This is The Ball

That Kevvy Caught,
(Bare-handed)
That Matt Holliday Hit,
(A Rocket to the Left Field Bleachers)
At Batting Practice,
On Friday Night,
At the Rockies' Game ~
The One They Lost ~
Which Doesn't Matter,
Because They're Still Barely In It
Having won 11-1 Last Night,
After the Padres lost...

And It's a Long Story,
But How I Understand it,
The Playoffs are Still Just Barely in Sight,
This Afternoon,
Over Chips and Dip
In Front of Granma and Granpa's Big Screen TV...

Go Rockies!

Happy Birthday, Paul!

Today we're celebrating the twentieth birthday of our oldest son, Paul.

Paul's birthday is actually next week, but he's got plans elsewhere. So, the party is here today, which is good because his next-down brother, Kevvy, is in town this weekend, so it does work out well. But, well, I gotta admit, I'm feeling a little nostalgic for the days when the earth rotated around our plans for family birthday parties and get-to-gethers. Nowadays, we find we have to fit our family celebrations around the children's other plans. =sigh=

And that's OK. Really. I'm fine with it. If my big boys were still rooted here at home, I think I would think something was wrong with them. I'd worried we hadn't successfully taught them to be self secure and independent or something.

So, though I understand that home and family are not the hubs around which our young men still revolve, I can't help but feel a little bit lonesome for my little boys.

I miss them tearing around the farm, playing cops and robbers or cowboys and Indians, or whatever the scenario of the day happened to be.

I miss the building block castles and baseball stadiums they used to make.

I even miss stepping on their army guys.

I miss getting up at 6:30 am, with Paul already up, the goats already milked and his math already half done.

I miss pouring over the dioramas at the Denver Museum of Natural History with the boys.

I miss seeing Paul, tanned and strong, building and fixing our fences, better than the pros.

I miss Paul winning our trivia quizzes almost every Friday.

I miss his rice every day for lunch.

I miss him being a daily part of the life of his siblings, always teasing, but always helpful.

I miss just seeing his face every day.

I can't very well call him "Pauliwog" anymore. And he's going to roll his eyes when he sees that I've written his old nickname here. But, in a philosophical, poetic kind of way, the moniker was appropriate, because our polliwog is a big frog now, in many ways. He's grown up. But he's supposed to be. And he's turned out to be a darn nice guy. We're proud of you, Paul.

What's for Dinna?

Paul's favorite meal is cooking on the stove.

Gabe wants to know what we're having,

And is incredulous about what he thinks I tell him...


"DUMBO?"



(Actually, it's Gumbo, folks!
And no elephants were harmed
in the making of this dinner...)

It's all in the perspective...

(Thanks to my good friend, Spark, for forwarding this one to us!)

On Michaelmas Day!

St. Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. Rebuke him, O God, we humbly beseech Thee. And do thou, O prince of the heavenly host, through the Divine Power, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls!

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us!

Happy Nameday to Our Sweet Michelle

Go Rockies!

So, guess where my wh and second son are tonight??

There was no earthly force that would keep them from going to see the Rockies.

The five and a half hour commute home my husband will have to make after the game? No problem. It is understood that world series potential comes before any notion of sleep.

The fact that the line for tickets started early this morning, with men bearing large cups of coffee, coolers full of sandwiches, and campchairs? No biggie. Kevvy gladly stood in line for 31/2 hours this afternoon to get the only tickets to be had, in the Rockpile, $4 seats in the nosebleed section where all the real fans sit, anyway.

It's eleven games in a row now that our team has won, and I'm told (have been told by three different males in my family today) that they have a shot at the playoffs. If God watches baseball, we can't help but think he'll be rooting for our Rockies tonight. We may be biased, but we think we've got the nicest bunch of guys in the sport.

To read about the Rockies' Christian angle, click here: http://www.usatoday.com/sports/baseball/nl/rockies/2006-05-30-rockies-cover_x.htm

Hullo, Kitty!

