tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55691277261209049182024-03-05T05:11:50.633-08:00Cowboy BobCowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-46776951613192523002010-12-13T06:26:00.000-08:002012-03-14T08:07:28.667-07:00And the winner is.....<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWR9nEzGs95KWzizRKKOnCEPnV1crSfFhMxMYsa-RK_sMmMSbOZLbbHYvUMsGcPomk8QswMS5qb23zOqYOdxsXVwGikbq-eLSKK7zC3eHSSZ2Mo5Y5uDzRqqoeJtOT2LSo5DI2boWlJXs/s1600/Copy56%2525.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550175723113838866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWR9nEzGs95KWzizRKKOnCEPnV1crSfFhMxMYsa-RK_sMmMSbOZLbbHYvUMsGcPomk8QswMS5qb23zOqYOdxsXVwGikbq-eLSKK7zC3eHSSZ2Mo5Y5uDzRqqoeJtOT2LSo5DI2boWlJXs/s400/Copy56%2525.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<i>The Artist's Magazine</i> 2010 Student Competition<br />
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1st Place, Landscape/Interior</div>
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This is the write up in the magazine:</div>
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A simple watercolor landscape painted while entertaining his grandkids was the start of Robert L. Nelson's art journey. To his surprise, his daughter framed and hung the piece on the wall. After that, he began painting lessons, only to suffer a heart attack a few months later. "Feeling very mortal", this 67 year old teacher of hearing impaired children now takes lessons and workshops to learn everything he can.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The impetus for the painting, <i>Imperial Point, Grand Canyon</i> was a rare scene he and his wife, Judy, witnessed--the Grand Canyon from the north to the south rim during a soft rain--which Judy captured with her camera. Nelson wanted to render both the atmospheric perspective and the foreground detail. " The biggest surprise in painting the scene was the resulting drama in the clouds," he says, "and I'm pleased with the effect of the fog over vegetation and land forms." Nelson describes his quest to keep improving. "There's so much more to painting than the mechanic of putting pigment on canvas."</div>
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Here is the link to the progression of the<a href="http://robertnelsonart.blogspot.com/p/north-rim-rain-grand-canyon.html"> painting on my art blog:</a></div>
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I do have a few of the limited edition giclee' prints available. Contact me for prices.</div>
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<br /></div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-62448097058110380402010-07-18T18:35:00.000-07:002010-12-27T03:55:41.688-08:00The Metaphor of the Grazing Horse, or How to Get What You Want<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPGz8xhvrlt8qvkspLaS7jcqweGeqemMv62uQk6PaZ55zyIwG0IBkjN-xCxEoTmpexjsiqly39_5TBU6zeaM7NlP8ybEEybBPjzhqmbXkMB6ZmtJnXc8vWdme6INXn3dYJjZkTIeyYN2g/s1600/june+(225).jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495425992711369618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPGz8xhvrlt8qvkspLaS7jcqweGeqemMv62uQk6PaZ55zyIwG0IBkjN-xCxEoTmpexjsiqly39_5TBU6zeaM7NlP8ybEEybBPjzhqmbXkMB6ZmtJnXc8vWdme6INXn3dYJjZkTIeyYN2g/s400/june+(225).jpg" /></a><br /> One hot afternoon, while wearing his halter with the lead line still attached, my horse was grazing. He handled the loose line carefully. Most of the time keeping it out of the way, or carefully stepping over it. But all that grass was distracting, and he stepped on the line with his hind foot. At that point he decided to try another patch of grass and started walking away. The rope tightened against his nose because his weight on it wouldn't let the line drag. He didn't panic, fight, or become upset in any way. He just kept quietly walking. And bent his neck and head around to the side to accommodate the line's restriction. Three steps he took. Then, in the normal course of the walk, his hind foot came up, releasing the rope. He carefully pulled the line aside and made it to his new spot as though nothing had happened. Life is like that. Sometimes we find ourselves with restrictions or obstacles when we least expect it. Like my horse did. We could get mad. Or let our feelings become hurt. We could fight. Usually, little is gained that way. Or, like him, if we are willing to be a little flexible we can reach our goal without even slowing down.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTB3CxzJNOckWOc8D3UjW1yKSSgwcAf_Bi3EPrX75p0UoNnDgv24IvCTQqqj0gEAnBMFe1n3SVlE63sppdYtp82cm-rqFuxrd_jpqbSVXZspyiY3D15JtwjyK5RiijX7yiTl0OvdmEafc/s1600/DSCN5911.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495425417540852290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTB3CxzJNOckWOc8D3UjW1yKSSgwcAf_Bi3EPrX75p0UoNnDgv24IvCTQqqj0gEAnBMFe1n3SVlE63sppdYtp82cm-rqFuxrd_jpqbSVXZspyiY3D15JtwjyK5RiijX7yiTl0OvdmEafc/s400/DSCN5911.JPG" /></a><br /> Then, a short time later, he was again distracted by the tempting grasses, but this time stepped on the lead line with his fore hoof right up near his nose. He continued eating all he could reach, and again did not panic or fight. When he had finished all nearby grass, he simple changed his stance. And he was free again without restriction. No fuss, no pain. Life is like that. Sometimes we get bound up tight by people or events around us. All we have to do is change our stance. When we are willing to change the way we stand on issues and problems in life, change the way we look at things, sometimes the grasses (rewards and solutions) become much more plentiful.<br /><div></div></div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-48068994056961419052010-07-08T18:24:00.000-07:002010-07-08T20:29:24.709-07:00A New Experience<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVWWhj_a8Mq8zihgaOLzXUa3oAkbVEZrkJ7GC5jHGeQwPM2X_t2rKa3Rc5859HML2Di_n6mjBg9cvmruMz0jcEseT54LZRmKalSGieAe47OSCuHDlD_mkHjtrcmq9pCfEuvpFap4292U/s1600/DSCN2535.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491712018541366034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVWWhj_a8Mq8zihgaOLzXUa3oAkbVEZrkJ7GC5jHGeQwPM2X_t2rKa3Rc5859HML2Di_n6mjBg9cvmruMz0jcEseT54LZRmKalSGieAe47OSCuHDlD_mkHjtrcmq9pCfEuvpFap4292U/s400/DSCN2535.JPG" /></a><br /><div>I had an opportunity to take a workshop on portrait painting. If you are interested in seeing the progress through the week's work, go to my Art blog...link is at the right.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-51592192184586326312010-05-26T19:31:00.000-07:002010-05-26T19:52:55.498-07:00I work best supervising others . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhnOn0N4FkLWOVEiW8cFMaHIrUEunqqp3c4e_sf2GXqcFBOM11XhcBaUQtd7QpSnZqlX0jPpZHXtbAqqBsJxL98vtMeSp8AHuPhueXupDDoWl5bMznKriaKxq0CXXzVNsvUyCqzpWzBs/s1600/DSCN1947.