Meandering Moments by Elsi

Stars and stripes on my porch,

pops and booms in the neighborhood,

wild barking from my dog,

      trying to scare off the odd movement and scary noises.

But now, I am driving,

     4th of July evening,

     into a rainstorm.

The cracks and bangs are thunder;

the showy flashes are lightning,

     oddly unaccompanied by oohs and ahhs.

East and south the sky is black.

The mountains are draped in clouds.

But to the north, the sky is blue

     with whipped-cream clouds.

So I wait, in my car,

     through thunder, rain,

     fogged windows,

     lightning-induced static on the radio,

till the northern sky is dark,

     the mountains peek shyly out,

     and people venture from their automated caves

     to find seats for the show.

7 p.m.—rain over, I hike to the hill.

     Too high; I return to my car,

     switch parking lots, try again:

     set up my chair—

     blue sky, light-edged clouds,

     bug spray … view the scene.

7:30—”May I have your attention!

The weather bureau predicts rain, maybe hail.

Please wait in your cars, 

or relax at your own risk.”

8:00—I try again:

darker now,

band valiantly playing

     a la Titanic? no …

      funnel cakes, pizza, jumping house shaped like a tiger,

     a lazy wind,

     purple—the in color for tents and umbrellas,

     flapping tarps,

     escaped plates, balls, hats,

     something blowing past me—

          cottonwood?

          small bits of trash?

          aha! soap bubbles!

Listening to people’s varying reactions:

     a fly-away ground cloth—laughter;

     a hot dog rolls off his plate—”5 second rule!”

     “this is ridiculous!”

     soothing a crying baby,

     small boy under a doll’s umbrella

          chuckling as his dad gets out the camera,

     wheelchair piled high with coolers and toys—

          “good thing Grandma doesn’t mind sitting under the tent!”

Clouds rushing south.

I’m huddled in sweatshirt and raincoat,

     passed by a girl in shorts and spaghetti straps.

Raindrops blot my paper when they hit the point of the pen.

8:30—sudden downpour!

     family togetherness under a tarp,

     people running, lugging coolers, chair, small children:

     “Hurry!”

We wait in our cars. 

     Bang! Crack! Boom!

 They’ve started!

Windows open; people sit on tailgates:

     “Daddy, is this cloudy with a chance of meatballs?”

     “Reminds me of rockets, you know?”

From somewhere, “America the Beautiful,”

     “I’m Proud to Be an American!”

I sing along.

The grand finale,

     everyone cheering,

         applauding,

and the Lord punctuates the show

     with heavy downpour.

Happy birthday, United States of America!

Where are you going? they ask.

Where is this trip to?

Where did you go yesterday?

Where are you going tomorrow?

There always is a destination, of course,

a goal,

a theme,

a conference,

a wedding,

friends to visit,

a train ride …

Yet, it’s not so much the where that matters,

as what will I see and do on the way?

Not just a camel statue in the Manitoba desert dunes,

the pile of salt by the highway in Chaplin, Saskatchewan,

the ferries in British Columbia,

but the deer along the roadside,

flicking their ears as Sallie barks wildly,

the sun ricocheting off the wave tips

on a northern lake,

at least seventeen shades of green

on the Colorado prairie,

a campground neighbor walking her cat,

day upon day of distant sunsets,

each uniquely Hand-crafted,

a cow moose by the road,

a dog trotting along,

focused on his mission,

fields of horses, cattle, sheep,

goats, burros, llamas,

kind people,

funny people,

lonely people,

a new vista

at the crest of every hill

and around every curve.

Where are you going?

Oh, it’s not the where!

It’s the going!

Dolphin: Friends? Hmph! I don’t have friends; I’m above that. I will admit I was mildly interested in “Mama Cat,” who was walking on harness and leash outside my window this afternoon. She didn’t do anything interesting, of course. The closest I come to “friends” is when children spot me on the dashboard. They stand around in awe of my wonder; that’s gratifying, to see the young realize my immense wonderfulness.

