For Love of Mary

Back in high school I used to hang around with a family that lived in a subdivision that was mostly undeveloped farmland.  They had 8 beautiful acres of land complete with a barn and several horses.  It was a large family of 3 boys and 5 girls.  The oldest, Denny was in his 20's.  I was enamored of this family that was so different from my own and often spent summer days there, sometimes riding one of the horses bareback or helping with odd jobs like nailing shingles on the barn roof or hauling hay.  Their mom had passed away unexpectedly several years before I met them, but it was obvious that their dad made sure their lives were busy and filled with family fun.

We often traveled in packs going from activities at their home, to a local pizza hangout or one of several dance halls that featured live rock bands.  I had a couple of dates with Denny and was good friends with one of his sisters, but we were all at a pivotal point in our lives and soon after went our separate ways.

I married in 1967 at the age of 20 and heard that Denny married in 1969.  I lost touch with them over the years, caught up in my own family of 4 kids and a family business.  I  remember hearing that Denny's wife, Mary had a form of epilepsy that resulted in petite mal seizures and that they had a son and a daughter.   I heard no more for another 10 years.

Mary

Denny and Mary

In 1979, I received the chilling news that Denny's wife, Mary had opted to have a brain surgery that could cure her epilepsy.  It had gone horribly wrong and she was in a coma. At the time, their daughter Megan was 5 years old and their son Michael was 12.  They lived in another state and as most people do when they hear bad news about others, I felt badly for them but probably preferred not to think about it.  As it turned out, Mary was in a coma for over 7 years before she died.

I have no idea how people handle situations like this, especially when there are young children involved.  But I have recently and unexpectedly had the opportunity to ask these questions and the answers have given me a new perspective on what it means to truly love and to show up for life everyday....no matter what.

My daughter convinced me to join her at a party that her friend's mom was having this past September.  At the last minute I decided to go but to try to sit close to the door in order to escape.  Introverts tend to plan this way.  I nervously entered their beautiful home filled with lots of noisy, happy people.  There was lively music and tables laden with delicious food and I started to feel the urge to head back out the door....never being adept at party conversations.  Then across the room a familiar pair of eyes met mine.  I was immediately swept into a wonderful hug by Denny and 45 years fell away in an instant. The rest of the evening was spent catching up as we shared how our lives had turned out over the years.
 
Denny and I have remained good friends and in the past couple of months he has been able to share with me what it was like raising his 5 year old daughter, Megan and 12 year old son, Michael while Mary was in a coma and the years after she passed.  What it's like to have to come home and tell your children that their mom will never wake up.  What it's like being both mom and  dad all of those years, and how devastating it is to say that final goodbye even when you know it's inevitable.  Mary passed away the day before Megan's twelfth birthday.

I have since been fortunate to witness the beautiful relationship between  Denny and his daughter Megan.  Megan is all of the things that Denny says Mary was......spunky, pretty and loving.  Megan often says that her dad is her best friend which anyone can see when they are together.  Denny's sense of humor that has always been his trademark shines through in their conversations  They both share a deep love of music and languages.  I often hear tales of their favorite fishing trips and large extended family gatherings.  Megan and her husband have a son and a daughter and go out of their way to make you feel welcome in their home.  I have not met Michael as he lives far away, but I am willing to bet that he is as wonderful as his sister.

I am in awe of the power of love to overcome and triumph in the face of tragedy and for this reason really wanted to paint a portrait for them to honor Denny for being an awesome dad and Megan for being the kind of daughter that must be making Mary so very proud.  It seems that the love of Mary has touched me as well.

Megan and her dad, Denny on her wedding day.

Secrets

Secrets

You think because I’m old and withered,

I have nothing left to say?

Deep within these crumbling walls

lie secrets of summers gone,

when lilacs bloomed outside my door

sweet laughter danced over my windowsills.

Listen close,

you might hear a lover sigh a murmured promise,

of forever.

How foolish are the young.

A fine façade that fades so fast,

and leaves behind a summers song.

Even though the cold wind blows,

I still can hear you whisper

my name.

While tears fall silent,

in the snow.

The Flame

The Flame

Eyes, they say are windows to the soul.

I gaze into yours and ponder

Why you guard your truth.