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475772483998482946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhnOn0N4FkLWOVEiW8cFMaHIrUEunqqp3c4e_sf2GXqcFBOM11XhcBaUQtd7QpSnZqlX0jPpZHXtbAqqBsJxL98vtMeSp8AHuPhueXupDDoWl5bMznKriaKxq0CXXzVNsvUyCqzpWzBs/s320/DSCN1947.JPG" /></a> Monday, late afternoon, Judy discovered the sewer backing up into our basement. Called a plumber, who after 5 p.m. is very expensive. He looked at things and said it is not a plumbing problem but a sewer line problem. We called Roto Rooter. They actually came about 8 p.m. He was able to get our line open again, but couldn't get his snake beyond about 184' and our line is closer to 300' across two neighbors' yards. We dug out a second closer clean-out valve (see picture above) Tuesday, and he returned today with a snaking camera to find out what was wrong inside the line. We found the line has been crushed and only about 2" of space was letting water through. We are going to have to dig down about 5' in one of the neighbor's yards to repair the line, maybe taking out some sidewalk or street to do so. I am expecting a 2-3 thousand dollar expense out of this.<br />It is good I have a job. This is how you win friends and influence neighbors.<br /><div></div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-41476557678276759052010-05-26T05:10:00.000-07:002010-05-26T05:18:14.742-07:00Then Katie observed. . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQdcaMQjzVHyFKHnGZsGNaFbn0vLjo-lN5fPvB2bnbkWVWz4Gu5O97ukdEi2CFL2OFmSN0jRGljI8hehZ3pq29A-5YeV_osV1mYQFLpXBikhyoeulQFAHeUPdhGw9qArK8L6PU3cCjBI/s1600/bob+portrait.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 221px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475551578306926514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQdcaMQjzVHyFKHnGZsGNaFbn0vLjo-lN5fPvB2bnbkWVWz4Gu5O97ukdEi2CFL2OFmSN0jRGljI8hehZ3pq29A-5YeV_osV1mYQFLpXBikhyoeulQFAHeUPdhGw9qArK8L6PU3cCjBI/s320/bob+portrait.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Katie watched me as I placed out the materials for our next lesson, chin cupped in her hand, elbow on the table. Then she asked, "Why is your ear growing a beard?"</div><div> </div><div>Ohhh, the changes time has wrought.</div><br /><div></div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-81755985767555931622010-05-10T04:46:00.000-07:002010-05-10T05:00:01.926-07:00Katie came in . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyrh5XOZRo90BAG1ELD4KRiXURMu-3eZQ4AYdx-CpyCCU_iFTphQX8XngePAGC42KvUFHPgm5zJiqt1ddm68qjylkzF0YJYmE1G-LNk2EdrXGA4SL4O9edNAvuPj1OsheTX-efKgv7dA/s1600/DSCN1488.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469609664975800098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyrh5XOZRo90BAG1ELD4KRiXURMu-3eZQ4AYdx-CpyCCU_iFTphQX8XngePAGC42KvUFHPgm5zJiqt1ddm68qjylkzF0YJYmE1G-LNk2EdrXGA4SL4O9edNAvuPj1OsheTX-efKgv7dA/s320/DSCN1488.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Katie came in from recess, just a rubbing her nose tip in circles with her palm very vigorously.</div><br /><div>"What's the matter, Katie? Do you have hayfever?" I asked.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>"No. Just a big booger in my nose that won't come out. And I tried to sneeze, and sneeze, and everything, but it still won't come out," Katie replied. "Like this . . . " And here she demonstrated the ol' farmer's handkerchief trick of blowing one's nose with the thumb and index finger, the hand upside down, with the palm facing forward, and leaning over.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>"Well, there is a tissue in the box in the corner if you want to try one," I said.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>"Okay." Taking a tissue, she held it up with two hands to her nose and blew. Then held it down and inspected the contents curously.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Her face just lit up with joy! "I guess I just needed more pressure," she exclaimed!</div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-76618941215295064722010-04-27T17:24:00.000-07:002010-04-27T17:33:08.722-07:00And then Katie said . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BLwurp42ubhDoh2U4BbXw_z6ya7zorOknoS6FjusGP2fNDRXnLtXne8bW1HyJG7SJgPQxxM3LzuxR086N4hTB635zPvh-6ohaklEYBV39FqBY0TywUNBPQlpQblzjHqRAqI6AiAUk7w/s1600/fair+003.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464979497662502050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BLwurp42ubhDoh2U4BbXw_z6ya7zorOknoS6FjusGP2fNDRXnLtXne8bW1HyJG7SJgPQxxM3LzuxR086N4hTB635zPvh-6ohaklEYBV39FqBY0TywUNBPQlpQblzjHqRAqI6AiAUk7w/s320/fair+003.jpg" /></a><br /><div>When I am happy, it is sunny.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When I am sad, it rains.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When I am shy, it snows.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When I am mad, it is stormy.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>(She paused and thought, then said . . .)</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I guess I can change the weather.</div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-32803547612261433922010-04-27T02:29:00.001-07:002010-04-27T02:37:22.349-07:00More Katie<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhhyLG6CGKaoX29iRDPJ5MutODM1YDhQPmtrrj022HkLhbKKMfyd6CrIdjcgwwl7UR2Z38V_hDOLzmo-DuNzk5RywcHiYGdmKOsHdvlo3Oc-xfgpXjE4HUw5L9KE8FzkKA0DODxPkdxc/s1600/single+colombine.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464748799960469346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhhyLG6CGKaoX29iRDPJ5MutODM1YDhQPmtrrj022HkLhbKKMfyd6CrIdjcgwwl7UR2Z38V_hDOLzmo-DuNzk5RywcHiYGdmKOsHdvlo3Oc-xfgpXjE4HUw5L9KE8FzkKA0DODxPkdxc/s320/single+colombine.jpg" /></a><br /><div>While working on more vocabulary, the word "size" came up. Checking her understanding of it, I asked, "Katie, do you know what size you are?"</div><br /><div>"Yea, I'm a small, sometimes a medium."</div><br /><div>Then after surveying my gut for awhile, she said, "But you have to be a large."</div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-12270684590853855092010-04-17T19:46:00.000-07:002010-04-17T20:14:37.060-07:00Meanderings<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33Zh_eTLCJiu-I0gSezqwczsNGUTsGDlKAlO8_6mfd7MzEM2EfBejjK0JelFu-8TuYCSJJGvGakd-vqSOSlCSVtdsQH-RXbkY9XAn-6nDmqPES3t_ov-TxuV-ELVM852B8xujSDmdltM/s1600/3265261.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461310009023135938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33Zh_eTLCJiu-I0gSezqwczsNGUTsGDlKAlO8_6mfd7MzEM2EfBejjK0JelFu-8TuYCSJJGvGakd-vqSOSlCSVtdsQH-RXbkY9XAn-6nDmqPES3t_ov-TxuV-ELVM852B8xujSDmdltM/s320/3265261.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Old age brings interesting changes. Inability to sleep is one. My body hurts (fibromialgia) and I'm tired from 6 high stress weeks at school. But unable to sleep even with a sleeping pill, I got up and participated in the sacred routine of dunking cookies. It is a ritual. In this case lemon iced cookies in chocolate milk. Raised in the Great Depression, my dad used bread and milk. Principle is the same: mediation. </div><br /><div>Question arose in my mind regarding the purpose of life. It has been said we are here to be tested. With decades of testing under my belt, both administrating and receiving, my conclusion is that testing is one the shallowist means of measureing an individual possible. Surely our God can do better than that. If our eternal happiness and progression is based on passing a test, then our God is not a very effective leader and teacher. Reasons of this conclusion are many, if any care to ask. </div><br /><div>What is the nature of life's so-called test: pass/fail? Many frightening people cling tenaciously o that one. That is popular right now. How about multiple choice? A segment of society find that apalling, as they should. An essay, written by our lifes? Better, but some of us are not good writers. Multiple choiec? Many curdle at that thought as being too ambiguous. So the question becomes even more what kind of test, if we have any hopes of passing it. The older I get, the more I doubt passing a test is the primary purpose of life.