Flying, that is what it feels like to ride a horse. On our farm growing up I had Blackie. She was the most beautiful horse. It felt as though we were the closest of friends. She could not speak my language, but her eyes communicated so many things to me.
She would listen to me hour after hour as we would ride through the lush springtime in Tennessee. Her coat was black silk. I loved to talk to her as I brushed her beautiful coat. She was not large, but not small. She was just right for me.
I guess, in the end, she was too small. Our large stallion mated with her. When she gave birth, the foal was too large. They both died. It was the saddest day of my life at the age of thirteen. It was only a few more years until my parents both died, and then THAT was the saddest day of my life.
I fear that the dismal gray weather is having an effect on my spirits. I'm going to go ride Patches, Blake's mare. She's rather old, but I wish to ride her more for connection than for speed. She's a dear old lady. I think Blake said that she's about fifteen. She still can gallop, just not for very long periods of time. I love to brush her, and talk to her like I used to with Blackie.
It's fascinating to me how these noble creatures can communicate so effectively with their eyes. Patches smiles brightly when I greet her. Probably half of that smile is for me, and the other part for the apples and carrots I bring to her.
Blackie saved my life. I fell down and broke my leg. Blackie was in a pasture close to where I had fallen. She jumped over the pasture fence and found my parents in the garden. Papa said that Blackie kept nuzzling them until she had their attention. Then she led the way to me. The doctor said that if I had been outside much longer I would have died from the shock, and the weather. It had been very cold on that day.
Well this has been a rather sad entry. I think I'll go for a walk outside. Some how that always seems to cheer me, even when it's been so rainy!
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Ardis Journal
Blake, is strong, patient, caring, and funny. I'm falling in love with him more each day. This is not right. I'm still a married woman as far as I know. I get frustrated with myself because it's far too easy to compare Blake to Tom. Tom comes up short.
I've known Tom for most if not all of my life. He was my friend from the time we were small. He was actually more like an older brother. He had no siblings until he was almost an adult. I never had any siblings. That seemed to bond us. Our parents were very close friends as well. They traveled from Scotland to Tennessee together.
Tom only ever wanted to play three ways. One was to climb trees. I enjoyed that the most. It seemed magical as though we were in fairyland. (Tom didn't like to consider that there were fairies). One was to pretend we were horses and gallop about. The last was to play army and I disliked that game, so much! I never liked to even pretend to hurt any other person.
So I would get bored eventually and go create my own play. I liked to make fairies out of sticks, leaves, and other things I could find in the forest. I made about twenty fairies. I named each one of them. Then I built them fairy houses. My favorite fairy was Lunley. She was the Chief Fairy. She bossed all of the male fairies around. I guess I got kind of tired of Tom's bossiness and that was why I created the women leaders.
When it became apparent that both of my parents were dying, our roles changed. Tom became even more protective. He didn't ask me, he told me that he was going to marry me. Mama had told me about the birds and the bees. It was still a strange shock to me after Tom and I were married. I wanted to feel passion towards Tom but all that I ever felt was a dull fondness..
I feel passion for, with, and about Blake. I crave the gentle touch of his hand on my cheek. I know that we would have a very different relationship from the one that Tom and I shared. I only wish that was possible.
Sigh...I must get some rest. I have lots to do tomorrow. I just want to lie here in this bed and imagine what life would be like married to Blake Calkin. Maybe sometime? No, I can't think this way. Tom...I do care about him. The last thing that I want is for him to suffer harm.
Shakespeare said how I feel ever so well, "To sleep, perchance to dream." Maybe as I dream I can escape the guilty feelings that I have towards Blake. I will never act on those feelings as long as I don't know if Tom is alive. Yet dreaming about them, somehow that is innocent, right?
I've known Tom for most if not all of my life. He was my friend from the time we were small. He was actually more like an older brother. He had no siblings until he was almost an adult. I never had any siblings. That seemed to bond us. Our parents were very close friends as well. They traveled from Scotland to Tennessee together.
Tom only ever wanted to play three ways. One was to climb trees. I enjoyed that the most. It seemed magical as though we were in fairyland. (Tom didn't like to consider that there were fairies). One was to pretend we were horses and gallop about. The last was to play army and I disliked that game, so much! I never liked to even pretend to hurt any other person.
So I would get bored eventually and go create my own play. I liked to make fairies out of sticks, leaves, and other things I could find in the forest. I made about twenty fairies. I named each one of them. Then I built them fairy houses. My favorite fairy was Lunley. She was the Chief Fairy. She bossed all of the male fairies around. I guess I got kind of tired of Tom's bossiness and that was why I created the women leaders.
When it became apparent that both of my parents were dying, our roles changed. Tom became even more protective. He didn't ask me, he told me that he was going to marry me. Mama had told me about the birds and the bees. It was still a strange shock to me after Tom and I were married. I wanted to feel passion towards Tom but all that I ever felt was a dull fondness..
I feel passion for, with, and about Blake. I crave the gentle touch of his hand on my cheek. I know that we would have a very different relationship from the one that Tom and I shared. I only wish that was possible.
Sigh...I must get some rest. I have lots to do tomorrow. I just want to lie here in this bed and imagine what life would be like married to Blake Calkin. Maybe sometime? No, I can't think this way. Tom...I do care about him. The last thing that I want is for him to suffer harm.
Shakespeare said how I feel ever so well, "To sleep, perchance to dream." Maybe as I dream I can escape the guilty feelings that I have towards Blake. I will never act on those feelings as long as I don't know if Tom is alive. Yet dreaming about them, somehow that is innocent, right?
Saturday, October 21, 2017
Ardis Journal
Gray, gray, gray, blustery, windy, gray. I almost wish for snow to fall. At least it would be some white to relieve the gray of this fall. If it's already this wet I can only imagine what winter will be like. I don't remember getting this much rain in Tennessee. I feel like we're all just going to float away to the Pacific Ocean!
I have been helping Dr. John with his patients. It doesn't take education to hold a cone of ether over someone's nose, mop the blood from a wound, or mop Doc's brow when he's performing surgery.
I have to admit, I'm fascinated by modern medicine. The inside of the human body is truly a creation of wonder. If I ever believed in the existence of a God, a Creator, the human body would lend itself to that belief. The amazing processes that must be going on constantly to maintain human life are not, can not be an accident.
