the brink of such anticipation!

Worse, let me not deceive myself.

- D.H.Lawrence

Today I Used My Backyard Office

I took a break from recapping the employee evaluations I am doing for work. I decided to let the dogs out in the backyard, and take my tree picture for today. After being outside, I knew I had to set the computer up on the deck and bring my office outside.

It is about 12:45 pm, and it is 61 degrees here in my backyard in Kellogg, with a faint breeze rustling the leaves on my beech tree. The neighbor dogs are barking, a couple of my cats are outside, enjoying the sunshine, and I have warm sunshine on my face. Does it get any better than this, after a long, dark, Silver Valley winter? What a blessing to be here, right now, taking advantage of this moment.

Spring isn't official until Wednesday, but here in my backyard it is here. I see green buds trying to break through on the trees and the bushes. The crocus came up a couple of weeks ago, and now the daffodils and tulps and iris are emerging. The sky is a muted blue, with white and gray clouds drifting across the sky. Up above my computer screen, Alahambra slide is still covered with snow. Once that snow is gone, local gardners know they can plant their frost free plants, like cucumber, squash, beans, peppers, tomatoes and beets.

Ah, Mr. Sunshine just went being a cloud. Now I can see my computer screen a little better, not so much glare.

Some of my pets have joined me out here, and let's take a look at what they are doing:

Sadie is enjoying the sunshine on the deck.

Peaches, our big fur ball, was in the shade, not sure she is ready for this warmer weather yet.

Milo, the mighty hunter, was pouncing on leaves,

sticks and anything that moved out in the yard.

And Cozomo was checking out the deck, making sure everything looked safe and secure.

I DEFINATELY HAVE SPRING FEVER NOW!!!

#23 My Tree--Sadie Prances Under The Tree

As I age in the world it will rise and spread,

and be for this place horizon and orison,

the voice of its winds.

I have made myself a dream to dream

of its rising, that has gentled my nights.

Let me desire and wish well the life

these trees may live when I

no longer rise in the mornings

to be pleased with the green of them

shining, and their shadows on the ground,

and the sound of the wind in them.

- Wendell Berry, Planting Trees

Community Theater Brings Together Top Notch Cast

Today was our last show of "Madam's Been Murdered...Tea Will Be Late" at the Sixth Street Theater in Wallace. It has been quite a wonderful and memorable production to be a part of this winter, and both PKR and I have truly enjoyed performing.

What a great cast directors Karin Clark-Reed and Cherri Bartle assembled for this play. Each performance each character became richer and developed more personality. It was fascinating to see the transformation.

This play brought together a wonderful group of people. One of the beautiful things about community theater is the varied and diverse group of people the theater experience brings together.

Karin comes to us from Los Angelas where she has acting experience in television and movies. She was sharing one story with us about being a maid in the final episode of "Dynasty", and one of the main characters dies in her arms in the final show. She said her picture was all over the tabloids because of that scene. By day, karin works at a local furniture store.

Cherri is an aid in the special education department at Kellogg Middle School. Her husband Ken, also in the cast, is the Pastor at Our Savior Lutheran Church in Pinehurst.

Don Sauer is a Sixth Street veteran and is currently a CNA at a local nursing home.

Husband PKR is the director of Silver Valley Alternative School here in Kellogg.

Colleen Pettis used to be the director of the Historic Wallace Chamber of Commerce, but is now transitioning from Silver Valley resident, to Medical Lake, Washington resident. Her husband is retiring from the Forest Service this summer, and they are building a house over there and moving this summer.

John Turner made his acting debut in August in one of the melodramas. Johnny comes to us via Las Vegas, where he just retired from a 30 year run as a bartender at Caesar's Palace. He is also the brother of my good friend Miss Vicki.

Tom Gillies is an Americorps Volunteer at Silver Valley Alternative School.

Anna Hoppe moved to Wallace with her husband to retire. She formerly lived in Texas and was in charge of a security company.

Vern Hanson is the manager of the Baymont Inn, and has been at the Sixth Street Theater since the beginning.

Lisa Siri works at the Red Light Cafe in Wallace, and moved to the valley from Oregon.

And me, Silver Valley Girl. I am the office manager at Kellogg Pet Medical Center by day, and writer, photographer, and all around creator by night.

We also had wonderful support from Sharon Miller on sound, and Kristy Hewitt on lights. They made our production complete with their expertise skills in this area.

PKR and I hosted the cast party at our home tonight, topping off a wonderful three week run. It makes us feel good to entertain and make people laugh.

#22 My Tree--Happy St. Patrick's Day Evening

A tree is beautiful, but what’s more, it has a right to life;

like water, the sun and the stars, it is essential.

Life on earth is inconceivable without trees.

Forests create climate,

climate influences peoples’ character,

and so on and so forth.

There can be neither civilization nor

happiness if forests crash down under the axe,

if the climate is harsh and severe,

if people are also harsh and severe....What a terrible future!

- Anton Pavlovich Chekhov

History Day Makes Silver Valley Girl Proud

Well, my buttons are continuing to burst this weekend as Z2 and Kiki Aru both participated in the regional History Day competition today at Kellogg Middle School, and both got Superior ratings, and they will be attending the state competition in April at Alberton's College.

