Dan and I enjoy a ‘dump date’ from time to time. We load up the small trailer hitched to the back of the Jeep, make Chai lattes, and sail away to the dump. It’s partly the idea of having the full attention of the one I love—seat-belted in, hollering over the noise of the ‘97 Wrangler with its top down, sipping Chai from thermoses.
Dan and I planted a little weeping blue spruce in our front yard two years ago. Some might say she looks a bit Dr. Seuss-ish, but I think she’s beautiful.
It was going to be a bit of a whirlwind trip. Over the snowy mountains for Thanksgiving dinner with my daughter, son-in-law, and their kiddos, including Shihoko, our Japanese exchange student from the 90s, and her family. A second Thanksgiving feast with Dan’s kids and grands and friends, and then overnight with Dan’s daughter and son-in-law.
I recorded some of the grace-filled Thanksgiving gifts of those hectic four days.
Photo by olga safronova on Unsplash
Dan and I recently stumbled into an unplanned micro-adventure (a micro-adventure defined as short, cheap, local, and low-tech). We zipped up armored jackets, strapped on helmets, and rode Dan’s motorcycle into the mountains on a blue-sky autumn day.
My heart is saddened by recent world events. And not just bombs and killing and war, but also ongoing poverty and deep hunger, injustices, the selling of humans into slavery, and homelessness right in our backyard.
And yet, can we risk delight? If so, how do we live in the tension of acknowledging what is broken around us, while also celebrating and appreciating what is good and fills us with joy?
Photo by Elisabeth Arnold on Unsplash
On a recent 7,800-mile road trip to Alaska that involved a horde of driving hours, Dan and I engaged in several conversations.
Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
Dan and I hiked up above the town of Seward and crossed a creek where pink salmon were fighting their way upstream. This isn’t the first Alaskan creek or river we’ve discovered with salmon finding their way back to the place of their birth.
Resting in the shallows
The first day of our planned trip to Alaska didn’t go as planned.
Road to Hyder, Alaska (photo: Marlys)
On the way to our mailbox down the street, I noticed a woman slowly rolling a large tire from her car to the side of her garage. My first thought was, “She shouldn’t be doing that. I’ll unload her tires for her.”
But then she fell and together we couldn’t get her up. So I called Dan who showed up just as a young couple from down the street happened by.
Photo by Alexas_Fotos on Unsplash
Copyright © 2024 Marlys Johnson
