The CD I have often talked about is here, and Wayne Gibson has a web presence at "My Space". You can find some of his music and info on Wayne at www.myspace.com/waynegibsonmusic. Check it out! If you want to get ahold of his CD, let me know!
Our daughter, Allison, and her son, Christopher, are here visiting. Alli is a pianist who grew up enjoying her music. She’s passing it on to her son!!
My uncle Jim helped doing seeding for my father in 1952.
The harvest had been late in 1951, and dad and mom got married November 3rd of that year — waited until as much of the harvest was over — then popped over to the parsonage and got married.
When the spring came, dad needed to do seeding but there was still a harvest sitting in the fields. They coaxed Uncle Jim to come out and seed while dad harvested. All of this happened in the spring — on acres of land just outside Kindersley.
Today, Uncle Jim returned. To the farmstead. To a place he hadn’t seen in 55 years. To a place his memory cherished awaiting the day of his returning.
The original house has been replaced, the stone barn torn down and new trees have been planted. But the contour of the land remains the same. The feel of the air fills your lungs — just like it would have five and a half decades ago.
And a dream is fulfilled!
Today was "clean the garage day!"
I started with piles of wood. I’m a sucker for other than plywood and pine! So, I had collected chunks of wood, most too small to use. The pile grew until Jill called me for breakfast.
At that point, after consuming some granola, the skies were looking forboding (not because of the granola, but because the clouds were full of water!). We loaded the car and drove to our waste management site (we used to call it the dump, but inow the "dump" is much more sophisticated than the days when you put everything together, dumped the garbage and let the garbage "man" push it all into a heap and burn it).
As we approached the WMS site a drop or two of rain stained our windshield. The WMS operator hurried us off to the "wood pile" before the dirt path turned to mud. As the last piece was thrown on the "pile", the rain began to fall.
Later in the afternoon, with a counter top and a box of miscellaneous "junk", we once again headed to the WMS. There again, the sky gathered around us. Ever felt claustrophobia — in the midst of the land of the living skies. Well, the skies were living, churning and closing in on us. We once again headed to the wood pile. This time a friend stopped to say "Hi." Great place to have a conversation, right next to garbage bales and sea gulls. As we talked the drops began to fall — I grabbed the counter top and acted like a discus thrower. Having achieved Olympic glory, and having recycled the garbage, we headed home.
Twice in one day — the downpour missed us and we missed the downpour. Not bad!!