A Character Lesson from the Trees

A few days ago we woke up to eight inches of heavy new snow, on top of an existing five. Some of the younger, smaller trees were bent to the ground, weighted down with white stuff.

Don noted that the most vulnerable trees were the ones in the area he had just selectively cleared last fall. Trees of the same size in an area he'd cleared last spring were standing straight and tall.

Apparently these young trees needed some time to learn to stand by themselves and toughen up without the protection of the bigger trees around them.

With age and independence comes strength.

Happy Today and 2009!

A year ago on New Year's Eve, our neighbors Jim and Kathy Hill came over to celebrate with us. Our only lights were worklights on long extension cords, and the only heat was a large furnace the builders had in the living room. At evening's end (way before midnight) they went home and Don and I returned to the 5th-wheel trailer 50 yards away.

This year Don and I celebrated alone in a completed home that was warm and lit. We ate pheasant a la creme (he shot the pheasant last fall on a trip to Wolf Point) and drank a bottle of 1999 Dom Perignon given to us by a good friend in Yakima. The meal was one for the books!

Today we took down the tree and packed the Christmas decorations into the basement. It's been snowing for several days in a row, and it's gorgeous. Don's spending lots of time reading and seems to have developed a slight addiction to Craig's List.

What day is it anyway? Our pill containers say "Th" so I guess it is.

Well, whatever it is, Happy Today and Happy New Year!

All is calm, all is bright...

Merry Christmas from Don, Jan, Kosmo and Lizzie Manning

What we do for winter fun

Here we are enjoying our winter sports. As usual, Don works harder than he has to, so I'm obligated to work less.

Temperature at picture time: 5 degrees. Love it!!

How we've changed in the past year

My oh my, how our lives have changed in the past year! Some of you would never have believed it possible! Let's see, since our official arrival here on Dec. 1, 2007, here's how we have morphed:

1. We get at least 8 hours of sleep every night. On these very dark mornings when it doesn't get light till 8am, we've been known to stay in bed (on occasion) until close to 9am. Instead of waking up to KIT news at 6am, we wake up when we hear Kosmo jingle his tags downstairs. He's becoming a late sleeper too.

2. Don lost 25 pounds by working hard and by not being around KFC and doughnuts all day. He's expecting to gain some back this winter, as the hardest physical work is over the for season. But the closest KFC is 100 miles away, so he won't gain back very much.

3. We eat dinner at 6 or 7pm (instead of 10pm), and then we read, compute or watch DVDs, just like "normal" people.

4. We're wearing out clothes--t-shirts, jeans, sweats. Actually, you fit in better going to the grocery store here if you have a few holes in your clothes.

5. We drive dirty trucks. No sense washing 'em when they get dirty the first time down the road.

6. Don reads the Missoulian cover to cover every day in the living room, with his feet up, while drinking his coffee and waiting for me to fix his breakfast.

7. We entertain almost every week. We've had more dinner guests and parties in the past nine months than we had in the entire 20+ years we lived in Yakima. We now have time for a social life.

8. I've discovered the "joy of cooking." At last I have the time, the facility, the tools, and the patience. What a difference it makes having a functional, well designed kitchen!

9. Sometimes we don't talk to anyone else for several days in a row. We only "go to town" (16 miles) when we have to. We go to Costco in Missoula about once a month. That's a major ordeal.

10. Don shaves every two or three days.

11. We let our dogs run loose on our unfenced property. (Yes, of course they stay close and/or come back when called.)

12. I can ride my horses every day if I want to (and usually do in the summer and fall).

13. We both smile more. We're relaxed, happy, and appreciative (even incredulous) of what we have and where we are.

And then, some things don't change....nor should they....