Sometimes, I see a glimpse

of remembered warmth

but soon, the shades are drawn

and I am alone again

craving the heat of that flickering flame

still smoldering behind closed doors -

wondering at the reason it burns so low.

What remembered pain is worth dimming

The heat of a fiery heart?

Would one not risk it all to feel again?

The exquisite pleasure of being one with the blaze,

even at the danger
of being consumed?

Tunnel Vision, Chaos and Miracles

I have always been a dreamer and always will be, but my apparent tunnel vision about financial matters has resulted in a very different life these days.  Sadly, I haven't painted in a couple of months or even had more than a few moments to check out the wonderful postings by my friends in the Facebook group know as Creative Group at Bedlam Farm.

But I still think that if I focus on the kind of life I want to lead, it eventually has to manifest.

That's my belief and I'm stickin to it.

Tunnel on the bike trail where I walk Big Baxter and Little Baxter.

According to The Psychological Significance of Chaos and Disorder by Jonathan Marshall..."Chaos and disorder is a fundamental part of Jung's theory, especially after he studied alchemy......We can summarize his position by saying that the experience of chaos leads to transformation and is essential to transformation."

If this is true, I am definitely on my way to some interesting new adventures.  I didn't exactly think the pathway to adventure would be getting a job that involved bookkeeping.  But it became rather important to be able to afford to put gas in my car and food in my refrigerator.  Resurrecting my math skills at this point in my life has been interesting but not impossible.  Perhaps using the other side of my brain for awhile will result in some interesting new neural pathways up there.

I might become a famous rock star or a gourmet chef.  Who knows?  One needs to be open to all of the possibilities.

The office of a local construction company that I work for closely resembles the contents of my brain at this point, which I find slightly amusing.  I love organization but have been told by my employer not to touch anything because he "might not be able to find it then."  The trick is identifying which unlabeled beer box the bills, receipts and mail are stuffed in on any given day.  He's not really an alcoholic, but he does like his beer and also likes to save money by using the beer boxes for storage instead of a more traditional office filing system.

The office that currently resembles my brain.

I also have another nonpaying and unexpected job.  My employer also happens to be a longtime friend that I recently found a rescue dog for.  His own beloved "Buddy" a standard poodle was hit by a car last August.  He wanted a poodle mix and "Big Baxter" was the only one he fell for after months of looking at rescue sites.  Since my little dog's name is Baxter.....we had to add the "Big" to his Baxter.

What I didn't fully face when looking for perspective dogs and sending him the profiles, was the fact that my employer/friend really can't walk all that well. It's not his favorite form of exercise due to a bad ankle.  He used to pedal along on the local bike trail with Buddy running alongside and Big Baxter has learned to do the same rather nicely, when my friend finds time to do this....about once a week.  When you don't exercise a big and energetic, one year old dog every day, they tend to amuse themselves in other ways.....

like eating their master's slippers

and then the stairs.

Unfortunately, winter is coming and there are many days when walking is the only option.  Of course I volunteered to walk him "once in awhile" which has turned into several days a week.   Big Baxter still hasn't quite figured out that sudden bursts of speed are fine when biking, but not so fine when I'm on the other end of the leash.  I was flat on my face and eating dirt with two bloody knees before I knew what happened a few days ago.  Big Baxter and I had a talk about that and so far he seems to be contented with sporadic leaps here and there before remembering that sprinting is a no no.

Big Baxter with Little Baxter up ahead on the bike trail.

All my life I have known I was meant to be an artist.  Why it doesn't seem to be happening right now is a mystery to me, but I think it's about to change any day.  I got this sudden urge to look for a pair of earrings in an old jewelry box this morning.  I have no idea why because I really don't like wearing earrings.  Inside the box I found an old ring with the message Allow Miracles engraved on it and realized that this was what I was supposed to find instead.  I put it on and plan to keep it on.  I think it's all going to work out  and just to give one of those miracles a little jumpstart, I sat down and painted for a few hours tonight and then wrote this little blog.

It all felt so right.

Allow Miracles

The Prophecy

A quaint little shop stands in the field across the road from my cottage, where yesterday there was only corn.  As I draw near and peak through the door, I feel a sense of magical wonder and anticipation.  Stepping inside I can see that the rustic interior is overflowing with beautiful handmade items.  Lovely quilts, paintings, drawings and photographs hang on the walls.  Antique tables are covered with handmade jewelry and books.  Other tables hold piles of fabric and colorful yarn.  The air smells of fresh baked pies.  I feel a deep sense of pleasure as I gaze around the room. 