Sallie:  Well, I have friends in campgrounds! Mama doesn’t usually let me meet them, but I call to them from afar, and we exchange information in barks and bays. Big dogs, little dogs, fluffy dogs, yappy dogs … campgrounds are full of dogs! This afternoon I went out to meet Mama Cat, whom I’d been barking at from the window. By the time I got out there, she’d gone inside. But her mama, Dolly, is from St. Louis, where Elsi grew up, and they talked a long time. Dolly patted me a lot, so I know she’s a good woman. People are so funny; they never talk about important things. Elsi and Dolly talked about travels, and grandchildren, and Laura Ingalls Wilder (they both visited there last week). But they didn’t talk about the interesting smells in the grass, or the fascinating curl of bark lying on the ground, or the animals in other campsites. Silly people!

Dolphin:  We get home tomorrow. I don’t really care which house we live in, the one in Boulder or the one on wheels. I am above caring about such mundane things.

Sallie:  I care! I’ll have my yard back! And my neighbor dogs to bark with! And I can run in the yard as much as I want, and lie in the sun! Oh, goodie, ah-whoo!

I sold (and signed) books at the Mitchell (SD) KOA last night, from 4-9 p.m. This made me privy to all sorts of conversational interchanges.

A couple from Germany, and their RV had German plates: It seems there’s a container-type ship that does nothing but transport RVs from Europe to Baltimore and back. Expensive? You bet! But cheaper than renting, if you’re going to be here for several months. I enjoyed Jim (campground owner/manager/host) trying to find out from the German-speaking man whether he needed a 30 or 50 amp connection. The solution? Hold up plugs till he reacted positively.

A gentleman with several small children, wanting to know what the procedure would be if there were a hurricane warning.

Lots of people telling cat stories, and enjoying the picture of Dolphin on the dashboard.

A man and his wife registered. Any children? None. Jim commented, “There seem to be quite a few kids in and around your vehicle!” The man looked—the RV behind him in line was his sister’s family. Neither had known the other would be there!

I tend to function as “staff” during book signings, and found myself answering, “Where’s the bathroom?!” “Where’s the mini-golf clubs?” and “Does the store carry catfood?” with aplomb.

Jim just got a shipment of a new bug deterrent. Doesn’t work on mosquitoes, which are thick, due to the heavy rains and flooding. But drives away the nasty bull gnats, which have powerful jaws. What is it? Victoria’s secret vanilla body wash! Jim said the woman he ordered it from was not amused when he said it was for bugs!

A few trip statistics:

• I’ve been in 10 states and 5 provinces.

•I’ve found all but 10 state license plates {postscript: just got South Carolina, so all but 9!}, have 6 of the provinces, and spotted two foreign countries (in addition to Canada, I mean): Germany and Switzerland.

•total length of trip: 34 days (I’ll be home Monday)

God’s gift of travel, so much to write about—

Two tourist trains, and they both had sun;

A double-arching rainbow, symbol of God’s promises;

I’ll rest content, when my trip is done.

So much to see as I travel on the continent:

Lots of silly statues (I do have fun!);

Scenery, glorious scenery—God’s creation overwhelms!

I’ll rest content, when my trip is done.

Two staunch friends to keep me company on the road.

A wonderful trip! Regrets? Not one!

Now I’ll start planning where I’m going next time, so

I’ll rest content when my trip is done!

            Driving through South Dakota, I could see the land was in flood, with ponds that clearly weren’t usually ponds (clue: tree tops in them). The grass on the edges looked like commas, bent against the wind.

            I used my GPS to find the Surveyors’ House Laura Ingalls Wilder site, passing by the Homestead, which I visited a few years ago. Parked in a large, empty lot and went in. Tour in half an hour; would I like to see the museum while I waited? You bet!

            The surveyors’ house was the largest building Laura had ever seen—four rooms and a second floor. Our tour group, four families and me, jammed into the largest room while our guide, bright and personable, talked about the history of the Ingalls family. Then she pointed out that sixteen men had slept on the floor of the room about 12 of us were standing in … amazing! After we’d looked around a bit, we saw a replica of the Brewster school, Laura’s first.  This was followed by Miss Wilder’s school, which was the first school in De Smet, and which was later used as a home. The LIW Society is in the process of restoring the building.

            I look at the tiny school buildings and think of my first real classroom, in a temporary building at Parmalee in Indian Hills, CO. Lots larger than these, of course, but similarly primitive in its own way, right down to the cracks in the floor you could sweep the dust through! How Laura did it, at 15 … with minimal resources and books … I’m impressed!