1. Don's getting a reputation, slowly but steadily, as the "go-to" guy for gunsmithing.

2. I'm back into dog training on a volunteer basis.

3. We got involved with the local "Friends of NRA" dinner last October and sold lots of tickets.

Photos:

1. Our friend Dave Oliver on the kiva hearth, telling Don a new Ole & Lena yoke.

2. Me, readying for a chilly November kayak launch.

First Thanksgiving at Shorthorse

Just picture it: good friends gathered at the mountain ranch, frost on the ground, broken clouds and sun, deer in the yard, horse-and-buggy rides, fires in the fireplaces, and a turkey in the oven. On our first Thanksgiving at Shorthorse, we were blessed to have good people here to make memories, help prepare, and share one of the best turkey dinners we've ever had.

Our good friends Will and Teresa Bron came from Granger, Wash., along with Teresa's utterly charming 23-year-old son Nick who's going to school at WSU. Already here was Maurice, who arrived on Nov. 26 and has been treating us to gastronomic delights he's cooked up for breakfast and dinner almost every night.

The Brons have Friesian horses and are big enthusiasts of driving. So while they were here, Will and Teresa hitched up our little Icelandic (the short horse of "Shorthorse") to a cart my sister in Yakima had entrusted to me. Brimir, the Icelandic, is now a certified "driving horse." He took to it in no time at all. Don and I both took turns driving him around the property and up and down the roads. At age 21, this little guy now has a new career awaiting him next spring...and maybe sooner, if we can find a sleigh for him to pull!

For dinner we pulled out all the stops. Teresa and I brined a turkey, then roasted it to perfection, thanks to an oven bag (my first time!) IT WAS PERFECT!!! That, along with all the other usual yummy once-a-year stuff, and we had a feast fit for Montanans. Joining the Brons and Mannings were our neighbors Jim and Cathy Hill, and Charlotte Beaudry/Lee Ziegler, our other Yakima refugee friends.

Now our company is almost gone. Maurice will leave tomorrow morning, and the house will be quiet and cavernous again. Time for Don and me to snuggle up with a winter's supply of books as the snow falls. And, coincidentally, the snow has just begun.

Jan's Birthday Triathlon

Many things to celebrate on Nov. 22, my 56th birthday. Here we are, living in heaven on earth, and in good health. So I wanted to commemorate it, big time.

Here's how it went:

8am: Hiked to the hilltop and did a one-mile run. Temperature 34 degrees. Did the run in UNDER 12 MINUTES (my best time in about 26 years). Note: This was the biggest accomplishment of the day. Six months ago I literally couldn't take two jogging steps, but I've worked on it all summer and fall. With four hip surgeries under my belt, I'm not really supposed to run at all, and will probably quit now. But WOW, I just had to do it one more time....just to know I could!!

10:30am: Five-mile paddle on the river Completed it in 1:45.

1:30pm: Ten miles on Bernie, my Tennessee Walking Horse. Completed it in 1:35.

END OF TRIATHLON!

Later that day....

6pm: A wine-tasting/birthday party with a menu to die for...deli fried chicken, Ruffles potato chips, and Costco birthday cake...and lots of wine, of course. On hand to share it: my good buddies Laurie Mosher and Charlie Reddick (from Yakima), Ron and Heidi Fortier (formerly of Yakima, now from LaConner, Wash. This was Heidi's birthday too!!), Dave and Deb Oliver, Charlotte Beaudry, John and Robin Webb, Art and Kathy Hassan, Jim and Kathy Hill, Maurice Alpert, and my kind and tolerant hubby Don.

There's no better place to turn 56 than here at Shorthorse with good health, junk food, and the company of best friends! Carpe diem!

Defensible Space Project Completed!

The Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks has a program that encourages homeowners to clear away excess combustible material from their rural homes in order to establish a defensible space in the event of wildfire. They reimburse the homeowners for doing it, and, in a triage situation, firefighters will respond to a defensible home before they'll respond to one that is not. So it's a no-brainer good program.

We signed up for the program last spring. Since then, Don has been slaving away at tree-slaying on about six acres surrounding the house. It's partly how he's lost 25 pounds. He's taken out literally thousands of trees by chain saw, tractor, and axe.

