The Traveling Boots

  I find that when I'm wearing my boots I have a sense of freedom, confidence, and a feeling of awe and wonder like I'm seeing and experiencing everything for the very first time. My boots take me on amazing journeys to new and beautiful places. My boots are well fitting, worn brown leather with scuff marks from climbing rocks, fraying laces from being tied and untied for well over two hundred miles of hiking and inserts made for my instep. During each new adventure my husband and I face each other; he looks down through the camera and takes a picture of our boots and the surface we are hiking on. Be it snow, leaves, sand, the red dirt of Arizona, rocks, puddles, bridges, railroad tracks, any surface our boots can walk on is fair game.

   The longest expedition my boots have been on is ten miles down into the south end of the
expedition my boots have been on is ten miles down into the south end of the Grand Canyon carrying a fifty pound back pack to a primitive campground in the Supai Indian reservation. My senses were overwhelmed when we finally reached the campground. The beautiful Havasu falls poured down with such force its spray felt like rain on my sunburned face and shoulders. Under a nearby tree, a native woman and her daughter were making fry bread. They were both barefoot and seemed quite content and confident without any shoes.


 

  My body and feet were so sore after reaching the campground. I had got a blister on my big toe from my sock having a crease in it and rubbing for ten miles. A first for me, I'm usually more careful about putting my socks on snugly leaving no creases to allow for blisters to form. It was a good thing I packed some mole skin in the first aid kit; I would be putting some of that into my boot for tomorrow's hike. We pitched our tent, and before laying our exhausted bodies down we took off our boots, which were not too smelly, just a little damp with sweat, and placed them outside the tent opening for easy access in case we needed to go anywhere. We woke up several hours later; it was dark, and when I peeked outside the tent I could see tiny lights moving like fire flies up and down the trail. Upon closer inspection the tiny lights turned out to be other campers walking up and down the trail with small headlamps attached to an elastic band on their heads so they could keep their hands free from carrying a flashlight. The moon was full, bright, and big above the canyon walls. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I slipped my boots on to protect my feet and hiked up to the environmentally friendly porta potties we had passed earlier in the trail down.

  The next morning was beautiful. I dusted the fine red dirt from my boots with a small whisk broom, stuck a piece of moleskin into my boots to protect my blister from any further damage, then placed my feet one at a time into my comfortable well worn companions that would take me on a new adventure. My husband had the coffee brewing on our small propane hiking stove. His boots were on, but not laced up yet. We sat Indian style on the soft grass to eat granola with instant milk, and some dried fruit with our coffee. As I was walking up the trail to the porta potties, I turned to see a full grown male big horn sheep eyeing me very closely, standing in the middle of the trail about four feet away from me. He was so close I could hear him breathing. He turned and ran down the trail, past my husband and disappeared into the canyon. That was a wondrous beginning to our morning. We packed some trail mix, cliff bars, filled our water bottles from the mountain spring and took off for the Colorado River.

 

 

 

   We walked through wild grape vines and flowers, following the trail to the Colorado River, which reminded me of the field of poppies in the Wizard of Oz. And each time the trail ended at a stream, we took our boots and socks off, made our way through the cool water with tiny fish, over logs, under tree branches, through rocks, and after doing this several times we decided to go barefoot. At this point I was extra careful to watch where I was stepping, looking for snakes, poisonous plants, or anything that might injure my feet making the hike out of the canyon impossible. I felt naked and unprotected without my boots. The stream crossings ended just in time for us to put our boots back on to shimmy through a rock opening, down a metal chain anchored into the rocks to a man made ladder of metal rungs and rope, that dropped fifty feet to the bottom of the canyon floor. My legs were shaking and I held onto the wall like a lizard. I repelled down the rope with my boots placed firmly against the side of the canyon wall. At the bottom I started to breath again. The end result was worth it: a beautiful lagoon which looked like an island paradise you would see on a post card. Then we climbed a much less ominous wooden ladder lashed together with rope. At the top was a two foot wide rocky trail. My boots gripped the ground and the rocks the way in which I imagine big horn sheep hooves would help them safely maneuver narrow rocky trails. Did I mention I'm afraid of heights? That had to go out the window here to enjoy this great adventure. We passed other hikers, laughing, taking pictures, napping at the water's edge. The trail down the other side of the heel was very steep. I began crouching like a cat because the trail was so narrow, and I was afraid of falling, but my boots held fast and I did not slip. At the bottom we took our boots and socks off and waded in the cool water. About ten feet away we saw a family of big horn sheep enjoying the water and eating plants along the banks. They too were resting their weary legs from climbing up and down the canyons. The journey back to our tent was quiet and serene. My boots had given me confidence to overcome the many challenges of the trail that day.

   Upon returning to the campground; I sat upon the soft grassy ground, unlaced my boots, gently removing them and my socks from my feet, carefully placing them next to me. Wiggling my toes I took a deep breath, and as I breathed in the beauty around me it filled me with a sense of awe and wonder. My boots have given me this day a felling of freedom, confidence and intimate connection with nature and my creator.

Written by Sheila Ball - all rights reserved.

Grasshopper Pie

  Grandma and Grandpa had a cat named Rusty. She was orange in color and tail-less to boot! She lived under the eves of the back porch in an empty lug box Grandpa Jack had placed there for her to have kittens in.

  One warm summer's day I decide to make Rusty a treat after finding an almost dead grasshopper in the back yard. Into the kitchen I went in search of the perfect ingredients. Many times I had watched my Grandma Addie make the perfect pie crust...and after all that watching I was certain I could do it too. This pie however, would have a filling entirely different from any pie Grandma had ever imagined or made.

  I poured the ingredients into a chipped mixing bowl, stirring carefully with a fork to moisten all the ingredients. Dusting my hands with flour I began to work the dough...as it took shape, I ever so carefully rolled it into a small circle using Grandma's old rolling pin...as I worked my excitement grew!

  I found an old pie tin to place my crust in, and into the center of the tin I placed my small circle of dough, I then very carefully placed the large juicy grasshopper onto the dough, which I had found; almost entirely dead from natural causes.

  With care I folded the crust and pinched the edges shut, smothering the top with melted oleo, placing the tiny pan into a 350 degree oven, baking till it was golden brown.

  When the pie was done I let it cool down so Rusty wouldn't burn her mouth. Once cooled, I placed it in her dish and watched her enjoy the delicious grasshopper pie. I can only imagine it was delicious, because I didn't actually try it myself, but her growling let me know she was not about to share it with me or anyone else.

by Sheila Ball all rights reserved

Life's little blessings...

 The word blessing has many meanings...to me it means something promoting or contributing to the happiness, well-being, or prosperity of another. A special favor, mercy, or gift.

 I have been blessed by many people who have touched my life...from my Mother, Grandmother, my Daughter's, and the biggest blessing in my life, my Granddaughter Austin Marie.

 Through her eyes I am able to see the world anew...with a child like wonder and hope, I had long lost to the skepticism's of adulthood.

 Life brings us many challenges every moment of everyday...sometimes it's hard to notice the little blessings that come our way. Be it the smile of a stranger as you stand in line at the store...the infectious laugh of a child, a butterfly resting ever so lightly on a beautiful flower, a cup of tea, a good night kiss.

 What little blessings have come your way today? I hope that they have been many, and that your heart is filled with joy!

Blessings,

Sheila

Tea for three...