Assortment

Sweet Spring

After a bit of a lumpy morning yesterday, which, in the end, required the three boys and I to retreat to separate rooms for a bit, they were then able to run outside to play.  And who wouldn't want to do that, with the March winds blowing billows of dry leaves down the street in great, wild herds (their word)?

I stayed inside, gathering my thoughts in a quiet house. 

Then, the back door slammed loudly and a little boy hollered, "MAMA?  WHERE ARE YOU?"

"I'm in here!" I hollered back.

"I have a present for you!"  he said excitedly as he tromped through the house with his shoes on, present held carefully in hand.

"Here, this is for you!"

Yes, I cried.

I was astonished at his little gift!  Where had he found this?

I went running out the back door behind him, to see.  

In our yard?  We had no idea they were there!  Then we noticed, look!, some tulips are coming up, too!!

Such a sweet offering of spring to divert us all from our lumpy morning.
 

 

I picked two more, one for each boy, and put them on my desk where they smiled at me all afternoon. 

And I smiled back.

It Cameth Upon A Springtime Day

When you're having a nice picnic outside in the springtime sun, you may find that your camera winds up in other hands, which is fine, because - well, because of this:

And this:

 

And this:

This:

And even this:

But then, something happens in that springtime sun; a strange phenomenon that may take you your entire life to fully understand (or comprehend). 

**A warning to those who prefer serious and straight-laced: now is your chance to click away.  Now.  Do it now!**

Because what you're about to see is neither.

Oh, dear.  Here is comes.

Click away!

Can you tell that there was no premeditation or thought going into the actions of that boy in the blue shirt? 

None.

It came as it was.

Uh...

It came as it did?

Hmm...

It came as it may?

It came.

It just came.

This, people, is what happens when a boy hangs up his brain.  (Which they are known to do from time to time.)

Things cometh.

Things cometh too nigheth for your comforteth.
 

Um. Uh.  

"Honey, where did you say you found this kid?"

 

 

"Do they accept returns?"

This is warped good humor, here.  Good humor, people. 

Apparently.

All I can really say is, I'm sorry, dear readers. 

So sorry to have influenced your lovely Tuesday with images such as these. 

Just be glad that I censored the cheese-eating shots.

  

There are some things that shouldn't be seen by anyone.

First Picnic

But, most certainly not the last...

   {Most photos taken by the 8 & 10 year-old boys}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
Need I say more?
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

Funnies on Sunday!

 
 
 

Today, I Love...

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

Snuggling in the chair, for as long as it takes.  After a week being gone, how I've been savoring moments like this!

Not Quite Peasant

Wild Alaskan salmon?  After rolling this one around in my mind, I've decided that, really, it could go either way, depending on where you live.  If you reside anywhere near the ocean's edge, or even by a small stream in Alaska, wild-caught salmon is peasant food, for sure.  But, in land-locked Wyoming?  Not so much. 

We lived on wild salmon during our ten years in the far north, and oh, how we've missed it!  So, you can imagine my complete delight when my friend insisted that I pack a fillet of this goodness into my suitcase before I left last week!

I know that not everyone likes fish, and I can understand that, especially if your only experience with fish was farm-raised and overdone.  I wouldn't like it either.  But, wild-caught fish, cooked the right way is closed-mouthed-moans-and-groans-good.  It's fall against the chair-back, hand-to-the-forehead good.  It's out-of-this-world good. 

And it's not hard to do.

 

Preheat your broiler, or (better yet) an outdoor grill to high (for broiling, set the oven rack on the second notch down from the top; for grilling, make sure you grill it with the lid closed).  For a 2-3 lb fillet, melt 1/4 cup butter in a small saucepan over low heat.  Toss in 2-3 cloves of minced fresh garlic, swirl around in the butter and let it saute just a bit.  Rinse your fish fillet and pat dry; place skin-side down on a baking sheet.  Pour butter/garlic mixture evenly over the fish, and season well with salt and freshly cracked pepper.  If you're feeling fancy, you can sprinkle the top with dill weed, too, or chopped fresh parsley.

Here's the trick:  Broil or grill for 10 minutes per inch of thickness of the fillet.  You will see it begin to crack down the middle and fissures in the flaky meat will become more apparent.  The fish will continue to cook, even after you've removed it from the oven, so don't over-cook it!

To serve, transfer the entire fillet onto a large platter, and glide a turner between the meat and the skin, separating the two (if you're grilling, do this while it's still on the grill, leaving the skin sticking to the grill, then keeping the grill on high, close the lid and burn the skin off - easy clean-up!)

 

In summer, I loved serving this salmon with wild/basmati rice and fried squash blossoms!

Still Alaska

 

 

So, all last week, while you were seeing green, I was seeing white!  Though it can be non-stop gray this time of year there, I was beyond blessed to have an abundance of sun, which by now is staying out for long hours in the day.

Inside and out, we captured it any way we could:

 

 

Can I just say how much fun two young girls can be?  Oh, my!

Yes, there are still moose ambling along down the town streets, there.  (I felt like such a tourist snapping this picture!)

The harbor smells like salt and fish.  Eagles and seagulls scream.  Nothing's changed.  It's so good that nothing's changed.

We slipped through chunks of ice, and out into the open bay for an evening boat ride.

 

 

Once Alaska and her people get into your heart, they never leave. 

No, they never do.

Two Miracles

I know it's quite a leap to go from marionettes to this.

But, that's exactly what I did.

 

Remember the beach mentioned here? 

 

This is that very beach at a minus tide. 

I kept checking reality, to see if this was really true - that I was here, at this beach, with this sunshine, and those mountains and that water.

Could it be?

Here, where the retreating water left ripples carved in the sand?

Here, where the kelp was pink?

Then, I looked over at my beach-strolling companion, 

And I knew it was all real.  Very, very real.  My sweet friend, Ann, was alive, walking right there beside me! 

Because of two miracles, I was there, and she was there, together for a whole week!

Where It Takes You

An idea.  An imagination.  An inspiration.  An inkling.

It may come out of the blue.

It may be totally off the wall.

It may have absolutely nothing to do with anything that's happening in their world at the moment.

But.

The idea, the imagination, the inspiration, the inkling, nonetheless.

They happen.

And when they do, stop.  And listen.

And take the time to make a marionette.

Or three.

Funnies on Sunday!