The problem was how to dispose of all this material once it was on the ground. He hauled much of it into huge burn piles, which are now reduced to ashes (except for some large stumps that will smolder for months). He also hired a man with a large chipper that sucks in good-sized trees as if they're strings of spaghetti. The chips (about eight dumptruck loads of fragrant fir and pine) are now in the riding arena, waiting to be spread.

This has been a huge task for Don, but the results are unbelievable. Our view of the mountains is greatly enhanced, and we have this feeling of even more spaciousness around a house that used to be surrounded by dense trees. We also gained lots of firewood for this year and next.

"Our friend Maurice"

Over the years you may have heard Don and me refer in conversations to "our friend Maurice." This usually leads to a brief, barely plausible story of a truly incredible man we got to know a few years back through our Greater Swiss Mountain Dog connections.

Maurice has become a cherished member of our extended family. Relationships with "dog people" often evolve that way. Dogs are a common denominator among people who are otherwise very different. They're also a great equalizer because, like kids, all "dog parents" can relate to each other's dog experiences.

In 1997 I hosted a training seminar in Yakima for Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs in the northwest. Two of the attendees were Maurice and Ann Alpert who came over from Big Sky, Montana, with two out-of-control Swissies, Gatsby and Kosmo.

After that, we maintained contact with them. The Alperts liked to travel, and started bringing their boys to "board" with us in Yakima when they were on their extended trips. The boys spent a lot of time with us over the next few years. When Maurice and Ann's lifestyles started changing, they went separate ways and wanted to permanently re-home Gatsby and Kosmo with us. Gatsby died of spinal cancer at age eight, and Kosmo, now 12 years old, is our last remaining Swissy.

Maurice has made several visits to Shorthorse this past year, and we love having him here in our family. He's a gracious "guest" who loves meeting new people and sharing fellowship over food. Maurice does most of the cooking when he's here. It's his passion. Last time he was here, he made a seafood stew that was to die for. We also enjoyed a "Latvian peasant soup" that cooked for three days before we ate it. His idea of the perfect evening: good, wholesome food shared with congenial people, followed by a DVD on the wide-screen.

How did he learn to cook? He simply hung out in the kitchens of some of the world's top chefs. You see, Maurice is a self-made man who made it to the top in the business world. The very top. He's met and worked with several Presidents, various heads of state from foreign companies, and CEOs of the world's largest corporations. He's partied with many a Hollywood celebrity. He's an adventurer, who's hiked the Amazon jungles, sailed the Caribbean, and traversed the Australian outback, and even tried a humble life in Latvia.

Heard of The Omni in Atlanta? Maurice and his partners developed it. He's built hotels around the world, theme parks along the east coast, and downtown renewal projects all over the country.

He is a man with many, many stories to tell, and yet he tells them humbly, almost apologetically. See, he didn't like the view from the top. About 10 years ago he decided to make his way down, in search of something deeper and more fulfilling than fortune. He's finding it, and one of his favorite places to enjoy it is here at Shorthorse.

A wicked man

"I must be very wicked," Don said with a twinkle in his eye, as he put his empty Coke can on a stump and headed back to his tree-clearing project.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, playing dumb.

"You know what they say....'There's no rest for the wicked.'"

Don hasn't had much time to fish, hunt or even hike this year. Not yet. He's too busy trying to complete his projects before the snow flies.

He's selectively clearing a 200-foot radius around our house, to qualify for the "Defensible Space" rebate offered by the Dept. of Agriculture as part of its rural fire prevention strategy. That must be completed by Dec. 1. He's pushed out hundreds, maybe even thousands, of trees, leaving the nice big ones and a good selection of young ones at least 10 feet apart. Our "yard" and our view expands every day! It looks like a state park. Later this week, a guy with a mega-chipper is coming out to chip everything that Don's laid on the ground.

