So while we SAGs were up the North Shore in our cozy little cabin, we did things we might not always have time for at home.

Below, Pat, who invented the game of Cribbage many years ago, teaches Gail how to play. Fifteen-two, fifteen-four, fifteen-six, a pair is eight and one for nobs is nine. Go. Because Gail is so brilliant, she caught on to the game within a few minutes. Three of us played several games while we were there, and it made me want to dig out one of Michael’s Cribbage boards and challenge him to a few games. It’s been a long time since he and I have played on the carved bone board we got in Alaska, but we’re old now so I think it’s an appropriate way to spend our evenings.

Our little kitchen bar was always well supplied with snacks. SAGs snacks. And as you can see, SAG smiles were in abundance as well. We had M&Ms, peanuts mixed with candy corn which really does taste like a salted nut roll, coffee, chai tea, Honeycrisp apples, a myriad of carbonated beverages, and Pat’s homemade peanut butter and chocolate bars. Which tasted heavenly with a cold glass of milk.

And when you’re away from home and don’t have laundry and paperwork calling your name, and there’s no television to zone out in front of, and your housework and homework is waiting patiently until you return, you have all the time in the world. Time enough to engage in relaxing activities such as…..watching popcorn pop. Which is what Lorna and Gail are doing below.

Young women of the world, take hope! You have no idea what thrills await you in middle age.

These are professional women in the photo below. But sometimes girls (even professional girls) just wanna have fun.

Lorna made a key lime cheese ball and rolled it in graham cracker crumbs. We used graham crackers to scoop into it – very yummy!

This lovely deck was built right on the shoreline of Lake Superior, and we sat down here in the sun. The wind was chilly, though, so we had to sit by the Lake in increments. Gail brought her Beth Moore Stepping Up Bible study down to the deck and we talked about the Psalms of Ascent, and how song/music is the fluent language of the soul.

There may not have been any televisions or radios at Stonegate on Superior, but you can bet all four of us had our cell phones in tow. Below, Pat talks on hers while sitting by the fire pit we planned on visiting after the sun went down, but never did.

Below, Julie and Lorna are laughing uproariously as they tried to practice exuberant, alliterative prayers. Because her maiden name started with an H, Lorna got us started with that letter, and soon we were crying out phrases like “Help! Hover over our hapless hullabaloo! And hurry!”

Please don’t pity us. You had to have been there.

With lots of leisure time, the SAGs were able to quilt, crochet and read. We played a quiet game of Scrabble and wondered whether or not faxes is an abbreviation. We also had story time with Miss Lorna, which I’ll talk about in Part 3. And we had Tom Cruise’s Spaghetti Carbonara for dinner. And we gave foot rubs and tried to watch a movie on Gail’s laptop but abandoned that idea when our audio trouble couldn’t be fixed. And we had Culver’s on another night for an early dinner (Butterburgers and onion rings and a pumpkin shake.) Since there are no In-n-Outs in Minnesota, Culver’s is the next best thing.

And we talked. And talked. And cried. And cried (at least I did). And laughed. And we even did a little dreaming together.

Isn’t that what a SAGs retreat is for?

We were so grateful for our time away, we decided to mark our ten year SAGs anniversary (in 2012) with another retreat. We have a little over two years to plan. Today I checked out other cabins online that we might like to visit. We’d like to go again in the fall of the year to enjoy the beautiful autumn colors and the chilly nights that are just right for a fire in the hearth.

Vermont, here come the SAGs! 

The Lord sends no one away empty except those who are full of themselves.

Dwight L. Moody

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Not long ago the four SAGs headed north for our first retreat together in the almost eight years we’ve been a group. We stayed at a quiet little resort on the north shore of Lake Superior called Stonegate On Superior.

All of us have crazy busy things going on in our lives, and we all needed to get away for some refreshing and some down time. The four days and three nights we were gone were just what the Doctor Gail ordered. 🙂  (That was a veiled congratulations to our Gail, who is our resident Physical Therapist and just earned her doctorate this year. Yay Gail!)