The theme of this year's competition is From Triump to Tragedy. Both took on local history topics as the subject for the projects.

Z2, our seventh grader, particpated in the junior group performance division. Her and two of her friends wrote a play on the Sunshine Mine Disaster that happened on May 2, 1972. The play showed what happened that day, which was the tragedy, and the triumph was how this disaster helped change mine safety regulations in the country.

Kiki Aru, our fifth grader, participated in the group documentary category. Her and her partner developed "From Triumph to Tragedy: The Reforestation of the Silver Valley". They based their project on an interview they had with Ed Pommerening, a forester who was hired by the Bunker Hill Company in 1972 to develop a program to plant trees on the hillsides around Kellogg. Through this process, he developed an underground greenhouse in the Bunker Hill Mine that grew millions of seedlings that were planted on the hillsides around Kellogg. And as you look at the hillsides, as compared to 20 years ago, the transformation is amazing.

I am so proud of my girls, and all their hard work and research they did on their projects, and the things I learned about my valley through their projects.

#21 My Tree--The Aftermath of a Rain Shower

A tree is made to live in peace in the color of day and in friendship with the sun,
the wind and the rain.
Its roots plunge in the fat fermentation of the soil,
sucking in its elemental humors, its fortifying juices.
Trees always seem lost in a great tranquil dream.
The dark rising sap makes them groan in the warm afternoons.
A tree is a living being that knows the course of the clouds
and presses the storms because it is full of birds’ nests.
- Jacques Roumain

The Princess Makes It To State

Congratulations to oldest daughter "The Princess" for making it to the Idaho State Speech Competition. She competed last weekend in Retold Story, and earned a place at the competition at Coeur d'Alene High School on April 20-21.

Retold Story is taking a children's book, reading through it, then having 1/2 an hour to think about it, then retelling the story in front of the judge. I believe The Princess got second out of the competitors to earn her way to the state competition.

We are VERY PROUD OF HER, and look forward to the competition in April.

WAY TO GO PRINCESS!!!

#20 My Tree--Beware The Ides of March

CAESAR.Who is it in the press that calls on me?I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,Cry "Caesar"! Speak, Caesar is turn'd to hear.

SOOTHSAYER.Beware the Ides of March.

CAESAR.What man is that?

BRUTUS.A soothsayer bids you beware the Ides of March.

CAESAR.Set him before me; let me see his face.

CASSIUS.Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

CAESAR.What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again.

SOOTHSAYER.Beware the Ides of March.

CAESAR.He is a dreamer; let us leave him. Pass.

I Found Love

I'm a big fan of the Gilmore Girls. I've never watched it on TV, but we now own the first 5 seasons I believe, and it is a great show to have on DVD. Because of my love of the show, I decided to buy the soundtrack called "Our Little Corner of the World". There is a song that I have come to love on the CD called "I Found Love". You can listen to it here. The group who recorded it is called The Free Design. According to their website

The Free Design were a New York City based, mostly studio orientated band that did seven albums between 1967 and 1973. Chris, Bruce, Sandy, Stephanie and Ellen Dedrick were brothers and sisters and, as a result, they showed a tendency to sing in a similar manner.
They grew up in Delavan, N.Y., near Buffalo, surrounded by music. Their father, Art Dedrick, played trumpet and was chief arranger for Vaughn Monroe´s band and later had a band of his own until an attack of polio put him in a wheelchair. Since then he taught music and formed a pair of music publishing companies. Their uncle was Rusty Dedrick, who played trumpet with Red Norvo, Claude Thornhill and Ray McKinley. What a background!
Sandy played the keyboard instruments; Bruce was a master with guitar and trombone, and Chris showed supreme skills with guitar, trumpet and recorder. Ellen was also extremely talented in different facets. All of them studied music - All of them were granted with bachelor´s degrees in music education and master´s degrees at the Manhattan School of Music. They had a frightening amount of musical talent between them.
At the end of 1966, they had moved from upper New York State to New York City. Sandy´s apartment was a handy gathering place. There they started singing folk music together during the embryonic days.
Chris, the leader of the group, recalls, "but we tried to make our own arrangements. People who heard us said, ´Boy, what a great blend.´ So I decided to try writing some songs of our own." His first effort was Kites Are Fun. After his father had heard it - and complimented him on it - he suggested that Chris try writing something with trumpets in it. The result was The Proper Ornaments. These two songs became their first single - and it hit the charts!

You can read more about The Free Design here.

#19 My Tree--From My Kitchen Window

Tree at my window,

window tree,

My sash is lowered when night comes on;

But let there never be curtain drawn

Between you and me.

- Robert Frost

Talking For Our Pets Keep Us Entertained

From the beginning of our married life, over 20 years ago, PKR and I have entertained ourselves by giving our pets certain voices and we carry on conversations using those voices and communication for our pets.

We think we know what they are saying.

It started out with our cats, Lynx and Jessie. Lynx was a big, furry, 20 lbs. cat that talked like a big tough guy, and had nicknames like Bubba, Lynxer Stinkser, to name a couple.

Jessie was a small and petite cat and talked like a sweet little girl, and her nicknames were Precious, and Pretty Kitty.

We could entertain ourselves for hours talking for our pets. Throwing in some catnip for them only added to the fun.