Last week Dr. John worked on a beating heart. He showed me how the blood pumps the heart. Amazingly to me, the heart is a muscle, like the ones that help to move our arms, and legs. I never would have understood that before. This man had a heart attack so Dr. John found a section that was damaged and repaired it to the best of his ability. The patient is alive and recuperating so he obviously did something right.
The hard thing about medicine today is that there is no way to look inside the body to determine the problem except by looking at all the symptoms. If the case is life threatening, then Dr. John opens up the body to assess the problem accurately. The situation is dangerous because if there are serious health problems going on, the patient may not survive the shock of the surgery.
Dr. John takes every death of a patient very personally. I worry about him. He doesn't seem to know how to separate himself from his patients. He feels all of their suffering and pain. I wish he had a loving wife to help him cope with the challenging life that he has chosen. He says that he doesn't have time to meet or court a woman. I hope that he doesn't wait too long. Time goes so fast.
Well I have worked for ten hours today and I can't seem to keep my eyes open. This is the end of my journal tonight.
I have been helping Dr. John with his patients. It doesn't take education to hold a cone of ether over someone's nose, mop the blood from a wound, or mop Doc's brow when he's performing surgery.
I have to admit, I'm fascinated by modern medicine. The inside of the human body is truly a creation of wonder. If I ever believed in the existence of a God, a Creator, the human body would lend itself to that belief. The amazing processes that must be going on constantly to maintain human life are not, can not be an accident.
Last week Dr. John worked on a beating heart. He showed me how the blood pumps the heart. Amazingly to me, the heart is a muscle, like the ones that help to move our arms, and legs. I never would have understood that before. This man had a heart attack so Dr. John found a section that was damaged and repaired it to the best of his ability. The patient is alive and recuperating so he obviously did something right.
The hard thing about medicine today is that there is no way to look inside the body to determine the problem except by looking at all the symptoms. If the case is life threatening, then Dr. John opens up the body to assess the problem accurately. The situation is dangerous because if there are serious health problems going on, the patient may not survive the shock of the surgery.
Dr. John takes every death of a patient very personally. I worry about him. He doesn't seem to know how to separate himself from his patients. He feels all of their suffering and pain. I wish he had a loving wife to help him cope with the challenging life that he has chosen. He says that he doesn't have time to meet or court a woman. I hope that he doesn't wait too long. Time goes so fast.
Well I have worked for ten hours today and I can't seem to keep my eyes open. This is the end of my journal tonight.
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
Ardis Journal
When the rainy season first started. I was THRILLED! The heat, the walking, the indignities of traipsing across the American continent had long lost their luster. I think I ate more dust than food in that trek!
Lying in bed at night in a snug, safe home, it felt cozy to hear the rain tap tap tapping on the roof. I felt warm, protected and happy. I felt that way when it rained for a week. I felt that way when it rained for two weeks. When we reached a month I was beginning to feel claustrophobic, like the rain was penning me in!
Unbelievably to me, Blake did not stop working, even when the dirt turned to slick, sloppy, black mud. He said that the rain made it easier for him to move the giant logs that he's collecting to build a bunkhouse. He chops down a giant tree, then he strips off all the branches. He prefers using hardwood, but there is more pine here. He has come up with ingenious ways of making the pine more durable.
I have the house to myself right now. I'm enjoying this quiet time to write out my thoughts. Both of my parents wrote in journals. They didn't write every single day, but when ever they could. They told me that they were recording their life experience as they wrote. Their journals would be a heritage to me, and to my children. I do treasure them. I have them with me, here in my room in Blake's home. Somehow reading their words brings them close to me.
Dr. John and Blake sleep in the other room in Blake's two room house. We have at least one person stop by almost everyday for Dr. John's medical skills. He's so patient and kind, and he figures out how to help people very quickly.
I help him. He says that I'm a natural at nursing. He's suggested some schools that I could attend back east to become a nurse. I have explained that I just arrived in the west. Somehow education across the country holds no appeal to me!
We had an interesting case last week. A man slipped and fell onto a jagged rock. He had a deep hole in his leg. I thought that I would vomit. I had never before seen the inside of a human body. I still like skin to cover each and every person! At the same time it was wondrous to me to see how bone, muscles, and nerves worked together. Fortunately, the man had not broken the bone, or torn any of the soft tissue.
Doc had me give him ether to help him be free of pain. Next Doc cleansed the wound with water, and then alcohol...I believe it was rum? He mutured that it was a waste of good rum! I chuckled at that idea. The wound had small pieces of rock, and lots of mud throughout. When the water that Doc was using ran clear of mud, that is when Doc poured in the rum.
Next Doc stitched up the wound with tiny, even stitches. It looked like the stitching that I do sometimes to make samplers, only it was on a human leg? I asked him how he had learned to stitch a human like he did. He explained that his mother felt like all humans should know how to mend their clothes and sew on buttons. Who knew that skill would be used to sew humans up?
Heavens, I just looked at the clock and realized that I must hurry to have a meal ready for Blake and Dr. John. I will write in here later?
Lying in bed at night in a snug, safe home, it felt cozy to hear the rain tap tap tapping on the roof. I felt warm, protected and happy. I felt that way when it rained for a week. I felt that way when it rained for two weeks. When we reached a month I was beginning to feel claustrophobic, like the rain was penning me in!
Unbelievably to me, Blake did not stop working, even when the dirt turned to slick, sloppy, black mud. He said that the rain made it easier for him to move the giant logs that he's collecting to build a bunkhouse. He chops down a giant tree, then he strips off all the branches. He prefers using hardwood, but there is more pine here. He has come up with ingenious ways of making the pine more durable.
I have the house to myself right now. I'm enjoying this quiet time to write out my thoughts. Both of my parents wrote in journals. They didn't write every single day, but when ever they could. They told me that they were recording their life experience as they wrote. Their journals would be a heritage to me, and to my children. I do treasure them. I have them with me, here in my room in Blake's home. Somehow reading their words brings them close to me.
Dr. John and Blake sleep in the other room in Blake's two room house. We have at least one person stop by almost everyday for Dr. John's medical skills. He's so patient and kind, and he figures out how to help people very quickly.