First, the particulars: this photo above is a view of the small but clean kitchen in Cabin 5, where we stayed.

We all agreed that we wanted a fireplace in our cabin, and we wanted to be close to the Lake. Although this fireplace didn’t crackle cozily from a real wood fire, it kept the whole two bedroom cabin warm from a switch on the wall. You can also see the little dining area between the kitchen and the living room.

This is a view of one of the bedrooms. Our beds were remarkably comfortable and we could look out of the window and see and hear the Lake, only a stone’s throw away. We could also lay in bed at night and hear the teeth and claws of a largish, unknown animal relentlessly gnawing and chomping and scraping on the outside of the cabin. We were too terrified smart to go out in the cold and pitch dark to investigate. The next morning we saw insulation strewn around the ground where the brute had been chewing.

Here are Gail and Pat (on the deck) and Lorna in front of our little cabin on the Lake.

This is the shoreline that was just a thirty second walk from our cabin. The Lake changed moods several times while we were there – one night the waves were large enough to sound like the ocean, other times the water was fairly smooth. We also saw wind-blown white caps chopping up the surface and a huge lit up ore boat heading for harbor the last evening we were at Stonegate.

I plan to put up more posts about our SAGs weekend over the next few days – you’ll see some food, some goofiness, some games, some wistfulness, some hobbies, and some scenery.

For now I’ll leave you with a photo of the four of us. We hadn’t even been there twenty-four hours and already we were looking happy and rested.

Well, pretty much.

Julie, Lorna, Pat, Gail

Blessings,

I am a very blessed person. I am blessed with a family. I am blessed with sight. I am blessed with mobility. I’m blessed with friends. I’m blessed with provision. I am blessed with the certainty of God’s nearness and care. I am blessed with hope. I am blessed with love. And perhaps at this time in my life, no other love goes down deeper into my soul than the love of my grandchildren. I don’t know how they do it, but somehow they know how to say just the right thing, squeeze just the right hug, which sends pure, nourishing, liquid love down into the driest, darkest nooks and crannies of my soul. *Sigh*

And my grandchildren make me laugh.

Last week I picked up Clara and Elijah after school for another W.W.G., which I will explain and write about soon. We were almost home when Clara said softly from the backseat, “Grandma, I love you so much, sometimes it makes me cry when I think of you.”

I knew exactly what she was talking about, and told her so. Sometimes love is so intense it feels wonderful and awful, thrilling and painful at the same time. I told her I feel this kind of love for my grandchildren quite often, and that it’s normal for some people to feel love in such a way that it causes an ache or a yearning.

I saw her nod sagely in the rear view mirror, and then she added, “Grandma, sometimes I love you so much that when I think of you a tear runs down my face here, and I feel a little pain right here in my heart.”

Oh my, I thought. This little seven year-old girl feels and expresses love so deeply, and as we pulled into our driveway I had to suppress the tears myself as I pondered what Clara was saying.

Elijah had been attentive but quiet for most of this conversation, and I could see in my mirror that he was soberly taking it all in and giving it careful six year-old consideration.

As I eased the van into the garage and hit the button on the visor to close the door behind us, Elijah nodded at me and then commented casually but completely in earnest, “Yes, and sometimes when I think of how I miss you and love you, it hurts me right here in my neck.”

🙂

For almost eight years, I’ve been in a women’s group called The SAGs. If you don’t know the story of how we came to be, if you’re not aware of why we call ourselves The SAGs, if you are procrastinating about manually cleaning out your septic system to save some money and don’t have anything better to do right now, you can read about the four SAGs right here.

The four SAGs meet together monthly for dinner and catching up and laughter and prayer and tears and compassion and sisterhood. We have never gone away on any kind of trip together even though we’ve talked about it many times.

Well, that is about to change. Today we’ll be heading north for a few days to a cozy two-bedroom cabin right on the edge of Lake Superior. The cabin has a nice kitchen, so we’ll be taking turns cooking dinners. There’s a fireplace too, so you might be able to imagine how in the chilly evenings we’ll pull our chairs up around the fire with our books, our conversation and our sighs.