See? Contrary to rumor, William really is a sweet little boy! Don't want anyone to get the wrong impression! (This is Linus, the barn cat who wants to be a house cat...)

Visitors Among Sunbeams

Can you see them back there behind the truck? We have frequent deer visitors to the house this time of year; they like our fruit trees and proximity to the river. These two just stood there looking at us for a minute almost like they were posing, but the picture-taker couldn't find the zoom button. We'll try to get a better close up next time.

The Terrorist

The Monster. The Little Stinker.

Some of the ways we lovingly refer to our almost-two-year old.

It's not that we don't treasure every square inch of him. But, I've said it before: It's a good thing he's so darn cute... Truly no opportunity for trouble escapes him. Notable among his favorite pastimes is the sport of playing in the toilet with the toilet brush.

So, just keep the bathroom doors shut, right?

Yeah, right.

Try reminding a three or four year old of this and have them remember it longer than the length of the sentence. I'm always hearing, "Oh, yeah, I forgot, Mommy!" while I'm fishing their little brother out of the toilet. But, then, besides the sibling forgetfulness problem, we have an antique doorknob in the master bedroom upstairs that doesn't latch, and a doorknob simply does not exist on the master bath door.

Needless to say, it is a high priority to keep William downstairs, where we at least have a chance of keeping him out of the toilet. Toward this end, we've tightened, and re-tightened the gate at the bottom of the stairs until it's "stripped."

And the little stinker has just found this out. All he has to do is pull and down it comes! As the pictures above document (unfortunately, not in proper sequence, doggonit).

Can you see how proud William was to show me what he could do?

It's either time to buy a new gate, replace the doorknobs (easier said than done on antique doors), or move. We're moving Thanksgiving week. I'm not sure if our nerves can stand waiting that long!

The Cool Kids

You know the ones, the fashionably dressed ones, usually toward the back of the class, always in the front at sporting events, the envy (sometimes secretly) of all the other kids, and tolerated indulgently by the teachers...

Well, um, I wasn't one of 'em, I'm afraid.

I'm over here... Yes, that's me, up front, second seat back on the left, where the teacher put me behind the class clown as a safe buffer between him and the rest of the kids. Yep, the one with the wild hair peeking up over the top of the Thomas B. Costain novel (hidden behind my math book). That's me. Not a cool kid.

At best, I was always the new kid.

We were a Navy family and moved many times in my childhood, for various reasons, to various schools, but my parents (in their wisdom) never sent us to the base schools, where we would have blended right in with all the other perpetually new kids. We went, instead, to the Catholic schools, and were always in the process of catching up socially. Never had a problem academically, but that, alas, didn't help my social standing. On the contrary.

Never had the ability or the inclination to be a jock. Jocks are always cool.

Wasn't a hip chick. You know, even Catholic schools have a hip chick click, where the girls just barely slip in under the uniform code with their coolness. But my Mom wasn't about to lend support to that kind of vanity, much less expense. So I wasn't a hip chick.

Catholic schools (thirty years ago, at least), didn't have a Goth or "freak" subset that one could claim a certain cool status in. And if there were such a thing, I'd have been as thoroughly amazed and repelled by it then as I am now, I'm sure.

So, you know what that leaves, of course. I was a nerd. Would have been even if I weren't a Navy brat. It's just me, I guess. I suppose, even now, I'm considered a social misfit by many.

And why am I divulging this personal information? Am I just on a whining jag? Actually, no, not really. It's because... Well, look at this. After thirty odd years, I'm still tied to a label! Here I am, at my age, shaking the strings off, and, though I'm proud to have certain aspects of that label tattooed to my being, the label is still there. I'm one of the nerd group, not a cool kid. Agreed.

But, now that I'm a parent, I have to work out how this whole label thing relates to my children.

We had the fortune to be able to send our children to a wonderful, disciplined Catholic school these last couple of years, where the teaching sisters kept amazingly good control over the clicks. (I guess I could spell it "clique" if I wanted to be cool...) But, you guessed it, the power of kid-nature still held sway. In spite of the Sisters' efforts, there was a "cool" set and an "uncool" set in our little, tiny, rural Catholic school. And I got to go through the agony of it all over again through my children ~ especially the ones in the older grades.

