Hanging out at Big Owl Road

Today was full of total relaxation – the plan was to complete a short hike at Alberta Falls, attend a nature seminar put on by a Rocky Mountain National Park ranger, and turn in the kids' Jr. Ranger books. Instead, we stayed at the mountain cabin until 3 pm at which time we drove into Estes Park and Sophie and I shopped for her birthday present – a pair of hiking boots for this wonder hiker.

Dave and I pretty much had a “read around” all over the cabin – taking turns sitting in scenic, comfortable chairs and reading while the kids played in the pond most of the day. They made up a game called “Going to Market” where John sat on the pond bridge “fishing” while Sophie took buckets from John and filleted the fish, and Lucy then sold the fish to make-believe customers. Another time when I looked up from my perch from the porch they were scrubbing down the bench, cleaning off the moss.

We’re pretty darn lucky – even though they fight at times and get snappy with one another, overall they do an excellent job of playing together. There wasn’t a single tear or tattle in 7 hours of all-out playing – and this companionship lasted far into the night, through a restaurant dinner with Don and Eunice and through Lego playtime back at the Wilbur’s. While we were enjoying a drink in the living room, the kids were making a Lego town in the basement and Eunice said, “Kids? Do you even have kids?” We took that as a real compliment. Unfortunately, we stayed 10 minutes too late and there was an “angry eyes” look from Sophie and tears from John. All in all though – I don’t think you could ask for three better travelers under the age of 10.

Ouzel Falls – the big hike

We were well prepared for this hike – all 5.4 miles of it. The kids were forewarned of its length and climb (1,000 feet), Dave and I each carried a backpack filled with 4 bottles of water, a first aid kit, oranges and muffins, and I had extra batteries for the camera. It was beautiful – absolutely worth every step. Although the temperature was in the mid 80’s we were, for the most part, cool enough thanks to the rapids and shady overgrowth. The first third of the hike was pretty level – with lots of wildflowers and some nice views of rapids.
The next part, up to the Calypso Cascades was more of a climb but the view of the cascades at the top was so worth it. We stopped there and camped out on a big rock in the shade and ate our oranges and smushed up muffins – and Dave got a chance to stretch his neck and back (see him in the corner of the picture?!). While there we also decided if we should continue on – we could turn back and have completed a 3.6 mile hike or we could go the next .9 mile and get to the falls. John, understandably, was ready to turn back, Lucy wasn’t too sure but when Dave told her he’d carry her Jr. Ranger book and sweatshirt, she was up for the challenge. It was decided – and we set off.

This last third, overall, wasn’t as pretty as the previous scenery – for it passed through a burned area full of gray logs and patches of plant regrowth. It was also pretty windy and much more of a climb – but once again we weren’t disappointed once we reached the falls. The cool air rushing past cooled us off and as we drank water in the shade we watched the water cascading down a rock precipice. Before too long we headed back down – this time Sophie, Lucy and I led – hopping down the path like jackrabbits. Total time: 2 hours up, one hour, twenty minutes down. Well done kids, well done!

"I thought we were going on a hike!"

…so said John as we started a 3.4 mile trail hike (The Pool) in Estes Park. Apparently he is used to Grama and Papa’s house in Sedona where a hike means rock climbing. His disappointment in the dirt trail didn’t last too long; within a few minutes he was looking for flowers and pointing out every time we spotted the stream and little waterfalls along the way. It was the perfect hike for us to start out with – not too strenuous but long enough for the kids to get a feel for the climbing and the unevenness of the path.

John and I turned back before Dave and the girls (I say they only hiked ½ mile more than us, but Dave wholeheartedly disagrees with me – could this be that competition thing we were just discussing last weekend with friends?!?! But I digress…) and stopped along the way back to take off our socks and shoes and dip our feet into the stream. From other hikers we learned the water temperature is a cool 25 degrees but it felt wonderful on our hot little feet. We stayed on “our” rock for about 10 minutes, alternately splashing our faces, sunning ourselves and dipping our feet. As we put on our shoes and continued on, John said, “This is the best hike ever.” I think it definitely rates right up there John – definitely right up there.