I help him. He says that I'm a natural at nursing. He's suggested some schools that I could attend back east to become a nurse. I have explained that I just arrived in the west. Somehow education across the country holds no appeal to me!
We had an interesting case last week. A man slipped and fell onto a jagged rock. He had a deep hole in his leg. I thought that I would vomit. I had never before seen the inside of a human body. I still like skin to cover each and every person! At the same time it was wondrous to me to see how bone, muscles, and nerves worked together. Fortunately, the man had not broken the bone, or torn any of the soft tissue.
Doc had me give him ether to help him be free of pain. Next Doc cleansed the wound with water, and then alcohol...I believe it was rum? He mutured that it was a waste of good rum! I chuckled at that idea. The wound had small pieces of rock, and lots of mud throughout. When the water that Doc was using ran clear of mud, that is when Doc poured in the rum.
Next Doc stitched up the wound with tiny, even stitches. It looked like the stitching that I do sometimes to make samplers, only it was on a human leg? I asked him how he had learned to stitch a human like he did. He explained that his mother felt like all humans should know how to mend their clothes and sew on buttons. Who knew that skill would be used to sew humans up?
Heavens, I just looked at the clock and realized that I must hurry to have a meal ready for Blake and Dr. John. I will write in here later?
Thursday, September 7, 2017
Ardis Journal
Our picnic (I LOVE picnics) today was at a place called Fern Falls. Dr. John came with us. We had a lovely picnic...even better because I had nothing to do with cooking it!
After eating we decided to hike up a trail that goes around the side of the falls. We must have hiked about an hour. We were about to turn back because the path was so narrow and there was a sharp drop to the side. I'm terrified of heights. It has nothing to do with reason. It doesn't matter how much I tell myself that there is no real danger. I was clinging to the face of the mountain that was on the other side of the path.
Suddenly, the mountain face gave way, and I fell. I was too terrified to make a sound. John and Blake saved me from any harm. I got a little scratched up but nothing significant. Apparently I had stumbled upon an insignia carved on the side of the trail, and that insignia opened a door into this space.
Well imagine our surprise to find that we were in some sort of sacred place. It was circular as though marks of a chisel showed that it had all been hollowed by human hands. There was remnants of a roof above the circular space. On the walls were amazing paintings that had been carved, and colored in a way that I've never seen before. Looking more closely at them I realized that some of them seemed to be from the Bible. Adam and Eve were there together, then Cain killing his brother Able.
The next portions told different stories from the Bible. Reaching the second half of the room I noticed that these panels were still sacred but their story was not told in the Bible. I saw a people that built a boat and sailed. Next I saw that they built homes in the wilderness. Then something or someone in human form was coming down from the sky towards them. A man was all in white, and he was blessing children. Last panel showed people in a boat again traveling on water.
All of a sudden, the silence began to feel oppressive. I felt the small hairs at the back of my neck rise. I knew exactly what I was feeling. It was like the times that I have witnessed somebody die. There have been way too many of those times in my life.
Apparently Blake felt the same way. John wanted to study all of the pictures more. Blake and I left with John promising to come soon. That was when the water party began. It was so innocent and fun. Honestly, I didn't feel guilty, well probably a little. I kept telling myself that Blake and I were like brother and sister, we weren't doing anything wrong.
The trip home was not as much fun as the trip to the falls. We couldn't get John to say a word. He seemed overwhelmed by something he saw in that place. Finally, I fell asleep. When I woke up I was safe in my bed.
After eating we decided to hike up a trail that goes around the side of the falls. We must have hiked about an hour. We were about to turn back because the path was so narrow and there was a sharp drop to the side. I'm terrified of heights. It has nothing to do with reason. It doesn't matter how much I tell myself that there is no real danger. I was clinging to the face of the mountain that was on the other side of the path.
Suddenly, the mountain face gave way, and I fell. I was too terrified to make a sound. John and Blake saved me from any harm. I got a little scratched up but nothing significant. Apparently I had stumbled upon an insignia carved on the side of the trail, and that insignia opened a door into this space.
Well imagine our surprise to find that we were in some sort of sacred place. It was circular as though marks of a chisel showed that it had all been hollowed by human hands. There was remnants of a roof above the circular space. On the walls were amazing paintings that had been carved, and colored in a way that I've never seen before. Looking more closely at them I realized that some of them seemed to be from the Bible. Adam and Eve were there together, then Cain killing his brother Able.
The next portions told different stories from the Bible. Reaching the second half of the room I noticed that these panels were still sacred but their story was not told in the Bible. I saw a people that built a boat and sailed. Next I saw that they built homes in the wilderness. Then something or someone in human form was coming down from the sky towards them. A man was all in white, and he was blessing children. Last panel showed people in a boat again traveling on water.
All of a sudden, the silence began to feel oppressive. I felt the small hairs at the back of my neck rise. I knew exactly what I was feeling. It was like the times that I have witnessed somebody die. There have been way too many of those times in my life.
Apparently Blake felt the same way. John wanted to study all of the pictures more. Blake and I left with John promising to come soon. That was when the water party began. It was so innocent and fun. Honestly, I didn't feel guilty, well probably a little. I kept telling myself that Blake and I were like brother and sister, we weren't doing anything wrong.
The trip home was not as much fun as the trip to the falls. We couldn't get John to say a word. He seemed overwhelmed by something he saw in that place. Finally, I fell asleep. When I woke up I was safe in my bed.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Ardis Journal
How can a person possibly use words to describe the Pacific Ocean? The majesty, the immensity, the powerful sound of water moving forward and back, forward and back...the sound feels healing. John, Blake, and I rode down early this morning.
We brought a picnic lunch, that John made, thank heavens. I fear that if I had tried to fry the chicken, or mix the potato salad, I would somehow wind up poisoning us! My attempts to cook continue. It's ever so frustrating. I was a fairly decent cook at home, even if I do say so myself. It seems that the key was that I knew exactly how much wood to load to determine the heat I needed for whatever I am cooking.
Blake has a lovely new stove. It feels so much harder to me to regulate the heat. Sometimes I burn everything...sometimes I don't get food cooked all the way through. John doesn't seem to have that problem at all. Everything he cooks is delicious from sourdough bread, to fried chicken.
Also excellent at using the stove is Blake. I'm quite certain that he asked me to cook and clean to earn my keep was a poorly veiled attempt to make me feel better about living in HIS house, eating HIS food, and being a worthwhile contributor.