Don's also completing work on the barn and stalls. He has one stall (of three) left to line with wood, a couple of gates to hang, and a couple automatic waterers to hook up, and that will be done.

Last month he finished building a 12x16 woodshed that looks nice enough to be a guest cabin. And, of course, he had to fill that with firewood which he's cut around the property.

He also had to get his gunshop up and running. It's beautiful, well lit, and very functional...ironically, nicer than the one he had in Yakima for 30 years!

He did take a few days last week to go pheasant hunting in eastern Montana with Dusty Rosenthal, Mike Schell, Bob Graff, and some other friends from Yakima. And he did go fishing for half a day last summer. Deer and elk season starts this weekend, so he has to be "extra wicked" now to get his work done before that!

Ladies' Luncheon, Montana Style

The first Wednesday of each month, about 15 of us women from the Trout Creek area get together for lunch at one of the two local taverns. We alternate between the Wayside and the Naughty Pine Saloon. The hardest beverage ordered is iced tea, and the typical lunch fare runs from chili dogs to taco salads.

My neighbor Kathy Hill, a like-minded conservative woman, invited me to join the group, which has been meeting for several years. "Members" come and go with the seasons, but a core group is always there, since it's an important chance for "female bonding" in an isolated mountain area where the air is always heavy with testosterone.

Most of our lunch bunch ladies are retired, although Maureen, the Trout Creek postmistress, does lock up the post office for 90 minutes so she can join us. Like so many people in this area, most of these women are "from somewhere else" and have lived in the area for only a few years. A disproportionate number are from western Washington. It's easy to understand why they'd escape from the I-5 corridor to a place like this if they're conservatives!

These are educated, savvy, strong, independent women. They cherish the special way of life here, just as much as their husbands do. They pinch pennies. Nobody's ashamed to ask, "What does your hairdresser charge?" or "Where's gas the cheapest today?" They're unpretentious; dressing up for lunch means putting on a new sweatshirt.

Luncheon conversation often revolves around food and recipes...how to cook bear meat, how to field dress an antelope so it doesn't smell up your kitchen later. We also discuss home and garden topics...what to do about all the stinkbugs, and how to get rid of carpenter ants and yellowjackets. And we'll touch on fashion and personal appearance...how Faith found this great Coldwater Creek fleece top at the consignment shop for $7, the practicality of Sharon's great new haircut, or the fact that losing weight causes facial wrinkles so it's better to stay chubby.

Among our group we have women who styled hair for Hollywood celebrities, a woman who lived on a sailboat with her husband for two years, women who work in the local taxidermy shop, and a myriad of other fascinating personal stories. Many of them now share common bonds in quilting and craft work. All of them share something else, however, the first Wednesday of each month. They share the Good Life here.

Another Dream Come True

Ian Tyson is a legend in the music business. He was a rodeo cowboy and logger from B.C., who got famous in the '60s as a Canadian folk singer and songwriter. He paired up with a Toronto singer named Sylvia Fricker, and "Ian and Sylvia" became megastars in Canada and the U.S. The two of them split in the mid-'70s; the folk music era had died. Ian retreated alone to his home territory in the western provinces. He went back to his previous life as a rodeo cowboy and rancher, and began penning cowboy ballads.

I was introduced to Tyson's music in the late '70s during my seven-year stint as an entertainment journalist in Nashville. I interviewed hundreds of country music celebrities--even Roy Rogers--but the elusive Ian Tyson was one I'd never met. He'd attained almost mythical status to me, this rich-toned balladeer who'd chucked the bright lights and fast life to return to what he really loved: working his own ranch on the edge of the mountains in Alberta.

Yesterday Ian Tyson ate lunch in the "Monti's Room" with Don and me. He was in Thompson to do a benefit concert for the high school. He and his two backup guys were returning from the Pendleton Roundup, and they were headed back to Alberta. I made arrangements to interview him for a speculative piece for a magazine. He agreed, so I picked him up yesterday morning and brought him to Shorthorse for lunch and a chat.