</div><br /><div>Though I may present few answers, I hope to present some thought proking questions to those who are mature enought not to be frightened by searching queries. I do have a testimony, but that will be shared after the questions to follow.</div><br /><div>Good night for now. </div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-53315782412979270882010-04-13T15:51:00.000-07:002010-04-13T16:03:02.304-07:00A Frightening Thought . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY019jk8Yp02AcXlDrXTPPK5Xeb3OUzwvLxZG0rlQn_goZtqp6nffNOczxr2IDAkfG8-fQlupJf1TrwZUEI6wyhzDMN8nVBEx5z4Tm3UDOJkxtvdjQUj-kYo83hKXeRsEQafg9lSW2u4Q/s1600/easter+004+edit.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459759208778211938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY019jk8Yp02AcXlDrXTPPK5Xeb3OUzwvLxZG0rlQn_goZtqp6nffNOczxr2IDAkfG8-fQlupJf1TrwZUEI6wyhzDMN8nVBEx5z4Tm3UDOJkxtvdjQUj-kYo83hKXeRsEQafg9lSW2u4Q/s320/easter+004+edit.jpg" /></a> Although spring around here can be cold and dark, the bright spirit and thoughts of young students can be refreshing:<br />We were reviewing a vocabulary list and the word was 'drive'.<br />"Katie, do you know how to drive a car?" I asked.<br />(Katie is a ten year old deaf girl I tutor.)<br />"Not really", she wistfully replied. "Just a toy car on the sidewalk and grass and stuff."<br />I replied, "Well, when you are sixteen you will learn to drive an adult car." I paused. Then said, "That is a frightening thought, isn't it?"<br />Katie thought it over a minute, then said, "You don't have to be afraid, Mr. Nelson, 'cuz you'll be dead."CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-82007915061803984912009-11-27T11:39:00.000-08:002009-11-27T12:03:35.289-08:00One Little Girl's Thankful List<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XRLCBxhQWvXsGNNKGO0PRvN2oOVsYmYKcwrg86mSJ9EbOeSli0HQmljdZaq3S-sOlrRRYl1j3OiEWr5kDMdzUAkh9UOcMFBgQTf40iM2yj99qVTXOX39gzHfn6dLz6yOOPKmDJIsuF0/s1600/nf-0829.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408871466729868882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XRLCBxhQWvXsGNNKGO0PRvN2oOVsYmYKcwrg86mSJ9EbOeSli0HQmljdZaq3S-sOlrRRYl1j3OiEWr5kDMdzUAkh9UOcMFBgQTf40iM2yj99qVTXOX39gzHfn6dLz6yOOPKmDJIsuF0/s320/nf-0829.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">One of the little girls I teach is a nine year old profoundly deaf child, for whom language and speech are difficult. I gave her the sentence, "I am thankful for . . . . . ", hoping for 2 or 3 responses to complete it. Instead, this is the list she gave me:</div><ul><li><div align="left">everybody</div></li><li><div align="left">life</div></li><li><div align="left">home</div></li><li><div align="left">school</div></li><li><div align="left">family</div></li><li><div align="left">all my friends (followed by a smiley face)</div></li><li><div align="left">foods</div></li><li><div align="left">bed</div></li><li><div align="left">teachers</div></li><li><div align="left">my backyard</div></li><li><div align="left">my peach tree</div></li><li><div align="left">computers</div></li><li><div align="left">tickles</div></li><li><div align="left">seasons</div></li><li><div align="left">books</div></li><li><div align="left">my birthday</div></li><li><div align="left">the day</div></li><li><div align="left">clothes</div></li><li><div align="left">TV</div></li><li><div align="left">video games</div></li><li><div align="left">a rainbow</div></li><li><div align="left">colors</div></li><li><div align="left">chairs</div></li><li><div align="left">tables</div></li><li><div align="left">singing (remember, she is deaf but has a cochlear implant)</div></li><li><div align="left">balloons</div></li><li><div align="left">my bike</div></li><li><div align="left">camping (she has never been camping, yet)</div></li></ul><p align="center">Now that the rush of preparation for Thanksgiving is over, I thought it might be good, to ponder and consider for what I am thankful. I am thankful for this student. Her simplicity; her dreams and experiences listed above seem so refreshingly profound to me.</p>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-69650648072170585542009-09-03T16:16:00.000-07:002009-09-03T16:58:00.113-07:00The Metaphor of the Moose<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh59RMEcF6WNJBVv05c85TadIoril9v0iSjCDGx0j5IRuLAsLs1zr4grPF94vbdoPjMird-O7Zv5XFfQNOr0OjZG3BtTFgRliDNTf3pgbUsGpychm0C83h68VuClEUxWQNZtRafN7m1B4/s1600-h/nf-0829+%283%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh59RMEcF6WNJBVv05c85TadIoril9v0iSjCDGx0j5IRuLAsLs1zr4grPF94vbdoPjMird-O7Zv5XFfQNOr0OjZG3BtTFgRliDNTf3pgbUsGpychm0C83h68VuClEUxWQNZtRafN7m1B4/s320/nf-0829+%283%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377389662060818994" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">While riding with Dreampacker last Saturday morning, we chanced upon three moose. The first of which was this young bull. He was having a hard time. He'd recently been kicked out of his mother's care and the big guys were beginning to push him around with "the season" beginning. Then we showed up, and he was unsure. With all the bear attack stories this year in Utah, I'd still rather face a bear on the trail than a moose. Even a young one like this can be much more dangerous.<br /><br />This life is hard wired for adversity. It happens. A lot. We could have looked at this guy (as big as my horse already) and considered him to be an adversary, a moment of adversity. A problem. Trouble. Had we done so, he would have obliged and become something more to be reckoned with. By choosing to look at him as an adventure to be desired, our horses calmed, he calmed, and we had the joy of a minute of his association before he moved off the trail.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1qz511J_ai8i5i_alHNyGVZPz5rofwUjeAtSAjo93GpzP-pVga-48qe67MGJxbisZmbGapDljXAvg1f4CP1AK78i79yQF3aJP-juYlE-I53Ndb12geZT62Q-g28GhkkJ0rGNsftprnw/s1600-h/nf-0829+%284%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1qz511J_ai8i5i_alHNyGVZPz5rofwUjeAtSAjo93GpzP-pVga-48qe67MGJxbisZmbGapDljXAvg1f4CP1AK78i79yQF3aJP-juYlE-I53Ndb12geZT62Q-g28GhkkJ0rGNsftprnw/s320/nf-0829+%284%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377385649605362754" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Adversity is like that, too. If we stay calm and seek the adventure in it, it becomes a learning experience to be cherished, at least in hind sight some day.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Xn3TF67KhQ3lSmIfOiB3VRjVe1ARPLGp8MAFtzLgkhVbpHkWMWVCnfPuG_2k3V0bTthSK0JNsCyU1cgcArYKCXaqb0OeWZ1BVRjP7ZlhPl2YKGDBvS-Ug_OvGH-ZxrONorVjRs774Xo/s1600-h/nf-0829+%285%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Xn3TF67KhQ3lSmIfOiB3VRjVe1ARPLGp8MAFtzLgkhVbpHkWMWVCnfPuG_2k3V0bTthSK0JNsCyU1cgcArYKCXaqb0OeWZ1BVRjP7ZlhPl2YKGDBvS-Ug_OvGH-ZxrONorVjRs774Xo/s320/nf-0829+%285%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377385349689051266" border="0" /></a><br />Then adversity, like this moose, when it has taught us what we desired at the time we wrote it into our life's script, will take one last look over its shoulder and disappear into the trees. Perhaps even passing us by altogether . . .