Right now we have 2 dogs and 5 cats. And we talk for them all. They all have their own "story", their own personality, and their own voice. Now it is a family affair. We all talk for the animals.

Peaches is our Keeshond, and her nickname is "Beautiful". She talks in a nice, calm voice and is always happy and willing to do anything for you.

Sadie is our Pomeranian. We have branched out a bit with Sadie. She not only has one story, she has several, because she has multiple personalities. Sadie is the good doggie who does nothing wrong, and always obeys, goes outside and doesn't bark. Louise is the bad doggie who barks all the time when someone comes to the door, and poops on the floor and won't come when you call. Often the term "Jeez Louise" is said around our Pom. Then there is Marge, who flirts with our three legged cat Toby Montana. Jose is the dog who just wants to have fun!!!

We talk to each other through the voices we give our dogs and cats. It can be quite hilarious. Pets can say the darndest things!! It can be a very unique way to communicate.

Try it sometime. Figure out what voice your pet has, and start talking for it....channel their thoughts, their sense of humor, their biting wit.

It's cheaper than cable!!

#18-- My Tree From Another View

trees grope with itch for Spring

go on and itch Trees

you don’t know anything

Allen Tate

#17--My Tree If You Wait Five Minutes, It Will Change

Here is the picture I took when I first went outside this afternoon to take My Tree picture.

Then I stayed outside, puttered around the yard, checking out the garden.

Five minutes later, look how things changed.

COOL!

Interstate 90

Tonight I am going to share some thoughts about Interstate 90. It may seem odd to write about a road, but this highway has played a very important role in my life and has taken me to some very interesting places.

I-90 has been in the local news lately. I think there is a type of "Bermuda Triangle" between the two exits signs in Wallace. Two times during the last two weeks, there have been semi truck accidents that caused that stretch of highway to be closed down. Both times we were having play performances in Wallace, and knew something was up because of the backlog of semi trucks around Wallace.

Here is a funny story my husband shared regarding some of his students last week. On Friday, Kellogg students were put in lockdown because an armed robber was on the run after holding up the Wells Fargo Bank uptown. It had been explained to my husband that the schools were in lockdown because the robber could be fleeing on Interstate 90, and most of the schools were close to the Interstate.

So he tells his students, "You know, I-90 goes all the way from Seattle to Boston, and he could be anywhere along the way, so this may take a while."

"Really?"

Yes, some actually believed they were going to check all along the highway from Seattle to Boston!!!

The Idaho State Patrol have sure been out in force this past week, at least between Kellogg and Wallace. Almost every time I travel east toward Wallace, I see someone pulled over for speeding. I make sure the cruise is right at 75 mph.

I have no memory of there being something other than I-90 traveling through Kellogg. I do remember when it wound its way through Wallace, and you had to stop at the stop light.

We traveled to Spokane a lot growing up, because my Grandma Woolum lived in Spokane. I remember when the Fourth of July Pass was a lot closer to the lake, and you traveled right by Tony's, not above it. You also went by an old run down A-Frame building, but I'm not sure what it was. Then there two different motels. One was pink and set back on the right as you traveled west, if my memory serves me right. Then there was the place with the little cottages. Now it is called the Bennet Bay Inn, or something like that. Oh, what was it called before. Can anyone help me with that one? I do remember hearing a wierd rumor in high school that they hid movie cameras in the cottages and taped the guests. So my senior year, when I was in pep band and we were traveling to either Coeur d'Alene or Post Falls for either the district or state basketball tournament (with them both in North Idaho that year, we traveled I-90 a lot that winter) and as we headed up the pass, I REALLY had to go to the bathroom. I believe Mr. Taylor, our band instructor, sensed the panic in my voice as I told him I NEEDED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM. So we stopped at this little motel with the cottages, and I ran out of the bus, and asked the first person I saw if I could use their bathroom. But, of course, all the time, running through my mind, as I was in one of those cottages using the bathroom was, am I being taped? But I really didn't care at that point.

Remember when I-90 took you through State Line, not past it. You would travel right by "The Slab Inn". The outside really hasn't changed that much in 30 years.

Traveling to Spokane to Grandma's house changed over the years. I remember when I was really young, we would always take the Argonne exit to go the her house. As soon as I saw the water tower, I knew we were close.

Then the route changed, and we took the Freya exit. Then we took the Hamilton exit, which turned into Nevada, which intersected with Bridgeport, the street where Grandma lived.

I traveled I-90 to get to my first job interview after I graduated from college, and I-90 got me part way to my first job in Glendive, Montana before I veered north on I-94 by Billings.

I-90 also brought me back to my safe, secure, closed-in little valley when I lived in the "Big Sky Country". I think it was when I got to Frenchtown, Montana, and the valley would begin to form that I knew I was almost home. It was a very comforting feeling for me.

I walked over I-90 almost every day when I attended Kellogg Junior High school, because that was the way to and from school. One game my friend April and I liked to play was waiting for the semi trucks to go under the bridge. There was a certain excitement while you stood there on the bridge and they would speed below you.

While growing up in Kellogg, I never thought of I-90 as a menacing presence, one that would bring all kinds of scary people into my little community.

