Let's send February out with a hurrah, shall we? I am cheering: I'm glad to see it go. Frankly, my entire life is stuck in a winter right now, and I hope the whole thing, weather included, is in for a real thaw, real soon. I could certainly use some sunny days. And a little bit o' shine on the future wouldn't be a bad thing either... Get me outta here!
So, because I'm looking forward to breaking out, and in the spirit of making plans, remembering good times, and knowing that there really is sunshine on its way, I give you a nice slice of happy from last fall...
In October, the last weekend before we opened our PS stores, we took the opportunity for a quick getaway and some fresh air at Fish Lake near Loa. The weather was crisp and lovely. We stayed in a cozy cabin on the lake and just spent some laid-back time fishing, hiking, playing games, stoking the fire and exploring the surrounding small towns.
My ancestors were some of Utah's first settlers, and personal historic sites pepper the region. One of my grandfathers Jessop owned and ran this mill near Antimony, not far from Fish Lake. I think my grandmother Violet spent some of her growing up years here. It is right on the road, near a sharp blind curve where my little-boy great uncle was hit by a speeding postman!
After lunch at Ruby's Inn, we also visited the Proctor homestead, near Panguitch, Utah and Bryce Canyon. My great grandmother raised sixteen children in this cabin -- and she never even had an outhouse! Good golly, it makes you grateful for indoor plumbing and gas heat, doesn't it?
While driving through East Loa, we came upon the tiny local cemetery. We love cemeteries. Perhaps this seems strange, but we thoroughly enjoy wandering through them, reading the markers and wondering at the lives of the people there. It is always humbling to see how many pioneer babies there are, always interesting to discover this wife goes with that husband and piece together imagined stories. As we wandered through this cemetery, we were completely surprised and delighted to see this:
A bit of background to our enthusiasm: Our little Julia Grace was never going to be Julia Grace at all. While "Grace" -- her great, great grandmother's name -- was in the plan, we had an entirely different name picked out as a first name. Late one evening in August, just as JB was dozing off, he had a little dream in which he met a woman high on a mountain. He recognized her in the way you do in dreams, and he reached up to her and said, "It's time to come now, Sweetheart." That was the end of the dream, and he stirred, then fell back to sleep. All night long he heard the name "Julia" in his subconscious, both wakeful and sleeping thoughts. When he awoke, predawn, I was already awake, watching the clock as contractions began to build. I know what we need to name this baby, he said. Good, I told him, because she is coming today.
When he told me about his dream, I was reluctant to change what we had decided was the prettiest name for our new little sweetheart, but after meeting her -- and spending three days trying to convince myself that she looked like the name we had originally chosen -- I had to admit she really did, indeed, seem to want to be called Julia.
So, then, it was with surprise and an amazement that, on a Sunday drive just a few weeks after Julia was born, in all the cemeteries in all the state, in a place I didn't even know existed, we stumbled upon the burial site of her great, great, great grandmother Julia Ann Zufelt Buchanan. Cool.
And now, in closing and just for fun, a couple of my favorite knuckleheads enjoying some of the last rays of autumn sunshine. Good times.
On the table tonight: Mexican pasta
