Granny Hat

Granny Hat wrote a while ago about how there is “summer in every seed”. She just didn’t realize how much summer! Granny has been mowing and weeding and trimming and watering and mowing and weeding……..; it never ends.

The jolly plant lady down at the Garden Center says you must wait to plant until the snow melts off the mountain peaks right above Granny’s house. That nursery woman is jolly because no one ever listens to her; they plant flowers in late April, but Dame May decides to snow and hail so then they all have to trot back down to the Garden Center to start over with new plants. It’s a win win for the friendly floriculturist, she must be laughing all the way to the bank. Happily, for her, plants don’t come with guarantees or warranties.

Granny Hat loves the lessons she learns from gardening. Starting with seeds; they are dry and dead looking, hard to believe they will ever amount to anything. When we bury them under the soil, they are out of sight but never out of mind. Waiting for them to grow requires patience and hope. And a little worry, truth be told. Will they really ever sprout? Are they getting enough water? Perhaps too much water? The promise of a living organism demands warmth, water, nutrients and TLC. So, the gardener mists, sets the sod pots in one sunny window then another, always watching and counting the days. When the bursts of green finally stretch toward the sun, there is such sweet joy. There was life in that dead- looking seed after all, created to thrive, drink up the light.

In the Northern Rockies Spring may be sneaky but Summer is SUDDEN. Granny Hat never understood the story of Jack and the Beanstalk until she moved to a Suddenly Summer climate. She can literally watch the grass grow and when she closes her eyes, she is sure to hear the vines creep along the fence. The garlic that sprouted through the snow in March, then just stood there patiently in the wind and the rain suddenly sprouted “scapes” over night!

Flowers love the extreme long days. The sun goes down near 10 pm but the sky stays light until 10:45. The growing season is short, but the plants know how to make up for lost time. They were created to grow.

Back in Sneaky Spring, Granny decided to celebrate seed-starting season by teaching kids in Joyful Noise Sunday School the time-honored Dan Wittenmore song, Little Bitty Seeds. It is a favorite with the children because it has crazy-fun motions and tells the Parable of the Sower from the Gospels. Granny introduced the song around Easter time as little, round, hard millet seeds were sown in Resurrection Gardens. The kids got busy sprinkling way too much millet which sprouted into a jungle of very tall grass in just two weeks. So much beautiful green life in the tiniest of seeds!

“The Word of God is like little bitty seeds, scattered all around. The Word of God is like little bitty seeds, scattered all around. Some on the road, some in the weeds,
but everywhere you look you find little bitty seeds.
The Word of God is like little bitty seeds, scattered all around.”

What a beautiful way to describe the Word of God, seeds that can be scattered, broadcasted and shared. It has also been described as “a lamp unto our feet”, “the bread of life”, “sweeter than honey in the honeycomb”, “living and active” & “became flesh and dwelt among us”. In other words, the Word of God is alive! It moves, grows, changes hearts. And who doesn’t like bread and honey?

“I want the Word to grow in my heart like seed on fertile ground. I want the Word to grow in my heart like seed on fertile ground. Watered by the Spirit, touched by the Son and living like I should til the harvest comes. I want the Word to grow in my heart like seed on fertile ground.”

Granny Hat loves the joy on the kids’ faces when they sing about those little bitty seeds. She hopes and prays they will have fertile hearts, grow to love the Word of God, to listen to it, learn from it and be changed. May they grow up convicted that what God creates is a promise, that life is sacred and that seeds buried in the ground are waiting to sprout and thrive. Suddenly Summer!

“Sing them over again to me, wonderful words of life,
Let me more of their beauty see, wonderful words of life,…
Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life.” Philip P. Bliss

From Granny’s heart:
Granny Hat was 14 years old when the Roe v Wade decision was passed by the United States Supreme Court on January 22, 1973. (now you know how old she is!) She doesn’t remember people talking about it, the issue was all hush-hush. Granny was an adult before she learned just how lucrative and pervasive the abortion industry is.

Granny was privileged to work at a pregnancy center which offered free pregnancy tests, ultrasounds, STD testing and pre-natal counseling for families. The staff offered alternatives to Planned Parenthood’s appalling remedy for pregnancy.

