Fishin'

So Pippi wanted to go fishing. First we procured a fishing pole just her size from the local sporting goods store. There were four different kinds of kids poles: Spiderman, Superman, Cars, Pirates of the Caribbean and Barbie. Only one choice for girls, but three choices for boys? Is this discrimination? Anyway, the Barbie pole was a clear winner.

We drove across town to a small old gravel pit that filled with water. It is now a nice park and is stocked with fish. After fishing at three or four places, we found a place where we could SEE the fish. We could see them looking at our bait. We could see them considering our bait. We could see them deciding not to take our bait. Sometimes I wonder if the scent of my laundry detergent repels fish or of it's personal.

Fortunately, I wore my old, lousy hiking shoes because I spent quite a bit of time wading in the water extricating Pippi's hook from submerged logs and twigs in the water. And I baited Pippi's hook . Before I knew it, she decided to bait her own hook. I found we have similar feelings about causing worms pain. Next time I am checking into another kind of bait. Pippi figured out how to cast in no time and has some amazingly far casts into the little lake. We saw big fish, little fish, medium sized fish, and a turtle. I wish Wilbur could have come because he always catches fish. All I can do is my best. It was fun watching them anyway.

After almost three hours, our expedition ended when Pippi fell in the lake. This she did not appreciate. All in all, it was a fun trip!

The Hike from Hell

I didn't think there was such a thing as a bad day hiking until Eloise's husband, whom I am tempted to refer to as Lucifer but instead will call Fred, wanted to change our hiking plans. Instead of going to a new trailhead I wanted to try out, he wanted to go to the ice cave. Eloise and I had accidentally discovered this "trail" a few years ago.

We made our discovery a few springs ago when we followed some cross country ski tracks into a gulch on our snowshoes. Even with two or three feet of snow, we still fell over deadfalls on the "trail." Then we stumbled on a few rock cairns and looked up to the head of the gulch into a frozen, blue waterfall. We tried this hike the following spring, but turned back because of a soaking rain and the over abundance of moose scat near the mouth of the gulch did not bode well for two unarmed women on a June hike.

Against my better judgement, I agreed to the change of plans. Our hike outlook barometer plummeted as I put on my hiking boots and my knee popped and became sore. Things really took a turn for the worse when we left the forest service trail. We walked over some deadfalls and then could hardly find our way into the gulch through the bank full creek, stinging nettle, and downed trees.

Trying to tune out my sore knee, I started up a slope steep enough to make me wonder what on earth I was thinking when I followed Fred up it. Then, I then had to slide on my rear DOWN the slope in hope the "trail" near the creek would be better going. Some maniacally optimistic person had placed cairns on the talus in the gulch which we took for trail markers.

From there, things got worse. The Marine boot camp obstacle course would look like a workout for sissies compared to the deadfall and rock going up this gulch. Every so often we had the bad judgment to be encouraged when we saw that some one had sawed through a deadfall here and there. To our dismay, these cut trees were followed by piles and piles of more downed trees.

To add bad attitude to worse attitude, I was dealing my carpal tunnel surgery aftermath. My hands were very sore. I couldn't use them to catch myself or to climb obstacles. And I had to be careful not to hurt them and break open the newly healed incisions. Then the June sun started to pound us and the mother nature stoked the furnace. Our aroma must have been magnificent because around noon the horseflies mistook us for sweaty pack animals and began biting us just as we stumbled on another patch of stinging nettle. And if that situation doesn't tell you how completely miserable it was, even my dog hated this hike.

Finally, an hour up the gulch, I said, "I am going back." Fred tried to talk me out of turning around, but reason suggested to me that another hour or two of hiking forward would make going back on the trail from hell an even longer process. The further we went, the more we had to go back through. I think there could be a repentance analogy here.

Thankfully, Hermione cheerfully accompanied me back through deadfall crawl, across moose meadows, and out to the trail where we experienced the only fortunate thing of the entire day: cell service. We called Wilbur to meet us at the trailhead. Whew. Next time I follow my original plan.

What's Happenin'

Eglantine wanted to know what's going on around here, with pictures. So:

It's as green as it ever gets. We had rain and snow the week of June 11th. Last week it warmed up.

The chokecherries are almost done blooming. They smell heavenly.


The creeks are running high. As my Dad would say, "The mighty Mo is mighty muddy."

We went on a hike to Crow Creek Falls on Friday and saw a beauty pageant along the way.

Fairy Slippers

Clematis was climbing all over the trees.

I have never seen so much water spilling over Crow Creek Falls. The ground was vibrating and shaking as we stood on the shore. Usually, the pool below the falls is still a few yards from the waterfall. Friday, the entire pools was boiling and churning.


Max had the good sense to stay out of the pool. He was leery of the water.

I sure wish I had remembered to wear make up. The two old old ladies make an excellent foil for the babe.