Nope, mine weren't the cool kids, any more than I was. Maybe it's genetic.

But, I'm glad they weren't the cool kids really, as hard as it was, especially, to watch my dear daughter's anguish. We try to raise them to march to the beat of their own drums ~ in God's band. And that doesn't make for popularity much of the time. At least not here in the world.

It's a much simpler life as homeschoolers in this way. The children and I ~ we go through phases of being more or less popular with one another. But that's just because of the daily sway of moods and events, not because of our deep natures or the winds of fate like in conventional school settings. It's blessedly easier to guide the children to be their authentic selves here at home, where we can concentrate on being popular with Our Lord and His Mother. Where I can nip a charity problem in the bud.

As a homeschooling mother, I'm free to judge which children are ready when to hold their own in a mixed group setting. And I think it's a good thing to be able to shelter them in this way. I don't want any of them to be overwhelmed by the random opinions of others. I don't want any of them to think of themselves as a jock or a nerd or even as a cool kid. It shouldn't be something they think about at all.

So, no labels around here. Just names. I'm Lisa. I guess you can judge me by my fruits, if you want to. Which reminds me... You might as well know that all that stuff we had planned for Johnny Appleseed's birthday, with all the best supermom homeschooling intentions... Well, this mommy was too tired and we ended up having applebutter sandwiches for lunch, and instead of baked apples, we had popcorn, apples and cheese for dinner while we watched True Grit at dinnertime. We never got around to making appleprints with sponges, but we did walk down to the farmers' market and get some fresh apples and stopped to play at the park. So, there it is. Not a nerd. Not a supermom. Not a slacker. Just human.

More Saints of the Day Who Rise, Like They All Do, Far Above the Ordinary

Today we celebrate two feastdays that compete for most-mind-boggling status. The suffering endured for the Faith by St. Isaac Jogues and Companions was gruesome to say the least, but their martyrdoms seemed to have secured enough grace to convert almost a whole Indian nation! The bravery of these men under the worst torture you can imagine rings through the ages! As the first North American martyrs, they hold a unique place in Catholic history.

The story of Sts Cyprian and Justina is amazing for its incredible drama. What a movie this would make! In less than a nutshell, St. Cyprian was a satanic paid assassin who was sent to work witchcraft on Justina for an evil Roman nobleman who was in love with her. She was a devoted Christian and had less than no interest in the nobleman, but finding herself assaulted by the powers of the devil, got busy with serious prayers and mortifications and ended up converting not only the nobleman, but Cyprian as well! This being under the reign of Diocletian, the story ends up as you might expect, bloody but glorious, with Justina and Cyprian both receiving the Heavenly crown.

I've been pondering the similiarities and differences in these great saints and their stories. They're separated by over a thousand years in time and a couple thousand miles in space. The antagonists were the worst kind of pagans, the heroes the best sort of Christians ~their fortitude and faith allowed them to make the ultimate sacrifice.

But, the thing that I think they really have in common is that with each of them, God must have said (in some words to this effect, though obviously Grander and in more Godlike vocabulary): This is one who gets it!

God help us, who suffer temptations in our own world that can just as easily cause us to lose our souls, to get it, too, and to understand the application and value of sacrifice in our lives.

Kittycat Clock

Um, so, just a quick question... Can anyone out there, besides me, see the kittycat clock in the sidebar over there, to the right and down a bit? My husband doesn't get it on his computer, and we suspect it may be because his is a work computer and it disables that gizmo for some reason or another. But, if that's not the case and nobody's getting it... Well, I guess I might as well try something else. It'd be a shame, though, because all the kids get a big kick out of it, and, well, so do I. Someone let me know?

It's amazing what a little motivation and persistance can do...

In Sporting News...