Gail is bringing a yummy breakfast casserole, coffee and popcorn. Lorna is bringing the veggies, the key lime pie, and the crab salad. Pat is bringing the chocolate peanut butter bars, the chai tea, and the fixings for her delicious spaghetti carbonara. I’m bringing homemade granola, fixings for one dinner I’m still trying to plan, the fruit and the Scrabble game. If we get settled in and realize we need something, we won’t be so far away from civilization that we can’t run out and pick something up.

The place where we’ll be staying doesn’t have telephones or televisions in the cabins. (Someone should now belt out, “Hallelujah!”) So the noises we’ll hear will likely be the crackling wood fire, the call of the loons and the sound of lapping waves from the Lake, the rustle of leaves in the brilliantly colored trees around us, the quiet click of Scrabble tiles being placed for triple word scores in the evenings, and the satisfying conversation that comes from loyal and long-time friendship.

I will also take my camera, so I can share a little about our SAGs retreat in an upcoming post.

In the meantime, I hope your weekend finds you enjoying something or someone that nurtures your soul…

Do not have your concert first, and then tune your instrument afterwards. Begin the day with the Word of God and prayer, and get first of all into harmony with Him.

James Hudson Taylor

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In a recent post I asked readers to share what October meant to them. Their thoughtful and descriptive answers made me wish they would all start blogs or write books so I could read more of their thoughts, feelings and/or adventures. Thanks to all who left a comment.

This month’s bloggy giveaway winner is Sue R., a dear friend and faithful reader, who will receive a Barnes and Noble gift card! Sue will have to bundle up to use her card, because during the night it snowed in our part of the country and the winds are howling this morning, welcoming us to Month Number One of our annual Six Months of Winter. 🙂

I have over thirty rough drafts of blog posts I’ve saved and intend to put up someday. Here are some I’ve been working on that might make an appearance in the next few weeks:

Heart Monitor

Virginia, My Mom

Mildred’s Ears

Humiliation on the William A. Irvin

Honey on His Toes

“Yook at dat yake!”

Magic Man

Carlene

Play Date

Organ Lessons

Once Upon a Toile…

Dixon, Missouri

The Loch Ness Project

Spam and My Man

As you can clearly see, my brain works in exceedingly creative and exciting ways, so I’ll try to finish one of these promising posts and get it up on the blog so you can savor it soon. 🙂

For today, I have furniture to put together, meals to make, shopping to oversee, laundry to fold, radiators to bleed, paperwork to file, pictures to hang, books to cull, Bible study lessons to do, grandchildren to Skype, a Mitford book in which to bury my nose, six knee socks to fill with salt, red spots to count, a husband to hug and prayers to bring to Jesus’s feet.

Have a peaceful weekend!

When you think of your front yard, what phrase comes to mind? Postage Stamp? Tricycle Parking Lot? Leaf Graveyard? Gardens of Versailles?

Just in my neighborhood alone, the different front yards could have titles like, “Neighborhood Bus Stop,” “Garden Oasis,” “Piney Grove,” “Squirrel Haven,” and “Maple Park.”

A friend sent me these photos yesterday and they made me grin from ear to ear. There are only a few states in which a citizen could wake up in the morning to find that their front lawn had become a moose nursery during the night — Alaska, Maine, and Montana are three of those states. And my beautiful state, Minnesota, is another.

Recently a front yard a few miles north of us could have been dubbed, “Moose Nursery.”

Tell me this photo didn't make you smile or say "oooohhh."

Above, mama moose is vibing out her power and intimidation to the photographer. Moose are known for their poor eyesight, but it’s dangerous to get close to them. Postnatal moose have stomped people to death before.

Time for a nap in this Minnesota Moose Nursery

Blessings,

Autumn has always been my favorite season of the year, and if I had to narrow down a favorite month, it’s a toss-up between September and October. No other season elicits the renewed energy, yearning and musing as much as a Minnesota fall does for me.