How I adore running into the waves as they retreat, and then running as rapidly as I can when they return to try and outrun them It feels like a game. Sometimes I dance in the waves. I am not a particularly skilled dancer but the feel of the cold Pacific water, with the sand moving under my feet, somehow makes me feel as talented as the greatest prima ballerina.
I had fun splashing Red and Blake...until...until they picked me up and tossed me out in the waves. Gratefully it was a hot day. Heat is unusual here at the coast. It's usually around sixty five to seventy in the Astoria area. Today was eighty degrees. Landing in the cold water I sunk rapidly, gaining a mouthful of salty sea. I came up spluttering.
I was angry for a short time. Women are expected to wear so many clothes. Walking about in soaking wet pantaloons, underskirts, overskirts, corset, chemise, skirt and blouse felt awful. It was cooling at first but quickly grew to feel as though I was being steam cooked.
Apparently Blake had thought ahead to this eventuality. He brought himself a change of clothes. I dressed in a forested area not too far from the waves. I felt rather ridiculous in Blake's clothes. After all he is six foot four, and I am five foot eight. Everything was exceedingly loose. On the other hand, it was far better than wearing all of the wet clinging clothing.
I put my clothes on a large log of driftwood that was on the beach. I hoped that they would dry before we returned home. I was tempted to toss my corset into the waves and have it carried far, FAR away from me. It is a horrible device of torture. It reduces the size of my waist, but who cares? Tom never tried to span my waist with his hands. I don't think Blake and John even notice that I have a waist.
I felt so free inside Blake's very loose clothing. I took all of the pins out of my hair, rebraided it, and pinned it up even more tightly. Then I considered. If it felt so freeing to wear loose fitting men's clothing, maybe it would feel equally freeing to let my hair just flow with the wind. I took out each and every hair pin and brushed my fingers through my hair.
When I came back out on the beach John and Blake were both silent for a long, awkward moment. John finally said, "Ardis, you have lovely hair. You should wear it down more often."
I'm not used to masculine attention. My husband never said one single word about how I looked for good or for bad. I sometimes felt that Tom viewed me as indifferently as he would a rock, or a tree. I was appreciated for utility, not aesthetics.
Our day was wonderful. We walked, talked, walked some more, talked some more. I learned that John came from a very wealthy family. Apparently they were horrified when he decided to practice medicine in the wild northwest.
Blake is quite guarded in his discussion of his family and childhood. The fact that he says so very little make me even more curious.
We returned home late, tired, and sunburned. I'm going to sleep now.
We brought a picnic lunch, that John made, thank heavens. I fear that if I had tried to fry the chicken, or mix the potato salad, I would somehow wind up poisoning us! My attempts to cook continue. It's ever so frustrating. I was a fairly decent cook at home, even if I do say so myself. It seems that the key was that I knew exactly how much wood to load to determine the heat I needed for whatever I am cooking.
Blake has a lovely new stove. It feels so much harder to me to regulate the heat. Sometimes I burn everything...sometimes I don't get food cooked all the way through. John doesn't seem to have that problem at all. Everything he cooks is delicious from sourdough bread, to fried chicken.
Also excellent at using the stove is Blake. I'm quite certain that he asked me to cook and clean to earn my keep was a poorly veiled attempt to make me feel better about living in HIS house, eating HIS food, and being a worthwhile contributor.
How I adore running into the waves as they retreat, and then running as rapidly as I can when they return to try and outrun them It feels like a game. Sometimes I dance in the waves. I am not a particularly skilled dancer but the feel of the cold Pacific water, with the sand moving under my feet, somehow makes me feel as talented as the greatest prima ballerina.
I had fun splashing Red and Blake...until...until they picked me up and tossed me out in the waves. Gratefully it was a hot day. Heat is unusual here at the coast. It's usually around sixty five to seventy in the Astoria area. Today was eighty degrees. Landing in the cold water I sunk rapidly, gaining a mouthful of salty sea. I came up spluttering.
I was angry for a short time. Women are expected to wear so many clothes. Walking about in soaking wet pantaloons, underskirts, overskirts, corset, chemise, skirt and blouse felt awful. It was cooling at first but quickly grew to feel as though I was being steam cooked.
Apparently Blake had thought ahead to this eventuality. He brought himself a change of clothes. I dressed in a forested area not too far from the waves. I felt rather ridiculous in Blake's clothes. After all he is six foot four, and I am five foot eight. Everything was exceedingly loose. On the other hand, it was far better than wearing all of the wet clinging clothing.
I put my clothes on a large log of driftwood that was on the beach. I hoped that they would dry before we returned home. I was tempted to toss my corset into the waves and have it carried far, FAR away from me. It is a horrible device of torture. It reduces the size of my waist, but who cares? Tom never tried to span my waist with his hands. I don't think Blake and John even notice that I have a waist.
I felt so free inside Blake's very loose clothing. I took all of the pins out of my hair, rebraided it, and pinned it up even more tightly. Then I considered. If it felt so freeing to wear loose fitting men's clothing, maybe it would feel equally freeing to let my hair just flow with the wind. I took out each and every hair pin and brushed my fingers through my hair.
When I came back out on the beach John and Blake were both silent for a long, awkward moment. John finally said, "Ardis, you have lovely hair. You should wear it down more often."
I'm not used to masculine attention. My husband never said one single word about how I looked for good or for bad. I sometimes felt that Tom viewed me as indifferently as he would a rock, or a tree. I was appreciated for utility, not aesthetics.
Our day was wonderful. We walked, talked, walked some more, talked some more. I learned that John came from a very wealthy family. Apparently they were horrified when he decided to practice medicine in the wild northwest.
Blake is quite guarded in his discussion of his family and childhood. The fact that he says so very little make me even more curious.
We returned home late, tired, and sunburned. I'm going to sleep now.
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Waves and Washing
One of my favorite musicals is "South Pacific." I adore the movie with Mitzi Gaynor. She is such a spunky young lady. One of my favorite numbers is "I'm Going to Wash That Man Right Out of my Hair." In the movie she has decided that her relationship with a French man on the island where she is stationed will not work for many reasons.
