Today's ride

It has been a few days since I rode the bike. Been walking instead. It felt good to be riding like the wind again. I was on the trail before the wildlife was up and stirring and also the regulars were not out either. It was 55 degrees this morning putting a bit of a fall feeling in the air and that may have had something to do with it.
Today's trail pics taken about 3 miles south of the depot at Jefferson.
In my rear view mirror...

 And this is the view reflected in the rear view mirror. You are looking at a cornfield on the river bottom.

Today we had a strobe light effect with the sunlight through the trees..










And these are sunflower pictures. I have taken many pictures of sunflowers over the years but these are special because they are ones I planted and they are mine!

How Grief feels

I came across this on Facebook. I sure hope it remains visible because I had to fi niggle to get it on this blog entry. In my  talks with people about grief this feels like a perfect description. 

ALRIGHT, HERE GOES. I’M OLD. WHAT THAT MEANS IS THAT I’VE SURVIVED (SO FAR) AND A LOT OF PEOPLE I’VE KNOWN AND LOVED DID NOT.

I’VE LOST FRIENDS, BEST FRIENDS, ACQUAINTANCES, CO-WORKERS, GRANDPARENTS, MOM, RELATIVES, TEACHERS, MENTORS, STUDENTS, NEIGHBORS, AND A HOST OF OTHER FOLKS. I HAVE NO CHILDREN, AND I CAN’T IMAGINE THE PAIN IT MUST BE TO LOSE A CHILD. BUT HERE’S MY TWO CENTS.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes.

My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.

As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function.

You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

~ by GSnow

Butch's carpal tunnel and other stuff

Butch is doing fine after his surgery last Friday. His hand was swollen but not any more than you might expect. His visit yesterday was to see if all was well and it is. He will be getting the stitches out next Tuesday and then he can drive again. I haven't minded driving but I think I do it much better from the passenger seat. That was a joke...
After our doctor trip yesterday we met up with Marlene and Bernard out to Leo and Keri' place. Marlene and Bernard had made their way to Jefferson for multiple reasons. Bernard made Leo a squirrel toy that Leo liked when they made their way to Arkansas to visit Bill and Jo. So they came to install it, see how Butch was doing and Marlene had her eye on the casino. Bernard dropped her off  at the casino before installing the squirrel apparatus.

She left with $400 so she did not do bad for an afternoon's work. We had an early supper at the casino. The food was delicious by the way.

This morning I decided to walk instead of ride because I was suffering from more than usual aches and pains. I like to walk them out if I can. I was semi-successful. On my return, I came across a couple of young girls headed for school. They wanted to walk with me and were quite chatty. The oldest said she likes to help the elderly. I didn't laugh out loud but I knew immediately where I stood with her. They noticed my camera so I asked to take their picture.
 Kayla and Priscilla

 Kayla is in 5th grade and Priss as she told me I could call her, is in kindergarten. They used to live across the street from us but we really didn't get to know each other until a chance encounter on the bike trail.

Goldenrod

Two ladies with hats...

That is what I see.

Time for spiders

Spiders are doing what spiders do. I saw many dew-covered masterpieces this morning on the trail. It was a riding day but I stopped long enough when I saw a sight I could not resist.

I keep trying!

Feel Good

Karla is feeling so blessed after getting a message from the mother of one of Devon's classmates. I have always known he was a good kid and so has Karla but getting outside recognition made her and me feel very good.
Here it is:
"Hi Karla! I have wanted to tell you for a long time that I think Devon is one of the nicest boys that we know. Allison has talked for years about how nice he always is. She says that he is always so nice to her no matter what friends are around. It seems the older they get the harder it is to find some boys, or any of the kids in general, that are consistent. Devon is always sweet, always kind and friendly. Including to me if I see him somewhere.  I wanted to tell you that I think you've done such a wonderful job raising such a sweet young man.  I know that Allison really appreciates his years of friendship, as do I.  🙂"