But, I hear that a lot now. People referring to I-90 as a way for undesirables and criminals and heaven knows what else to pull off the highway and invade our small town and violate our peace and quiet.

I guess that attitude comes with the times, maybe, or with growth, or the way the world is changing around us.

It is too bad.

#16 My Tree--We've Sprung Forward

Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Sibling Assignment--My First Job

This week, Raymond Pert assigned Inland Empire Girl and myself to write about our first job and anything interesting that happened. Here is my essay:

When I was in junior high and high school, the Kellogg School District didn’t have the budgetary problems it does now. Partly because it received quite a bit of revenue from the Bunker Hill Mining Company.

And each summer the school district was able to hire high school students to help with the cleaning and maintenance of the schools during the summer.

The summer after my freshman year in junior high, I was too young to work on the cleaning crew, but I was old enough to work for Merv Hill, the KSD Business Manager.

He hired me to help during the summer. It was my first real job. I did a variety of jobs. Some days I would make copies. Some days I would use the “ditto machine”. If a shipment of new text books arrived, it was my job to unpack the boxes, stamp them with the KSD stamp, and numbered them so students could use them during the upcoming school year.

I also fixed books. If there were text books that needed repair, I learned how to squirt Elmer’s Glue down the spine of the book so they could be glued back together and used another year.

Another job was going through the “dead files”. These were files of students no longer enrolled in the Kellogg School District. They kept them for a certain number of years. If it had been past that deadline, I needed to take that file out and throw it away. It was interesting going through those files and seeing if I remembered anyone from my days at Sunnyside Elementary or Kellogg Junior High.

I often worked in the back warehouse, which was located in the back part of the School District Office.

I really enjoyed the work. It was easy, deliberate work that you really didn’t have to think about much, but you knew you were getting done. I remember Merv telling me that if I kept working so hard, I would work myself out of a job.

I liked working by myself. It was thinking time. And it was the perfect first job. It was just for the summer. The next summer I worked for Merv again, and the summer after my junior year I was hired on to help with the cleaning crew, and helped clean Kellogg High School.

I returned to this job after my first year at college. This time I was too old to work for the school district. So I got to work for Merv again.

My first job was great. Not a lot of funny or disturbing stories, because I was working by myself most of the time. I just remember it as a great first job.

#15 My Tree--Waiting to Spring Forward

The body in the grave is like the tree in winter;

they conceal their greenness under a show of dryness....

We too must wait for the springtime of the body.

Marcus Minucius Felix

Blatant plug for sister-in-law's CD

My sister-in-law flew up from Boise today to attend the performance of our play. She used to live here and teach English at Kellogg High School. She moved to Meridian, and now teaches at Timberline High School.

Often we joke about the fact that she teaches to support her music habit. In 2005 she made a CD of original Christian worship songs she wrote, then put on concerts in Meridian, Kellogg and McCall. She is currently in the process of writing more songs and picking which ones will show up on her next CD.

You can find out more about Laurie and her music here.

There is also a link on her website where you can listen to some of her music and also go to CD Baby and order one of her CD's.

PKR and his brothers do back up on one or two of the songs on the CD.

I'm really proud of Laurie and all the work she has done on her first CD, and really look forward to her next one coming out.

I'll keep you posted!!

#14 My Tree--Clinging to its last year's leaves

We stood a moment so, in a strange world,

Myself as one his own pretense deceives;

And then I said the truth (and we moved on).

A young beech clinging to its last year’s leaves.

- Robert Frost

Help!! I'm Trapped in a Barrel

WARNING: The following words are the rantings and ravings of a mother on the edge of some kind of meltdown. I think she will be okay. She just needs to vent a bit. But if someone knows how to open a barrel, that would be helpful.

I’m starting to feel like the character I am portraying in the play I am currently in at the Sixth Street Theater in Wallace.
My character’s name is Matilda Trent. Matilda is on holiday at an old English manor house since she retired from being a school teacher. She retired at an early age because some of her students lured her into a barrel and nailed her up in it and fed her through the bung hole for three days. During the play, she is a “bit on edge” and the doctor told her her nerves could “snap at any moment”.
This week, it feels like I have been living in a barrel, and the walls keep closing in around me, with no air, and I can’t breathe, feeling a bit it confined.
I get this way when life gets a bit overwhelming. And every time I look at my March calendar, the barrel gets smaller.
How did March end up getting so full all of a sudden? I didn’t really plan it to be that way. But it is. Once rehearsals quit for the play, things were suppose to be freed up a bit. But that is not the way it is for March.
Kiki Aru continues with her AAU basketball schedule, having tournaments every weekend until the end of the month.

No air.
Kiki Aru and Z2 are both working on History Day projects, and need some help to get those completed, because they present next Saturday.
The Princess is preparing for district speech competition that is Saturday in Coeur d’Alene.

Can't move.
My sister-in-law is flying in Saturday from Boise to see the play, and the guest room needs to be prepared.

Can't breathe.
We have a busy weekend at church with a Saturday meeting before the play, then another meeting Sunday night, plus church that morning. PKR and I are on our church’s leadership team. That calls for a few more commitments than we normally have, because of the changes happening at church.

Walls closing in around me.
I have my creative’s group coming here on Saturday morning, so the house needs to get cleaned up (which is a good thing).