She dances and sings this number on the beach. Each and every time that I go to the beach I am Mitzi Gaynor singing joyously about washing a man out of my hair. It is absolutely magical to me to not only wade through the waves, but to dance through them, singing at the top of my lungs. For obvious reasons at the age of almost 61 I do NOT do this when there are lots of people around. I prefer to solo, by myself, alone.
For those magical moments I am again young, and my body is lithe and unencumbered by age. After I finished my dance this morning I thought about the difference between the way I danced that number at the beach when I was young, and now. It was an easy realization that although my body has more limitations now, my spirit is just as young, as free, and as happy as that young woman I used to be.
Most people at this vantage point of life say, "I don't feel like that many years have passed." I know that I don't. On the other hand, I have children and their march through the years testifies to me that I HAVE lived all of those years.
On the other hand, I'm STILL HERE! I'm still upon this earth this world. In many ways I appreciate my life far better than I did as a young woman. Back then there were so many questions. I felt as though absolutely every single part of my life was an enormous question mark. Shall I go to college. What line of work should I pursue. Shall I get married? Who will I marry? Will I have children? How many children? What will we name them? On and on and on.
Now? I know who I married, and I was truly, deeply blessed with my marriage. Even though he is no longer on earth physically, I know that his spirit lives on and is close to me still. I know how many children that we had, and what we named them. The questions that so troubled me at 20 until 40 are answered now.
There are other types of questions that still need answers, but I no longer feel as insecure, and vulnerable as I ponder them. The perspective of living for 61 years shows that I've been through tough stuff before, and I most probably will be again. On the other hand, I can face those things with confidence.
The best thing of all is knowing that just because I AM 61 I don't have to give up, sit in a comfy chair and wait for death. There are still ever so many wonderful things that I want to do, and need to do. I would love to hear from some of those that read these post. I want to hear the marvelous things you're doing at 20, 30, 40 or beyond. (I truly believe that after the age of 50 we're all the same age).
I'm excited for a new place, new people, and new opportunities to grow. Here's a toast to a quote we hear often but still has great value, "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain."
She dances and sings this number on the beach. Each and every time that I go to the beach I am Mitzi Gaynor singing joyously about washing a man out of my hair. It is absolutely magical to me to not only wade through the waves, but to dance through them, singing at the top of my lungs. For obvious reasons at the age of almost 61 I do NOT do this when there are lots of people around. I prefer to solo, by myself, alone.
For those magical moments I am again young, and my body is lithe and unencumbered by age. After I finished my dance this morning I thought about the difference between the way I danced that number at the beach when I was young, and now. It was an easy realization that although my body has more limitations now, my spirit is just as young, as free, and as happy as that young woman I used to be.
Most people at this vantage point of life say, "I don't feel like that many years have passed." I know that I don't. On the other hand, I have children and their march through the years testifies to me that I HAVE lived all of those years.
On the other hand, I'm STILL HERE! I'm still upon this earth this world. In many ways I appreciate my life far better than I did as a young woman. Back then there were so many questions. I felt as though absolutely every single part of my life was an enormous question mark. Shall I go to college. What line of work should I pursue. Shall I get married? Who will I marry? Will I have children? How many children? What will we name them? On and on and on.
Now? I know who I married, and I was truly, deeply blessed with my marriage. Even though he is no longer on earth physically, I know that his spirit lives on and is close to me still. I know how many children that we had, and what we named them. The questions that so troubled me at 20 until 40 are answered now.
There are other types of questions that still need answers, but I no longer feel as insecure, and vulnerable as I ponder them. The perspective of living for 61 years shows that I've been through tough stuff before, and I most probably will be again. On the other hand, I can face those things with confidence.
The best thing of all is knowing that just because I AM 61 I don't have to give up, sit in a comfy chair and wait for death. There are still ever so many wonderful things that I want to do, and need to do. I would love to hear from some of those that read these post. I want to hear the marvelous things you're doing at 20, 30, 40 or beyond. (I truly believe that after the age of 50 we're all the same age).
I'm excited for a new place, new people, and new opportunities to grow. Here's a toast to a quote we hear often but still has great value, "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain."
Saturday, June 24, 2017
Ardis Journal
I am truly grateful on this Thanksgiving day. I have no money, no family (maybe Tom, but I haven't heard from him since he left to fight), I have no farm, all our money was stolen, and I have no place to go. I know those sound like things that it is counter to logic to be grateful for. I'm not grateful that those challenges had to happen. I AM grateful for those blessings that have come in the middle of these events.
Blake Calkin saved my life. He opened his home to me. He has fed, and clothed me. I can't imagine what I would have done without his kindness. I do try to cook and clean for him. The cleaning I do pretty well, the cooking...well let's just say that I have a way to go to make food that is tasty. Currently I'm doing well to create edible food.
There are Native American women that live in Calkington. Some of them are married, some simply live with a man. Moral values are quite different here in the west. It has been interesting for me to learn tolerance. I'm learning that tolerance means not judging others by the standards you hold. I know that some of these unions are quite abusive. I helped John, (Dr. Stone), care for a woman who had been badly battered. She was pregnant as well. After Dr. John fixed her up she went back to live with her abuser. Like me, she has no where to go, and no way to go anywhere. I honestly thought, there but for the grace of God, go I.
I don't want to dwell on that sad topic.
These ladies have helped me learn about plants that I can use in cooking, and in medicinal teas. They also have helped me to learn how to create dyes for making lovely fabric. I am impressed by their resourcefulness.
I hope the things that I taught them, how to keep your child clean and how that improves their health, how to care for yourself, including using a small branch from a tree to keep your teeth clean, will be a help to them.
It has continued to rain, rain, rain. I've gotten so used to the constant drumming on the roof that when it stopped the other night for a short time it woke me up! Many people have lost their homes, several their lives. The town has been destroyed. Blake is working with the others in the community to plan a new location.
I am grateful for the people that I have met in this place. More and more they feel like family and less like strangers. I will never forget how lovingly they came to me after I lost my family, including our wee babe.
I have much to be thankful for today. It's a good day to count our blessings, and a good day to look ahead to the future.
Blake Calkin saved my life. He opened his home to me. He has fed, and clothed me. I can't imagine what I would have done without his kindness. I do try to cook and clean for him. The cleaning I do pretty well, the cooking...well let's just say that I have a way to go to make food that is tasty. Currently I'm doing well to create edible food.