<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppY294_CBdlPmRylIrB4MmcNohjKPrk4Nht-lb7Ri4Dn_r5QX46Ao5QV5egCWUfOQ7Y3rZxgFRaE3JPXI5CCVenpIjY0_DbyIS3ySnQcT5fV-zKgeJLS3E1Tt4d7hr0hdOxsM2HIybyU/s1600-h/nf-0829+%286%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppY294_CBdlPmRylIrB4MmcNohjKPrk4Nht-lb7Ri4Dn_r5QX46Ao5QV5egCWUfOQ7Y3rZxgFRaE3JPXI5CCVenpIjY0_DbyIS3ySnQcT5fV-zKgeJLS3E1Tt4d7hr0hdOxsM2HIybyU/s320/nf-0829+%286%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377385171389299954" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">. . . so we can turn our attention again to the beauty of life around us and . . .<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPXsE3GX3iSG3bl206N3QiZRZJE4h4pLTXte2M4crdZzuusNO0vJtWG9t5FAGa20QLw945E9c0LVKi_vkYlsYCupU0WGRJ6e9aEvWl6Syj_MmTU3RsacBLOwwNa36SUbeTXL2B4Ypdbk/s1600-h/nf-0829+%289%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPXsE3GX3iSG3bl206N3QiZRZJE4h4pLTXte2M4crdZzuusNO0vJtWG9t5FAGa20QLw945E9c0LVKi_vkYlsYCupU0WGRJ6e9aEvWl6Syj_MmTU3RsacBLOwwNa36SUbeTXL2B4Ypdbk/s320/nf-0829+%289%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377384779402487762" border="0" /></a><br />. . . to the peaceful joy of the sunrise, of both the one at hand and of the One to come.<br /><br />Such are the ponderings of this grandpa when he chances upon a moose. <br />(Well, if I'm dressed. But that, as you know, is another story.)<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-13466611512948066232009-08-28T19:49:00.001-07:002009-08-28T20:03:47.770-07:00Almost MissedDreampacker and I almost missed this little beaver pond and spring on our ride the other evening, yet it is big enough to go skinny dipping. As the story below asks, what else might we be missing when we "ride" too fast?<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPvLsZZm7xT1U56iv_W-8vpVZNW9QQLZafZHQl-E7zsBbUt2Lq9kwqEYfiTrhIgPHfaeTtwqIzXMRbhSALYFu45ArTnxsWNzZzQ2wGUEl3V0UtbJpvbsvevg4kDcjJT8GGagzsw2308c/s1600-h/PICT0260.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375214391808618914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPvLsZZm7xT1U56iv_W-8vpVZNW9QQLZafZHQl-E7zsBbUt2Lq9kwqEYfiTrhIgPHfaeTtwqIzXMRbhSALYFu45ArTnxsWNzZzQ2wGUEl3V0UtbJpvbsvevg4kDcjJT8GGagzsw2308c/s320/PICT0260.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br />Washington DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approx 2 thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.4 minutes later:the violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the till and, without stopping, continued to walk.6 minutes:A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.10 minutes:A 3 year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly, as the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced them to move on.45 minutes:The musician played. Only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace.He collected $32.1 hour:He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities. The questions raised: in a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be:If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ....<br />How many other things are we missing?</div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-43585289727179137722009-08-23T09:17:00.000-07:002009-08-23T10:10:57.145-07:00Morning Unfolding<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjb4ezOjsHuXlzqStAoBk2KcgpLEUBKoOF1ETf2wdc6HmEeaKA_HZK9bXMAJhh0WNqowpnE-I-TyQLb53ve0LYEkZKxNiqhaxMrl3YODr0q5LJusvFjc0gc9DGlCgV1a-D2_iAR8TFLc/s1600-h/DSCN8530.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjb4ezOjsHuXlzqStAoBk2KcgpLEUBKoOF1ETf2wdc6HmEeaKA_HZK9bXMAJhh0WNqowpnE-I-TyQLb53ve0LYEkZKxNiqhaxMrl3YODr0q5LJusvFjc0gc9DGlCgV1a-D2_iAR8TFLc/s320/DSCN8530.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373200047121655074" border="0" /></a>The sun has risen above Mt. Ben Lomond as seen from the valley, but here at Mountain Road Ranch all is still in the shadows of a clinging night.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">There is a mist of early morning rain on the roses . . .<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ5XVZak9X8jrPVBY0VNaj0Xu3Mz5K2u3K1hbq2NMhbX3FxsUqnuIi3Y_M3bOM1PI9PDGu1PRHatmBkOqR7c_AO6JUB5iHMd0iWOp_CRbKZ_pjWbmquUpVeCkKARySSIIldLf-gLUkas/s1600-h/DSCN8528.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ5XVZak9X8jrPVBY0VNaj0Xu3Mz5K2u3K1hbq2NMhbX3FxsUqnuIi3Y_M3bOM1PI9PDGu1PRHatmBkOqR7c_AO6JUB5iHMd0iWOp_CRbKZ_pjWbmquUpVeCkKARySSIIldLf-gLUkas/s320/DSCN8528.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373199680810504562" border="0" /></a><br /><br />. . . and the early bees are "busy gathering like never before...yep! . . . it's going to be a long hard winter", . . . oh, but, that's another story.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HM8gOiVE2PpWNhOhzbwPeFb8h0it3kCa529uQFWRCLys82G5rR8Ez8NJTTQZuAJN8vsToMV-XIRwuyhX3oBxcc_RoYxwykslPRCu_O4PZscu5Loc_G9_A7KmFhEPG42rLjypIpjSJ1k/s1600-h/DSCN8532.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HM8gOiVE2PpWNhOhzbwPeFb8h0it3kCa529uQFWRCLys82G5rR8Ez8NJTTQZuAJN8vsToMV-XIRwuyhX3oBxcc_RoYxwykslPRCu_O4PZscu5Loc_G9_A7KmFhEPG42rLjypIpjSJ1k/s320/DSCN8532.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373199417278458514" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">And like families, there are some dragging out late and asking," Is it morning yet?"<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCkFJ75Nk7OIX5lmJAZncwFN4YF8428mf5TK43uFlAnXDUITbi7dtwXglEnnC8xVhoi3OZMyYABj9U7gp51zhdzPN_KMxYFkIREFuOBkwTRTj3UhKEedW5LmnvYb4irr4qxDtGgf9fYsM/s1600-h/DSCN8536.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCkFJ75Nk7OIX5lmJAZncwFN4YF8428mf5TK43uFlAnXDUITbi7dtwXglEnnC8xVhoi3OZMyYABj9U7gp51zhdzPN_KMxYFkIREFuOBkwTRTj3UhKEedW5LmnvYb4irr4qxDtGgf9fYsM/s320/DSCN8536.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373199140594785682" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Some blossoms are so determined, they seem to glow . . .<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWnwiUO2tQ7zbSND_egSoQkEZMSNVA7FeGPnvb7-VyNu1A4EftGGnF0_jf910MSfWk49swWeb8pTW3frNF4YPoKL9HkYY7DkONP6Bg0AR0MpxhgnOZXrDsCaOiySnt0NXu2Mn0RlYpbJI/s1600-h/DSCN8545.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWnwiUO2tQ7zbSND_egSoQkEZMSNVA7FeGPnvb7-VyNu1A4EftGGnF0_jf910MSfWk49swWeb8pTW3frNF4YPoKL9HkYY7DkONP6Bg0AR0MpxhgnOZXrDsCaOiySnt0NXu2Mn0RlYpbJI/s320/DSCN8545.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373198874199206034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">. . . without any direct sunlight.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGIJ-_dWkXV_xz-KeVZKtB8D2ophd6hiGUKqbAsxVLJbn006by8RgbSUuNZPrE-GdKoIoZaEJ8pFmsk0E_iL7z3kPykM5NdOSWR6AbusqjzymmE447Cew0iotzNHkEUQn_N6HDDm_oOQ/s1600-h/DSCN8543.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGIJ-_dWkXV_xz-KeVZKtB8D2ophd6hiGUKqbAsxVLJbn006by8RgbSUuNZPrE-GdKoIoZaEJ8pFmsk0E_iL7z3kPykM5NdOSWR6AbusqjzymmE447Cew0iotzNHkEUQn_N6HDDm_oOQ/s320/DSCN8543.