leaving with the geese

This morning the geese flew by and honked–quite loudly–at six.

We’re not honking, but we are getting ready to leave the lake for the winter.  Banjo Man has brought all the chairs up from the dock and the beach.  I have dismantled my office and packed away the summer clothes.  We’re starting the process early this year in order to avoid all the last minute stress of closing up the house.  I get grumpy and cranky and tend to be low on patience during this process, but so far so good.

It’s fall here.  I have the heat on this morning, just to take the chill off.  We’re wearing sweaters and socks.

We’ve been very social.


Dinner at Ivano’s with friends.


A beet appetizer that was almost too gorgeous to eat.


Sticky toffee pudding, at Trinity, for Retired Mountain Lady’s birthday, which she was nice enough to share with me, a December birthday person.

We went to a fundraiser at Pour Authority (the beer place) in town last week and helped raise money for the American Heritage Wildlife Foundation (that’s who I called when we had our wobbly osprey stranded on the beach).  We bought wine and beer and raffle tickets and came home with t-shirts, glasses and a hat.

The same foundation held another fundraiser on Saturday night.  A comedian from Oregon performed and was so darn funny.  I wish there’d been more people there to enjoy the show.

Wednesday night one of the neighbors held a potluck karaoke night.  Hilarious.  Banjo Man impressed everyone with his rendition of an Elvis Presley song, by the way.  I brought pork chops (tenderloins) that had been cooking covered in a beer sauce in the crock pot for 6 hours and they were **dry**.  How did that happen?????  They looked beautiful but tasted like cardboard.

Saturday night is Oktoberfest at the community center.  Banjo Man will once again be serving sauerkraut and talking to every single person who hands him a plate to fill.  It just might be the highlight of the season for him.  I’ll be manning the cash box and hoping someone saves me a bratwurst.

Sunday we head to Montana for dinner with one of the first people I met here in 1975, when she came to babysit our son Ben, who was two and a half at the time.  I will bring pictures of the Funny Grandson and she will tell me stories about Ben when he was little and we will laugh about the old days.

Last night we met some old friends at the Floater for dinner.  They’d given Banjo Man and Will a trail ride up to a mountain lake last summer.  We also reminisced about our horseback trip to the top of Scotchman back in 1975.

There are so many memories here in this tiny town.  I wrap them around me and smile.





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