Feel cooped up.
Then next weekend, there is the History Day competition, BBall tourney in CDA, PKR’s parents are coming to see the play, and spending the night, my sister is coming with her husband to see the play and spend the night (but she will be staying at my mom’s house), plus figuring out what cute green outfit I need to wear to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. (Just kidding!! I thought I would see if you were paying attention. Even though I am stuck in a barrel, I still have a sense of humor!) Besides the play, which ends on Sunday, we are hosting the cast party at our house on Sunday night.

Some fresh air would do me good.
Then I have been doing employee evaluations this last week, and will continue this week at work, where I help manage the local veterinarian hospital in town. They haven’t been too bad, just a lot of mental strain.

A bit on edge.
Plus, I’ve just felt crappy all week, with a cold, and cough, and just a bit run down.

About to snap!
WILL SOMEONE PLEASE COME AND RESCUE ME OUT OF THIS BARREL!!
There, that felt better.

#13--My Tree at Dusk

The tongue that brings healing is a tree of life,

but a deceitful tongue crushes the spirit.

Proverbs 15:4

Who could forget the taste of smelter smoke?

My brother RaymondPert posted this yesterday, titled "Bringing Reality Into Being: I Grew Up In Miasma". He wrote about the pollution we lived with growing up in Kellogg because of the emissions from the Bunker Hill smelter.

I didn't know what it was like not having the smelter smoke in my life growing up. My strongest memory is playing on the playground at Sunnyside Elementary. Especially morning recess, because that is when it seemed the strongest. While running on the playground on a cool, crisp morning, you would see a dark cloud of smelter smoke hanging over the hills around Kellogg like a large smoke ring decending upon our town.

And you just took it for granted there would be a burning sensation in your throat as you played tag, or keep away, or hopscotch on the playground.

I was never really that physically fit as a child, but I do remember the one year I received the President's Physical Fitness certificate (no I didn't earn the award, just the certificate), and it was one of those cool, crisp valley mornings when I had to run around the field on the west end of the playground to get my time for the physical fitness test, and my throat really burned that morning.

It's funny the things you remember.

But it was just a part of my life. I grew up sitting in the chair in front of the big picture window in our living room on Cameron Avenue, and daily seeing, first the small smoke stack, and later, the two larger smoke stacks spewing forth the smoke that caused the hillsides to cease to produce anything green, and my throat to burn, and my valley to be assaulted with poison.

I remember dad joking about one of the Bunker Hill P.R. guys insisting it was just steam coming out of that stack.

My youngest daughter, Kiki Aru, is working on a documentary for History Day competition on the reforestation of the Silver Valley. She interviewed Ed Pommerening, who was the force behind the reforestation project.

He described the conditions that stunted the growth of the pine trees in the valley. He said when the smelter smoke would combine with the moist air, the two would combine to make a substance similar to battery acid. This would get on the small pine cones, and would destroy them so they couldn't reseed.

Even though the stacks have tumbled down, and "steam" no longer spews forth into the atmosphere, there are reminders. Last year, PKR took our dog for a walk up by the mine, and said he kicked up some dirt, and he could smell and taste the smelter smoke in the dust of the ground.

The EPA hasn't completely stripped it all away, from our landscape, or, more importantly, from our memories.

#--12 My Tree--Gray Skies Are Gonna Clear Up

Put On A Happy Face

Gray skies are gonna clear up,

Put on a happy face;

Brush off the clouds and cheer up,

Put on a happy face.

Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,

It's not your style;

You'll look so good that you'll be glad

Ya' decide to smile!

Pick out a pleasant outlook,

Stick out that noble chin;

Wipe off that "full of doubt" look,

Slap on a happy grin!

And spread sunshine all over the place,

Just put on a happy face!

Put on a happy face

Put on a happy face

And if you're feeling cross and bitterish

Don't sit and whine

Think of banana split and licorice

And you'll feel fine

I knew a girl so glooming

She'd never laugh or sing

She wouldn't listen to me

Now she's a mean old thing

So spread sunshine all over the place

Just put on a happy face

So, put on a happy face

The Joy of Creativity

Tonight I have been working on a talk I am giving at my PEO meeting Wednesday night, called "The Joy of Creativity". Below is what I am going to talk about.

