Weekend: Kimberly, Idaho

With Jason being in La Grande, Oregon for work, I decided to take a weekend to get back to my roots and visit my family and the house of my childhood.  At my parents' home outside of Kimberly, Idaho, the food tastes better, the light seems brighter, and there is so much love with all the farm cats, family, and chickens around.

It was a quiet relaxing weekend, and I spent much of it outside, taking walks and pulling the rustic images of the winter-sowed countryside close to my memory for future use.  In the country, people know all their neighbors, and if one is lucky with their neighbors, they are given permission to go where "No-Trespassing" signs are posted. Our neighbors are blessings.

The trees were barren with only slow-moving life budding under the ashen bark, but they stood proud in the gray light. In one Russian Olive tree, I caught sight of a deserted mag-pie nest.

Looking out across fields and landscapes, there is always something new to see, like an "I spy" game:

Old bee hive, broken glass, broken posts, and bit of twine;

Rusted Metal, animal prints, bottle caps, and a roll of fence line.

The morning that I left to drive back to my home and to the city, a fog settled in the chilly morning, packing like gauze around the hay bales and berry-bush brambles.

Maybe it is because I spent most of my childhood here, where my imagination was first cultivated, but there is really nothing more enchanting to me than this place.