For reasons so deep and complex that I can't express them to many, this was bigger than Roy Rogers for me. Ian Tyson. Eating beef barley soup and sourdough bread with Don and me. Later we strolled out to look at the horses, and then went back inside for an informal visit. This is the type of interview I'd learned to do, and done so many times, under the tutelage of my old Music City News editor, Lee Rector. Lee's in Reno now. He wanted like everything to come up to meet Ian himself, but was tied up. He said he'd be here with us in spirit, and I know he was. Lee's a songwriter too. We spent many a long night in his Nashville kitchen, along with a myriad of drop-in talented musicians and songwriters (they were just "neighbors" then), picking and singing Tyson songs and swilling down beer and cheap wine. "Four Strong Winds," "Summer Wages," "Someday Soon" were always on the nightly playlist.

Aside from the fact that he's still alive, time hasn't otherwise been kind to Tyson's looks or his voice. He'll be 75 next week. He looks like a bony, gnarled up old bareback rider (which he is) who's tipped a few too many bottles of whiskey out behind the chutes. His voice is all but gone. That part made me want to cry at his concert last night. It was painful listening to him. But, as Lee reminded me in an email this morning, we'll always have Tyson's strong, clear baritone voice in our audio files.

Ian played my guitar yesterday in our living room. It's a Martin D-28 that I bought new in Nashville in 1980. I bought it because I could afford it at the time, and because it was a connection with Ian Tyson's acoustic music. A couple days ago when I was tuning it in prep for this interview, I broke a string. It's hard to find a good guitar string in Sanders County, Montana, on a Saturday afternoon. But I got a light-gauge string from our friend Dave Oliver who left it on his kitchen table for me to pick up Sunday morning, since he and wife Deb were going to Missoula that day. It was a totally inappropriate string for my guitar, but it was better than nothing. I offered a lame apology to Ian when he strummed it.

When I brought him back to his motel room after lunch, he told me to wait a minute. He dashed into his room, came back out, and handed me a set of professional quality D'Addario wound steel guitar strings.

How ironic that I had to come this far in my life, to this little place called Thompson Falls, to realize a huge dream. Shorthorse itself is a dream come true...and now this. I-God, Woodrow!!

Our Team's Open House

We wanted everyone who'd worked on our house to be able to come and see the finished product, to show their family what they'd done, and to admire their contribution to the project. So we invited them all to an Open House just for them on Sunday, Sept. 7.

It was a gathering of not just contractors and crew, but of friends. Everyone here knows each other. And now they know us.

There were about 30 people here over the course of the beautiful fall afternoon. We all ate well, drank copious amounts of beer and lemonade, and laughed at reminscences of the very lengthy project that was the building of our home.

I'd wanted to get pictures of all of them, but was too busy tending bar to break away for photo ops. The only picture we got was at the end of the day, when Charlotte Beaudry (another former Yakimanian) snapped the photo above of Don and me at our front door. The sign was made by our old friend and former Yakima neighbor Mike Tully. He and his wife Theresa now live in Kansas. Their gift arrived just a couple days before our Open House, so the timing was perfect. We are very grateful for this wonderful surprise!

The National Bison Range

Less than 60 miles from our house is the National Bison Range. It is administered by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service as part of the National Wildlife Refuge System. It was established in 1908 and is one of the oldest Wildlife Refuges in the nation.

On this 18,500-acre piece of wild land are about 400 bison, 200 species of birds, plus whitetail, mule deer, elk, bears, coyotes, pronghorns, and bighorn sheep. It's not like a drive-through zoo. You really have to look for these critters. But if you're patient, you'll go home with an eyeful.

We've made two trips there this summer--the first time with our old Yakima neighbors, Tom and Celine Bates. The second time was 10 days ago with Rollie Taylor and John Jay, who were making their second trip to Shorthorse this year. (The first time was the July 4 weekend.)