(Sidenote: My foot is tired and sore, but less sore than it would have been pre-surgery – definitely worth it! Now tomorrow after we do a 5 mile hike, I might be singing a different tune; let’s hope not.)

Boat Running on Big Owl Road

One fascinating thing about life here on Big Owl Road is the little mountain stream that travels from the mountain to the front of the cabin, underneath it and continues on down. The kids spent most of the morning running the boats from the pond all the way down to a dam of sorts – where two logs have been strategically placed to stop them from traveling all the way downstream. As Dave, Don and I enjoyed our conversation and coffee on the back patio the kids ran back and forth, using their sticks to prod the boats along when they got stuck. I think they could have done this all day long, but alas, the hiking trails called. They’re in bed now, and I’m sure thinking up new ways to get their boats down the run faster than they did this morning – oh, the power and beauty of kids and nature.

Big Owl Road

Dave and I, being true flatlanders, forgot about the sun setting behind mountains and aimed our arrival here in Allenspark/Estes Park to be during daylight. But if we’ve learned anything this trip, it’s that the best laid plans go awry – so as we traveled a canyon road and the sun set in the mountains, we opened the sunroof and all enjoyed the view (as Sophie exclaimed: “The sky is purple and pink and yellow and blue and red…”). By the time we got to the mountain cabin (as John calls it), it was too dark to see anything. Our hosts, Don and Eunice, left a light on so we could see the warm interior of the cabin and hear the stream that runs around it, but other than that it was pitch dark.

I felt at home immediately upon arrival – it has the feel of our old cabin on Lake Eunice but with it are owls. If you’ve been a blog reader from the beginning you know how my mom used to collect owls – they were scattered all through our house in the form of figurines, ceramics, paintings and wood carvings. This cabin, if possible, has even more owls – from my perch (HA!) in the living room, I can look around and see ten. They’re all different – one is the bottom of a lamp, one is macramé, three are pencil drawings, and the rest are figurines. There’s even an owl toilet seat in the bathroom. It’ll be interesting to see if we hear as many outside tonight – so far no luck. But then again, we’re on Big Owl Road, there must be some reason for the name – we’ll keep our eyes open and our heads turning.

Editor's Note: The top photo is the daytime view from the front windows - Meeker Peak.

Mt. Rushmore

It’s hard to believe Dave and I are 40 years old and have lived in North Dakota for most of our lives but just visited Mt. Rushmore for the first time today. It was well worth the wait – and the excitement the kids felt at taking it all in was wonderful. On the way they all talked about their favorite president and we talked about why Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln were picked to be sculpted. John and Sophie’s favorite is Teddy Roosevelt (in large part because of the movie, Night at the Museum, but also because he had asthma as a child, just like John) and Lucy’s favorite is Lincoln – thanks to Mrs. Sherwood and her wonderful teaching. We bought a great book, Who Carved the Mountain? by a SD author Jean Patrick and picked up a DVD geared toward kids on national parks. They earned a Jr. Ranger badge by hugging a tree (ask Dave about that one!) and taking in lots of facts and trivia about Mt. Rushmore. Finally, we went on a hike before getting back into the car and heading off to Colorado. It was a great spot to visit – and very well done.

Editor’s Note: Apparently I have been to Mt. Rushmore – during one of our family trips when I was a kid. I don’t remember that trip though, unlike the trip to St. Louis where I put a lockhold on Dad’s neck and screamed the whole way up the St. Louis Arch.

Holed up in Hotel Spearfish

At 8 am this morning:
John: Mom, my tummy hurts.
Me: Do you have to go poop? Why don't you head to the bathroom?
John (as he heads to the bathroom): It really hurts.
He stops, coughs and BLACHHHHHHHHH!

Dave (yelling): Get to the bathroom John - go, Go, GO!
John (in the bathroom): Mom, my tummy really hurts.

So there it was, our second day of vacation and John and I spent most of the day here in the hotel room, using the Holiday Inn ice bucket for a throw up bucket. (Thank God for bucket liners - remember the days when they didn't have them and we'd scoop out the ice into our buckets and put the ice straight into our mouths? How gross!)