We found a mermaid near the pool. Have a good week!

Stacy's Garden

I have a planter in which I only plant pink and white flowers. Every summer as I plant my pink and white flowers, I remember Stacy. Pink was Stacy's favorite color. This year, Hermione helped me shop for flowers and planted them for me because my carpal tunnel surgery interfered.

I like to remember how five-year-old Stacy would say, "Grrrrrraaaaandma...." I can still hear her saying it. I remember three-day-old Stacy giving me a HUGE smile as her mother slept after being up all night. And I remember almost two year old Stacy, after I forgot to get milk at the store saying, "We have milk at MY house." While I don't think I ever hurt so much as when we lost her, knowing Stacy added so much to my life. I am grateful for her. And I am grateful we still have her as part of our family.

The Hat

Hermione brought Wilbur a sombrero back from Mexico. It's a pretty sought after item around here. This post is dedicated to the beginning readers in the family.

I have a hat. It is not flat.

I like to wear my big fat hat.

I wear it here. I wear it there.

I like to wear it everywhere

My hat is big. My hat is round.

I wear it when I plow the ground

My hat is grand. It has no smirch.
I wear it when I go to church.

I looked and looked for it one day.
Max had taken it away.

Give it back! It cannot stay!

Orville thought I wouldn’t care if he wore it as a spare.
But sometimes it is hard to share.

Hermione likes to shower with it. She should have known I’d have a fit.
Give me back my hat you nit!

Prairie thought she'd look divine.

She took my hat and spent some time.

Orville and Hermione fight.

To wear the hat they use their might.

Give me back my hat I say!

Now I must take it away!



I have a hat. It is not flat.
I like to wear my big fat hat

Men at Work

Bilateral carpal tunnel surgery has the men doing extra work around here. Wilbur and Orville have both been doing the cooking and dish washing. Some of specialties at Cafe de Wilbur and Orville are: Cattle Drive Chili, and Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. They are threatening pizza for Monday. My hiking partner Eloise happens to be a great cook. She brought in dinner on Friday, bless her. I have been told to use my hands as much as I feel comfortable using them, but to keep my bandages clean. That reminds me of a tune my Dad used to sing, "Yes you may go swimming, my dear. But don't go near the water...." Cooking, cleaning, and eating are not conducive to clean hands or bandages, but I am being as careful as I can.
I am supposed to keep my hands raised to reduce swelling. Something about raised hands brings out the cowboys and Indians mentality in men.

Orville shopped for and wrapped the wedding present for Jill Alsbury's wedding reception. He even remembered to buy a card. I would have never thought of purchasing a surge protector and a small weather station as a wedding present. At least Jill and spouse shouldn't have duplicates on those gifts. Ever mindul of my reputation, Orville added the following disclaimer to the card, "present wrapped by Orville."

Hostages

Memorial Day weekend Wilbur and Jose took Sophia and I hostage. After a 2.5 hour trip, they held us captive at East Fork Reservoir near Phillipsburg.

These were the conditions at the reservoir (6100 elevation) and at other locations nearby. These conditions were why Wilbur and Jose had to take Sophia and I hostage in order for us to come. Only a person a half a bubble out of level would willingly go camping in the snow!!! (Jose and Wilbur, this means YOU.)

Thank heaven the snow melted off later, the weather cleared, and the fish started biting.


Wilbur caught breakfast: two large rainbow trout. Finally, we were able to enjoy the spectacular view of the Pintlars that provide the backdrop for Wilbur's catch.

Jose had some bites, but threw his fish back. Jose has a personal vendetta against a fish called Walter that resides in the reservoir. According to Jose, Walter's dimensions are similar to the Loch Ness Monster. For him, it's Walter or nothing.



When they weren't blasting through snow drifts on their fourwheelers or terrorizing Wilbur and his relatives, Wilbur and Jose found time for a game of horseshoes.
Saturday afternoon, the rain invaded our camp and kept us all in side until the next morning. We had time for talk and a movie.

Sunday, all four of us drove across Skalkaho Pass. We saw magnificent scenery such as four feet of snow on the pass, Skalkaho Falls, and swollen creeks. Looping back toward camp on Rock Creek Road, we saw: a herd of 15 or so mountain goats, two bald eagles, a cow moose who stood by the rode and posed for about ten minutes, wild turkeys who also posed (one of which fully displayed in tail plumage for several minutes). And guess who didn't bring her camera. Yep. Me.

This trip highlighted the fact that Wilbur and Jose patronize the same fashion designer. I have it on good authority that this outfit, modeled by both Wilbur and Jose, made its fashion debut in Paris this spring. In an effort to cover his chagrine about wearing the same outfit as Wilbur, Jose tries to disgues himself as en elk. We stopped him and lured him back to his fourwheeler with cookies before he disappeared into the forest.