A beautiful woman with a warm smile greets me and I recognize that it is Eileen Hileman.  I am so happy to finally meet this dear friend who made me one of my most cherished treasures, a beautiful cabin quilt that hangs in my cottage and makes me smile every day. 

Eileen's beautiful cabin quilt 

Even though no words are spoken, it seems that we are communicating with our thoughts.  I look up to see that we have a visitor.  It is another beautiful woman that I know but have never met.  Maria Wulf is a talented fiber artist who lives on a magical farm in upstate New York with Jon Katz.  Jon is the wonderful author of my favorite books who started a Facebook group, Creative Group at Bedlam Farm for creative people to share their work.  It is a safe and loving place of encouragement and joy that has become an important part of my life. Maria has come to visit and I sense that that she is on a mission.  I watch Eileen and Maria as they walk out the open door and into the golden cornfield.  

Detail of one of Maria's beautiful creations that reminds me of my dream tree.

Another detail of one of Maria's beautiful creations that reminds me of my dream tree.

Not far from the magical little shop is an ancient old tree.  It is tall and gnarled and Maria climbs a ladder that is leaning against it while Eileen stands beneath the tree waiting.  There is a large hole in the old tree and Maria reaches deep inside and pulls out a dark sack.  She climbs down the ladder and they both walk toward me as if they have something to show me.  I can see that the dark sack is moving in Maria's hand as if there is something alive inside, and I am overcome with curiosity.  

My Dream Tree that apparently exists for real at Bedlam Farm

Eileen and Maria seem to know what is in the sack, and when Maria lays it down on a shelf in the little shop, it falls open to reveal several handfuls of rough cut coal.  They look dark and dirty, like they have been buried in the ancient tree for many years.  Strangely, they are all vibrating as if they are filled with some kind of energy.  One of them suddenly breaks open and reveals a golden egg shaped orb inside.  It is glowing and pulsing with life and for some reason this fills me with a deep sense of joy.  I sense that each piece of coal in the bag is filled with a similar living golden orb.

I hug Maria and Eileen my Goddess Messengers and without words, thank them for their visit.  I wake up smiling.

Several days later I look into the eyes of a dear old friend that I haven't seen in 45 years and something old and dark cracks open inside my heart.  As the golden orb spreads it's warmth, I begin to smile knowing that my life will never be the same.

On loosing a soul dog and gaining another

I have a good friend who has been part of my life for over 25 years.  He has his own business and works hard.  He also lives alone and loved to come home to his black standard poodle named Buddy.  Buddy was a wonderful, smart and energetic boy.  He regularly ran the bike trail with Bob that extends from Waukesha to Madison near our lake.  Bob has a recumbent bike and Buddy would sprint right along with him stopping to sniff or explore briefly along the way.

Bob and Buddy

Anyone who has had a soul dog knows how much they mean to you, and Buddy was definitely that for Bob.  Buddy had slowed down a bit in the past year or so having reached the age of 10, but Bob figured he still had a few good years of running the trails and fetching balls, left in him.

This past summer on the evening of Bob's birthday, he let Buddy out around midnight to do his job before going to bed.  When Buddy did not return in 5 minutes, Bob went out into the yard to see what he was up to.  We live in the country where there are no city lights and the nights are quite dark.  For the first time ever, Buddy had gotten out through the fenced in yard and was gone.  Bob searched frantically for 10 minutes and found him down the road near the boat launch.  He had been hit by a car and the driver never stopped.  It was too late to save him.

Bob was heartbroken and blamed himself.  I let him grieve for awhile and then suggested that he look into getting a rescue dog.  Since he works quite a bit, he asked if I could look on the internet and email him any profiles of dogs that looked good.  Since we both have grandchildren,  a dog that loves kids was a must.  Bob also wanted a dog that had some energy and personality.

I started to look at the various local humane society sites and also rescue sites on the computer.  Several dogs that looked good were snapped up before we could even respond.  Bob also went to look at a couple that were available in the area, but none of them grabbed his heart.  After about 2 months of looking at all these homeless dogs, I was starting to dread it.  I never realized how many dogs were waiting for someone....anyone....to adopt them.  It's quite heartbreaking.

