The Joys of Biking

My husband is an active member of the Faribo Flyer’s bike club. They ride their bicycles all over southeastern Minnesota, usually on Saturday mornings and Wednesday evenings. Sometimes I join the trail riders on Wednesday nights. After the Wednesday night rides both the road riders and trail riders meet up for snacks and fellowship.

Sour Cream Raisin with meringue.
Old-Fashioned peach pie

Once a year Vicki hosts the groups and spends the day making homemade pies, usually four to six pies.

Raspberry and blueberry cream pie with lemon zest.

On this particular evening I did not pedal nearly far enough to burn off the number of calories I consumed after tasting so many treats from the delicious array of homemade goodies available that evening.

Nanaimo pie…a Canadian treat…think Almond Joy.

Vicki’s four homemade pies, another homemade blueberry pie (made by Tim), Mary’s weekly deviled-eggs contribution, and homemade Sun-dried tomato/pesto bread and cheese made for a delicious feast!

Blueberry pie.
Mary’s deviled eggs, the sun-dried tomato and pesto bread, and cheese.

It’s a good thing this pie-making event happens only once a year!

Vintage Bands and Meals

One of the smaller groups playing in the Vintage Band Festival.

The Vintage Band Festival came to Northfield so we went downtown to Bridge Square and listened to several of the bands play and entertain us. It was a wonderful Minnesota summer day with blue skies, low humidity and a cool breeze. We found a spot in the shade, set up our chairs, and had a delightful afternoon listening to good music.

A good turn out for the Vintage Band Festival.
Some people brought their own shade to the festival.

That evening, for dinner, we had a “vintage-style” meal. We dusted off our 1980’s bright yellow fondue pot, bought a can of sterno, cut up meat, and boiled chicken broth (a healthier alternative to the peanut oil we used to use). We questioned our good judgment since it had been a long time since we made fondue but the meal turned out well and we had a delightful evening, outside on the deck, enjoying a wonderful Minnesota summer evening.

The “vintage” fondue pot.

Love-call

One of the few bird calls I recognize is the cardinal’s. I often hear their song outside my window during the summer. It is unique and I love it. Cardinals are a favorite of mine.

Last week I was up in northern Minnesota at a friend’s cabin on Daggett Lake and I heard the loons calling …another recognizable bird call I love to hear. Loons are a favorite too.

I thought about how we don’t hear the loons in town or cities and how wonderful it was to hear their song again, along with the flapping of their wings as they take off across the lake. It’s almost a guaranteed sound when you are up north.

Even though it might be great to hear the loon call all year ’round I am grateful to hear the beautiful cardinal’s song in the city and the unique song of the loon up in the North Country.

I was thinking these thoughts as I enjoyed sitting on the dock (a morning ritual) taking in the beauty of the lake and quietly listening to the sounds when I picked up my daily devotional book and read these words:

“As you listen to birds calling to one another, hear also my Love-call to you.”*

Whoa…how timely… and what a personal God we have!

*Jesus Calling by Sarah Young

Uncle Craig

My brother, Wayne, and me.

When talking with my nephew at his daughter’s funeral service yesterday he mentioned this experience of losing a baby made them remember “his Uncle Craig” and it took me a moment to register that thought…I’m his Aunt Valerie.

Craig was my mother’s second child. Craig Richard was born on October 19, 1951, three years after my older brother and two years before me. He lived for five hours. My mother never talked about that experience. He is buried at Ft. Snelling along side our mother and father.

Melody Lucinda

Today we attended the funeral of Melody Lucinda… She was my nephew’s (my brother’s son) stillborn daughter…perfectly formed in the womb yet died at 39 weeks. We sang the hymn “In My Heart There Rings a Melody”. It was a sad but touching service.

My nephew penned these words on his Facebook page:

“Well… today, 7/20, at 39 weeks 2 days, our daughter Melody Lucinda arrived.

Unfortunately for us, she arrived at the gates of Heaven into the arms of Jesus instead of into the arms of her parents. She leaves behind a Melody sized hole in our hearts as we grieve and mourn her loss.”

