Part One
When I was growing up in Boxford, Massachusetts, Dad had a buddy named Bud Littlefield. He was a wonderful actor- (as in stage), and- at that time, he was a building contractor of great artistry. He knew how to design a house in correct proportion, design correct to the style and period, with the correct scale. He knew how to put the little finishing touches on a place that educated eyes knew to value.
He helped me construct a major addition to my first house in West Newbury, Massachusetts- a small 1790's gem "in the rough". He would come at the crack of dawn on Mondays and explain to me what needed to be done. He kept a watchful eye on me for the first few minutes, then left me to do it. It was a pretty powerful gift he gave me- the trust that I could "get 'er done", back in the day when a "girl" didn't do that sort of guy stuff.
All the photos that went with that building project are now- "up in smoke." All I have are the memories. Yet- his kindness and trust that I could do the job will always be with me.
Bud used to like to come to my parents' house for morning coffee. In those days in Boxford, there was no such thing as a locked door. He would simply walk in the kitchen- often covered with plaster dust, mud (cement) or other evidence of "the job" he was working. My Mom would pour him coffee, and he would then talk in a knowledgeable way for- at least an hour- on whatever was the topic of the moment. At this time of year he would squint, look out the window and- in a sorrowful voice remark,
This past weekend, with no such thoughts, I looked forward to a luxurious 3-day 4th, with sugarplum ideas dancing in my brain, for a holiday that I naively thought to put in motion. What does the song say? "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans..."
So it was that- on Saturday, I found myself traveling- first South to Pine Ridge, and then on to Scottsbluff, NE.
On the way I picked up Nancy and 'Lizzie, and off we went to Pine Ridge. We arrived in time for lunch, and JhonDuane graciously fed us. Soon after we were back on the road. I was grateful that Jhon offered to drive, as it freed me up to appreciate the land before me that I had never seen.
We marveled at it's continued expansion as we continued on our way. I was reminded how the sky out here is often written into books and movies as a major character. I do see why.
Once we arrived in Scottsbluff, we put our attention to our journey's purpose. While there, a tornado did in fact touch down, thankfully, not close to the hospital- though the sky looked strange indeed.
We started back North. The day had significantly changed, but nonetheless beautiful! As the storm advanced on its tyrannous path, we followed in respectful distance. The photos tell the story:
The Old Rugged Cross.
Back in South Dakota, in Pine Ridge.
That Warrior's territory.
Another fiery South Dakota sunset.
The end of a long, long day.
When I was growing up in Boxford, Massachusetts, Dad had a buddy named Bud Littlefield. He was a wonderful actor- (as in stage), and- at that time, he was a building contractor of great artistry. He knew how to design a house in correct proportion, design correct to the style and period, with the correct scale. He knew how to put the little finishing touches on a place that educated eyes knew to value.He helped me construct a major addition to my first house in West Newbury, Massachusetts- a small 1790's gem "in the rough". He would come at the crack of dawn on Mondays and explain to me what needed to be done. He kept a watchful eye on me for the first few minutes, then left me to do it. It was a pretty powerful gift he gave me- the trust that I could "get 'er done", back in the day when a "girl" didn't do that sort of guy stuff.
All the photos that went with that building project are now- "up in smoke." All I have are the memories. Yet- his kindness and trust that I could do the job will always be with me.
Bud used to like to come to my parents' house for morning coffee. In those days in Boxford, there was no such thing as a locked door. He would simply walk in the kitchen- often covered with plaster dust, mud (cement) or other evidence of "the job" he was working. My Mom would pour him coffee, and he would then talk in a knowledgeable way for- at least an hour- on whatever was the topic of the moment. At this time of year he would squint, look out the window and- in a sorrowful voice remark,
"Ay-yuh-sigh... Was drivin' past the pond on Gawhgetown road s'mah-nin'. Swump maples ah tuhnin'... ayuh! s'afteh the 4wth- 'xpect it's all downhill from he-yuh!"Now Bud could speak the King's English with the best, but- he'd spent a deal of time in Maine, and could copp a "Bert & I" accent better than anyone else I ever met!
This past weekend, with no such thoughts, I looked forward to a luxurious 3-day 4th, with sugarplum ideas dancing in my brain, for a holiday that I naively thought to put in motion. What does the song say? "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans..."
So it was that- on Saturday, I found myself traveling- first South to Pine Ridge, and then on to Scottsbluff, NE.
On the way I picked up Nancy and 'Lizzie, and off we went to Pine Ridge. We arrived in time for lunch, and JhonDuane graciously fed us. Soon after we were back on the road. I was grateful that Jhon offered to drive, as it freed me up to appreciate the land before me that I had never seen.
It was a gloriously sunny day- in the high 80's, and a perfect "weather breeder" as they say in New England. As we sped South, Jhon pointed out a system that was forming- and remarked it had every potential for the spawn of severe weather. To my eyes- it was as beautiful as anything I have ever seen!
We marveled at it's continued expansion as we continued on our way. I was reminded how the sky out here is often written into books and movies as a major character. I do see why.
Once we arrived in Scottsbluff, we put our attention to our journey's purpose. While there, a tornado did in fact touch down, thankfully, not close to the hospital- though the sky looked strange indeed.
We started back North. The day had significantly changed, but nonetheless beautiful! As the storm advanced on its tyrannous path, we followed in respectful distance. The photos tell the story:
The Old Rugged Cross.
Back in South Dakota, in Pine Ridge.
That Warrior's territory.
Another fiery South Dakota sunset.
The end of a long, long day.
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