I knew that Bob wanted a poodle or poodle mix that wasn't too small, and I had registered to get emails from the nationwide poodle rescue site.  Whenever I got one, the dog usually had some serious health or behavior issues.....something that Bob didn't have the time or desire to deal with.  Bob is in his early 70's but still very active and outgoing with a thriving construction business.

After no success, I had pretty much decided to give myself a break from looking at these sites when a couple of days ago, I received a notice about a poodle and golden retriever mix.  He was white and tall and adorable.  The description fit what Bob was looking for and unlike all the other notices, there was a phone number that looked like it went directly to the owner.  I decided to call her and speak with her before getting Bob's hopes up.   She answered my call immediately and told me that Baxter was one year old and had a great disposition.  The reason she was trying to find a new home for him was because she was having a baby soon.  She already had a two year old who loved to play with him, but due to the dog's high energy, didn't think she would have the time and energy to exercise him.  It sounded exactly like what Bob was looking for.

Big Baxter

I knew how fast you needed to act to get the good dogs, so I called Bob immediately and gave him the information.  He quickly called and said he wanted the dog.  The only problem was that we are in Wisconsin and Baxter was in Iowa.  As it turned out, the owner offered to bring him to a place an hour away from us last Sunday because she was going there anyway.  It all seemed like an incredible coming together of perfect circumstances.

We drove up last Sunday and met her, her little boy and her mom.  Baxter was a little shy and a bit bigger than we expected but seemed sweet.  After we got him squeezed into my little car for the trip home, the owner's little boy came up to the window to say goodbye to Baxter.  His mom and I both started to cry and I continued to for a good 10 minutes into the trip home.  Baxter seemed a bit confused but settled down and eventually took some little liver treats from me.

Bob meets Big Baxter

He spent a couple of hours restlessly exploring his new backyard and home and then settled down for a nap on Bob's kitchen floor.  Back at my cottage,  I tossed and turned all night long wondering how they were doing, but my fears were unfounded.  Apparently he slept happily next to Bob's bed all night.

Today I took him for a walk with my dog on the bike path.  It was delightful.  He walked well on the leash and we all had a great time.  The only problem is his name.  My dog's name is Baxter also.  So for now, it's Big Baxter and Little Baxter.

Me, Big Baxter and Little Baxter

Seeing Big Baxter relaxed and happy so quickly is awesome, but the best part is hearing the joy in Bob's voice.  He can't believe how fortunate he is.  I know that the universe has sent him another soul dog and what a lovely difference it will make in all of our lives.

Mom's love flies in on the wings of a butterfly

Mom had a huge love of nature, but butterflies held a special place in her heart.  She often wore colorful clothes and jewelry decorated with them.  As a child I learned many of the names of particular species of butterflies and moths from her.  Every time I see a butterfly, I think of her and smile.  Mom has used butterflies as her messengers on several occasions to let me know that she is sending her love.  I wrote about one of them in an earlier blog. http://hollykallie.blogspot.com/2014/03/its-year-2000-and-i-have-run-away-from.html

Today marks the 13th anniversary of her passing.  Of course she wasn't going to let the day go by without one of her butterfly winks.  I woke up this morning to find a butterfly kite left by a dear friend on a bench outside my door.

My friend knew that mom loved butterflies and that this was the anniversary of her journey into spirit.  What she didn't know was that mom also dearly loved making and flying kites.

I must have been about 10 years old when mom mischievously let me skip school on a warm and windy spring day.  She had more interesting plans for us.  That morning we built a huge kite that was taller than I was out of wood and a flowered silk fabric she had purchased.

I remember that day so clearly even though it was over 50 years ago.  We walked to a nearby park with our kite and a huge spool of heavy string.  I remember launching the kite and how the wind took it so quickly up into the sky that we had trouble holding on to the large spool as it unwound.  Very soon it was a speck high in the blue sky above us.  We ran out of string and for a wild few minutes the kite danced around above us as we hung on for dear life and laughed ourselves silly.  The wind was stronger than we anticipated and in a little while the string broke.  We watched the kite as it drifted down out of the sky a few blocks away.  Then we ran giggling all of the way to retrieve our beautiful kite where it had landed not too far from my school.  It lived to fly another day and I never got caught for skipping school.