The Joy of Creativity

In the summer of 2005, I ended my career as a reporter to take some time to start writing a book, a historical fiction novel about the Silver Valley.
To help with this process, I formed a group of women that gather together on a monthly basis to help me with this process.
It is not a writing group. It is creative group.
The purpose of the group is to help me with the creative process of writing my book, and to encourage one another in each others creativity.
I had a group of women I originally asked to join, and then other creatives asked others to join our monthly gatherings.
We are called the “Canyon Creek Creatives” because we originally met in a small house overlooking Canyon Creek up Burke Canyon outside of Wallace.
And we all have different ways we express our creativity. These include writing, drawing, painting, photography, graphic design, book making, music and Native American Bead Work.
Since our beginning in the fall of 2005, we have seen the following:
*A retired school teacher stretching her wings by returning to college at NIC and getting her associate arts degree so she can become a graphic artist.
*A single business woman in Wallace learning to enjoy meals at home by herself by taking the time to set the table and doing little things to make it an enjoyable experience.
*A teacher who loves to write, cook and bake, taking some of her special recipes and writing stories about them in a type of memoir recipe book.
*A woman with a dream of becoming a musician who learned to play the stand up bass and now entertains others in a blue grass band.
*A Reiki healer who writes a newsletter each month, and also designed a web page.
*A librarian who learned to use glue stick for the first time.
*My former babysitter, and mother of one of my best friends growing up, has found her voice as a poet.
*And myself, who has started and continues to write the book, has written a melodrama that will be performed this summer in Wallace at the Sixth Street Melodrama, am currently designing a website for my workplace, and have started a daily blog, which incorporates my writing, my photography, and my love of history.
We meet monthly and share about our creative endeavors and encourage one another. We have met at the Cataldo Mission and sat outside on tables and created. We had one of our creatives put on a writing workshop. We have made books. We have laughed together. We have cried together. We are sparked by each others creativity and creative thinking.
We use a book by Julia Cameron titled “The Sound of Paper: Starting from Scratch” that gives different creative exercises to complete. Each month we have a different exercise to help in our creativity.
In the first part of this book, title “In Your Backpack”, Cameron gives three creative tools that should be undertaken and continued each day.

MORNING PAGES: Morning Pages are the pivotal tool of a successful creative life. They are three pages of longhand, morning writing, about anything and everything.

ARTISTS DATES: The Artist Date is a once-a-week, festive outing undertaken and executed solo. You choose an expedition that enchants you, one that truly interests your inner explorer.

WALKS: The third pivotal creative tool is one that links together mind and body. This tool is walking. A 20 minute walk is long enough. Walking nudges us out of our habitual thinking. It builds bridge to higher consciousness. It allows us to access our intuition, to focus on solutions rather than problems.

Cameron also writes in her book “The Artist’s Way” how “the following spiritual principles are the bedrock on which creative recovery and discovery can be built. Read them once a day, and keep an inner ear cocked for any shifts in attitudes or beliefs.”

Basic Principles:
1. Creativity is the natural order of life. Life is energy: pure creative energy.
2. There is an underlying, in-dwelling creative force infusing all of life -- including ourselves.
3. When we open ourselves to our creativity, we open ourselves to the creator's creativity within us and our lives.
4. We are, ourselves, creations. And we, in turn, are meant to continue creativity by being creative ourselves.
5. Creativity is God's gift to us. Using our creativity is our gift back to God.
6. The refusal to be creative is self-will and is counter to our true nature.
7. When we open ourselves to exploring our creativity, we open ourselves to God: good orderly direction.
8. As we open our creative channel to the creator, many gentle but powerful changes are to be expected.
9. It is safe to open ourselves up to greater and greater creativity.
10. Our creative dreams and yearnings come from a divine source. As we move toward our dreams, we move toward our divinity.
I believe living the creative life is the best life possible. And creativity is an ongoing process we encounter in our lives. We can always become both larger and stronger. It is my hope that you will consider yourself on an open-ended adventure. And however you express your creativity, try doing it on a daily basis to enrich your life and make it more fulfilling for you and those around you.

Following the talk, I am going to give each woman present a bookmark with one of the following Julia Cameron quotes on it:

Mystery is at the heart of creativity. That, and surprise. Julia Cameron

The creative process is a process of surrender, not control. Julia Cameron

Each of us has an inner dream that we can unfold if we will just have the courage to admit what it is. And the faith to trust our own admission. The admitting is often very difficult.

Julia Cameron

I have learned, as a rule of thumb, never to ask whether you can do something. Say, instead, that you are doing it. Then fasten your seat belt. The most remarkable things follow.

Julia Cameron

#11 My Tree--Blue Skies Smilin' At Me

Blue Skies

By Irving Berlin

I was blue, just as blue as I could be

Evry day was a cloudy day for me

Then good luck came a-knocking at my door

Skies were gray but theyre not gray anymore

Blue skies

Smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies

Do I see

Bluebirds

Singing a song

Nothing but bluebirds

All day long

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When youre in love, my how they fly