~ Because I take my role of supportive wife seriously,*
~ Because I have to have at least a glint of interest in my eye when my wh answers the simple question, "Who's winning?" with a half hour's explanation of the whole season,
~ Because I have six sons, most of whom play the game or want to,**
~ Because one of my earliest cozy memories is of Dad's Dad, "Pappy," smoking Camel cigarettes, drinking Schlitz and listening to the Orioles on the radio while teasing us grandchildren,
~ Because, even though I'm a half-conscious, fairweather fan who really likes the sport because I like the way it sounds in the background, I cannot deny the history and poetry of the game,
~ Because there really is a good moral lesson for the children in a team that just doesn't give up...

I Just Gotta Love the Colorado Rockies!

Read about them here: http://test.denverpost.com/sports/ci_6980092

* This post is dedicated to my wh, a lifetime baseball player and fan. Hi, sweetie!
** Gabe (3) tells us now, much to his older brothers' pride and satisfaction, that he's going to go to college and play baseball.

Always On the Lookout for...

(Finding some really cool graphics out there, folks!
'Scuse me while I play around with them a little?)

Leaf Watch: Sunday, 9-23-07

High temp today, according to NWB 72 degrees F; low temp 45 degrees F. Rained most of the night and all day until about 3 pm. Weather expected to turn colder tonight and reach 68 degrees tomorrow, with a low in the mid 30s. We're anxious to see how this, along with all the moisture, may affect the leaf color in the next couple of days. We'll keep you posted! The woods: leaves just barely fading to yellow on some trees.
The meadow: the trees on the far side still look summer-green, but corn stalks (that's corn over there!) are yellowed and drying out.
The lane: Just a touch of barely yellow leaves around the edges.
The river: doesn't seem to know it's late September yet, though the grasses seem to be just barely turning, don't they?

Autumn Leaf Watch

Autumn is, hands-down, my favorite time of year! I've always loved the start of the school year. Getting a new school uniform, clean, white peter pan collars on the blouse. The smell of new books. Squeaky new shoes.

My birthday is in Autumn, and I always felt so honored that Our Lady's birthday was in the same month. My birthstone is the saphire, and when I was a little girl, I thought it made perfect sense that September should have Mary's favorite color in the month of blue, blue skies.

I lived outdoors as a child and I still remember being strangely excited on the first really crisp fall morning when the grass sparkled with frost and you could see your breath. And there were always plenty of crunchy, juicy, apples. Red and tart green, with perfect whiteness inside after you took a bite. And my brother, Greg, eating the entire apple, seeds and all, then chewing on the stem when he was done.

And the color... I LOVE THE COLOR! I grew up in the midatlantic and southeastern states (I'm a Navy brat), so came home from playing at dinnertime with pockets full of leaves in almost every hue you could imagine: apple red, maroon, rust, pink, gold, copper, lemon yellow, fiery orange, brown, burnt sienna, auburn, purple, even black... What treasure!

Now that we live in the Rocky Mountain region, our color selection is not so great, maybe, but what we have is spectacular! The brilliant, glowing gold of the aspen lighting up the sides of the mountains is breathtaking. And the colors close to home, though maybe not as remarkable for their environment, are a sweet and welcome change in our hills and valleys.

So, in the hopes that y'all (oops, my southern just slipped out...) love leaf watching, too, I'm going to try to regularly post some of the fall changes around this part of the country.

I'll post some pictures from our various wanderings. Then I'll keep a weekly record of the goings-on at the river and meadow at the corners of our yard. It'll be fun for us and keeping a record of our leaf watch gives us a good excuse to go wandering!

Here's a look at our travels over the last couple of days. I'll get some pics of the neighborhood before the end of the weekend. (Well, I'll try, anyway.)

On the road to Ouray. Not much leaf change yet here...


On the road to Telluride (over the hill and a different view of the same mountain, I think). Not much going on here yet, either.


The park in Ridgeway. Not a yellow leaf in sight.
Incidentally, this is where the "hanging scene" in True Grit was filmed. In fact, most, if not all of that movie was filmed around Ridgeway, Colorado. Imagine! John Wayne walked here!