He also included this Bible verse:

“the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” -Job 1:21

Her obituary reads: “Melody Lucinda, infant daughter of Daniel and Stephanie  was stillborn on Friday, July 21, 2017 at Woodwinds Health Campus, Woodbury, MN. Melody was able to be cradled in the loving arms of her parents and extended family. Her middle name is in honor of her mom’s special aunt Lucinda LaVoie, who preceded Melody in death in 2007.”

The organization calling themselves Halos of the St. Croix Valley ministered to Stephanie and Dan. Someone from the organization showed up in the middle of the night, right after Melody was birthed (the hospital called them). They came to take photos and hand and finger prints and did things grieving parents would not think to do but wish they had later. Melody Lucinda’s hand and foot prints were on display at the service today.

 

Old Frontenac

We did not know what to expect when we went for a drive through Old Frontenac, Minnesota. To our delight and surprise we discovered a very interesting place. This old town is on the National Register of Historic Places, tucked away off Highway 61, along Lake Pepin, where there are old historic houses, unpaved streets, and on this day, American Flag buntings hanging off the large porches. It was fun to drive around and envision what life was like when this town was in its heyday back in the 1800’s; imagining who lived there, in all those large, and many of them restored, country homes.

After doing some research when I got back home I learned of this town’s national historic significance and found information on many of the houses. I now want to return to Old Frontenac with stories in hand.

Another fun discovery on our drive through this historic town was the Old Frontenac Cemetery…an inviting road: dirt, one-lane, tree-lined and canopied, with decaying tombstones on both sides…a few with gates surrounding the grave markers; some well-kept and others a tangled mess of overgrown weeds.

As I grow older I find myself intrigued by cemeteries and enjoy exploring the older ones. We have been known to stop for a picnic lunch at random cemeteries on our bike rides…they can be very interesting, picturesque and peaceful.

Although we didn’t have a picnic at the Old Frontenac Cemetery it captivated us with its unusual types of grave markers, its several tombstones surrounded by fences, and one mysterious tombstone all by itself, enclosed by a iron fence with the gate partially swung open and the plot overgrown with tall weeds… do-do do-do, do-do do-do (to the tune of The Twilight Zone theme sound.)

“The Forest”

Along a trail where we were hiking recently was a sign with this Portuguese prayer. Apparently this translated prayer has been used in Portuguese forest reservations for many years, although its origins are not fully known. I have never seen this prayer before but like it.

“The Forest”

I am the heat of your hearth on the cold winter nights,

the friendly shade screening you from the summer sun,

and my fruits are refreshing draughts quenching your thirst as your journey on.

 

I am the bean that holds your house,

the board of your table,

the bed on which you lie,

and the timber that builds your boat.

 

I am the handle of your hoe,

the door of your homestead,

the wood of your cradle,

and the shell of your coffin.

 

I am the bread of kindness and the flower of beauty.

“Ye, who pass by, listen to my prayer: Harm me not.”

 

A Portuguese Prayer of the Woods

Playing Piano

I took piano lessons as a child and played for several years. I also learned how to play an organ, and my folks bought one for our family, but then it mostly sat idle. For a short time I took piano lessons as an adult, but it was still hard to find time to practice. It’s not like riding a bike…I forgot a lot.

Our Kimball, spinet piano; circa 1940’s?

When our sons were younger we wanted them to have a general music background so we had them take two years of piano. However, after two years they could choose to keep taking lessons or not. One did, one didn’t. We bought a used spinet piano at the Schmidt’s annual piano sale (with the little money we received from my grandfather’s inheritance-it wasn’t much but we bought a piano) and we still have this piano in our house. I play and practice a little (very little!) and when my son comes home he usually sits down to play. I enjoy listening to him play.

Duets are fun!

What I have really enjoyed the past few years is playing duets with a friend. She’s a piano teacher so she plays the more advanced part and I play the easier part, and it works! We both enjoy our time together and laugh a lot…while making music. We look forward to playing together and we hope to find more opportunity to do so now that I’m retired.

My friend’s beautiful grand piano.

She has a beautiful, grand piano and we practice at her house most of the time. And when she goes out of town I “water her piano!”  Who knew…some pianos have humidifiers and they need to be filled with water every few weeks…so instead of watering plants I water a piano!