            We then piled into our own vehicles and drove to Pa’s house in town, about three blocks away. I had to park around the corner, but the group was waiting; another tour was still in the house. So we were allowed to go up the added-on back stairs to see the second floor: three bedrooms, one of Grace’s stuff, one of Carrie’s, and one of Rose’s. As I struggled back down the stairs, a child on the ground asked, “What are we waiting for?” And another child said, “For that old lady to get down the stairs.” Yes, dear, and this old lady is grateful for your patience—what fun I was having!

            Inside the house—this is where they lived in the Long Winter—we saw (for the first time) things I’d not seen before, including a restoration of the first photo Carrie took as a newspaper reporter (Ma in the living room we were standing in).

            I would never have made it as a pioneer! But it’s fascinating to see what they accomplished. After Pa died, Ma and Mary rented out half the house in order to make a living … imagine it! After Ma died, Mary continued doing that! And she was blind!

            Way too many exclamation points here, but it is exciting.

            Then I drove to Mitchell, got settled, showered, and called Clarence and Lauretta. Fun to see them again; we were together at the Colorado Christian Writers Conference in May. Clarence and I talked writing, and we all talked life; it was a good evening.

After our night of hail, it was good to see plain gray skies this morning! And the sun did come out later, with a breeze so it wasn’t too muggy.

I drove into Fargo and found the zoo from the directions the KOA people gave me. It’s a nice zoo! You’re greeted at the entrance by a tigalo (a buffalo statue painted like a tiger). And such friendly people at the desk, answering my questions about the tigalo (on entering) and the tanuki (on leaving), and giving me directions for the next leg of my journey.

            From there, I happily wandered …

            past the wolf area, with three creamy white and one dark wolf wandering happily in the grass, and arguing among themselves—the dark one apparently at the bottom of the issue …

            past the bald eagle, solitary and majestic on his tree … and the duck family, little downy ducklings swimming frantically to keep up with their mother …

            a pair of tanuki (/tan OO kee/), which are “raccoon dogs” from Siberia—there are only seven total in the US …

            an aardvark, happily asleep on his back, feet curled in the air a la Dolphin …

            and the carousel, nicely maintained, all horses … such fun!

cantering smoothly

            over the hills

            across the fields

            up, girl, up!

flying, soaring

            through the forest

            past the oceans

            into my dreams

gripping with my knees

swaying to her rhythm

            my beautiful golden mare

            running in peace

then the music stops

            the carousel slows

            time to leave

Whether the weather be cold, or whether the weather be hot,

Whether the weather be fair, or whether the weather be not,

We’ll weather the weather, whatever the weather,

Whether we like it or not!

{old Girl Scout song}

Praise the LORD from the earth, you great sea creatures and all ocean depths,

lightning and hail, snow and clouds, stormy winds that do his bidding, …

(Psalm 148:7-8).

I went to bed about 11:30 my time. Woke at 1:53, for no particular reason, and got up. Checked email, and it started to drizzle. So I thanked the Lord I was awake, and closed my windows (there’s no overhang in an RV, so rain comes in, always). Went back to the computer, and noticed flickering lights (outside), distant, almost regular lightning. Hmm. The rain got harder, and I began to hear distant thunder. So I started the (slow, very slow) process of shutting down everything on the computer. The rain got worse, and the thunder got closer, and the lightning got brighter … and I unplugged the computer completely, then went on shutting it down. And suddenly, it began to hail!

Now, the writers conference in Estes Park this spring was the first I’ve ever camped in snow. Oh, residual snow, maybe, but not real winter. And I’ve had my share of monster rainstorms, and some mighty close lightning strikes, including the one in Tennessee that levitated Dolphin from the front of the RV to my stomach with no intervening paw-sounds at all. But, hail? Never! It was absolutely amazing!

And this is what I’ve learned:

1. When the Bible says God “hurls down His hail like pebbles” (Psalm 147:17), that’s an excellent description. Yes, we know that from being in a house when it’s hailing, but you should really try it in an RV! The roof is so much closer … it’s rather overwhelming.

2. Most dangers go away when you bark at them. This is not true for hail. Sallie’s only recourse was to burrow under all the covers in the bed and wait for me. When I arrived, she pressed her full length against my leg.