And so ends another fun weekend. Sorry there were no pictures of me as Eglantine requested. I told Wilbur to take one, but it was not on the camera when I downloaded. Hopefully, the old joke about breaking the camera isn't true.....

Scary Things

Here are some scary things that have happened to me and other things that scare me:

1) While fishing with my Dad and brother, I was left by alone by the waters of Trout Creek to dry after I fell into the creek. My Dad went down stream to fish, my brother went upstream to fish. A rattlesnake made its den under the Boulder where I was drying off. It came out and circled the rock, rattling at me.

2) Being chased into the trees by a bull when hiking.

3) Being stranded in hip deep snow. Gail and I were mislead by a sign when cross country skiing. After skiing for nine hours or so, I was so exhausted we had to stop. It was dark, and we were wet and cold. We didn't know if we could get out alive until we got a fire started.

4) Four Wheeling trails that tilt to left or right side and drop steeply down a boulder filled slope. Sorry Wilbur, but I am not an engine kind of person and can't figure out when the darn thing will tip over and when I'm O.K.

5) Hospitals. For any reason.

6) As a kid, needing to call my parents to come and pick me up from the Marlowe Theater and having the pay phone eat my dime.

7) Seeing the bone in my knee cap after I skinned my knee badly while riding a bike.

8) Having two guys try to separate me from the people I was with while shopping in Tiajuana.

9) Having my brother who was nine years older than me scream like a maniac when my mother told him to get up in the morning. And then having Mom tell me to go upstairs and wake him up.

10) Having the car slide backwards down an icy slope when I was pregnant with Orville.

Twice

Measure twice, cut once.
Think twice, speak once.

They Call It Boulder for a Reason

Last weekend we went camping near Boulder. Up in the mountains near the town, we found piles of huge, smooth, granite boulders everywhere. Now we know why they call it Boulder. While four wheeling, we also stumbled upon the aliens from the planet Xartac as you see in the above picture.

We made the discovery that cow manure, while associated with green house gases, can have some positive effects on planet earth.

Wilbur and José participated in ancient rituals, including trial by fire. Whenever we light a fire, we remember Boris, the Warlock, and Flash. Those guys know how to enjoy a fire!

This is Sophia, José's wife. She is every hunter's dream wife because she is blessed with binocular eyes. Before anyone else could see them, Sophia spotted six bull elk grazing in a field. They were so beautiful to watch running, jumping a fence, and disappearing into the trees a few miles away. One of the elk still had his rack.

José educated us on the scientific principles of fire. Scientists insist that fire is invisible; we are just observing burning gases. We cooked hot dogs and cake batter with fruit over the burning gases and the invisible fire. Then we made our hot dogs and cake invisible. We are talented.

This is our boulderish campsite.

This is a picture of José preparing his discourse on fire. The slide presentation came later in the afternoon.

Wilbur works hard and plays hard.

Some of the roughest riding of our trip happens when Wilbur unloads the four wheelers. We had a fun weekend!

Accident at 629 3rd

When I was a really little kid, I remember seeing red scars all over my Dad's hands. My Mom and Dad told me the scars were from a fire in the basement. After my Dad died I found the above newspaper article among a collection of articles my Grandmother had cut out of the newspaper.
My Mom told the story of visiting my Dad at the hospital the day he was burned. She was understandably distraught. To add insult to injury, she slid in the snow backwards down a little ways down the hill at Rodney and Broadway. (She was coming from the old St. Johns Hospital.) A cop (I won't give him the dignity of being called a police officer) gave her a ticket. When she appeared before the Judge and explained the circumstances, the judge said, "Did so and so write you that ticket? (the name was Andersen or something like that) ." Well the judge's guess was right. When he learned the cop's name he threw the ticket out. The cop had a reputation with that judge. Mom and Dad were strapped for cash, so the dismissal of the ticket meant a lot to them.

Harbinger of Spring

Yesterday a storm moved in bringing 5 inches of snow. The temperature dipped in 8 degrees when we woke up this morning. Ahhhh. Springtime in the Rockies.

To warm things up, last night we went to a play the youth put on at church called "Lehi's Dream or Coming to Christ." There was singing, props, and five scenes. Ruth Marie Reid wrote it. It was excellent. Briggs Alsbury was Lehi.

Invisible Fence: Solution to the Deer Problem

Last week I whined numerous times about the deer eating all my tulips before they had a chance to grow more than an inch above ground level. Suffering in silence has never been one of my besetting sins. Saturday morning Wilbur awoke with the solution to our deer problem: the invisible fence.

You know the invisible fence. You string a wire around your yard. Put a shock collar on your dog. Turn some switch and your dog gets zapped if he crosses the wire and leaves your yard.

