Comfortable friends

Thursday, June 25, 2026
The rain slaps the metal roof for less than an hour, just long enough to settle the dusty roads of the campgound. It feels like everything around me is pink this summer.

The deep and light pink peonies are long-lived in fresh water.

I like the stacked white peonies, too. They're in three layers: nearest the stem, the lowered petals remind me of irises. The middle is fluffy like edgy mums. The top petals exuberantly stick out of the center.

I start a watercolor sketch but quickly lose interest. My friend Judy accurately describes this state of mind as "unpresent." 

Later in the day, I draw some lines to approximate the petals.

The prayer of St Patrick is written in an old sketchbook. I pull water and color across an empty spread. There's not much energy for anything today.

In contrast, W began repainting fading trim on the cabin yesterday. This morning, he starts on the doors, which were a deep fire-engine red. Nope, that's not the right shade. He heads to the paint store 10 miles away for a remix. It's quite orange but cheerful.

Earlier this week, after edging the plastic nursery carrier with wood scraps and moss, we jammed three 6-packs of flowers into it. W dug out enough soil from the ground to fill between plantings. We're not here long enough to see things mature. When we leave, I'll give them away. I need things growing around me.

This daisy has a bent stem. When I pull it off and flick it into the ground, the juxtaposition of bark, moss, leaves, and flower is too pretty to ignore.

One strange and expected consequence of aging is that perfect pitch starts to slip. I see a 4-part harmony score, listen to the voices, and think, "Wait, that's in G." Except when I retune my pitch to reconcile the score and voice, the key is indeed Ab. Weird. And disconcerting. It's like finding out that a blue truck is actually purple = similar but not the same color.

Wearing open sandals, W has stabbed his toe with a sharp stick on the path. Ouch. He's in the mood for burgers (again!) and drives up the hill for lunch. It's near enough that I can walk there and back. I order a "huckleberry special" burger, but they forget to add huckleberries. 

"Really?" The cook trots to the menu board and back into the kitchen. He returns with a small plate with frozen hucks, which I place under the lettuce and tomato. 

It's good - and the hucks are probably worth more than $1.50. (A huckleberry pie costs almost $50.) I take home half the burger for later. The plate of fries is huge, maybe 3X a large McDonald's portion. The potatoes are double-fried, delicious but not good for us. We take at least half home as well. I think I'm "burgered out."

The annual ferns are lacy along the road from town.

There's a swath of wildflowers seeded on the riverbank.

I'm in the mood to bake something and have been putting it off. We don't eat much and rarely like the same food. On the back of the oatmeal box is a recipe for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. It looks straightforward. We don't have chocolate chips but I smash in 2 Dutch gingerbread cookies (speculaas) and a few TJ toffee-chocolate cookies. We both like the cookies. Then I fall deeply asleep for an hour.

W's busy most of the day painting doors and trim. The satin paint is lighter, more orange, and flatter than the original glossy red. It looks fresh. He has paint splatters on his shirt and heads to the shower. I walk around the grounds before we head to the Lodge to check for online messages. I write the monthly update to partners. 

The trailer cover is in place atop the solotube concrete footings. Level. Well-placed. I'm in awe.

Friday
The men remove the bracing and fasten the trailer canopy. Now to move away the haul trailer and put the house trailer inside.

Some volunteers are craftsmen. Look at the series of doors on a storage building.

I chat with campers on my rounds of the camp. I get a tour of a home-built log cabin decorated with furs, paintings, and family treasures. It's nice to be outside, though it drizzles a bit.

Mitch and Keelee arrive in the evening. They've eaten a very late lunch. We snack and make cold-cut sandwiches with the meat and cheese they brought along. W and I don't get this kind of food in Indonesia; it's pure luxury.

Saturday
Keelee and I walk, rest, and chat with the guys. Mitch barbecues thick steaks (!drool!) along with our baked potatoes, corn on the cob, and coleslaw. It's bliss. We're so full that we snooze for most of the afternoon. I don't touch my computer all day.

In the evening, Keelee slips round balls of dough for chocolate chip cookies on an ungreased, room-temperature baking stone. The cookies hardly spread as they bake, rising perfectly as the stone heats up in the oven. OOOH, I just learned something new from this Quiet Waters baker.

We indulge in hot cookies with ice cream for supper. SO good!

Ahead of us on the clock, English classes at the Project are full of young learners and their moms. It's a full house in the various classrooms and on the porches.

Sunday

The Montana cabin cools down overnight. I take a hot shower before I head outside to find Keelee. She is already on her morning walk. 

We don't run out of things to talk about. I've talked more in the last 2 days than I do in a year in Indonesia. Being understood culturally and in our home language makes conversation easy and more complex than the simple functional language we use abroad. W speaks more there because he leads studies and is the liaison for trades and services.

The clovers don't smell strong today. I haven't tasted clover honey in a long time.

Keelee combines leftover steak, baked potatoes, corn, and (new) sautéd onions and peppers into a delicious brunch scramble. We pray and share scriptures - some are our life verses. Others have deep meaning for the season.

What a gift for W and me to visit with these friends. Mitch was W's teaching assistant for 2 years at NU. Keelee and I have been connected for years and have dear mutual friends.

Around noon, they leave behind warm words and so many groceries that we won't have to shop for a few days.

I send a video to my mom before sleeping for an hour to make up for a -4 hour night. Then it's off to the park canopy to use wifi and catch up on the outside world. It rains, drips, and blows. I'm wearing thick jeans, a few sweaters, thick knee socks, and an undershirt, with a wide-brimmed hat and raincoat on top. I am not warm but I'm not shivering much. I scroll through old Bandung Project garden photos because I feel homesick for tropical mountain weather.

The greenery here - especially the towering pines - around us feels similar. But the weather? not so much. The rain is cold. As are my fingers and toes.

Youthful campers are practising a play under cover behind the Lodge. They are over-the-top dramatic as they rehearse, as only teens can be. Makes me smile. Several get loudly into their parts, while the others mutter their lines. It's a joy to pray over whatever God has planned for them this weekend at camp. They go inside as the rain and wind intensify.

The cabin is freshly trimmed and welcomes me back on this blustery day. Temps climb to a high of 50oF/10oC by mid-afternoon. Brrr.

Read more:
* But you, take courage! Do not let your hands be weak, for your work shall be rewarded. 2 Chronicles 15:7

* He who forms the mountains, who creates the wind, and who reveals his thoughts to mankind, who turns dawn to darkness, and treads on the heights of the earth—the Lord God Almighty is his name. Amos 4:13

* Jesus said, “His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things; I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’” Matthew 25:21

* On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said,  rivers of living water will flow from within them.” John 7:37-38

Moravian Prayer: Lord, help us to be worthy stewards of your lands and people. We know we need to be fair and just when dealing with others, whether in work or play. Help us to love and respect others as you love and respect us. Amen.