Pufferbilly Parade

We have missed the Pufferbilly Parade for a few years by going to the Clay County Fair so it was a treat to see it again. It is really a very nice parade with a hundred entries.  We enjoyed breakfast at Jason and Laura's place before the parade. Breakfast was done very well too! Delicious!
Here are some parade pics:

Two cuties waiting patiently

 Where is that parade?

 Our local police patrol

 We are ready for anything!

 Some vintage jewels

Backsplash project-(Motorhome)

It only took part of two days to do this project. I think it really perks up our winter home. Before and after photos of bathroom

Before and after photos of kitchen

What we do...

The answer is not much that is new. On my walk yesterday I took some pictures. I hadn't planned to but the heavy dew made opportunities present themselves at every turn. Then when I came home Butch suggested we start on the backsplash project in the motorhome so that changed my direction. I have taken pictures and will get them on here once the project is completed. It is proceeding very well.

Last night was trivia night. Butch and I have been enjoying it very much. Perhaps me more than Butch but we both enjoy the company and conversation. They were doing quite well until Butch and I joined the group but perhaps I shouldn't point that out! Word has spread and the ones who are coming out for it now are apparently more knowledgeable.

Here is a picture of Leo and Keri's youngest grandchild, Beckett.

Leo and Keri are not going to believe this because it shocked me too but I am fairly certain Butch and I have not met Beckett in person. I have seen many pictures of him and he is cute as a button and always happy.

Here are yesterday's trail pictures.

Fixed

Butch is partially fixed. Today he went to the doctor for stitch removal. All is well. He can once again drive. He has to wait a couple more weeks before he can play golf.
I rode out to the big bridge today for a couple of reasons. One was that time was short because of the doctors appointment and the other was that I had not stopped at the bridge for quite a while and decided to take some pictures.

The river is down and these sandbars that you see are recently built.

 The geese are on the move.

The doves are used to us now and do not move.

Ride/ walk

Friday Butch and I walked all over town. We went to Mickey's to drop off some tomatoes and the out to Pete and Jerilyn's and then returned home. I would say it was about 2 1/2 miles. After we came home I had to go get a few groceries and Butch decided to stay home. When I walked into Fareway one of the employees asked me how I got to come alone. I said I took him for a very long walk and wore him out. They chuckled.
Today Keri and I rode out to Roger's road and they are working on the crossing. They have it scoped out to require riders to turn and get a good look at traffic from both directions. Very smart move.

Trail continues on left side of picture but you can see where the actual crossing will be. So they are turning the rider a 180 allowing  a view in both directions.

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