There are Native American women that live in Calkington. Some of them are married, some simply live with a man. Moral values are quite different here in the west. It has been interesting for me to learn tolerance. I'm learning that tolerance means not judging others by the standards you hold. I know that some of these unions are quite abusive. I helped John, (Dr. Stone), care for a woman who had been badly battered. She was pregnant as well. After Dr. John fixed her up she went back to live with her abuser. Like me, she has no where to go, and no way to go anywhere. I honestly thought, there but for the grace of God, go I.
I don't want to dwell on that sad topic.
These ladies have helped me learn about plants that I can use in cooking, and in medicinal teas. They also have helped me to learn how to create dyes for making lovely fabric. I am impressed by their resourcefulness.
I hope the things that I taught them, how to keep your child clean and how that improves their health, how to care for yourself, including using a small branch from a tree to keep your teeth clean, will be a help to them.
It has continued to rain, rain, rain. I've gotten so used to the constant drumming on the roof that when it stopped the other night for a short time it woke me up! Many people have lost their homes, several their lives. The town has been destroyed. Blake is working with the others in the community to plan a new location.
I am grateful for the people that I have met in this place. More and more they feel like family and less like strangers. I will never forget how lovingly they came to me after I lost my family, including our wee babe.
I have much to be thankful for today. It's a good day to count our blessings, and a good day to look ahead to the future.
Thursday, May 25, 2017
Recipe from the 19th century
RAG PUDDING
1 c sugar
1 cup milk
1 cup currants or raisins (for modern days, dried fruit of any type can be substituted)
Shaking of cinnamon
2 tsp baking powder
2 eggs
1 TBL grease (they used leftover bacon grease, or grease from any meat they had cooked)
Flour to thicken
Wet sack (Flour came in a cloth sack. Nothing was wasted. The fabric was either used to make items of clothing, mostly underwear, or for cooking) in cold water put in pudding and place in kettle of boiling water to cook for
two hours. Serve with sauce. Dip
DIP
1 1/2 c water
1 c sugar
Shaking of nutmeg
Cream and Brandy
1 TBL cornstarch to thicken
(you can also add a shaking of cinnamon to taste)
I have done some research on my Great Grandma, Elizabeth Jane Hatch and one of her grandchildren sang the praises of this dish. They also concluded that no matter how hard they tried they could simply not replicate an exact version as delicious as hers. I imagine that there IS a missing ingredient in this recipe. I believe that the ingredient is love.
1 c sugar
1 cup milk
1 cup currants or raisins (for modern days, dried fruit of any type can be substituted)
Shaking of cinnamon
2 tsp baking powder
2 eggs
1 TBL grease (they used leftover bacon grease, or grease from any meat they had cooked)
Flour to thicken
Wet sack (Flour came in a cloth sack. Nothing was wasted. The fabric was either used to make items of clothing, mostly underwear, or for cooking) in cold water put in pudding and place in kettle of boiling water to cook for
two hours. Serve with sauce. Dip
DIP
1 1/2 c water
1 c sugar
Shaking of nutmeg
Cream and Brandy
1 TBL cornstarch to thicken
(you can also add a shaking of cinnamon to taste)
I have done some research on my Great Grandma, Elizabeth Jane Hatch and one of her grandchildren sang the praises of this dish. They also concluded that no matter how hard they tried they could simply not replicate an exact version as delicious as hers. I imagine that there IS a missing ingredient in this recipe. I believe that the ingredient is love.
Ardis Journal
It feels cozy tonight lying in bed in my warm flannel nightgown. I have a beautiful quilt over me that Blake bought somewhere in his travels. Rain is drumming, drumming, on the roof overhead, and tapping lightly on my small window. Rain is singing a lullaby, but I don't want to sleep yet.
This is the first night since the crossing that I don't feel impelled to cry. I feel as though God is giving me courage and strength beyond my own. I don't want to feel ragging anger at Him anymore. I'm soul weary.
Last night I dreamed that Papa Aidan visited. He twirled me and then hugged me closely. "Ardie Kay, we WILL be together again. In life you were a rich blessing to us. It is our turn to minister to you. You won't see us, because faith is an important thing to gain. Please, Ardie Kay don't be sad. You keep telling us that you want us to be happy. How can we be happy when you're so sad? We fulfilled our work on this earth, but you are not done. There is great joy and family ahead for you".
Ardis became aware that Aidan was fading from view and his voice was growing softer. "We love you forever. We'll stay close."
Ardis rolled to her other side, and Billy was there. "Ardie Kay," he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I love you forever and always! Don't be sad. We're happy. This is a wonderful place." Then Billy began to fade out, "I love you forever and always Ardie Kay!"
Fiona was there. Radiant with health and happiness Fiona held a baby. "Don't mourn for us dear. We're fine, and look, we have our baby, a precious girl. You will always be her older sister."
The next thing that Ardis knew birds were singing her awake. Sunlight filled the room with light.
Now, a night later, Ardis remembered her dream and pledged to herself, "I am going to do my best to be happy for my family. They are together, happy, yet still connected to me and concerned about me."
They didn't mention Tom, so I guess he's still alive? Sigh, I wish that he would write to me. On the other hand, I will find ways to be happy, even with his uncertainty hanging over me. Then she was asleep.
This is the first night since the crossing that I don't feel impelled to cry. I feel as though God is giving me courage and strength beyond my own. I don't want to feel ragging anger at Him anymore. I'm soul weary.
Last night I dreamed that Papa Aidan visited. He twirled me and then hugged me closely. "Ardie Kay, we WILL be together again. In life you were a rich blessing to us. It is our turn to minister to you. You won't see us, because faith is an important thing to gain. Please, Ardie Kay don't be sad. You keep telling us that you want us to be happy. How can we be happy when you're so sad? We fulfilled our work on this earth, but you are not done. There is great joy and family ahead for you".
Ardis became aware that Aidan was fading from view and his voice was growing softer. "We love you forever. We'll stay close."
Ardis rolled to her other side, and Billy was there. "Ardie Kay," he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I love you forever and always! Don't be sad. We're happy. This is a wonderful place." Then Billy began to fade out, "I love you forever and always Ardie Kay!"