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373198611763611938" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">But when the sun slips across the Pass, bathing the garden in a moment of slanted light . . .<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMCpUTDNB5v_inqtSZzg32evuQrm8d1mroeUUZYiML06QrWwuo-_E_i1ypZjURR0E8lIk1VwrLhkv5I3EhR2Y3T9Hfc2879uW2hQrAN0opysfc_pOljilR1jkBZ8MQ40vm1PTC8-4jl8/s1600-h/DSCN8537.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMCpUTDNB5v_inqtSZzg32evuQrm8d1mroeUUZYiML06QrWwuo-_E_i1ypZjURR0E8lIk1VwrLhkv5I3EhR2Y3T9Hfc2879uW2hQrAN0opysfc_pOljilR1jkBZ8MQ40vm1PTC8-4jl8/s320/DSCN8537.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373198223668902338" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">contrasting lights and shadows bring new depths . . .<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2FNv5xmvWuSolDKZL7Njpte_qW4UxPRqhy8o2NniWI1TrHWNtbs9-XPMCj8tEfHpS51crDfVEyRSpOtkvgMPtBLqBm-uSxiSVpe5nqhwHtpVbrPSDaCWlUuPnXIRhGFYaZUNYV2j2wM/s1600-h/DSCN8538.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2FNv5xmvWuSolDKZL7Njpte_qW4UxPRqhy8o2NniWI1TrHWNtbs9-XPMCj8tEfHpS51crDfVEyRSpOtkvgMPtBLqBm-uSxiSVpe5nqhwHtpVbrPSDaCWlUuPnXIRhGFYaZUNYV2j2wM/s320/DSCN8538.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373197929957543922" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">. . . and even an old Zinnia, pregnant with seed, promises one more day of color.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicP5lt4GO3KWHmywkQ6njB0RDs333np028rnlC_EXZC46FagIvq3Gp_lbEWg7tSQdKO1O46e5mN36Ai3Ucp42xbQA8NUwE5aqnH2hkSZzvI-GDe1mb40O-JRykb0edLCSPwCRZl1jKIKE/s1600-h/DSCN8540.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicP5lt4GO3KWHmywkQ6njB0RDs333np028rnlC_EXZC46FagIvq3Gp_lbEWg7tSQdKO1O46e5mN36Ai3Ucp42xbQA8NUwE5aqnH2hkSZzvI-GDe1mb40O-JRykb0edLCSPwCRZl1jKIKE/s320/DSCN8540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373197668173623746" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">So too, the corn makes one more try to ensure every silken thread is pollinated . . .<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VB2sRKvnRJZVm8Fng9bKPfaH4I6H5FzMeRUD-7FAPCS5Oz3Lqe5Nhge56KANC6BNVlfv-0haKVLOSA_x1WpLlGqPNxFVHgmzUA9u_-g08iG2lmDl5zVcwsEeRitvB-k7sGCQVl02aTM/s1600-h/DSCN8546.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VB2sRKvnRJZVm8Fng9bKPfaH4I6H5FzMeRUD-7FAPCS5Oz3Lqe5Nhge56KANC6BNVlfv-0haKVLOSA_x1WpLlGqPNxFVHgmzUA9u_-g08iG2lmDl5zVcwsEeRitvB-k7sGCQVl02aTM/s320/DSCN8546.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373197363840774450" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">. . . and it goes not unnoticed by the gathering bees.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Ixdy6g3iozitJp1rB1hC-hBphqGXZg1a6MMSTmdDl2WKU8tIptOhXXM72k89AO2LfppNwU9_qyjx69IhfiL_6DNpQzvIiZIFstnXVsgcH6u7IFiw7fLSYXgzlyMZ8Ulbh6ITix70F2w/s1600-h/DSCN8547.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Ixdy6g3iozitJp1rB1hC-hBphqGXZg1a6MMSTmdDl2WKU8tIptOhXXM72k89AO2LfppNwU9_qyjx69IhfiL_6DNpQzvIiZIFstnXVsgcH6u7IFiw7fLSYXgzlyMZ8Ulbh6ITix70F2w/s320/DSCN8547.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373197073362679618" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">When the sun moves behind Lewis Peak,<br /> throughout the garden faint light still shows contrasts . . .<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2X-k-NNIE9S75-ssbB7nb_ytO90VvKsGEeae5ZP4c38HxQolp5h6uKgd1hKODRb9TcUqBLyQpr_C3_nsktYka2Ez23hSyLvzbhhO4QF0CF4ykpfjfYejXPVdgFFSkaBzRCl31kAIwig/s1600-h/DSCN8541.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2X-k-NNIE9S75-ssbB7nb_ytO90VvKsGEeae5ZP4c38HxQolp5h6uKgd1hKODRb9TcUqBLyQpr_C3_nsktYka2Ez23hSyLvzbhhO4QF0CF4ykpfjfYejXPVdgFFSkaBzRCl31kAIwig/s320/DSCN8541.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373196738024032962" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">. . . of color and shape . . .<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtg_fUdcb-fHWgOYp1tycx0sYKom3s7BZnHrHolbIYHW1HJtIC50i-OC4h8F1LluKbrbcMu79j91i0oenNgxsmW2knlI5x9yRE2b1yDd5abz7L4J0hj1f-nZf8TnawpUHs0xvnK20IW8w/s1600-h/DSCN8551.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtg_fUdcb-fHWgOYp1tycx0sYKom3s7BZnHrHolbIYHW1HJtIC50i-OC4h8F1LluKbrbcMu79j91i0oenNgxsmW2knlI5x9yRE2b1yDd5abz7L4J0hj1f-nZf8TnawpUHs0xvnK20IW8w/s320/DSCN8551.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373196408633342834" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">. . . and contour.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrmL1qVUCtpcHd1E2CBGD46BENfkUlIIJHwh1H_7z0wO_UNUbB6i8MKP6vqhyphenhyphenk03zQnNjGkmrOCCS7YUT3lz-LavNAemLsEmvlZEjQCmZ90ujqql8A-hs6BYM8EMYMVC1HZDHylVfw2E/s1600-h/DSCN8552.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrmL1qVUCtpcHd1E2CBGD46BENfkUlIIJHwh1H_7z0wO_UNUbB6i8MKP6vqhyphenhyphenk03zQnNjGkmrOCCS7YUT3lz-LavNAemLsEmvlZEjQCmZ90ujqql8A-hs6BYM8EMYMVC1HZDHylVfw2E/s320/DSCN8552.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373196150531447186" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">And still some glow . . .<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqAczJ9evdYV514-qJ3ht5f-F4GmK4-zrCcU4hbCHyVqkCFGPMHWkVTY5x_Jthm-fWb73TFwTLtzohEt-YrIxFhR0nnnmnnPaInDcDCbAkOOAPtZLAzKhQ6sSHQJcBBpBzW-R5rA6yko/s1600-h/DSCN8548.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqAczJ9evdYV514-qJ3ht5f-F4GmK4-zrCcU4hbCHyVqkCFGPMHWkVTY5x_Jthm-fWb73TFwTLtzohEt-YrIxFhR0nnnmnnPaInDcDCbAkOOAPtZLAzKhQ6sSHQJcBBpBzW-R5rA6yko/s320/DSCN8548.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373195798204838034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">. . . and seem to burn with an internal fire not yet from the sun.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDMVYxas-L28jA_Aa-vX3dsrRzfQdMWNZvqBHwr3oQrNX7pO6aiBS6OoADgkIDJq0K2NJGsXmZmWT7k1QxLDYFSW_LsHqXpKLaitnr4Jn_z5YatbC7vqXg2guKUa4Vznyj3smGHF1lpQ/s1600-h/DSCN8550.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDMVYxas-L28jA_Aa-vX3dsrRzfQdMWNZvqBHwr3oQrNX7pO6aiBS6OoADgkIDJq0K2NJGsXmZmWT7k1QxLDYFSW_LsHqXpKLaitnr4Jn_z5YatbC7vqXg2guKUa4Vznyj3smGHF1lpQ/s320/DSCN8550.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373195436126912002" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Others, bowed patiently through the night, begin to open, lift and face the sun.<br />So may we all.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZhcpkEZ4CiCUzYRHbWcO_lBTWzZbqrA6PjRZzQp4tQ_hI3Ks2QMvjOwXzUcPJNeQu-ZDAAISe1fgGNzlXFsZRmixahWQJK5x2tkATrfR8zWcRGrYGQNmB8M889fdZlamfnPTRo_B-eA/s1600-h/DSCN8526.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZhcpkEZ4CiCUzYRHbWcO_lBTWzZbqrA6PjRZzQp4tQ_hI3Ks2QMvjOwXzUcPJNeQu-ZDAAISe1fgGNzlXFsZRmixahWQJK5x2tkATrfR8zWcRGrYGQNmB8M889fdZlamfnPTRo_B-eA/s320/DSCN8526.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373195067097518274" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Of course there is a post script:<br />Can anyone identify this unique blossom?<br />Hint: it is in the garden.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmCUZJYzvtIZkZSuv1OjaTy_m4EDBs4KtITViTn77euG6tw8_7YJVPCINGVtuidb7pbvuxOccftIqQtBDtn176GIv6K3Wxn5lJi4U297G-NK0iff2a78HxwXLjtGvbnGpgcVb5HC9FcY/s1600-h/DSCN8542.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmCUZJYzvtIZkZSuv1OjaTy_m4EDBs4KtITViTn77euG6tw8_7YJVPCINGVtuidb7pbvuxOccftIqQtBDtn176GIv6K3Wxn5lJi4U297G-NK0iff2a78HxwXLjtGvbnGpgcVb5HC9FcY/s320/DSCN8542.