Blue days

All of them gone

Nothing but blue skies

From now on

[2]I should care if the wind blows east or west

I should fret if the worst looks like the best

I should mind if they say it can't be true

I should smile, that's exactly what I do

Grandma Woolum--A Silver Valley Story

I had two grandmas growing up…no grandpas. Both of my grandmothers raised their children as single mothers, when being a single mother wasn’t too common.
Grandma West, my mom’s mother, lived in Orofino. We went to visit her for one week every summer. She was a wonderful grandma and I always loved our yearly visits.
The one I knew better was Grandma Woolum. She lived in Spokane. She was my dad’s mom.
When I think about visiting grandma’s house, there are so many memories that come flooding back. Certain sights, certain sounds, certain smells and certain tastes.
One of the things that I always remembered about Grandma Woolum’s by sight was her chewing Doublemint Chewing Gum. Whenever I see a green package of the Wrigley’s gum, I think of my grandma.
And she usually only chewed half a stick at a time. She would have those 24 stick packs hidden away in a drawer or in her bureau, and you would see how half a stick was still in the paper. I’m not sure why Doublemint was her favorite. I don’t think I ever asked. I never thought to ask. I just knew that was what Grandma liked.
A sound I remember from Grandma’s house was her starburst clock on the wall above her television. It always had a certain buzz at certain times when it moved.
There were so many wonderful smells emitting from Grandma’s house, but one I remember and still love today is when she boiled green beans on the stove with some bacon so we could have them for dinner. They seemed to boil all afternoon. Yum-m-m-m!
I had never heard of “jack cheese” until I went to Grandma’s house. She always kept this white cheese wrapped up in her refrigerator in aluminum foil to keep it fresh. It tasted very different from cheddar or American or Swiss, the cheeses I was used to having at home. Later in life, I learned the correct name was Monterey Jack cheese.
Grandma’s house was always such a safe and nice place to be, because she made it that way. She was always excited to see us, and I was always her “Sugar”.
She lived here in the Silver Valley, living various places like Burke and Wardner and Kellogg. But after a while the “smelter smoke” took its toll on her breathing, and she moved to Spokane. But she did always love to come over and visit us.
She was part of the Silver Valley, and the Silver Valley was a part of her. Hers is a very special Silver Valley story. She is why I am a part of the valley today, and why it runs through my veins.
Thanks, Grandma, for letting my life, and my children’s life, continue your Silver Valley story.

#10 My Tree--Dawning of a New Day

Plant trees.

They give us two of the most crucial elements for our survival:

oxygen and books.

- A Whitney Brown

Cough! Cough! Cough!

I'm okay if I don't have to talk. But when you are in a play, that doesn't help. I sit backstage with my bottles of water, lemon drops and Fisherman's Friend cough drops. That gets me from scene to scene without a coughing fit.

This week I am giving employee evaluations at work, again, involving talking. If I could only not talk during the day, it would feel much better.

Mine has been a dry throat and scratchy cough. The cough seems to be getting worse. I'm not really stuffed up, which is good.

Unlike poor PKR, who stayed home today because he felt as if his head was going to explode.

"Just shoot me and get it over with", he pleaded this morning as he came dragging into the kitchen, his pale pallor blending in with his white sweatshirt. He's gone through bouts of sweating then cold, but he is seeming a bit better at the moment. But he has the stuffy nose and sinus trouble. He heats up his sock full of rice to get relief from his sinus pain, which seems to help. And I think he has a headache, too. I'm glad I insisted he stay home today.

The Princess is sneezing. Z2 and Kiki Aru seem to be okay.

I see my sister InlandEmpireGirl struggled over the weekend with some of the same ailments. She turned to comfort food.

And lemon drops.

Just like me.

Surprise, surprise!

#9 My Tree--Man in the Moon Peeking Through

He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water,

that brings forth its fruit in its season,

whose leaf also shall not wither;

and whatever he does shall prosper.

- Psalms, 1:3

#8 My Tree-- Night View

Because they are primeval, because they outlive us, because they are fixed, trees seem to emanate a sense of permanence. And though rooted in earth, they seem to touch the sky. For these reasons it is natural to feel we might learn wisdom from them, to haunt about them with the idea that if we could only read their silent riddle rightly we should learn some secret vital to our own lives; or even, more specifically, some secret vital to our real,

our lasting and spiritual existence.

- Kim Taplin, Tongues in Trees, 1989, p. 14.

I Thought I Was Suppose To Break A Leg...Not A Sword!!!

You rehearse for weeks and weeks.

You learn your lines. You develop your character. You have the perfect costume.

You choreograph your steps for the sword fight.

Dress rehearsal went well.

Now it is opening night.

The lights come up, and your husband’s female character (Madge the chambermaid) gets the audience warmed up for an evening full of laughter and guffaws.

You make your entrance with your husband, who is now a male character, a playboy of sorts, one of the heirs to the English manor which is the setting for this murder mystery comedy, “Madam’s Been Murdered…Tea Will Be Late”.

Things are going well…pace is good…no missed lines, no missed cues, no missed entrances.

The sword fight has been choreographed and practiced for weeks. It was a big hit at dress rehearsal so you look forward to this scene.

As soon as PKR and I take the stance to begin the sword fight, you can tell the audience is going to love this scene.

Lunge, lunge, lunge.

Parry, parry, parry.

Come together.

Start to lunge….wait. PKR’s sword just broke in half. The blade fell off of the handle.

Come on…stay in character….what to do…what to do????

Laughter. I am hearing laughter. The audience is loving it. PKR adlibs a bit with Epsworth the butler, and we end up finishing the sword fight and the lines with PKR just holding the blade. And of course, I end up winning.

It will go on to make a wonderful opening night story for the Sixth Street Theater.

The rest of the performance went without a hitch. I think an enjoyable time was had by cast members and audience members alike.

All of our Sunday performances are sold out, which is encouraging. On Thursday night, all the proceeds of that performance will go toward Joe and Rose Mary Peak. Rose Mary has been one of our piano accompanists for years, and she and her husband Joe run the Enaville Resort (or Snake Pit, as it is known to most) and Joe is undergoing treatment for cancer. In fact, they are having a benefit for them today at the Snake Pit to help raise money.

It is a blessing to be a part of Community Theater. What a gift to be able to take people’s minds off of life for a while, and let them escape for a couple hours of fun and entertainment.

