Category: adventure



My dad was a genius for homemade costumes, one year my brother was a robot, thanks to some boxes and foil wrap.

I stood out at a long ago Halloween party, done up in a brocade dress of my mothers, some of Gram’s costume jewelry and a cape. For a few hours I was an elegant queen of a far off land.

What could be simpler than a bag of groceries? Back when paper was not an option. a few clever cuts with scissors and some glue to attach empty packages.

I guess with five of us to costume it might have been as much necessity as anything, but we never felt ‘bad’ that we did not have Superman, Cinderella or a witch outfit from the store.

It was a tradition I carried on, an old graduation robe has stood several incarnations, a set of sweats with a bit of judicious trim was a Power Ranger, another with some fabric paint became an articulated skeleton and when the girls were small, every year a clown costume made of flannel also served as winter pajamas.

Life was easier, and far more practical.


Halloween, long ago.

The ‘pack’ of neighborhood kids, dressed in homemade costumes, parading down the streets.

Those kids, waiting for the homemade cookies, caramel apples, real apples, popcorn balls, an occasional candy bar or block of Double Bubble gum.

Laughter, skinned knees, carrying your fussy toddler sibling the last couple of blocks.

No vandals, no chunked pumpkins, no worries, no fears.

What happened?

Pvt. Cole


While we were away, camping at the Dorena-Hickman Ferry last week, we met a young couple.

I did not get their first names.

The ferry had closed for the evening, the young man walked in to our camp and asked us the best way to cross the river.

Pvt. Cole is stationed at Ft. Riley KS. and had a 5 day pass to go home to ‘near Bristol, TN’ for the weekend.

We thanked him for his service, gave them an extra map of Missouri and the best directions we could.

I hope they made it.

If anyone knows them, I would like to know they made it.


This morning, peaches were my goal.

Stopping in Ellsinore MO for breakfast at the Log Cabin Café, Hubby noticed a sign for “Fresh Produce” as we turned off the highway.

Breakfast over and with no specific destination, we followed the road about a mile to Weavers Greenhouse.

There we were greeted by a family of Mennonites who work the gardens, run the greenhouse and a pretty fine produce stand.

Some of the girls were hanging laundry, out, a barefoot boy or two headed to one of the gardens, hoes in hand.

Fresh produce! Oh my goodness! Tomatoes, cucumbers, beets, peppers, new potatoes, summer squash, and melons, in wooden slat baskets, and peaches! Colors, scents and textures to delight the senses.

A little girl, kapp askew, braid bouncing on her back, pale blue dress rumpled, ran down the path, “We are going ‘swinning’ this afternoon”, she announced with a grin, as she skipped to a stop near the door of the produce stand.

I have no photo, only the one painted in my mind of childish joy and carefree youth, what a lovely picture that is!