October means breathtaking colors in the trees….fierce winds that make you stare at the leaves blowing around outside while it feels safe and quiet inside….turtlenecks and SmartWool socks….simmering soups and warm crusty bread….school buses with tiny cap-covered heads in the windows….a chilly house in the morning and the sound of the furnace clicking on at 6:00 a.m….tangy Bayfield apple cider in thick mugs….the smell of woodsmoke in the air….increased squirrel activity as winter food is gathered and hidden….perusing the cooking sites for new bread recipes to make at home….storing the hammock….getting up in the morning when it’s still pitch black outside….having the furnace cleaned and serviced….making sure we have bags of salt and plenty of shovels….stocking up on gloves and mittens for the grandbabies….dry, brisk, invigorating air….needing lotion for dry hands….lower in the sky, more golden light glowing in the windows….apple crisp with double the crumbly topping….lots of daydreaming about the Highlands of Scotland….picking numbers for Christmas shopping….wondering if I should have a women’s Christmas luncheon this year….the comfort of a pile of books always waiting nearby….weekly attendance at Community Bible Study….a hike to Carlton Peak….migrating birds….the heightened awareness of life and death, darkness and light, and the quiet pondering of what is temporal versus what is eternal.

Notice I did not write anything about eagerly anticipating winter and snow and bitter cold and ice and heating bills that are half a thousand dollars each month. 🙂

Now it’s your turn to share, and I will be so pleased if you do. A winner will be selected from all who leave a comment, and that person will win a nice bloggy prize.

What does October mean to you?

Recently our dear friends Bob and Linda asked us if we’d like to get together for breakfast at an establishment I’d never heard of – The Swamp Sisters. Apparently this diner/cafe in Twig, MN is a pretty popular eatery, and you have to be intentional about visiting because it’s only open on Fridays and Saturdays, May through October.

The four of us rode together to The Swamp Sisters, a place run by a group of sisters (duh) on their old swampy farmstead. They raise and sell bison, and some of their recipes have bison meat in them.

When we arrived the parking lot was full and we had to park around back, but we were able to get a table right away. It was like taking a welcome step back in time. Simple paper menus, vinyl checked tablecloths, friendly, apron-clad waitresses, and simple and hearty fare about as far removed from nouvelle cuisine as you can get.

All four of us ordered the special egg/bison sausage/potato/green peppers and onion/melted cheese skillet with a side of salsa and toast, and it was unique, delicious and filling.

It was such a treat catching up with Bob and Linda, who have been our friends for twenty-five years. We talked about our jobs and our children and our blogs (here’s Bob’s blog) and our families, and fell into that easy and comfortable conversation that always happens when we’re with them.

So after our meal and visiting, which passed as quickly as our very lives have these past two decades (whoosh!) we moseyed on out to the car for the drive home. There were a couple of huge chickens strolling around the tall grasses on the property and Michael knelt down and tried to bond with one but she wasn’t having any of it. She gave him that jerky and suspicious sideways glance that chickens are famous for and went off into the brush.

Aside from the always-satisfying experience of being with Bob and Linda, the morning’s best surprise was a dilapidated and leaning barn behind The Swamp Sisters cafe. I was so glad Bob and Linda had a camera with them.

Here they are, looking quite marvelous and upright in front of The Leaning Barn of Twig, MN.

Sometimes old things are just better. I like old songs, the kind Perry Como and Jo Stafford sing. I like old books, the kind that Jane Austen and George MacDonald wrote. I like old barns that whisper of stories I wish I knew. And I also like old-fashioned food that doesn’t have the words aioli, ganache, infusion or gastrique in their descriptions. (Although to be honest, I enjoy those kinds of foods too.)

And I like old friends. I like the memories we have that no one can take from us. I like how even when we don’t see each other as often as we’d prefer, we still slip right back into that companionable conversation, that trust, that love, that never goes away.

This morning as I get ready to tackle the things on my to-do list, I’m thinking of The Swamp Sisters bison breakfasts, I’m picturing The Leaning Barn of Twig, and I’m smiling as I think of our wonderful friends Bob and Linda.