In honor of mom today, I knew I had to go fly a kite and share the story of my mom, her love of butterflies and our day of kite flying and laughter with my granddaughters.  So the girls and I put mom's kite together.

And went to a park to let it fly.

And also went to a really beautiful field high upon a hill.

And hugged a very huge tree.

And climbed another tree.

All in honor of my mom, who taught me the names of all of the butterflies and birds, how to climb trees, build forts, fly kites, swim like a fish and fly down snow covered slopes on skis.  Thanks mom.  Your love shines on.

Natures lessons and advice from a Rhino

I was feeling a bit down tonight for no discernible reason.  I knew I needed to get outdoors and get moving. So Baxter and I took a walk down one of our favorite country roads.  Nature had some lessons to share.

Tiny daisies grew in profusion along the road.  They thrive in the dry gravelly soil that is next to the hot asphalt and nowhere else.  I was humbled by their beauty.  "Learn to bloom where you're planted," they sang.  "You can thrive and be happy no matter what."

I stopped to inspect some vines that climbed up an old cedar tree beside the road.  Intertwined and strong, they held each other up and reached unimagined heights with the help of the ancient tree.  I thought of all the wonderful, complex and sometimes tangled relationships that make my life worthwhile and how much we all depend on each other.  "Love and appreciate your family and friends," they whispered.  "We're all in this together. You're never really alone."

After that, I enjoyed a sunset ride around the lake in the peddle kayak.  I stopped and chatted with some friends at the end of their pier.  It was warm, calm and peaceful.  On the way back I took a picture of "Rhino Point" which has been called that for decades for obvious reasons.  "Spend time enjoying the view," he muttered.  "It really IS the whole point."

The lure of fishing and catching memories

Two weekends ago, we had a little belated birthday party for one of our grandsons at the lake.  He wanted to go fishing with his dad, grandpa, little brother and a friend.  The day started out rainy but cleared up upon their arrival.  The fishing was very good that day and they had a great time.

But the best catch was right off the end of the pier just before dinner.  The birthday boy landed a big beautiful sunfish.

He and his brother proudly showed off their catch and then released it back into the lake.

The only glitch was when little brother jumped the gun and blew out the candles on his big brother's birthday cake leftovers, but we quickly lit them again and did a retake.

I don't fish anymore, but I remember fishing with my dad when I was a child.  My parents built a tiny cottage on the other side of Golden Lake when I was 4 years old.  They only kept it for 5 years, but over 60 years later, I still have vivid memories of those summers.

Dad loved to fish and even after the cottage was sold, he kept a boat and took me fishing with him often.  He was a quiet man and looking back on those times I remember rocking gently in our boat and fishing for hours.  Few words were needed.  We were content to be out on the lake together, waiting for a bite.  I loved those times with him and wish we could have had more of them, but dad has been gone now for 30 years.

Recently a dear friend of mine who is Catholic, arranged a Mass to be said in his honor and asked me if I wanted to attend, even though I haven't attended church for many years.  Only that morning, I had seen on Facebook that my cousins still celebrate their dad's birthday, even though he has been gone a long time.  He was my dad's brother, and I thought how nice it would be to do the same for my dad.  It turns out that the Mass was scheduled on July 16th because that was one of the few dates they had open for Mass requests.  It also turns out that July 16th is my dear dad's birthday.  He would have been 97.  Perhaps it's a coincidence, but I prefer to think that dad is still looking out for me.  So, we are going to church and then out to breakfast to celebrate.

Happy Birthday, Dad!  Thanks for sharing your love of the lake with me.  It is alive and growing.

Addie and the Magic Water Carpet

We had a quiet 4th of July at the lake.  When my 3 sons and daughter were younger, it was not unusual to have a couple dozen extra kids around on most summer weekends.  The lure of the lake is not to be denied, especially when lots of water toys and good food go along with it.  30 years ago, I would spend Thursday grocery shopping, Friday cooking, and Saturday and Sunday feeding the crowds.  Monday and Tuesday would be spent cleaning up the house and catching up on laundry.  If I was lucky, Wednesday might be open to a few moments of quiet reflection.  Then on Thursday it started all over again.  Looking back on it, I remember it as being great fun along with a lot of work.  In retrospect, I know it really pleased me to see my kids and their friends having such a good time.