I stayed with sick boy and Dave took the girls to breakfast. Dave, always thinking, brought me coffee and some pancakes. I knew John was pretty sick when he came over for a bite of pancakes, looked at them, turned green and threw up again. As the day went on he got louder and louder during these episodes - what is it with kids and loud vomiting? Or maybe it's just our kids? I'm sure all the hotel neighbors were wondering what in the world was going on in our bathroom, but I give the kid credit - there were at least 10 bouts and only once did anything miss the bucket. I guess as parents we've done at least one thing right - taught our kids how to aim for the bucket.

In between bouts of vomiting, I got a lot of blogging done and Dave got some time with the girls on this Father's Day. They went for a scenic drive down Canyon Road and got to sit by some rapids. Even better, by 3 pm John was suddenly done with throwing up. I'm not sure if I should give the credit to a few sips of Pepsi (thanks for the tip Mom and Dad) or if the virus had just run its course. It just seems too coincidental for the Pepsi to have worked, but who knows... if Lucy happens to wake up vomiting tomorrow, I know the first thing I'll try.

P.S. Just so you're not freaked out about hotel room cleanliness, I told housekeeping about the virus and before we leave I'll leave a note telling them to sanitize the bucket.
P.S.S. When John missed it was on HIS mattress - not on any hotel property. (When we only get one hotel room during travels, we always have "car" pillows for the kids and a crib mattress. We then put the crib mattress on the floor where one of the kids sleeps on it. This trip, it's John's turn.)

Enchanted Highway Pics

I read about The Enchanted Highway in the North Dakota Horizons magazine a year or so ago. At the time, my thoughts were, "This would be a neat place to take the kids and see, but when will we ever get all the way over to Regent, ND?" So I was absolutely delighted when we came across the sign by chance and took our own journey on the enchanted highway. Enjoy the pics and if you ever are along I-94 by Dickinson, take a detour and enjoy.

Happy Father's Day Dad!

On our recent trip to Dad’s cabin I realized just how much I’m like Dad – there was the being able to fall asleep in two seconds flat, the love for our morning coffee (usually sitting on the deck soaking up our surroundings), the organization (as in the "cabin notebook"), the “do it now” instead of later personality, and the “Curious George” thinking as in always asking questions, whether they’re any of our business or not.

But instead of always being on the go, I like my downtime. That, too, I noticed at the cabin. Whereas I preferred to sit and read a book, Dad was always working on something. One night he yawned his way through supper and went to the loft for a quick nap – his snoring was heard within minutes. But as soon as he woke up (less than 30 minutes later), he was back at it – sanding away on the outside wall of the cabin and applying some kind of varnish to protect it from the elements.
Don’t get me wrong – Dad likes to relax too. But it isn’t the “go play a round of golf” or “head to Happy Hour with friends” type relaxing. It’s more the read a book, look at trade magazines, go out to the shop and fiddle around on a truck (note his "Still Plays with Trucks" sweatshirt), or play Solitaire on the computer. So, even there I guess Dad and I are alike – and that’s a wonderful thing for me. Happy Father’s Day Dad – I love you! Marci

To Dave

When I look at our three kids I often see glimpses of their cousins – Brooklyn in Sophie, Kylie and Ben in Lucy, and Gavin in John. But when I watch them, really watch them for any length of time, I see Dave and his “happy-go-lucky” attitude. Last night this was so very evident – there we were five hours into our roadtrip to Colorado and they were watching a movie. We made a sudden decision to detour on the Enchanted Highway and I told Sophie to pause the movie. They oohed and ahhed over the Geese in Flight sculpture right off I-94 but it was when we turned onto the two lane Enchanted Highway they really got excited – for there were curves and hills. All three of them, movie forgotten, arms raised and smiles galore giggled and laughed as we went up and down the hills. Dave and I, of course, joined in on the smiles.