Well, I hope to break a leg tonight…not a sword!

#7 My Tree--Mārtius ménsis sunrise

To early man, trees were objects of awe and wonder.

The mystery of their growth, the movement of their leaves and branches,

the way they seemed to die and come again to life in spring,

the sudden growth of the plant from the seed

- all these appeared to be miracles

as indeed they still are,

miracles of nature!

- Ruskin Bond, The World of Trees

Two Worlds Collide

The coming of the "Black Robes" was foretold long before their arrival. In a great vision, Circling Raven, head chief during the 1600s, saw the coming of men wearing "long black robes with crossed-sticks under their belts" who would teach of a "new way to the heaven trails." In the spring of 1842 while on the prairie near Hayden Lake, the thirty-eight year old Father Pierre-Jean DeSmet was discovered wandering and lost by Stallam, the head chief at the time. For the Schitsu'umsh, it was less an opportunity "to learn from the priests [than] to teach the priests about the Coeur d'Alene ways and traditions!" The appeal of Christianity was eased by similarities in certain Catholic and Schitsu'umsh rituals and beliefs, as for example, in the belief in spiritual intermediaries such as saints and animal spirit guardians, the ritual use of sacred objects, water and incense, observance of feasting days, and the importance of religious practitioners, such as medicine people and priests. In addition, much of the desire to "welcome" the Black Robes was based upon their pledge to provide muskets, powder and shot to help hold off the ever menacing Blackfeet aggression. The weapons were never provided. "We accepted Catholicism, but on their own terms."

By the 1850s, under the direction of Father Antony Ravalli and with the labor of the Schitsu'umsh, the Mission of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, also known as the Cataldo Mission, was completed. Several families settled nearby and their children were soon being instructed in Catholicism and "civilized" skills. Beginning in the 1860's the Mission also served as an important rest area along the Mullan Road, linking Montana and Washington. But with the "bad influences" of miners and others so close at hand, the mission was moved in the 1870s to a "remote" site near of Hangman Creek, soon named, "DeSmet." The Sisters of Charity established and built a boarding school, with boys’ and girls’ dormitories, near the mission in 1878. More intensive instruction could now be directed at the youth of the tribe.

It was the desire of Father DeSmet and those priests who followed him to establish a "wilderness kingdom for God." To accomplish this task, the priests first needed to stop the "wandering, nomadic" ways of the Schitsu'umsh and settle them into a sedentary, self-sufficient community, isolated from outsider influences, where they, the priests, could control the lives of the people. The Schitsu'umsh needed to become farmers. Under the supervision of the priests, the scale of plant cultivation rapidly increased, with oats, potatoes, and wheat among the crops grown using state-of-the-art farm equipment. Schitsu'umsh farming "success" was most renowned throughout the northwest during the 1890s and into the early 1900s. Families often employed white laborers, and typically owned two homes, one on their farms and the other used on weekends at DeSmet were Mass was celebrated.

This information was found on this website here.

If you want to find out fascinating information about the Coeur d'Alene Tribe, check out the website. There are tribal members telling stories shared from generation to generation, there are words spoken from their original language, and you hear their story from their view, which, personally, I think is very interesting.

#6 My Tree--"It is the winter that wouldn't end...." PKR

As the poet said, "only God can make a tree,"

probably because it's so hard to figure out how to get the bark on.

- Woody Allen

Silver Linings--Signs of Spring Arrive in my Corner of the Silver Valley

Even though I woke up to about 4 inches of snow this morning in my yard, when I was pulling into my garage this afternoon, this pleasant picture greeted me in the flower bed in front of my house.

There is something about seeing that first crocus that should bring hope to the heart of everyone who sees it. With it comes with the promise of spring. As I went outside to take in the beauty of this little bit of sunshine, I noticed other green shoots pushing their way up toward the soil.

It was one year ago that we purchased this house. We brought these bulbs over from our other house and planted them last fall. Now they are making their way toward the light to give us a splash of color and hope in our current cold and dark wintery world.

The crocus reminds me of the verses in Hebrews 11: 1-3 that say:

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. For by it the men of old gained approval. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things which are visible."

Faith is like that bulb I planted last fall, that was buried in the earth, not seen all winter. Then, at the right time, during the right conditions, it burst forth as a lovely splash of color.

Often we go through, cold, wintery, dormant times in our life, where it seems like all our hope and faith is gone. Everything bright and sunny is buried somewhere inside of our dark souls, and we feel like the conditions of our life will never be right for our faith and hope to be restored. But then, all of a sudden, the conditions are right, someone or something causes a stir inside our soul, and we realize there is an end to the darkness of our own personal winter. Our own green shoots start reaching toward the sun, and we begin to bloom once again.

During these times, I realize there is a God who cares about me, and helps restore hope and faith in my life once again.

I found this poem about the first crocus from the National Catholic Register. It was a perfect poem to accompany my discovery today.

The Crocus

In March amid the blow and cold,

up through the layered leaves dark mold

a golden crocus blooms alone.

Distilled from earth, rain, snow and sun,

appointment kept, the cycle run

a Chalice lifts and winter's gone.

--Sr. Martha Wickham, ASC Red Bud, Ill.

Take hope in the fact that winter will end, and spring is just around the corner.