My children are all grown now, and one son and daughter have families of their own.  Most often our weekend gatherings include some of the grandkids.  We celebrated our 4th of July weekend on Sunday the 6th.  I still do most of the food preparation for the family gatherings here.  Three huge pans of Chicken Divan were ready to pop in the oven when the gang arrived and other contributions were brought along to add to the feast.

No day at the lake is complete without an afternoon of shenanigans out in the water.  Whenever my 3 sons or my son-in-law are around, the grandkids know that much mischief will ensue.  In other words, if you don't like being flung around in the water, you better not even think of putting on your bathing suit.

This year we were sure that little 1 1/2 year old Addie, our newest granddaughter would not be ready to join in the usual water mayhem that the 6-8 year olds love.  Seems that we were mistaken.  She couldn't wait to join in.  No worries....there was a "responsible" adult standing near her at all times.  She especially liked the big blue magic water carpet.

Even after a tumble off of it into the lake, she kept begging for more.   She also likes being flung high into the air which helps a lot if you are going to swim with your dad or your uncles.  In other words, she fits right in!

They all worked up quite an appetite for the feast which was followed by ice cream sundaes.  As the sun set over the lake, little Addie and her two big brothers were tucked into the car for the 30 minute ride home.  I was told that she was asleep 5 minutes into the trip.  Looks like we are still making happy memories at Golden Lake, even after all these years.  I am a very lucky woman!

A breath and a prayer

I was raised Catholic back in the 50's.  Prayer, as I saw it, was a type of desperate pleading to a judgmental higher power, because we were all unworthy and powerless.  It stopped making sense to me many years ago, as I started to question who I was and what God really meant in my world.

Over the years I went on a quest by attending other churches, studying different types of spirituality and even spent time with some wonderful Native American friends attending their ceremonies.  I think their belief that we are all one and that everything is connected made the most sense to me.  I still have a sacred Golden Eagle feather given to me by them, a healing stone acquired at a Sundance Ceremony and some sage that I occasionally pray with when I am moved to do so.

As I went through my day, I felt that this evening would be a good time to bring out my special feather, stone and sage.  I will light the sage and bless myself and the universe with it's scented smoke.  As it wafts out into the into the evening sky over the lake, I will send my prayers and love along with it,  knowing that they will come to rest as gentle as a butterfly in the hearts of the intended.

But I discovered today that there is another way to pray that requires no artifacts or effort.  It is as simple as breathing and perhaps the most profound.  At a gentle yoga class, as we were being quietly directed to focus on our breath, I found myself thinking of those that I wanted to send blessings to....... and suddenly I felt my breath become their breath.  Then my breath became one breath with everyone else that was sending love and light to them.  We were one breath and one prayer.  Connected.  It was a powerful moment.

As the class ended we sat with our legs crossed and our hands folded to our hearts.  The final words were, "May you be happy.  May you be healthy.  May you be peaceful.  Namaste."  It was the perfect prayer and it was as simple as breathing.

Thoughts on love from my swing

I have had a deep and singular love for one small place on this big planet all of my life.  No matter where I have gone over the years, I eventually felt an undeniable call to return to my sacred life-giving lake.

I have a special place to sit where my mind immediately grows calm.  I am no longer thinking as my senses completely tune in to my surroundings.  My tree swing hangs from a big maple tree a few feet from the water's edge.  Part of the ritual involves having my bare feet connect to the earth in the grass beneath me.  It is believed by some that the earth has healing properties that are conducted through your bare feet.  I know that this place heals me everyday.

The unique smell of my lake wafting on a summer wind always engulfs me in a wave of emotion akin to love. The sound of it's waves lapping on the shore is surely the sweetest music I shall ever hear, and the countless sunsets I have witnessed from my swing never lose their magic.

Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night to sit in my swing beneath a dome of brilliant stars.  It is so calm that I can hear the owls calling to each other in the woods across the water and the frogs singing far down in the marsh.  This is my church and my God, and I am one with all of it.

Perhaps this lake is the love of my life.

Paddle board yoga next to the veggie patch

My tiny cottage is crawling with young construction guys and in a huge mess.  They are mostly in my bedroom, tearing it apart and putting it back together.   I am definitely not complaining, mind you!  But I had to use my imagination to figure out how I was going to fit a yoga routine into my day.

