Adventure 505: So Long Stoneybrook Farm

Ya'all Come Back Soon

The ironies never cease. For two days I worked to help winterize the Hooley's garden with Charlie Brown, their newest teenage cat under my feet. Anyone who knows me understands how funny that might be, especially since Charlie is as needy as any seventh grade Bozonian I've ever taught. I'd reach down to pull out a carrot and there he'd be hiding under the thick leafy greens. As soon as I'd move my hand for a carrot top, he'd take a swipe with his bare claw, albeit playfully (Kind of like a Republican managing the national debt). And then, just to insure my gullibility, he'd tangle my feet as I walked the path back to the road to let me know that he could keep me off balance. Not only that, when I walked into church Sunday morning, Lyman asked me to read scripture from the pulpit, and a long one at that. John 4: 1-26. I have more than a passing connection with the Samaritan woman at the well, that I can tell you. I'm as lucky as she was that Jesus is willing to cavort with a sinner like me. After church, we enjoyed a last delicious totally farm-raised, family meal with the Hooleys: Pot roast, fresh canned beans seasoned with savory, chopped lightly salted cabbage, a medley of roasted root vegetables, pickled peppers, apple sauce, followed by pecan pie, ice cream and frozen carrot cookies. And all full stomachs said, "Amen". We began the meal with a song, which we sang as a  round. That's another irony if you must know. I'm not much of a singer, even if I didn't live in this "fake" world. When I was in the eighth grade, Sister Alphonsette, a particularly harsh nun, told me, "Just move your lips." I replied, "But Stir (Slang for Sister), I pleaded, I'm singing my heart out." She looked at me with her black, beady eyes and coldly said, "You're ruining my choir." A better locker room inspirational speech has never been given, and her stinging appraisal sticks with me today some decades later. The memory inspires a feeling in me much like the one I get reading the daily news. Nonetheless, I hummed along, at least coming in on time when our round was due. Around 2:30 P.M. (laden with eggs, veggies, dried fruit and 2 bags of newly harvested pinto beans) we gave our hugs, made a promise to return, and drove South to the Crystal Hot Springs, which is in the little town of Honeyville just North of Brigham City, Utah. The pools, as inviting as ever, welcomed us, along with quite a few other bathers enjoying the Sunday rest day. So despite any chagrin I might be feeling, I must admit once again that life is good, especially today.

 Charlie Brown, a cat Lisa rescued from Twin Falls to replace one of the shop cats who met a fatal end at the hands of an owl. Charlie's a republican, so he'll last a good long time.

 We discovered this very pleasant RV and Hot Springs a few trips back. Now, we arrange to stop here every time we pass through.

The view out our bedroom window.