After 6 states, 1 train ride and 0 elk, I’ve just calculated this little brown dog has spent about 1/4 of his life on the road. I would say I think he’s happy to be home, but this little guy is happy just about anywhere – just don’t leave him alone or else he howls like there’s no tomorrow.
Sean got skunked.
And so did Miss America. Ok, there was no actual skunk involved, but she came out smelling like a pile of stinky, rotten fish. It seems while Sean had his back turned, the little white dog just happened upon eagerly sought out with her pointy nose, a pile of smelly, dead fish left behind by some dufus fisherman lying on the shore. Not only did she seek it out, but apparently decided that she needed to roll around in it. I heard some muffled shouts from outside the camper and the next thing I know, we’re sacrificing our only towel to rid Clown Dog* of the war paint left behind by her “catch.” What a proud dog she was that day.
(*We’ve given her the affectionate nickname of Clown Dog any time she shows up in front of us with strange but colorful marks on her body. I, personally, like to call her Clownzer, for short)
We couldn’t even wait until we got him home. Within an hour of acquiring our new dog, we had him sudsed up, scrubbed down and smelling good for his future mate, Miss America. I’m glad this dog doesn’t have to go out into the real world to find his own mate, because I fear he might get teased because of his full name. Jillian suggested Mr. Ronald Reagan and I fell in love with it: Mr. Reagan and Miss America-brilliant! However, Sean was insistent on naming his dog, Captain something-or-other: “When I call them both back to me I’ll say “Captain America…Here!”” Oh, obviously. When I told Jillian his official name was Mr. Captain Ronald Reagan, she just about died of laughter and repeated it back to me in a questioning sort of manner. I’m pretty sure there were tears squeezed out of her eyes from laughing so hard. So, in order to not embarrass ourselves, or our dog too much, we officially dropped the, “Mr.” We call him Reagan around the house, so I’m sure there will be a bit of frustration when we take him in public and Sean is yelling out, “Captain America,” in his proudest voice only to find his dog running the other way.
Although, the trip to Whitney didn’t go like we originally planned, it was gorgeous, nonetheless. Perhaps, even more gorgeous than if we had tried to trek all the way to the top of the highest mountain in the continuous 48 states. America had the time of her life and we’ve calculated that she must have hiked at least 3 times the distance we did!
I’ll admit, it was quite a ways off the beaten path, but I just had to see this ghost town. It was like looking through a window back in time – and it was as if time had actually stopped.
I almost felt like an intruder. Not only peering through a window into the local church or the resident doctor’s house, but peering into the lives of an entire city. A city once booming, and now abandoned by its former inhabitants. A blue stove sits inside, begging to be dusted off and used while a barn, reflected in the glass, wonders why it is empty and has no visitors. Bodie may not be as glorious as it was in its heyday, but its charm has been well preserved.
I could live in Tahoe…
….ALL SUMMER LONG….
and then I would get cold.
It was rough, but somebody had to stay the night here!
Sean and I became the designated photographers of a concert held at St Paul’s Episcopal Church in Yuma, AZ back in May. It’s a place I had been to many times before and there were many familiar faces, but I was now viewing it from a new perspective; one with a greater appreciation. I was surprised at myself when the last piece of the concert moved me to tears. As the photographer, you are supposed to remain calm, cool and collected at all times….unless….you are the daughter of the man conducting the choir….and….this is the choir’s final performance under his direction before he retires….and….your mom is singing proudly up on the stage….and….your sister and her family are in the seats applauding with the rest of the crowd….and….your husband is by your side, able to capture any moments you might miss while you wipe away a tear or two from your face. The piece of music my dad is holding in his hand below, really sums it all up. Not just the concert, not just my dad’s career, but ultimately, what life is really all about: To Love Our God. It was so beautiful to hear voices ringing out in unison for one common purpose.
“Commissioned by the Federation of American Baptist Musicians in memory of esteemed publisher and friend, Don Hinshaw, this stirring anthem features an outstanding text by John Parker. The first section is from Ecclesiastes, and explores the transience and vanity of life as expressed by Solomon. Hayes has set this section in a lyrical, haunting minor mode that evokes a sense of longing and emptiness. As the phrase, “All is empty, all is vain” lingers in the air, the choir softly but confidently answers the question with “To love our God is the reason we live, to love our God – the highest call.”
I’ve included photos and a link below so you can listen to the song (sung by a different choir) to give you a glimpse of the sights and sounds that were present that night. There was an amazing gift given to my father that night, but I’m going to save that for another post.
Click here to take you to a page where you can listen to the song. You will need to click the link called, “sample audio” which will pop up a page where you can press play (the big arrow) to listen.