Though you can see the leaves are all pretty green still down here, way up in the high country the leaves are already flaming; I'll try to get some pictures of that to show the difference altitude makes in the leaves' changing. We'll record the high and low temps, too, at least for here at our elevation. It'll be interesting to note how the temperatures, and their variation affects the color!

...And Companions

I went to bed tonight with every intention of going to sleep. I had determined I wasn't going to post anything today, as I just had too many other things to focus on ~ we have company, and are taking a moving truck full of flotsam and jetsam over to the farm this weekend (that's another post!). But, you know, even with all I've had going on, running as an undercurrent in my whole day has been a story we read this morning after prayers. It was the life of the saint of the day: St. Eustachius. And I just had to get up and write about it. I seem to be heading into some insomnia tonight, anyway, and maybe he'll help me sleep if I write about him.


Now, generally, I have a tendency to lump together into a large, hazy, but still vaguely glorious lump, all the martyr stories, especially the ones that end in "and companions." I know that's terrible, but I admit I have trouble keeping most of them straight in my mind, there were so many! And, honestly, after so many years of reading Butler's Lives of the Saints to the children, pretty much every day, you'd think I'd remember this story! But somehow it slipped by me. I mean the real story. There's one visual scene about deer antlers and a cross I remembered somewhat, but somehow the true story, the epic tale of valor and tragedy and victory and defeat and final triumph eluded me until today.

Here's the story in a nutshell:

Eustachius was a highly respected officer in the Roman army under Emperor Trajan (Ok, so now you should start hearing the first slow drumbeat of ominous music... The names Trajan or Diocletian, especially, spell doom in Butler's...). Our Lord chose to reveal Himself and the truth of the Faith to Eustachius through the image of Himself crucified in the antlers of a deer. I can only assume that this was the method most sure to get this man's attention, and it truly did.

Eustachius and his wife and children all converted, which at this time was not a politically correct thing to do, of course. The family lost everything due to this decision; they were even forcibly separated from each other. Eustachius, once a proud Roman officer was reduced to tending crops for his survival.

And then the barbarians came.

And, of course, who could the evil Emperor Trajan count on better than our hero to oust them from the empire? Obviously a man of Eustachius' noble mind owned a temperament and ability to equal it. He was the can-do man of the army and Trajan apparently knew it. So, off Eustacius went, his rank and power restored. Miraculously, during this campaign, he was reunited with his family, and then returned to Rome the conquering hero, the toast of the town, the man of the hour.

Picture the parade of welcome through the streets of Rome as was the custom in that day! The fanfare, the triumphant march! His wife and children near at hand, looking on proudly, the cheers of the crowd, the Emperor on the dais up ahead, ready to receive Eustachius in honor. Ready to crown his head with the laurel wreath... If.

(The music stops here.)

If he would sacrifice to Trajan's false gods.

Would he? He had lost everything in this world that was important to him, and now he had miraculously found it again. His family had the chance to live in peace and ease in Rome again, have a comfortable villa again, enjoy afternoons of games and conversations with their old friends again... They could be together as a family. It could be as it once was. Could Eustachius bear to lose it all again? And it wasn't just himself that he had to consider! Could he subject his dearest wife and children to more ignomy and suffering, and perhaps death?

Only the strongest of men could say yes to this. Only the most loving of men could say yes. And, of course he said yes to Christ. He would give it all up again. He would risk it all for love of God, for love of Truth, for the love which taught him faith in life everlasting!

This faith is staggering to me! How the human conflict must have raged in him, how he must not have wanted to see his family suffer any more! How tired he must have been! But he knew truly and completely that God had something better waiting for them. I believe his wife and children knew this, too.

When Trajan had two starved lions brought into the arena with Eustachius and his family, the lions played at their feet like kittens. God does like to make His points, doesn't He? It always amazes me that the savage persecutors in those days never took the hint! I mean look at the miracles which surrounded the deaths of the martyrs! But the Roman dictators never did pick up on it. Trajan just became more angry when he was deprived of his spectacle, and ordered the family to be locked inside a bull molded of metal and roasted to death over a fire, father, mother and children.

