Last Christmas season, Dan and I established our first holiday tradition as newlyweds. We performed a random act of kindness, a service, or presented a gift on each of the first 25 days of December.
Category: blog Page 9 of 55
Dan and I had a recent conversation with one of our granddaughters who’s having a hard time at school. She moved to a new town after the school year started and a couple of the boys paid some attention to the ‘new girl’ … and now the popular girls don’t like her.
Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash
I opened the shades to discover a young buck lying under our mountain ash tree. He shouldn’t be so comfortable living in town where there are people and traffic.
But there he sits during this crazy busy holiday season—in no hurry to decorate anything, purchase anything, wrap anything, or be anywhere.
Dan hung floating shelves, and I collected photos, ordered prints, and spray-painted old frames. Our family photo wall with his/her kids and grandkids is well underway.
What I love most about her paintings is the whimsy, the playfulness. We commissioned our friend, Francie, to create a painting that would tell our love story, highlighting our first date—which really wasn’t a date.
Not too long ago, I ‘endured’ the tiniest little bump in the road, something not even worth mentioning.
OK, OK … if you must know, it was an inefficiently run meeting.
Much-needed rain is falling softly from the skies that hang low and gray. I’m sitting cross-legged in an over-stuffed chair near the fire and hugging a mug of Chai latte.
We’ve been gone from this oh-so-comfortable home these past two weeks. A road trip through Idaho to Utah, and then over Oregon’s Cascade Range to the Land of Grandkids.
Our dry creek was begging for a bridge. So Dan and I built a whimsical little structure out of scrap lumber, attaching the cross pieces at uneven angles. Just for the fun of it.
My friend, Sandy, with her gift for storytelling, is currently working on a documentary about my friend, Charity, titled “Reach for the Stars.”
Goosebumps are the first sign I’ve found a story I want to tell.
– Sandy Cummings
“Bend’s growing season begins June 30 and ends July 1,” the old farmer said with a twinkle in his eye, referring to our hometown. We were purchasing fruit at his Eastern Oregon orchard, and we laughed because it was close to the truth.