The thing is, Dave had the whole drive planned – and the Enchanted Highway wasn’t part of it. We’d already left an hour later than planned and he was tired, but when I saw the sign I got all excited and asked just like a child, “Can we go? Can we go?” He gave a small sigh, turned off at the exit and said, “OK navigator, figure out how to get us to Highway 85.” And there we were – enjoying the wonderous metal sculptures set against a beautiful North Dakota prairie sky. Thanks Davey-baby – Happy Father’s Day!

I Hate Snakes

As a homeowner, I'm never surprised by what I might find - sometimes it's an old dishtowel stuffed in a wall to hold back a cold breeze while other times it might be a bra in the laundry chute. When we lived in Lakeville I investigated Dasher's barking and was shocked one rainy spring night to find a turtle standing almost upright against the sliding glass door - scratching and trying to get in. (I even videotaped it because I knew Dave, who was working the late shift at Applebees, would never believe me.)

The other night, (of course a dark and rainy one with Dave out of town) I looked through the window and saw it -a snake poised to strike, wrapped up in the vines and leaves that cover the chimney. My heart raced faster and faster and I peered closer and closer - knowing that at least there was glass in between us. And then I figured out - it wasn't a snake after all but a rather large vine twig that did, after all, have the appearance of a snake. Needless to say, I didn't videotape it for Dave, nor did I tell him. :)

Are you ever too old for a playdate?

What makes summer? My answer is cool treats and friends. We spent the late morning and early afternoon with a friend, Carrie, and her two daughters last week - the kids don't really know each other that well but as I told Lucy, she should feel a big connection with Carrie because when I was pregnant with her Carrie and I walked three miles almost every morning. The joke back then was that I couldn't walk straight; it was a good thing Carrie was quick on her feet because every few steps I weaved right toward her. Unfortunately with two kids at home and a husband that traveled quite a bit, we found it harder and harder to get together for our morning walks. Then as my life was settling down Carrie had Lydia and then Ella... and then they moved across town ( a whole 10 minutes away, but in Grand Forks that can seem like the other end of the earth).
So, it was a real treat to get together - Lucy and Lydia really hit if off after some initial shyness and even though Ella was quite quiet at first she warmed up to John. During snack he boasted to the other kids, "I heard Ella talk!" We even played outside in the warm drizzling rain for a bit. There's something heartwarming about sitting around with a good friend watching your kids become friends too - not much is better than that.

As we pulled out of the driveway, with Lydia, Ella and Carrie waving to us, Sophie asked, "When are you too old for playdates? I hope I'm never that old." I laughed and reassured her that one is never too old for playdates - as we get older we just call them by different names... coffee, dinner, golf, walk, etc...

Locks of Love

Sophie gave up her long hair today and we're sending off her ponytail to Locks of Love. She's different from a lot of kids as she just grew out her hair and then decided, upon Grandma's suggestion, to donate it to Locks of Love. After two years of fussing over brushing and snarls, I was only too happy with her decision - and it looks wonderful. Now we'll see more of her humid-weather curls and more of her sparkling eyes. Good job Sophie girl!

Papa's Cabin

Even though it was at least ten years between visits, the cabin still felt like home. Not the kind of home where there are smells and memories of childhood, but a home where you've seen someone's dream come true.
Dad first saw this beautiful, uninhabited lake and island (known to our family, friends and the pilots as Miller Lake) over 25 years ago; his good friend Terry (along with his youngest child Gretchen) happened upon it during an afternoon hike. My understanding is the group then camped out on the island for the next few years. It was Dad's dream to build a log cabin and this seemed like the place to do it. Even though the project was started 18 years ago and a few summers after that the cabin was "finished," there's always something to do - and Dad can never just sit still. He and Dave got the floating dock back in shape, repaired the second dock, and even built a boat ramp. For the cabin itself, Dad pulled out the sander one night after supper and took care of some worn spots with some sealer.


The inside of the cabin is just beautiful - most of the furniture including the kitchen cabinets, table and benches, bookshelf, coffee tables, and the four poster bed and its bedside tables were homemade. As you can see, from the pictures, one of Sophie's favorite places to read was perched on the ladder up to the loft where she, Lucy and Dad slept.