At first glance, a tragic end. That poor, poor family! How can we not be moved by the horror of it?

But, wait!

We haven't come to the final scene. The scene where the whole family emerges, whole and perfect spirits, and ascends to Heaven, where they are received as highly honored citizens of a new country, where the Almighty Father is seated on the throne. And they live in peace and perfect happiness for eternity. Eternity. And they're there now. Not just figuratively. Not as in a two dimensional holy card. But in reality. Tragedy or victory?

Victory.

More Bugs...

In our continuing entomological studies... Meet "Cupertino" (named for the feast day). Michelle rescued this Praying Mantis from the kittens today, so of course we brought it in to study.

Note how Michelle is just so not afraid of bugs. She's a toughy!

The two jars are the temporary homes for "Cupe," the mantis and the grasshopper that will be his lunch tomorrow. On the jars are the tags where we labeled their taxonomy. These labels, the pics we've taken and the girls' drawings and short reports will all be added to our "Insectabook."

Back to the Prairie

A Prairie Sunset

Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazzling silver,
emerald, fawn,
The earth's whole amplitude and nature's mul-
tiform power consigned for once to colors;
The light, the genial air possessed by them—
colors till now unknown,
No limit, confine—not the Western sky alone—
the high meridian—North, South, all,
Pure luminous color fighting the silent shadows
to the last.
Walt Whitman

Blogland

I've been aware of the existence of blogs for about one month now. And all I have to say is "Holy Cow!" You can see how much I love the whole concept. I'd only been aware of them for two weeks before I had to have one of my own. I've always loved to write. It's in the family genes, I think, coming from the Irish side. But, the best thing about the discovery of this whole world has been finding out about all the incredible women out there who create the most amazing and beautiful blogs. I have learned so much in just a month and been so inspired!

To get a little extra oomph for homeschooling on a day when I'd rather read a book or hide in the closet, I just get up early and tune in to what's going on at Starry Sky Ranch or Real Learning or By Sun and Candlelight or any of a number of other excellent blogs. It's a cinch they'll help me remember how important my job is and how much fun we can have doing it.

If I need a creativity boost, there are a kazillion blogs to choose from, as well. I love the crafts and art at A Number of Things and Simple Sparrow and Junie-Moon, for instance. We've been inspired to plant a wee garden, make tiny toys for Christmas, and block print blackbirds around our kitchen when we move back into the farmhouse. Junie Moon's Autumn Bliss Week has contributed to our yearning for the leaves to finally change and has me itching to start work on our fall decorating.

For help in the kitchen (and I need all I can get!), I've found the Hillbilly Housewife and the St. Lawrence League. And if I just want to brighten my day with a good laugh, I go see what Simcha is up to at I Have to Sit Down.

What an amazing world it is that it's possible for us to connect in this amazing way! Here in the blogosphere I can find women who share my faith, women who face the same challenges and rewards of mothering large families, homeschooling moms, crafting moms, and wonder of wonders, kindred spirits who are a combination of all of them!

I think I'm just about to get listed in Catholic Mothers Online (see sidebar) and am honored to be in such fine company. I'm still just trying to work my way through to visit the whole list of blogs, and my favorites list is already down to the floor, so I have a dilemma...

How do I force myself away from the computer to make use of all this inspiration?? (Anyone else have this problem?)

Saying Goodbye...

...to all the little corners of our little world and our special house here in this beautiful valley.

It's looking like a move back to our old stomping grounds on the eastern prairies is iminent. I'm not sure at this point if it will be in the next two weeks, or not until Thanksgiving (when wh has a week off and the boys will all be home from school), but we're starting the packing tomorrow.

For those who don't know, our family has been separated for some time now. We're just scattered to the four winds! Not only are our four oldest boys in different cities, but my husband has had to work 5 1/2 hours away from where we live. For the last two years, he's been working in the city four to five days of the week and driving home for a couple of days on the weekends. It hasn't been fun. We've tried desperately these two years to find him a job here in this western slope valley, near the church and school we love, but it just doesn't seem to be God's Will. I'm sad about it.