Well, Wilbur's idea is that we put the zapper wire all around our yard, put shock collars on all the deer, and they get zapped if they come INTO our yard. I am still trying to regain my composure after my giggling fit. In my imagination, I can see us roping deer, wrestling them to the ground and fitting them with shock collars. Although, I can't help but feel some satisfaction at the mental picture of a deer getting zapped as it makes a beeline for my tulip bed. Revenge is sweet, even if it is only in my imagination.

Boats

Since I am supposedly related to Thomas S. Monson and he referred to a Miller ancestor on the that line I am supposed to be related, today I began thinking about my grandfather and boats. My grandfather left Scotland and crossed the Atlantic Ocean when he was six to come to Utah. That boat trip changed life for generations of people. I am so glad he made it. I will post an account of it today also.

But the boat trips I enjoy thinking about the most took place mostly on Hauser Lake in the 1980s and early 1990’s. As a young family, there was never much money for vacations, even if we could have tolerated the stress of one with five children close in age. In 1988 or so, Preston and I somehow scraped together about 3000 to get a 1968 Starcraft inboard/outboard. Purpose: family fun. And it was fun!

The maiden voyage for our boat was to Cemetery Island to visit our ancestor’s graves on Memorial Day. It was COLD. I remember looking enviously at other boaters who had tops on their boats. We picked wild flowers and used them as Memorial Day decorations for the graves of Emelyn Owens Byrd, Rose Robertson, Clara Bompart, and Joseph Byrd. I’ve always thought they must have been pleased to be remembered with silky crazy weed and the other flowers we left.

The fun didn’t end there, though. We invested in a boogie board and water skis and headed to Hauser Lake later in the summer. We would launch the boat and head to a rope swing in a little cove. We walked around the cove and climbed a short ways up the rough, shaley mountainside. We grabbed the swing, pushed off and swung over the lake and dropped eight feet into the water. Whew! Adrelalin rushed as we fell deep into the water.

Before long, the kids were trying out the boogie board. Maren caught on very quickly. Julie was younger, so she spent a lot of time tipping over while taking off. Before long, both girls were skimming down the lake behind the boat, pony tails flying horizontally behind them. I wish I had a picture of that!
Lisa, Kristy, and Evan were too young for water skis or boogie boards, but they loved riding and driving the boat. Evan maintained he was captain of that boat.

Before the boat, I habitually felt exhausted by evening in the summer. After we bought the boat, I realized I was too hot in the summer in my Levis. After cooling off during an evening out on the lake, I would feel refreshed, even though we came home at 10:00 p.m.

I suppose we should feel guilty for having lake nights quite often on Monday. Spiritual lessons were not included, or even though of. Frankly I can’t think of any FHEs I enjoyed more. We would wait for Preston to get home from work, 10 gallon water cooler ready and often a chicken dinner and paper plates in a brown paper sack. Bathing suits under our shorts, we were off!

Some hot summer days, I long for a boat again, especially when the kids and grandkids visit. I better hurry and write my best seller, so we can buy one. I suppose a financial analyst would say that we were not responsible and the 3000 smackeroos would have been more beneficially used by investing in an IRA. You will never convince me of that, though.

John W, MIller, Part I

[John W. Miller front row, center]

My husband, John W. Miller as told by Annie Margaret Hansen Robertson
John W. Miller was born in Scotland September 25, 1864. He was his mother’s eleventh child. He had two brothers and nine sisters. His father, John Miller was a coal miner by trade. His mother did sewing to help out. They left Scotland and came to America when he was six years old. He spent his sixth birthday on the ocean. He said all he could remember about the voyage was the whale spouts.
Then landed in Salt Lake City in October, went to Spanish Fork where his mother’s sister and brother lived. Later went to live in Salt Lake City. They lived in what was called Rock Row. It was a row of houses all made of rock. While there, his father died of hemorrhage of the lungs. After he died, his [John W.’s] mother and one sister moved him to Lakeview, Tooele County, where his sister Agnes and family lived. They lived there until they got a home of their own.
His mother being a widow, she used to go out nursing the sick. Then, she was set apart to do obstetrics work or mid-wife they used to call it. She did that for twenty years and never lost one case of either mother or child.
There was an epidemic of diphtheria. She took care of all the children in all the ward, some of them died. But John did not take it. He was blessed with good health and helped her all he could.
When only eleven years old, he carried adobe to make brick and earned his first five dollar greenback. Held it in his hand in his pocket and ran six miles to his mother to give it to her. When he gave it to her, it was wrinkled and wet with perspiration and looked a mess all wrinkled up, but he was so proud he had earned it the hard way.
When he was only twelve he worked for a man by the name of Henry Harris. Did all kinds of farm work and worked up in the hills. Helped get logs out for the first railroad. They cut them in lengths and hued them until they were square to lay the rails on and helped get out logs for the saw mill. He earned enough lumber to help build his mother a home. All the men in the ward helped him to build it. They lined it will adobe…two rooms and a lean-to for a kitchen.