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373194759883279698" border="0" /></a>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-77680320551255201332009-08-23T08:35:00.000-07:002009-08-23T08:55:27.896-07:00Royal Feast<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhry8w9bP2GaOKI_PJAP-jQp971Bmfc_JSbtttj5wXuAKiPhAZ8ZXLQWatl1rlidKbgdUrlF7lBHWVxTSc7SNIHfRyYqm9B3pua3NRL-NbZoH_ir_0t-UPkc0UnCnl0ekET7ho1KPi4FuE/s1600-h/DSCN8514.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhry8w9bP2GaOKI_PJAP-jQp971Bmfc_JSbtttj5wXuAKiPhAZ8ZXLQWatl1rlidKbgdUrlF7lBHWVxTSc7SNIHfRyYqm9B3pua3NRL-NbZoH_ir_0t-UPkc0UnCnl0ekET7ho1KPi4FuE/s320/DSCN8514.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373186028368355618" border="0" /></a><br />There are many metaphors drawn comparing gardening, planting, and harvesting with spiritual terms of planting seeds, wheat and tares, harvests to come, faith, works, and much more. Suffice it to say, " I did prune, and dung 'round about it." And now the harvest is in full swing. Apricots are done. Our corn is gone now; the sweetest you'll ever taste. Peaches are in in mid season, with two more later varieties to come. People drive from clear out state to get our apricots and peaches. My best peaches are the size of softballs and much easier on the palette. Grapes are about a week away. Please come and get some, for our larder is full of last year's juice. Some say pride is of Lucifer. Maybe. But I am proud of the harvest the Lord and I put together. It lacks only those to enjoy it.CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-47133189798566599502009-08-17T17:54:00.000-07:002009-08-17T17:58:50.717-07:00New Adventures?I started school today with two new assignments added to my full case load of deaf kids, grades 4 - 11 this year. One is to train a new teacher of the deaf hired a week ago. The other is to coach 15 seasoned teachers of the deaf. I meet with my director tomorrow to find out how this all will fit into one day or week. The day is not long enough. Is there no rest for the wicked?CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-7551711944837665512009-07-17T14:00:00.000-07:002009-07-17T15:07:15.429-07:00Hiking and Camping with Dreampacker<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvIYStT8qpf5Z_P0zU0TFuk9LP2anvqF1zHO_fU-n6vkMO8lfke56_Sf5NE1ySSUJ_LWIBLz277dzbeFbNWx981BWyH36p7ivnvd28RQFIYcaALytmw0v8TWzs9_ni1rFB3wp3z78p28/s1600-h/DSCN7591.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvIYStT8qpf5Z_P0zU0TFuk9LP2anvqF1zHO_fU-n6vkMO8lfke56_Sf5NE1ySSUJ_LWIBLz277dzbeFbNWx981BWyH36p7ivnvd28RQFIYcaALytmw0v8TWzs9_ni1rFB3wp3z78p28/s320/DSCN7591.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359547820546739058" border="0" /></a><br />Those of you who have had the pleasure of camping with Dreampacker know that you have to rise early to keep up with her, especially if she has a camera (she took about 500 photos on this trip). Even the northern latitude sun above had to hustle. She was very willing to attend the Stampede Rodeo in Calgary with me . . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKYlFQ8cBtG0aUJ6JLN-CltNnJyPQ1pvhGLVYwgkgxlEb2EV0577XZUQhMo5b6fgzwlqZDDqjxdJ5LU4Nhnwix7ryUk_OumI2RvFg9YB8I9pHC_59deNSRvekcyl07PyW4D9lYCxVAzM/s1600-h/DSCN6859.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKYlFQ8cBtG0aUJ6JLN-CltNnJyPQ1pvhGLVYwgkgxlEb2EV0577XZUQhMo5b6fgzwlqZDDqjxdJ5LU4Nhnwix7ryUk_OumI2RvFg9YB8I9pHC_59deNSRvekcyl07PyW4D9lYCxVAzM/s320/DSCN6859.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359546022440359442" border="0" /></a>but her real love is the out of doors. Especially if it has dramatic clouds.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRUosfQNn5OImze1IS0fLZ2gAXh9W1J1X-sUWpg7j7lbRGzBPPNvjNO09riCRI5m9LIZa-504teZJbTflZqZq3IPZahPAm0EQ59PgUSVGLdAL8hKrZt0movVnEhOKg9P4Mdn_LiPXE0k/s1600-h/DSCN7182.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRUosfQNn5OImze1IS0fLZ2gAXh9W1J1X-sUWpg7j7lbRGzBPPNvjNO09riCRI5m9LIZa-504teZJbTflZqZq3IPZahPAm0EQ59PgUSVGLdAL8hKrZt0movVnEhOKg9P4Mdn_LiPXE0k/s320/DSCN7182.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359545570711126306" border="0" /></a>She can sit and peacefully enjoy the scenery and the day, but soon details catch her eye . . .<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8dPSRs-Rr-RtxWnLLq_3o9_MmH4AF04lVtWOh-BKDALH3NDkadB9FsojVgaPVHe_7FmwdpHpMvaeTC6UtFnw1Ep5egB4F8_B972-bOSnOqiwL7XwKojG3edcnXJ2g2H2D5anIH0Tec4/s1600-h/DSCN7685.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8dPSRs-Rr-RtxWnLLq_3o9_MmH4AF04lVtWOh-BKDALH3NDkadB9FsojVgaPVHe_7FmwdpHpMvaeTC6UtFnw1Ep5egB4F8_B972-bOSnOqiwL7XwKojG3edcnXJ2g2H2D5anIH0Tec4/s320/DSCN7685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359544765769433858" border="0" /></a>and she wades into the glacial river to check out the multi-colored stones more closely.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsB4iNGdy9QxD0UWlp7wdHx-1VcskN3owJ7AOnw40j-bppyskDr7cA7ySBQH3u1m2Nng-htLigos0NZQ3lGK0w_bbMPV5PWYmNtS9gFS-qsf8keGMzAgu9ZjninkMS5Jehfj5UgmBu1Dw/s1600-h/DSCN7686.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsB4iNGdy9QxD0UWlp7wdHx-1VcskN3owJ7AOnw40j-bppyskDr7cA7ySBQH3u1m2Nng-htLigos0NZQ3lGK0w_bbMPV5PWYmNtS9gFS-qsf8keGMzAgu9ZjninkMS5Jehfj5UgmBu1Dw/s320/DSCN7686.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359544374982074258" border="0" /></a>Suddenly one "speaks" to her. You all have seen this happen before . . .<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgrmG3mBDGigqhKvzxkfmsHrtsC_Uqa2tZ5fENWjUHUwAXZPKmir_LAg59LF8O2E1Kun5HRjfA937Uj7z321q0UPGCZ1vYFKP9W2uUyuyzkrNooFymSzSi0p9RjoLavW4nWWixg2grRs/s1600-h/DSCN7687.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgrmG3mBDGigqhKvzxkfmsHrtsC_Uqa2tZ5fENWjUHUwAXZPKmir_LAg59LF8O2E1Kun5HRjfA937Uj7z321q0UPGCZ1vYFKP9W2uUyuyzkrNooFymSzSi0p9RjoLavW4nWWixg2grRs/s320/DSCN7687.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359544043699608450" border="0" /></a>and she'll save the special one (or two, or three) and wash it clean to go home with her.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh90-ItlQWmUZkIAbJV0fH14VeUCg0lK4FsbTDBjOUyQ5HyuKkp5NvAxzoYZdai_-f_wDcGkrdtlaS8cekRHYMsbYXinpOBMJTWSuCa0mPhM-LM6_57zsLp1-J6NruGDs5a_l2ln_Seb0/s1600-h/DSCN7688.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh90-ItlQWmUZkIAbJV0fH14VeUCg0lK4FsbTDBjOUyQ5HyuKkp5NvAxzoYZdai_-f_wDcGkrdtlaS8cekRHYMsbYXinpOBMJTWSuCa0mPhM-LM6_57zsLp1-J6NruGDs5a_l2ln_Seb0/s320/DSCN7688.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359543622468943570" border="0" /></a>But she loves animate nature, too. I think she regretted not being at this stump when a bear tore it apart looking for grubs. But smaller animals . . .<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii0HIo94wFSikeT1IWrJ0DPf-3hrWAr74DyU8KLIZ7ckAMUyUxypzxgrcXpCEwtxAYkNO_jrWQVC8NuEFT1Zownxi667OQAnX3B4e0r1BXlln3FGl7WMGNZ1QmSY0pmGA9xlXVT8xUB7A/s1600-h/DSCN7735.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii0HIo94wFSikeT1IWrJ0DPf-3hrWAr74DyU8KLIZ7ckAMUyUxypzxgrcXpCEwtxAYkNO_jrWQVC8NuEFT1Zownxi667OQAnX3B4e0r1BXlln3FGl7WMGNZ1QmSY0pmGA9xlXVT8xUB7A/s320/DSCN7735.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359543099240454498" border="0" /></a>would fearlessly check out her toes and fingers, or . . .<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEged1RFznohyphenhyphenH879kfrJWWq1J4phofgWV8u17_-eBgaphyphenhyphene7SVivd96BbVchuWOjWMw8E3STxy4a6jDuszXyCPzhIZEds3S0zsEBl4U0ve-W89nud1ohlKxkX_QbQlmxX1-FD6Nclot8RM/s1600-h/DSCN6944.