Last week during our visit a Game & Fish Warden and pilot dropped out of the sky for a surprise visit and Kurt, the warden, asked Dad if he'd ever built a log cabin before. Dad smiled his crooked smile, put his head down a bit and offered, "Well, haven't all little guys? I used to stack one Lincoln Log right up on top of another." Kurt, Hap (the pilot) and Dad all chuckled and Kurt said, "Well you did a mighty good job for your first one." We all agree.

Residue of the 1997 Flood

The kids and I spent most of yesterday cleaning out the basement - not regular organizational cleaning but the kind of "pick up an item, determine if it's salvagable and either toss or save it" type of cleaning. Yep, you guessed it, we had a wet basement and most of the carpet for the kids' toy room area got wet. Unfortunately we hadn't cleaned anything up before bedtime so there were papers and toys strewn about the entire carpeted area. I spent most of the afternoon hunched over the wet vac trying to suck up the water from the carpet, but by suppertime I realized I just wasn't making much progress. So after a phone call with Dave (he's in Alaska) I got out the utility knife and started cutting up the carpet and hauling it out to the garbage. (That's the first picture - the basement with 2/3 of the carpet gone and the 1911 concrete showing its age.)

Then I called Yvonne and Jim, some friends from church, and asked if they could use a dresser, nightstand, headboard and various other furniture items for the annual garage sale in a couple of weeks. Hence the second picture - some of the stuff heading to Holy Family's garage sale.

When a friend came over later I think she was surprised by the determination in which I decided to tear out the carpet and give away furniture. I was way too tired to articulate anything last night at 9:30, but here's what I came to during my sleep - it's all related to the 1997 flood. At that time we lived 1 1/2 blocks away in a wonderful house with a dry basement. When warnings of a flood came, we prepared for seepage and put everything (including two couches and the washer and dryer) up on 2x4's and moved things up off the ground. I distinctly remember taking my rollerblades off the floor of the closet and putting them up on the top shelf so they'd be safe (yeah right). In the meantime Dave and Dad spent their time building a ring dike around the house. Suddenly the Red River of the North crested eight feet above predictions, the basement completely filled with water, I hauled my 7 1/2 month pregnant self off to Mom and Dad's, and Dave stayed south of town so he could keep working.

Once the waters receded Dave had the job of pumping water out and hauling out every single thing from the basement and placing it on the berm for pick up at a much later date. Out went the couches, the coffee table, the fridge, the air conditioners, the washer and dryer, boxes and boxes of my second grade teaching supplies, and all our Christmas decorations. Then the basement was sanitized, we moved back in a month after the flood, electricity was then restored, I defended my dissertation and became Doctor, Sophie was born, the berm pile was hauled away, new grass was planted where all our belongings had sat, the Salvation Army finally stopped making meal deliveries in our neighborhood, and exactly five months after the flood we got heat back on for the first time. So, I guess you can blame the Flood of 97 for my distaste of wet basements and my willingness to get rid of belongings we no longer necessarily need or use. At least this time they don't need to go to a landfill - they'll help support our church, its mission and people in need.

What the laundry chute holds, one never knows...

After reading Rachel's blog, I decided to write my own laundry chute story. Two and half years ago we moved one block east and 1/2 block west to this house - our second house with a beloved laundry chute. Within a month, the inevitable happened and one of the kids put three too many sheets and blankets down the chute at one time. Armed with a broom, a long stick and a mop, three of us stood guard at the chute doors - Lucy on the second floor, me on the main floor and Sophie in the basement. The mass finally came down with a plop onto Sophie's head. As we were transferring everything into the washer Sophie told me there was a bra hanging from a wire in the chute. Indeed, upon further inspection, there most definitely was a bra. It proved much harder to get out but after standing on a stool with 3/4 of her body in the chute, Sophie managed to get it out.

Surprise, surprise - it wasn't mine. Still, soon enough, it went in the wash with the other delicates and the next time I saw Sarah (the previous owner) at a writing project meeting, I handed it back over to her, along with a few pieces of mail.