Spinach Lasagna at the best table in town . . . Love you Kevon . . . magical indeed!
Today is my son’s birthday . . . he is one of the most wonderful human beings I have ever known. I can hardly believe that my baby is now 28 years old. He is smart, funny, kind, thoughtful, talented, and so gorgeous. I feel blessed each time this man calls me Mom . . . my Joey is a a joy . . . he is magic. To my son . . . Happy Birthday my dear Joey. I am so very proud of you and wish for you all of the things you wish for yourself, plus more. Thank you for loving me, respecting me, inspiring me, and forgiving me when I have made mistakes. You will always fill my life with joy, and remember “You are my sunshine” . . . Be happy, safe, aware, brave and kind. Know that I love you and everything is possible when you keep the faith. Love, Mom
Heading down to work in an hour . . . our little town is constantly changing to meet new demands and accommodating the tourists as best as possible with what they have to offer. Everyone is depending on something that is nearly impossible to predict and it drives everyone involved crazy . . . hence, my love-hate relationship with tourists. So I will remember the loons . . . yes, I will try to go to a calm place today . . . the sounds of the wind, the loons, and my Kevon whistling through a blade of grass!!!
I am still feeling overwhelmed with gratitude that I could sit at the desk of Sigurd Olson. He wrote about things that touched my soul . . . sights, smells, spiritual needs, and all the abundant beauty and magic that the wilderness brings to one who pays attention. The “Writing Shack” was even better than I could have imagined . . . even his love of rocks was present. “A New Adventure is coming up and I’m sure it will be a good one” . . .Sigurd Olson (last words found on his typewriter)
Listening Point . . . the most surreal place. Kevon and I were given the privilege and honor of visiting Sigurd Olson’s cabin on Listening Point . . . it still seems like a dream. We were all alone . . . solitude and silence. Sigurd Olson, my hero, dedicated his life to preserving the wilderness that resulted in permanent protection for the Boundary Waters I now am blessed to enjoy. “I walked to the end of the point and sat down. Long swells washed the rocks, and the chucklings that came from them soon were echoed within myself. As I looked and listened, all the confused hurrying of the day was slowed down and seemed to merge with the quiet movement of the water” . . . Sigurd Olson