Fiona was there. Radiant with health and happiness Fiona held a baby. "Don't mourn for us dear. We're fine, and look, we have our baby, a precious girl. You will always be her older sister."
The next thing that Ardis knew birds were singing her awake. Sunlight filled the room with light.
Now, a night later, Ardis remembered her dream and pledged to herself, "I am going to do my best to be happy for my family. They are together, happy, yet still connected to me and concerned about me."
They didn't mention Tom, so I guess he's still alive? Sigh, I wish that he would write to me. On the other hand, I will find ways to be happy, even with his uncertainty hanging over me. Then she was asleep.
Friday, May 19, 2017
Ardis - Journal
My hands are shaking as I sit at Blake's table, holding a small journal that I brought with me from Tuckaleechee Cove. Mama made it for me. She tried to show me how to make one for myself but I fear that effort on her part was wasted. My hands are shaking from the excess of emotion that faces me daily right now. I try to fill my time with productive activities, but sometimes the loss of all that I love makes it impossible to do anything but cry!
The journey from Tuckaleechee Cove to Astoria, Oregon has not turned out at all as I thought that it should. In my imaginings I expected to now be living in a small acreage in Astoria. My husband would be with me. His family would live close in a home of their own. I would have parents in-law, a husband, and a beautiful younger brother-in law, who was truly my brother.
Instead, my entire family is dead, I lost the new life that Tom and I had begun in love, and I have no idea where Tom is? He could be dead in some Eastern state, fighting for his conviction that the Union army has a just cause and are fighting for family, faith, and friends.
The acreage that we sold our lovely farm in Tuckaleechee Cove to purchase is non-existent. We were defrauded. J.P. Fowler is a terrible person, benefiting from the sorrows of others. I have to pray hard to keep from wanting to find him and simply shoot him. I am a crack shot. My beloved Papa insisted that it was necessary for women to be able to defend themselves. My Mama joined us many times as we shot at targets, or hunted for game. She was also a perfect marksman...I mean...markswoman. She always had a holster on her thigh. She carried her pistol with her everywhere. Now I carry it with ME everywhere.
At the same time I gain comfort in the knowledge that Mama and Papa still live on, just in a spiritual sense, not a physical sense. They are eternal now, and we will be together again, and I will also be with my beloved in-laws, our baby, and perhaps Tom as well. (Maybe he is still alive...oh how I pray that is true).
I need to think about something a little more shallow. I believe that it's very helpful to write in a personal journal. It helps me to process the experiences I face in life. Papa and Mama taught me to think as though everything in life depends on the me, and then pray as though everything depends on the good Lord. They helped me to learn how to be a good team with my beloved God. They also faced the hard things in life as adventure helping them to achieve growth.
Let's see, a shallow topic. Blake has not shaved in about a week. I'm not certain that I like the way he looks with a beard. Some men look better with a beard. For example, our dear President, Abraham Lincoln. The beard covers some of the ruggedness of his face. It seems to make him look more dignified and intelligent. He looks like a President should look.
Blake has been marvelous. He helped save my life in the crossing. Since I had no place to go, and no money to go there, he took me in to his two bedroom cabin. He has been nothing but a gentleman. If I weren't a married woman, I would find him attractive in form and face, and faith. Oh goodness, I must not let my thoughts stray in that direction. Until I know otherwise, I AM A MARRIED WOMAN!
Since I have lived here, I have met many of the people in this tiny town called Calkington. There is not another white woman in town that I could live with. There is nothing in Tuckaleechee Cove for me to return to, and I don't have any money to return. Oh goodness, my thoughts do seem to run in a circle today.
Ooops, I just noticed Blake's large clock on the wall that says that it's past time for me to start dinner. More later dear diary.
The journey from Tuckaleechee Cove to Astoria, Oregon has not turned out at all as I thought that it should. In my imaginings I expected to now be living in a small acreage in Astoria. My husband would be with me. His family would live close in a home of their own. I would have parents in-law, a husband, and a beautiful younger brother-in law, who was truly my brother.
Instead, my entire family is dead, I lost the new life that Tom and I had begun in love, and I have no idea where Tom is? He could be dead in some Eastern state, fighting for his conviction that the Union army has a just cause and are fighting for family, faith, and friends.
The acreage that we sold our lovely farm in Tuckaleechee Cove to purchase is non-existent. We were defrauded. J.P. Fowler is a terrible person, benefiting from the sorrows of others. I have to pray hard to keep from wanting to find him and simply shoot him. I am a crack shot. My beloved Papa insisted that it was necessary for women to be able to defend themselves. My Mama joined us many times as we shot at targets, or hunted for game. She was also a perfect marksman...I mean...markswoman. She always had a holster on her thigh. She carried her pistol with her everywhere. Now I carry it with ME everywhere.
At the same time I gain comfort in the knowledge that Mama and Papa still live on, just in a spiritual sense, not a physical sense. They are eternal now, and we will be together again, and I will also be with my beloved in-laws, our baby, and perhaps Tom as well. (Maybe he is still alive...oh how I pray that is true).
I need to think about something a little more shallow. I believe that it's very helpful to write in a personal journal. It helps me to process the experiences I face in life. Papa and Mama taught me to think as though everything in life depends on the me, and then pray as though everything depends on the good Lord. They helped me to learn how to be a good team with my beloved God. They also faced the hard things in life as adventure helping them to achieve growth.
Let's see, a shallow topic. Blake has not shaved in about a week. I'm not certain that I like the way he looks with a beard. Some men look better with a beard. For example, our dear President, Abraham Lincoln. The beard covers some of the ruggedness of his face. It seems to make him look more dignified and intelligent. He looks like a President should look.
Blake has been marvelous. He helped save my life in the crossing. Since I had no place to go, and no money to go there, he took me in to his two bedroom cabin. He has been nothing but a gentleman. If I weren't a married woman, I would find him attractive in form and face, and faith. Oh goodness, I must not let my thoughts stray in that direction. Until I know otherwise, I AM A MARRIED WOMAN!
Since I have lived here, I have met many of the people in this tiny town called Calkington. There is not another white woman in town that I could live with. There is nothing in Tuckaleechee Cove for me to return to, and I don't have any money to return. Oh goodness, my thoughts do seem to run in a circle today.
Ooops, I just noticed Blake's large clock on the wall that says that it's past time for me to start dinner. More later dear diary.