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEged1RFznohyphenhyphenH879kfrJWWq1J4phofgWV8u17_-eBgaphyphenhyphene7SVivd96BbVchuWOjWMw8E3STxy4a6jDuszXyCPzhIZEds3S0zsEBl4U0ve-W89nud1ohlKxkX_QbQlmxX1-FD6Nclot8RM/s320/DSCN6944.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359541776786106882" border="0" /></a>be like this little gray bird escorting her up the slot canyon. It would hop from rock to rock as though showing her the best way to go upstream. It disappeared when other hikers came by. But after they left, it came right back to her.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpJOunjKtJzcYHz6XKS2eSZmYB1NotmfCmjfTjyXcl0Kwagr0EuKeeCDoDNihRgaNEmgv24q2vg5DzTdhw6uNar6TDxJoJmwS6FgoqmdmuRjH0EkHKNbr6BzEKanSf5vvRhyphenhyphenBqVbvHuz4/s1600-h/DSCN7538.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpJOunjKtJzcYHz6XKS2eSZmYB1NotmfCmjfTjyXcl0Kwagr0EuKeeCDoDNihRgaNEmgv24q2vg5DzTdhw6uNar6TDxJoJmwS6FgoqmdmuRjH0EkHKNbr6BzEKanSf5vvRhyphenhyphenBqVbvHuz4/s320/DSCN7538.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359541364944598498" border="0" /></a>Large animals were also unconcerned in her presence (this is without a telephoto lens) and continued their grazing or . . .<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX70Cdjo-8ZVsa63WhTVKJFzFFyUK5R_Coi0-IpgrAf_Nioyx1obaBCtQCf_68FLJ7HbGzDsGidEZQx51F9qZTPSnEWxf7SGNOPeiMfRx2gUIFo4IwyvlGjEE9MZvIXw5JwtjOY47g5Yo/s1600-h/DSCN6894.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX70Cdjo-8ZVsa63WhTVKJFzFFyUK5R_Coi0-IpgrAf_Nioyx1obaBCtQCf_68FLJ7HbGzDsGidEZQx51F9qZTPSnEWxf7SGNOPeiMfRx2gUIFo4IwyvlGjEE9MZvIXw5JwtjOY47g5Yo/s320/DSCN6894.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359540860223347010" border="0" /></a>resting in full view of her camera. From large to small, from dramatic to sweet, she loves it all. Most of her photos probably were of wild flowers. Check out her blog to see some. However . . .<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hamelZ56wezSbynkSRWp9wIskw6agkHDKzRxqMbwg44Quprpd09KlrBGLKpcM4GuBhZqxMNJ3YHEry_fZILFz_1uePNT2T90bYAQV1-uLz9IDya1yNktWoUN-_Z2-V36JaEkTgaDVDQ/s1600-h/DSCN6831.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hamelZ56wezSbynkSRWp9wIskw6agkHDKzRxqMbwg44Quprpd09KlrBGLKpcM4GuBhZqxMNJ3YHEry_fZILFz_1uePNT2T90bYAQV1-uLz9IDya1yNktWoUN-_Z2-V36JaEkTgaDVDQ/s320/DSCN6831.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359540447436994130" border="0" /></a>when the mood hits, she loves to explore new sights such as this trail to a water fall. She is on the catwalk in the top left corner. Naturally, being a Utah desert hiking veteran . . .<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_EoaGoBeL0E1ZeZ8sbjp0I1kg9uwWxtd5Z-FWJfRGm9onMf71GdLvVP6JBRSDMtdKOG6iMRX3sYMZT1bMl3yWw7kyjXgbh5QjpYLBPy6C_z9KX4gbiEnpGWAnfnu5FnYgSlDMHXORNI/s1600-h/DSCN7081.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_EoaGoBeL0E1ZeZ8sbjp0I1kg9uwWxtd5Z-FWJfRGm9onMf71GdLvVP6JBRSDMtdKOG6iMRX3sYMZT1bMl3yWw7kyjXgbh5QjpYLBPy6C_z9KX4gbiEnpGWAnfnu5FnYgSlDMHXORNI/s320/DSCN7081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359539935345750850" border="0" /></a>she recognizes a cairn when she sees one, like this one marking the pictographs on the wall behind her.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CHbHqSBXkjJCFxuymkXzj0yRtz6-KNHetlDy-3Lx0Q-ko1Hkr45Y1GD4OJRtR80IhBnCy_i2ABtgA7W9LAS-MVAiy8e973iPGrgxjPybfcLciVNxb9y17Z6ROXyISiO4cqxalxjV4oA/s1600-h/DSCN7502.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CHbHqSBXkjJCFxuymkXzj0yRtz6-KNHetlDy-3Lx0Q-ko1Hkr45Y1GD4OJRtR80IhBnCy_i2ABtgA7W9LAS-MVAiy8e973iPGrgxjPybfcLciVNxb9y17Z6ROXyISiO4cqxalxjV4oA/s320/DSCN7502.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359539004788866146" border="0" /></a>It is always an adventure to be with Dreampacker in the wilderness. It is so refreshing to see things through her eyes, and to feel the special love she brings to both God's creations and His creatures.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpdXgKrehII3mh1j3NkLlu6MVK2IVs6P4UnUJavGYTRBxPXbHrxYNNxMFfbKyn-_R5uw6IK88H6kHVfkmHhvbO2zRjVWSExp-Na7YSBpWN3fCNBs5mPQEuP4mVJXIV5-gtsK3U3iDnqU/s1600-h/DSCN7176.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpdXgKrehII3mh1j3NkLlu6MVK2IVs6P4UnUJavGYTRBxPXbHrxYNNxMFfbKyn-_R5uw6IK88H6kHVfkmHhvbO2zRjVWSExp-Na7YSBpWN3fCNBs5mPQEuP4mVJXIV5-gtsK3U3iDnqU/s320/DSCN7176.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359538183296142850" border="0" /></a>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-47033285732940096652009-06-20T10:10:00.000-07:002009-06-20T10:22:24.743-07:00Law of Threes Disproven#4. Could hear water running in the pipes yesterday morning; thought a toilet needed "looking into" because all the hoses were indeed off. Or the water heater was going out, or the softener, maybe. Put off further checking. Last night could hear it still and checked further. Found the pressure reduction valve leaking and spraying water all over the crawl space. Learned two things: plumbing repairs are more expensive at night, and it pays to thoroughly check immediately when you hear water running and it shouldn't be. <br /><br />#5. Came home from shopping and lunch with Dreampacker yesterday, and found the horses had opened the pasture gate and turned our yard into a race track. The lawn and garden are heavily churned up from the orchard to the vineyard with holes and skid marks. At least they didn't do damage to the neighbors' yards or get out onto the street, or up on the mountain. <br /><br />(Or is this the beginning of a second set of three?)CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-37070273753805660592009-06-11T18:40:00.000-07:002009-06-11T18:43:24.713-07:00A Profound QuestionWhile cleaning clogged rain gutters in the storm this morning, I wondered why is it we (I) tend to postpone necessary tasks when they are convenient, till the time they are necessary? You know, like paying taxes on the 15th?CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-36468507902407116822009-06-11T18:32:00.000-07:002009-06-11T18:39:56.911-07:00The Law of ThreesFirst, Judy sat at a stop sign and observed an oncoming car run thru it, only to be T-boned by the vehicle with the right of way. The spinning cars rear-ended Judy's Pilot. She wasn't hurt, gratefully.<br /><br />Second, I lost a $2000 hearing aid in the tall grasses along the road side. Too embarrassing to explain how. Judy found it <span style="font-weight: bold;">under </span>knee high grasses 45 minutes later.<br /><br />Third, a nearly empty salt shaker slipped out of the fingers, landed on the glass stove top, and shattered it. Repairs pending. Microwave works, though.<br /><br />Hope the Law of Three's holds; this is enough for awhile.CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-51266375208065218282009-05-25T06:46:00.000-07:002009-05-25T06:52:52.614-07:00Muleteer Bob<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpbII5onT-0Bjw95b-u4mXPz2mZI7CZFKFAvyaxdBH7jEgIDq8A1OeqNFbVFc7UzHQMQOSEjW8zQfjTsYJWIqCzx4NSYTDFsiYZiJK6LfFuysxqAMCm7oiuQjVmxAsdTNbH5h31WORobM/s1600-h/grndcyn+%2818%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpbII5onT-0Bjw95b-u4mXPz2mZI7CZFKFAvyaxdBH7jEgIDq8A1OeqNFbVFc7UzHQMQOSEjW8zQfjTsYJWIqCzx4NSYTDFsiYZiJK6LfFuysxqAMCm7oiuQjVmxAsdTNbH5h31WORobM/s320/grndcyn+%2818%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339759025549332098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Academy of Honorable GRAND CANYON MULETEERS, North Rim Trails and Extremities</span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Henceforth, Cowboy Bob, from this day forth shall be known as a MULETEER BOB, owing to valor, Prowess, Skill and team work with the trusty mount, "Fred".