The Porch Postscript

I have faint childhood memories of my grandfather’s garden.  Climbing the steps to the upper yard adjacent to the sprawling garden, the pride, and joy of my grandfather’s summers.   1519 B Street taken in 1998 when my grandmother sold the house Their home that once stood at 1519 B Street in Omaha, Nebraska, was built in kind of a hillside with an exterior staircase leading to the upstairs apartment where my great grandmother lived.  The big garden my grandfather was so proud of was of those stairs.  I wish I had photos of his garden, it's its glory days.  Unfortunately, it's all gone, the house was torn down and the gardens are no more.  The lot is vacant, the google earth view shows me a grassy green lot where the house once stood.   My grandfather was a solemn man who rolled his own cigarettes and sat with his cats watching the world go by from the back porch of this house.  He started seeds in old cotton socks he cut into small squares and kept moist until the seed sprouted.

  wan·der·lust ˈwändərˌləst/ noun a strong desire to travel. Lake Marie - Snowy Range, Wyoming This article  from  She Explores  made me homesick for Wyoming, the state where I spent the first 29 years of my life. I miss the varied landscape, from the mountains to the prairie to the plains to the desert. I miss the clear lakes, streams, and rivers.  I miss the openness of it all.  As I was explaining what I missed about Wyoming, Hubby just smiled. Not because I was mildly homesick, but because he knew exactly what was really causing these feelings. He took the opportunity to point out that I have wanderlust, something I didn't know I had until I met him and we began moving around the country. Well played Hubby...Well played. Aspen Alley - Battle Mountain, Wyoming He is of course spot on the money. I do have wanderlust, and during our time in Alaska, it's only gotten more intense. For the first time in our married lives, we're financially able to enjoy traveling and yet, we

Power outages happen at certain times of the year in our part of rural Interior Alaska.  This window into an outage that happened in September of 2016.   This week has been one power outage after another, literally, accompanied by a two-day windstorm that sounded like a runaway freight train. Let's start at 11 pm Tuesday night.   The Hedy dog got us up to go potty, at which time we discovered the power was out.  Plan of action - let dogs out, set cell phone alarm.  No big deal.  Glad the Hedy got us up. Fast forward to 5 am, still no power, really glad we set alarm on phone.  No power, no coffee for Hubby's drive to work.  No power, no morning computer time for me.  No power, no electric dog fence.  The largest problem of all - two cars stuck in the garage.  Yes, there is a manual release, but we aren't to that part of the story yet.  I convince Hubby it's not a big deal, surely they will have the power on soon.  I tell him to just take the truck and get to work, so