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
Recipe...A Blast from the Past
The women of this series live close to the coast. They are able to obtain seafood on a semi regular basis. I imagine that this is a dish that they would have enjoyed immensely. If you do not enjoy seafood, skip this post. Or you find it interesting as a historical recipe. I glean most of my historical recipes from my Grandmother, who gleaned most of hers from her Mother, my great-grandmother. They were both excellent cooks, and enjoyed the preparation of food as a gift from themselves to those they loved.
SCALLOPED OYSTERS
1. Carefully wash and pick one quart of oysters. Remove all particles of shells and other debris.
2. Mix one cup each of bread crumbs and add one half cup of melted butter. Mix well and sprinkle the bottom of a buttered baking dish with a small layer of crumbs.
3. Place on top of the crumbs in the baking dish a layer of oysters.
4. Dust the oysters with the crumb blend.
5. Put crumbs on top of oysters.
6. Put another layer of oysters, dust the top with black pepper.
7. Bake in a moderate oven (remember they did not have temperature adjustments on stoves...they were attempting to moderate the temperature of a wood or coal fueled fire), fifteen to twenty minutes.
8. A shallow baking dish should be selected for oysters so that they may be quickly heated and cooked. Longer cooking at high heat toughens the oysters and destroys it's flavor.
SCALLOPED OYSTERS
1. Carefully wash and pick one quart of oysters. Remove all particles of shells and other debris.
2. Mix one cup each of bread crumbs and add one half cup of melted butter. Mix well and sprinkle the bottom of a buttered baking dish with a small layer of crumbs.
3. Place on top of the crumbs in the baking dish a layer of oysters.
4. Dust the oysters with the crumb blend.
5. Put crumbs on top of oysters.
6. Put another layer of oysters, dust the top with black pepper.
7. Bake in a moderate oven (remember they did not have temperature adjustments on stoves...they were attempting to moderate the temperature of a wood or coal fueled fire), fifteen to twenty minutes.
8. A shallow baking dish should be selected for oysters so that they may be quickly heated and cooked. Longer cooking at high heat toughens the oysters and destroys it's flavor.
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Ardis, Women of the Drifting Anchor Ranch
Good news...I'm almost finished with the book that is the first chronologically in the series. It's a stand alone book, but it also adds an important piece to the puzzle that is my series.
Ardis is an amazing woman. She lives in an extremely important time in the history of our country. Her family is moving by wagon train to Oregon when her husband discovers that the Civil War has begun. Very excited he leaves his new wife, parents, and younger brother to continue their journey and he travels back east to join the Union Army.
Ardis faces her fears. She is talented, intelligent, and loving. Her adventures may surprise you. Just like this idea. Did you know that the first woman private detective was hired in 1857? She worked for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. She was instrumental in uncovering the plot to kill Abraham Lincoln before he could be sworn into office as president.
I love writing historical fiction because it allows me to combine two of my passions, history, and writing fiction. It's a lovely challenge to undertake to create a fictional character and then meld that person into actual history.
Ardis is very young at merely 18 years of age. She has already faced great challenge as the only child of parents who die when she's 16.
It was nearly impossible for a woman to find work in the 1800's. They could not vote, and they were literally considered the property of their husbands. When they married, any asset that they possessed was now owned by their spouse. They virtually had no voice.
Yet it was women like Kate Warne, woman detective for the Pinkerton Agency who began a movement that would soon sweep our country. The Civil War emancipated the slaves, it also forced women into some extremely uncomfortable types of growth and development. As men left enmasse, women were forced to take up the slack that the men had left in employment.
My Mother-in law is an important part of my inspiration for the character of Ardis. My beloved Mom in law divorced after 25 years of marriage was left with 5 sons to support financially. She had very few job skills, having worked as a wife, and mother for all those years.
She took a job as a secretary/receptionist that barely earned any money. Within a few years she had pushed herself upwards into investigating and research for the cases that were taken care of in her office. Not long after she became the first women detective in consumer fraud for the state of Utah. She was instrumental in shutting down some very large ponzy schemes.
This marvelous lady, a detective in her own right inspired me to have Ardis move into that arena. Shanghaing was a terrible thing was happening in many port cities in the United States. It was easy to involve Ardis in investigating this crime to try and stop it.
I will soon post a few chapters from my book. Please enjoy.
Ardis is an amazing woman. She lives in an extremely important time in the history of our country. Her family is moving by wagon train to Oregon when her husband discovers that the Civil War has begun. Very excited he leaves his new wife, parents, and younger brother to continue their journey and he travels back east to join the Union Army.
Ardis faces her fears. She is talented, intelligent, and loving. Her adventures may surprise you. Just like this idea. Did you know that the first woman private detective was hired in 1857? She worked for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. She was instrumental in uncovering the plot to kill Abraham Lincoln before he could be sworn into office as president.
I love writing historical fiction because it allows me to combine two of my passions, history, and writing fiction. It's a lovely challenge to undertake to create a fictional character and then meld that person into actual history.
Ardis is very young at merely 18 years of age. She has already faced great challenge as the only child of parents who die when she's 16.
It was nearly impossible for a woman to find work in the 1800's. They could not vote, and they were literally considered the property of their husbands. When they married, any asset that they possessed was now owned by their spouse. They virtually had no voice.
Yet it was women like Kate Warne, woman detective for the Pinkerton Agency who began a movement that would soon sweep our country. The Civil War emancipated the slaves, it also forced women into some extremely uncomfortable types of growth and development. As men left enmasse, women were forced to take up the slack that the men had left in employment.
My Mother-in law is an important part of my inspiration for the character of Ardis. My beloved Mom in law divorced after 25 years of marriage was left with 5 sons to support financially. She had very few job skills, having worked as a wife, and mother for all those years.
She took a job as a secretary/receptionist that barely earned any money. Within a few years she had pushed herself upwards into investigating and research for the cases that were taken care of in her office. Not long after she became the first women detective in consumer fraud for the state of Utah. She was instrumental in shutting down some very large ponzy schemes.
This marvelous lady, a detective in her own right inspired me to have Ardis move into that arena. Shanghaing was a terrible thing was happening in many port cities in the United States. It was easy to involve Ardis in investigating this crime to try and stop it.
I will soon post a few chapters from my book. Please enjoy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)