Assortment

A Village-Town Celebrates Summer

I should stop and explain. 

Explain about where we live.  I don't want any of you to lose your enjoyment of following along on this blog because you're dealing with debilitating confusion.  Can't have that, so I'll explain it in a way that will show the big picture and settle your minds about just where, exactly, we live.  Without telling you where we live. 

Are you confused?  

Uh, let me explain. 

We live in a teeny, tiny town.  A village-town, really, somewhere in the mountains of Wyoming.  It qualifies as a village-town because it has a population of several hundred, if you count pets.  There's a post office, a gas station, one restaurant, one saloon, one church, and one art gallery.  But, if you want to do your grocery shopping, buy socks, or sprinklers and garden hose, you have to drive 20 miles to the nearest small town.  That's where we went to see this parade and this Indian Relay Race. 

Now, if you need Costco, Michaels, Lowes, or a mall, you'll have to drive one hour and forty-five minutes to the closest small city to find one.  On the other hand, if you're looking for up-scale shopping (Anthropologie, I miss you!), fine dining, and the latest in cultural experiences, you can find that in the nearest big city, which is 6 hours away.

So, in short you have:

Village-town

Small town

Small city

Big city

Got it?  Good.

Let's talk about our village-town.  We love our village-town!  Come on and see the village-town summer celebration that happened last weekend...

The celebration, which was actually four days long, began with a cow-pie contest in rancher So-and-So's pasture.  No joke. 

The next day there was a pancake breakfast at the old log community hall.

Then, there was a parade, which is where we joined in.  Well, we didn't actually join in.  Uh, let's see now, that's not exactly true, either.

Oh, just read on.

 

 

This is somebody's boy.  And they are sure proud of him.

 

  

This was somebody's boy, once, too.  And I'm sure they were proud of him.

 

This is somebody's girl, and she's proud of herself.

 

But this boy?  This is our boy, and he's the one we're proud of!  He carried the Grand Marshall banner with such strength of hand and smile of face.  Such throwing of candy, such steady of pace.

Our boy!

 

These are the Grand Marshalls, Paul and Betty.  They were each married to their first mates for 50+ years, then they were left alone in this world.  Until they met each other.  Now they wear matching gold wedding bands, and were seen holding hands at the picnic in the park later that afternoon.

Paul and Betty are our neighbors.

 

Shriners, western style. 

They aren't our neighbors.

At least I don't think so.

 

 

A clown, jester-style.

He's somebody's neighbor. 

 

  

Here's somebody's grandma.  I think she should be my grandma.

 

Or maybe this one.  Maybe she would be my grandma.

I already have a grandma, but I need more than I can handle.

 

 

Speaking of grandmas, after the parade was over, most of the town headed to the park for the afternoon picnic and celebrations, but I pedalled over to the community hall to see all the quilts made by the grandmas in the Quilting Club.

 

 

They were amazing!   The grandmas and the quilts.

 

 

For the love of yo-yo's!  I wanted to meet the one who made this one.  I wanted to know her personally.

 

 

This quilt was designed by a woman in my girlhood town!  I felt like I knew her personally.

 

  

There was simply no choosing of a favorite.  

I couldn't decide which I liked best, the grandpa or the quilt. 

 

 

 

Later, in the park:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

Soft, green grass under a shady tree, BBQ beef sandwiches, live music by a local rancher and his boys, dancing, balloons, duck races, face painting, cream pie contest, horseshoe tournament, volleyball tournament, petting zoo, river wading.

 

After a while, I realized my cheeks hurt from smiling.

 

 

 

Today, I Love...

 

:: Setting sun over the western mountains ::

 

:: Summer's bounty, rolled up for winter ::

:: Evening walks with my love along the east gravel road ::

 

 

 

That's Why

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who wanted a tea set. Oh, she'd wanted one for so long, she had.  She wanted a real one that was her very own; one that had lots of dishes; one that had dainty cups she could drink from while lifting her pinky, just so, in the air. 

Come her birthday, she got what she'd hoped for - a lovely tea set that had lots of dishes - even knives, forks, and spoons!  It's cups, which were curiously shaped more like mugs, could hold a good swallow of tea.

Her very own tea set! 

And she imagined her dishes were pretty - pretty, with flowers in soft girlie colors.  She had to imagine it because, in real life, her lovely tea set wasn't decorated this way.

Her tea set was decorated with funny brown mushrooms.

Brown mushrooms!

A girl's very own tea set decorated with funny brown mushrooms?

 

Why?

Why brown mushrooms? 

Why? 

 

Oh, what was she to do, this little girl, whose heart had no answers to the brown mushroom questions? 

Well, she was to love her brown mushroom tea set, that's what.  Love it anyway.  Love it as if it were covered with bouquets of pretty flowers in soft, girlie colors.  She was to serve tea parties, lunches, and dinners on these miniature dishes of hers, and imagine that they were just as pretty as they were in her mind.

Then, when she'd grown past the tea party age, she was to let the younger cousins and kids have tea parties with it.  Because she would be busy with school, a career, marriage, and she wouldn't have time for even a thought of the brown mushroom tea set for so many years.

But then, one day, this young woman, who'd once been that girl, would open a box that had been tucked away.  Inside she'd find the brown mushroom tea set from so long ago.  And in that moment, she would know.  Without a shadow of doubt in her mind, she'd know. 

 

She would know why.

 

Why the brown mushrooms.  Why the cups, that were shaped more like mugs, were big enough to hold a good swallow of tea...

 

 

It was all because that little girl was now a Mama of boys. 

All boys.

Only boys.

Three of them.

 

And they would need a brown mushroom tea set.  

 

They would need to drink their tea out of cups that were shaped more like mugs.

 

 

And the Mama would now understand.

She would never have these photos, here, if that little girl long ago had opened a tea set decorated with bouquets of flowers in soft, girlie colors.

 

 

 

That's why.

 

 

Oh, that brown mushroom tea set!

It's the prettiest one she's ever seen.