Monday, November 23, 2009
Monday, November 09, 2009
But things become memorable when we have significant experiences with them. So it is with our little creek. Last summer, three young friends were visiting to do some construction. They had ridden to our house on their bicycles, so when it came time for them to depart, they hopped on their bikes and headed down the steep dirt road towards the main highway.
One of our friends lost control on the graveled curve and rode down a rocky slope into the forested creek. Judging from where I found his bike later, he nearly missed striking a few trees head-on—praise the Lord! Bruised and bloodied, he managed to climb up out of the creek to the road, by which time another of the youth had run back to our house. Meanwhile, a good Samaritan had picked up our victim and brought him back to our driveway. (Thanks to Joanne and the Spirit’s timing.) From there we called 911 and his parents.
In spite of a frightening amount of gore, he only needed a few stitches; more than a year later the signs of his accident do not in the least deprive him of his good looks. I daresay perhaps those slight scars will be marks of that strange pride we derive from surviving ordeals.
After retrieving his bicycle from the creek—which fared considerably better than our friend in the tussle with nature—I decided to name the creek after him. So the babbling brook that courses past our house is now
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
We bought the house, and have enjoyed the summer nights of listening to the cool running water through the open windows. We have stood on the edge of the slope overlooking the creek and dreamed about treehouses, gardens, and lumber. It was totally cool.
Then we had a baby.
Now we have a crawling baby.
The steep-sided canyon that runs so close by our house has gone from cool to dangerous. If Gwendolyn’s crawling habits are any indication of future performance, then before her mother gets one box of candles out of the trunk, our daughter will be out of her car seat, across the flower bed, and over the edge.
So our creek canyon needed a fence. Thanks to the grace of a friend who dropped off some doomed lumber (thanks Stan), our local construction supply store, and two summers of experience constructing fences, I was able to throw up a fence that will keep young children from falling to their deaths without entirely depriving us of our view.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Then, after applesauce with cereal, muffin bits, cheese and a drink, it's off to play.
By 11, she couldn't take it anymore. Time to nap.
This shot is from yesterday morning, a cute jumper that Mom made last week :)
Have a great week!