On our most recent trip with Rollie and John, we saw quite a few bison...but the highlight was FIVE six-point bull elk! Four of them were in a draw at the bottom of a mountain we drove up. The fifth was on the bank of a stream not too far off the road. Needless to say, he was breathtaking!

We also saw lots of the other big critters too, including two bears running through the huckleberry bushes high on a hillside.

We highly recommend a drive through the National Bison Range for anyone who gets close to it. The drive takes about two hours (or more if you want to hike and glass) along a mostly one-way road about 22 miles long.

Photo: Don with Rollie and John, glassing bull elk atop Red Sleep Mountain on the National Bison Range.

The Shorthorse Deer

Okay, we've named them, but we refuse to feed them. The deer here at Shorthorse can stay as long as they want. They'll be safe here, as long as nature provides their food.

It's fun watching them grow, mature, and become braver around us. Early on, we started identifying their different personalities. "Sweetie" is the confident doe who's not bothered at all by our presence. "Honey" is a bit more flighty. Then there's "Notch," who was a runt last winter. She got her name because of a huge notch in her left ear. We worry about her because she's had a bad case of mange or something all summer...but now she's getting some real size, and it looks like she'll have a decent winter coat after all.

There are boys too, of course. There's "Tasty" (so named by Don), and "Tasty Two." One's a four-point and one's a three-point. "Little Tasty" is a spike.

We all peacefully coexist. Lizzie leaves them complete alone, thanks to her shock collar training last winter. We talk to to them, but never try to get close or lure them to us. When Don is clearing brush or cutting wood, they're usually very close so they can snatch up the lichen from the tree limbs. They think it's candy.

The other night I took Lizzie for a walk around the perimeter of our property. During the mile-long loop, I counted 17 deer making their way up onto our land.

Pictured above are Tasty and Tasty Two, outside our front and kitchen windows.

Purple Finger Disease

Last weekend was the Huckleberry Festival in our little town of Trout Creek. The annual event brings in lots of outsiders, along with locals. They served 2,500 huckleberry pancake breakfasts at the fire hall over the weekend. Other activities included a parade, "Miss Huckleberry" contest, auction, and many craftsmen selling their hand-made wares throughout the festival park.

Oh yes...there was a huckleberry dessert contest...in which I won SECOND PLACE! I made some huckleberry coconut bars I modified from a recipe on a Western Family oatmeal box!

My dog Lizzie and I also hosted an agility demo on the festival grounds. It was a popular event, and we generated a lot of local interest in the sport of agility. Lizzie even got her picture in the weekly newspaper for her efforts!

Obviously huckleberry season is in full swing, so Don and I set out today to find some for ourselves. We did. It's a secret location, of course. And there are lots more out there that we didn't get picked in the short time we were up there on top of the world, just over the Idaho state line.

This was my first venture at huckleberry picking, and I must say it was surprisingly enjoyable. We now have 10 whole cups of berries vacuum-sealed in our freezer (from two hours of picking!). And I now know why Robin Simmons' pies are so expensive when they're auctioned off at the Yakima animal banquets!!

Here's the finished product

At long last, the house is stained and all doors are painted. We still need Gene Carner to finish the stonework around the steps, and for our concrete man to seal the stamped concrete porch and deck. And that's about it!

A Fourth to Remember

On July 3, our good friends Rollie Taylor and John Jay pulled in for a weekend visit.

We celebrated the Fourth of July by driving to Sex Peak Lookout, in the Kootenai National Forest, about 20 miles from where we live. This lookout was established in the 1920s. It's no longer staffed, but the Forest Service makes it available for single-night rentals to whomever wants to go there. Because of the name, it's a popular getaway for outdoorsy couples celebrating anniversaries and such, but it's also used by families and elk chasers. If you like real solitude, this rocky eagle's nest is a cozy escape.