But there is good news: My wh recently landed his dream job...

Unfortunately, though, it's back there, over the mountains, 5 1/2 hours from here. Dang. That's not what we'd planned, but what are ya gonna to do? God's Will will have its way.

So. Though we don't regret for a moment the two years, two months, and twelve days we got to spend here, and believe strongly that it was God's Will that we were here, we also know that it's time to go. We need to be near Daddy. We need to revive the evening ritual of his homecoming every day. I need to have the daily comfort of my husband's presence. We need someone living on-premises who doesn't mind killing spiders and who knows how to light the furnace...

And, though we know we are going forward to many good things (and, strangely, backward, as well, since we're returning to the farm we left behind two years ago), there is so much we'll miss here.

I can't locate any pictures right at the moment of the church and school or the sisters, or they'd be at the top of the list. But here are a few pictures of some of the more material things I know I'll miss:


The comfy reading nooks and the general warm, cozy feel of this house.









I loved the sunny little alcove by the master bathroom where I could keep all my makeup and jewelry and a few collectibles.

We'll Miss...

All of the really cool places to see within a short drive of our house, like abandoned mines and ghost towns!
Great hiking close by. No end of nature trails, easy or challenging, with every kind of scenery imaginable.
Beautiful green forests, great jeep trails. Ouray calls itself the jeep capital of America.

Beautiful scenery in every direction. Many hidden canyons like this one that can only be found by braving the old mine roads that are now jeep trails.
Our big sunny dining room and the high ceilings and beautiful woodwork of this house.
My apple green and apple red kitchen and its message centers ~ which I'll definitely do again at the farm!
The trees and all the greenery that surround our house in this very fertile area of Colorado.
The river that borders our property, with all its moods and all the wildlife it attracts.
Last, but not least, the one thing I really wish I could take with me: my wonderful walk-in pantry! I don't know how I'm going to live without it!

The Cross on Mount Crucis

Just in time to honor the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

Our oldest son, Paul, a Knight Commander in the Knights of the Altar and one of the counselors at Boys' Camp, wrote the following account of the July '07 ascent up Mount Crucis:

The cool breeze graced our faces like it had not and would never again allow itself to be felt by another person. It calmly whirled around our little group seeming to come from everywhere and to go nowhere. The panoramic view of mountains bounding from the ground over some and below others, stretched endlessly around us. It was as if this tranquil scene had been set aside for us and none but us, like we had stepped into our own little place in the world, and it was exactly where we were supposed to be.

This was, of course, after a grueling three hour hike, 1,800 vertical feet to plant a twenty foot tall cross in the ground at the top of a mountain.

If every rose has its thorns, then every perfect moment has a thousand not-quite-so-perfect ones preceeding it! Maybe “not-quite-so-perfect” isn’t the best way of saying it. Sacrifice creates achievement like nothing else can. A helicopter ride to the top of Mt. Crucis (as we collectively decided to call it), and a few snapshots would have been nearly shameful compared to the accomplishment of over fifty Catholic men and boys ranging in age from five to fifty who made the grueling ascent willingly.

The Trek Up the Mountain

By now, I’m sure those who were not somehow connected to this expedition have some questions loaded up waiting for answers, so I'll try to provide a few:

What exactly are we talking about? The 10th annual Knights of the Altar Boys’ Camp. The camp was held this year deep in the Colorado mountains above Taylor reservoir approximately forty miles from Gunnison.

Over fifty Catholic men and boys? The camp attracts people from California, Idaho, Nebraska, and New York, just to name a few states.

What exactly were you doing? The entire camp, with very few exceptions, hiked two miles across Rocky Mountain wilderness, then climbed up another thousand feet carrying a several hundred pound tree while saying the Stations of the Cross.

Why exactly did you do it? As the adage goes, “For some, no explanation is necessary, for others, no explanation will suffice.” It just so happened we all belonged to the former.