Your parents die and your kids grow up and move away and you get a life. Sorta. No plans for the big weekend, the Lake-a-Rama here in EWA, and no kids at home on the 4th for the first time in 30 years. Hard to tell where this will lead.

Being the sedentary sort, always the best-read in any circle, the plans that filter up the elevators, around the coffee shop and through in the offices in the buildings around town sound perfectly marvelous: Sandpoint and riding bikes, camping at Priest Lake, the parade in Coeur d'Alene, fireworks on the boat. This, my friends, is the life we lead in EWA. My cousin flies in from SoCal to grab a piece of it. Seems a little frantic to me as there has always been enough here for anybody who wanted some. But nevertheless, she is from SoCal, bless her heart, and I like her so I am willing to get her up on The Hiawatha Trail late next week so she will have much to relate this fall on the highways and byways of Southern California. If only you could do an IPO on North Idaho summer days on the banks of the lazy St. Joe....

But you can't; we wouldn't let you anyway and this is how it is. The quiet folds in and around the garden and the blue of the sky becomes piercingly blue. Piercingly blue?

I think so.



The Chows nap on, the roses bloom, and the tomatoes prepare to produce fruit. People are living and dying. But not here in The 'Kan EWA.


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA