Good Times, Sad Times, Peace

48, overcast, but some sun later.

After a good day's work yesterday, we all gathered at Sarah's cabin for a campfire dinner. Foil-wrapped veggies and sausage, seasoned to perfection and tossed in the fire to cook--so good!

We stayed around the fire, talking and laughing. What good memories these days will be.

Oh and yes that might be a bloody towel on Sarah's hand. She cut her finger while prepping veggies, but between Derek's first aid kit and Tommy's good attentions, it was well taken care of.

Grandson James with Sarah's dog Glen.

Haley, Sarah, Tommy.

Poppa Larry and James.

Granny just wouldn't stay still for a picture,  Haley tells me!

Sons Aaron, Derek, and granddaughter Sarah.

My "boys". Having 2 out of 4 here at one time makes me so happy. 

Sadly, though, our old black lab Otis finally went to rest this morning. We have been expecting this for some time, but still it is not easy. At 15, he had a good long life, and we will miss him. I so wish our pets would live as long as we do. Poor Daisy, our yellow lab, is grieving; she even turned away from bacon. Poor girl.  

This is Otis as a young pup, back in 2010. What a funny, good boy he was.

I also got news of the death of a friend, Larry Staats. Larry was a unique individual: a retired Army officer, lawyer, bankruptcy judge, scuba instructor, hiker, biker ( he once biked across Australia), cover, square dancer, player of odd musical instruments,  and a storyteller. He grew up in my county but spent most of his life in Columbus, Ohio. Many of his stories were of his childhood exploits, and all were imbued with his quiet humor. Larry was 90 this year. I hadn't seen him since 2019, because of the pandemic, and I have surely missed him. The world lost a good one with his passing. I will visit him though, in the cemetery near here, and sit on the bench he had installed there on his gravesite that is inscribed, "Have a seat on Larry." Yes, a sly humor. Here, Larry is dancing in 2007, and this is how I like to remember him.

Late last week I  heard of the unexpected death of Jesse Corlis. Some of you may remember when I posted about the mural being painted on the building of the West Virginia Museum of American Glass. I stopped one day when the painter was at work, and Jesse graciously stopped work to tell me about the design, and about his other murals. 

I kept up with Jesse's work, and knew he was in the midst of a couple projects when I learned he had passed away from epilepsy complications while on vacation. Another great loss of a good, kind, and talented man.

Add to that the death of the infant great- grandson of a dear friend, and, well, it has not been an easy week. I am grateful to have had so much family here this week--2 sons, 4 grandchildren, 2 great-grands--to keep me busy and keep me laughing. Because even with sadness, there is still so much joy in this life. We must just keep reminding ourselves of that, and keep seeking joy whenever we can.

Today I found that joy and peace in tbe woods, taking a long walk with granddaughter Haley.  Not a walk so much as a meander, as we searched for mushrooms, picked up black walnuts, examined odd trees, and just enjoyed the beauty of the forest in autumn.  

Here, a small maple makes its golden stand beneath taller trees.

Moss-covered hollow log, a place for some creature to live in, perhaps?

The old gasoline access road through the woods. I wish I had a dollar for every time I walked it in winter, back when our road was impassable due to snow and mud. I well remember walking it, and the steep,  steep hill at the end, when I was pregnant with my youngest son.

Haley, hoping to find a Chicken of the Woods mushroom. No luck today.

Brightly colored leaves were everywhere, so pretty.

Haley has gone home now, as she must be back to her job with the Army National Guard tomorrow, but both of us enjoyed this slow and easy walk together.

Tonight is trivia night at a local restaurant,  another opportunity to laugh and just be together.  I know I am a fortunate woman, despite the vicissitudes of this life.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.