We spent about an hour climbing on the rocks, exploring the interior, and wondering what it would be like to be up there in that wood and glass shack during a violent thunderstorm. The consensus was that it would be fantastic!

On the way back down the mountain we made several stops to watch wildlife. We saw a mama bear and a watermelon-sized cub. Mama went up a tree and we watched her wait patiently for us to leave. Finally she fell asleep up there, undoubtedly muttering something like, "Damn tourists!" under her breath. We had the binoculars with us so we got a close-up look at her sleepy eyes.

We also saw several flocks of wild turkeys and about 40 deer here and there, including young ones still in spots.

The wildflowers were in full bloom too.

Oh yes, and we saw eagles.

We met only two other vehicles on the whole trip up and down the mountain. Both of them were pickups full of firewood.

That night, back at Shorthorse, we walked down our road to a good vantage point for the neighborhood fireworks display. We have several well healed neighbors who each put on extraordinary ($$$$$) shows along the shore of the river. Rollie commented it was the best fireworks display he'd ever seen....even better than at the fairgrounds in Yakima.

We capped it all off with some homemade strawberry shortcake and called it a night...and a fantastic Fourth of July. What a country we live in!

Hay in the barn!

Our barn now has Montana hay in it, fresh from the field.

Finding small bales of horse hay is no easy task here. The growing season is short, so there's only one cutting. No one (hardly) irrigates, so there's not much alfalfa. And everyone around here is into the big, round bales, which we can't handle without special equipment.

Oh, how I appreciate that wonderful alfalfa/grass mixed hay we got from Mike Drury down on Rutherford Road in Yakima last year for $100 a ton!! Around here, the equivalent would have to come from south of Missoula, and it would run about $180+ a ton, IF we could even get it.

We were fortunate enough to hook up with someone who buys hay from a guy just four miles down the road. He introduced us to the farmer, and we were able to get three tons last week. It's brome hay (low protein, good for our older horses) in nice little 70-pound bales. We picked it up right out of the field. $85 a ton. We still need to find about 3 more tons but think we have that lined up too. However, if Mike Drury wants to haul a load up here on his way to a hunting or fishing trip, I wouldn't turn it down!

Waking from a Noisy Dream

Anyone who's built a special home (or had a home built) has his own stories and memories, chock full of highs and lows. It definitely is one of those "life experiences" that challenges everything you've got..physically, emotionally and financially.

We'd heard it many times from friends who'd been there: "If your marriage can survive home-building, then it can survive anything." For Don and me, it was never hard on our relationship, although it was difficult on us individually...which certainly affected our moods from time to time.

I can't speak for him or know his feelings, but I can tell you what the completion of our house was like for me: waking up from a noisy, tumultuous, confusing, fragmented dream.

Those types of dreams are pretty common for me...they seem to run in my family, since my sister has vivid, detailed, crazy dreams too. There's always a lot going on, plenty of background noise, many voices, colors, etc., and I'm just sort of "there" in the middle of this kaleidescope. It's usually a relief to awaken, gradually, to a quiet bedroom and the comfort and stillness of consciousness in my own bed. Within minutes of waking, the memories of those noisy dreams have completely faded.

That's what it's like to be in this house now, enveloped in the present and totally content with it. The last four years have been so confusing, so busy, so goal-oriented, so NOISY...selling businesses, selling our Yakima house, packing, unpacking, trying to get a house built over the phone, thousands of miles of driving back and forth, making arrangements, saying goodbye to friends, fighting depression and thinking the house would never be completed, readjusting EVERYTHING....

and then I awaken in this quiet, beautiful room with cedar ceiling and cedar walls. There's a mountain right outside my window. There's no alarm clock. There's only peace. And I'm so "into the present" that there's no room for the stressful memories of the last four years, and they just fade away like last night's dreams.

This is what it's like for me to be here now. We are here. We've reached the destination. It is "The Precious Present."