</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> Together, this day of May 23, 2009, they descended the mighty maw, soaring walls and narrow trail, all while displaying unwavering bravery, benevolence and valor. Be it never forgotten on this day, that mule and man descended and ascended in the Grand Canyon, North Rim and thus shall be entitled to accolades, hosannas and bragging rights heretofore forever conferred.</span>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-15409903057121766482009-05-12T07:09:00.000-07:002009-05-25T06:58:23.611-07:00This time it's VulturesLast year it was 5 owls. This year, I thought 7 golden eagles were hanging out in the tall trees for a little while. However, after looking in the Field guide, Dreampacker thinks they look like Turkey Vultures. Hmmmm. Any guesses?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs-2I42CCMkO42nlUvwxQUwmGfEq09qOUAnC29HVT5vQc4sP1QOcYMvQaLK2XTJpl0sH4E3fVYmyCm_yehOZt88Kyufl3JSfxSMcJl_jICDN6UGEJQqnWIxX0has7QspQRM1lqLtfhx2o/s1600-h/DSCN5993.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334942548411809634" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 226px; height: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs-2I42CCMkO42nlUvwxQUwmGfEq09qOUAnC29HVT5vQc4sP1QOcYMvQaLK2XTJpl0sH4E3fVYmyCm_yehOZt88Kyufl3JSfxSMcJl_jICDN6UGEJQqnWIxX0has7QspQRM1lqLtfhx2o/s320/DSCN5993.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ9B0oJ4u2sd2mgZSknEdgMCnVs3aymFFojZIbRYWbl50pJ_6CUX1JDfEyMfV354GFJZ6abvqWUDf7qXZ38o7MxI40jgGjFlZtsOc7VpGECqAi3m5QeQiNa8aFScVTibpa_LAZO4cYHm0/s1600-h/DSCN6027.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334942456437817362" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 290px; height: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ9B0oJ4u2sd2mgZSknEdgMCnVs3aymFFojZIbRYWbl50pJ_6CUX1JDfEyMfV354GFJZ6abvqWUDf7qXZ38o7MxI40jgGjFlZtsOc7VpGECqAi3m5QeQiNa8aFScVTibpa_LAZO4cYHm0/s320/DSCN6027.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGxibyr50hkVkn2ZpbET2_3rlrMLh2uH_roMSyZIICdyoeD-bPFnu_VvdMy2jbjRqIhxk1fZgYG60-WnojPHu-1Yyf9YhrF4gvdsQuu4XLnGCWVSuFgAphVqZS-7KU3FwfG_MnNolG5_Y/s1600-h/DSCN6039.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334942211686209410" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 200px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGxibyr50hkVkn2ZpbET2_3rlrMLh2uH_roMSyZIICdyoeD-bPFnu_VvdMy2jbjRqIhxk1fZgYG60-WnojPHu-1Yyf9YhrF4gvdsQuu4XLnGCWVSuFgAphVqZS-7KU3FwfG_MnNolG5_Y/s320/DSCN6039.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC72VQhDvdPXWgLj1G9xkqPh_-FFRzaiAKu4gDJ9akI3SFYp1hr7UlU9t-94L8OoBYvAf2P8i8Pn1pKWrg6_mcSS8hahWZILVOcBbeslZc8nkG10OFop1stuZ1l8O2HZKKumnNFhq0NcA/s1600-h/DSCN6031.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334940616873391746" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC72VQhDvdPXWgLj1G9xkqPh_-FFRzaiAKu4gDJ9akI3SFYp1hr7UlU9t-94L8OoBYvAf2P8i8Pn1pKWrg6_mcSS8hahWZILVOcBbeslZc8nkG10OFop1stuZ1l8O2HZKKumnNFhq0NcA/s320/DSCN6031.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xgW87ENZjrze5dV8VrDUvXMh75lpnrK7immDBd9oiawfkY8MScXPFA6pof6qAi2buV0G8KG7ubpuSPWz-cCqc9MelRxrbkxrGFePxUr47uwt-ccnEH2oJWEGCjMi3HhcJLY1154qnAg/s1600-h/DSCN6040.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334940331597199282" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 202px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xgW87ENZjrze5dV8VrDUvXMh75lpnrK7immDBd9oiawfkY8MScXPFA6pof6qAi2buV0G8KG7ubpuSPWz-cCqc9MelRxrbkxrGFePxUr47uwt-ccnEH2oJWEGCjMi3HhcJLY1154qnAg/s320/DSCN6040.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-56168373792217183112009-03-01T10:00:00.000-08:002009-03-01T10:11:51.473-08:00Gone International<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmeasS2t-koAaRsHoKxgXn5Q4V1RFGm1b-2HiReyagg1GRtNxZyppR_I3TtEZCwSppzRqQhPlR6j4TdrsZiYdgwhsnjevQjVTZdupEdbeU15NCT2vlzbw0O-vIyeKwohc0nFUF-_54b8/s1600-h/apollo17_earth.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308283310036997954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmeasS2t-koAaRsHoKxgXn5Q4V1RFGm1b-2HiReyagg1GRtNxZyppR_I3TtEZCwSppzRqQhPlR6j4TdrsZiYdgwhsnjevQjVTZdupEdbeU15NCT2vlzbw0O-vIyeKwohc0nFUF-_54b8/s320/apollo17_earth.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Looking for a shirt to wear, I began noticing labels in my closet. There are labels from:<br /><br /><div align="center">Cambodia</div><br />China<br /><br />Bangladesh<br /><br />Korea<br /><br />Viet Nam<br /><br />Indonesia<br /><br />Honduras<br /><br />Brazil<br /><br />Sri Lanka<br /><br />Oman<br /><br />Mexico (Wrangler Jeans)<br /><br />India<br /><br />Hong Kong<br /><br />Mongolia<br /><br />Guatamala<br /><br />Turkey<br /><br /><br /><br />I thought this an interesting and graphic comment on how times have changed.<br /></div>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-83781322832179780842008-12-29T07:44:00.000-08:002008-12-29T07:45:26.632-08:00Check out my Art Blog<a href="http://robertnelsonart.blogspot.com/">http://robertnelsonart.blogspot.com/</a>CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569127726120904918.post-19159506104496941052008-12-27T17:37:00.000-08:002008-12-27T17:49:48.995-08:00Now This is a Traditional ChristmasAccording to the jokes(as in "The Family Dog"), the husband is supposed to get a new tie(s) for Christmas. Well, I did. Four of them to be exact, all from my loving wife. She thought I needed them. Number three here is a print of the Van Gogh painting "Cypress Trees".<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7uR1nwmkDZe1UuUkhL9dlz0znbArnicjq_O3mzVqSh0rfhlRRVh3iVmI-F3YS_jNOlnyWElQ8vBZV8fkg1FuUGKsqdZvd1vdEsgd-DqPM1cp1i2ZSBt2GTKXYPvxW-oy5qJeZutXLiY/s1600-h/DSCN3616.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7uR1nwmkDZe1UuUkhL9dlz0znbArnicjq_O3mzVqSh0rfhlRRVh3iVmI-F3YS_jNOlnyWElQ8vBZV8fkg1FuUGKsqdZvd1vdEsgd-DqPM1cp1i2ZSBt2GTKXYPvxW-oy5qJeZutXLiY/s320/DSCN3616.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284650148193023778" border="0" /></a><br />So, of course, I give her what I think she needs. Somehow that always translates into something I secretly want. But, being a man, what better gift is there than a new power tool. . .or at least a power generator.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyUAvTjKQVgvKs18oqtGuf2U0UhOynfDSw3bi0eOLt1iyzvtysJ0Ql3fEKDwiNY4T1pnffYdjOeDbRYC8vz87fFGwYHCEYwhi9uZsFggPTldqujsDF-zUYrpE6UgP3qSf-wnbs_igz7I/s1600-h/DSCN3612.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyUAvTjKQVgvKs18oqtGuf2U0UhOynfDSw3bi0eOLt1iyzvtysJ0Ql3fEKDwiNY4T1pnffYdjOeDbRYC8vz87fFGwYHCEYwhi9uZsFggPTldqujsDF-zUYrpE6UgP3qSf-wnbs_igz7I/s320/DSCN3612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284649673128202626" border="0" /></a>And thus the traditions continue. I'm sure I'll enjoy her gift very much. Merry Christmas to all!CowboyBobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13488693445551782859noreply@blogger.com5