3. Even tigers find hail more than they can cope with. Dolphin, who had been peacefully asleep in the front seat during the rain part of the excitement, leapt up … ran to the sofa and started to hide behind it … decided that wasn’t safe either … ran to me … and ended up curled by my feet under the table. When it was all over, he came to bed with us and stayed till morning.

I tried going back to bed, but the sound and excitement precluded sleep. It didn’t actually last more than about five minutes. When it was all over, still pouring rain of course, I opened Dolphin’s window and screen, shoved my camera out, and snapped a picture. The hailstones were about the size of a cashew—what an experience!

I left my Stonewall campground and found my way to Inkster Boulevard in Winnepeg with no trouble at all.  A sweet trainman was in the parking lot and suggested I turn around and park behind a tour bus, which he guided me in doing.

            Packed my pack, got my ticket, and got on board! I obediently went to my assigned car, 103, right behind the engine. But there were so few passengers (160, and the train holds something like 350) that we could sit wherever we wanted. So when a passle of  Scouts came swarming into my car, I wandered out and sat in the next one back. The cars have the reversible commuter seats.

            Pat, a friendly porter, came to chat with me. He thinks maybe he’s heard the “Chew Gum” song: My mama gave me a quarter to tip the porter, but I didn’t tip the porter; I just bought chew gum! But he’s definitely familiar with our local tourist trains, especially the Georgetown Loop and the Durango-Silverton. He told me he worked for the railroad for 40 years before retiring.

            We drove through what the commentary calls “rich farmlands,” though most of it is under water, I fear. The lovely yellow flowers in the fields are canola, which is where (drum roll, please) grapeseed oil comes from, because the plant is also known as grapeseed. And here I’ve been envisioning people extracting and then squeezing the teeny-tiny seeds from grapes!

            In Grosse Isle (short o, not long), we had a two-hour layover, during which time we could see the petting zoo—chicks and ducks and geese (with no room to scurry); the one with the funny hair is a Polish chicken … bunnies … a lamb named Chou-Cho (/choo’ choh/), which is Italian for donkey, because the owner’s daughter said he looks like a donkey. Also lots of children’s games, plus a delightful horse-drawn wagon ride. Janice said Mosie and D.J. are show draft horses, who compete in the Denver Stockshow and are in training for the Calgary Stampede.

            I attempted the tour of part of the Prime Meridian Trail, which is described on the website as, “a 10 km, non-motorized conservation, recreation trail and heritage trail on an abandoned rail line presently under development in Manitoba’s Interlake. … The trail acts as a land bridge between wildlife areas, providing a movement corridor for fauna, such as migrating warblers, and a continuous environment for many plants. The Prime Meridian Trial is a haven for naturalists. It boasts over 240 species of flowers, 4 species of amphibians, and 3 species of reptiles.” It also involved walking with a group on the railroad ties, and my hip protested. Ah, well …

            The guide told us they burn the prairie off every spring, and it burgeons back within just a few days. It’s original tall-grass prairie.

            They sold hotdogs and pop, but I had chicken with me. I enjoyed listening to the folk singer, although two hours (well, an hour and a half, as I went on the wagon ride) was a long time! One person sitting near me commented to a friend, “Can you imagine if it was raining still?” I shuddered along with her!

            But it was  delightful ride, and the Lord gave us sunshine the whole time!

What would I do if I had an island, an island just for me: a snug little cabin made of logs with room for me and the cat and dog, a fire laid all ready to light for warmth and comfort in the night, shelves filled with books and paper and pens, a computer area inside the den—surrounded by these, I’d live in glee on an island just for me!

What would I do if I had an island, an island just for me? I’d have a beach with canoes nearby, and out on the lake I’d dream, and fly, and have access back to the land, if I chose … a canoe on the shore for a friend, I suppose … deer in the woods and loons crying late … a moose wading out at the edge of the lake. At peace with the world and myself, I would be on an island just for me.

What would I do if I had an island, an island just for me? It’s fun to dream of that perfect place, where I wouldn’t need extra mercy and grace. But God’s got plans for me right here, in spite of my sorrows, oddness, and fears. So I have to trust how much He cares. And, maybe, the mansion He prepares has a cabin, a moose, plus sheltering trees, and an island, just for me!