Since I am on a fitness kick, I left the mayhem to ride my bike around the lake early this morning.  The 6 mile trip was glorious and I came back ready to do yoga.  Then I realized that the only place I could possibly do that was on the living room floor......right where they were trudging back and forth to haul boards and stuff up the bedroom stairs.  Have I mentioned before that my dear little cottage is rather small?

I sighed, gave up my idea of yoga and went out to water my new little raised veggie garden bed.  I love my sweet patch of lettuce, radishes, onions and tomatoes.   I also have some totes of peas and cucumbers on the steps going down next to the cottage.  The cottages on this stretch of the lake are very close together, each having 50 feet of sandy frontage.  Most of the owners are rarely here which pleases my reclusive self a lot!

Peas and Cukes!

We have two new stand up paddle boards in our tiny lakeside yard, courtesy of my son-in-law.  I tried one over the weekend and enjoyed it immensely.  I actually looked online this morning for paddle board yoga classes and found some on a nearby lake in July.  I can see myself falling off the board often and making a complete fool of myself, but it still sounds like lots of fun.

Anyway, as I was watering the garden,  I looked over at the boards and realized that I could do paddle board yoga right here in my yard.....and I might not even fall off.  So, Baxter and I had a heavenly half hour yoga session accompanied by the sounds of birds and waves lapping on the shore, right next to my sweet little garden.  I did some Downward Facing Dog, while Baxter chose his version of the Sphinx Pose with his favorite stuffed squirrel. It was a stellar experience!

                                             Then I picked some radishes for lunch.   Life is good!

A giant lily pad, frozen custard and time travel

Summer started out with a bang here at Golden Lake, due to an unusually warm and sunny Memorial Day weekend.  My son-in-law, who is a big kid at heart, delivered a truckload of beach toys to entertain the kids this summer and we're not exactly talking buckets and beach balls!  Our tiny lakeside yard now has 4 kayaks, 2 stand up paddle boards and a giant Lily Pad which is definitely the biggest hit so far.  It's a huge floating foam pad for kids to jump up and down on, leap off of and climb back on.......over and over, until exhaustion, hypothermia or both takes over.

The Lily Pad

The day was topped off with pizza at the picnic table.  The girls and their parents headed on home, but my son and his two boys wanted us to take a trip to a local drive-in for sundaes with them before they headed back.  I pass this popular spot often but haven't stopped in years.  I certainly wasn't prepared for the groovy trip back to the 60's!

The Kiltie has been around forever.   It's somewhat murky origins are estimated to be in the late 1940's having supposedly been started by a man of Scottish origins.  Hence the name, The Kiltie and the short plaid skirts.  I vaguely remember a few trips there with my parents when I was a child and they took me along on weekend drives out to lake country, but my clearest memories of hanging out there are during the summer I was 15 years old.  I had met a  boy who was a couple of years older than me, and my protective parents actually let me date him that summer of 1963.  Besides being really cute, his family lived on a big lake 30 miles from Milwaukee, and he was a competitive water skier.  He also had his own car which spelled FREEDOM to me. 

He frequently picked me up to spend the day at the lake water skiing.  Often our date included a stop at The Kiltie before driving the half hour back to Milwaukee to take me home.  Sometimes he let me drive his car on the back country roads, but I recall being a rather slow learner as I narrowly avoided the ditches and careened along the winding roads.  I think I did  all right when it came to the parking and kissing segment of our dates, because he seemed somewhat more interested in that activity.

Anyway.....back to the present.  We drove into the parking lot of The Kiltie and the cars were lined up 2 deep at almost every spot.....and they just kept on coming.  We had to park on the outskirts of the lot and walk up to the window to place our order.  If you are lucky enough to get a parking spot in the front row, a cute and cheerful car hop in a very short plaid skirt will come and take your order.

Luckily, I had grabbed my camera at the last minute and decided to take some photos.  As I wandered around, I realized that since my date with the cute water skier.....absolutely nothing had changed at the Kiltie.  Except for the newer cars, it's as if the place is frozen in time.  So along with some incredibly good frozen custard, I got a little trip in a time machine.  

Former husband with our two grandsons and our oldest son.

As for the cute water skier......he only lasted through my 15^th summer.  The next summer I got my driver's license and a little white mustang to go along with it.  I had my own ticket to freedom and suddenly he didn't seem quite so interesting.  Besides, I discovered he wasn't the best kisser anyway.