Granny Hat especially loved the Walk for Life Rally in San Francisco and the local ones sponsored by the HPC. She heard Abby Johnson (And Then There Were None, https://abbj.com) and Shawn Carney ( 40daysforlife.com) speak and was inspired by the courage of these intelligent pro-life advocates. It was moving when thousands of people bowed their heads in prayer, begging God to turn the tide, to put the promise of life on our nation’s heart and bring an end to the infanticide.

We will have to wait for heaven for all things to be made right, every tear wiped away. Here on earth there is still much ground to cover but Granny Hat is celebrating with deep gratitude for the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v Wade on June 24, 2022. What a wonderful Suddenly Summer thing to happen in our country!

She thinks we should still memorialize January 22 as a Day of Remembrance for the hundreds of thousands of babies whose lives were taken. And now there is a new day to celebrate – June 24! A day to stand up and boldly proclaim that life is a gift from God, a sacred promise. A day to purpose to meet needs in our community that arise from desperate circumstances. A day to:

“Speak life, speak life to the deadest darkest night.
Speak life, speak life when the sun won’t shine and you don’t know why, Look into the eyes of the broken hearted,
Watch them come alive as soon as you speak hope,
You speak love, you speak life.” (Toby Mac)

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint” (Isa. 40:31).

Granny Hat enjoyed a weekend of celebrating milestones. Mission finished his AZT adventure and grandson Dakota graduated Magna Cum Laud from Papillion La Vista High School in Nebraska.

Life’s journeys are a mixed bag; plenty of tears, labor, pain, fear, triumph and joy. And such relief at the completion! Mark Twain said it short and sweet, as usual: “The secret of getting ahead is getting started.” Granny believes in the “one foot in front of the other” approach to life.

Mission’s last AZT, Grand Canyon photos:

Thank you for following, reading and praying!

“There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go.” J.R.R. Tolkien

Mission is nearing the end of his 800 mile trek through the Wilds of Arizona, completing Rim to Rim of the Grand Canyon.

Granny Hat is learning that there are several types of “Wilds” on any trail. Each adventurer has his or her own opinion about what is truly “wild”. Granny sits in the the comparative safety of her garden Adirondack chair, reading Mission’s Strava comments, looking at the photos and frequently exclaiming, “now, THAT’s WILD!” She will share some of the best pictures.

NATURAL WILD, courtesy of the Creator

CRAZY WILD

🎶and I would walk 500 miles, then I would walk 300 more…🎶

MAN-MADE WILD

MAGIC WILD

So, reader, what type of “wild” do you prefer?

OR

OR

How about:

OR

You choose:

OR

When choosing your adventure,

OR

Thirsty?

OR

Remember HYOH? Hike Your Own Hike? well, this is PYOW, Pick Your Own Wild!

“Inside all of us is Hope. Inside all of us is Fear. Inside all of us is Adventure. Inside all of us is… A Wild Thing.”Maurice Sendak,  Where the Wild Things Are

🎶When you’re way up high and you look below at the world you’ve left and the things you know, little more than a glance is enough to show you just how small you are.🎶 Into the Woods, Stephen Sondheim

Mission’s latest Strava entry:

From Mission’s Strava journal:
AZT Day 14 Picketpost Mountain to Whitford Canyon 16.4 miles
Started hiking around 6:30 and met Kayla from Colorado who was section hiking the AZT. Started walking into Superior once I hit the highway but had to eventually call for a ride. MJ, the local trail angel picked me up and took me to her home where Loren, Lightning and Mismatch were waiting for me. MJ made us an amazing breakfast, coffee, let us do showers and laundry and play with her cat. Zach (now NoGo) and Flying Pig joined soon after and we all hung out for a while before I went to the post office.
On my way to the PO, a man on his porch with a loud chihuahua yelled at me “Hey! Do you want a job?”
“Not really”, I replied, “but what do you need?”
“I got a bunch of weeds in my rock garden I need pulled!”
I asked how many and he said “a MILLION!” It was pretty comedic.
Mismatch and I got burritos and then packed up. MJ drove me back to the trailhead and I started hiking again around 4:30. Saw my third rattler and fourth Gila. Met Shack who was new to hiking and doing a three-day section. Walked through lots of cow land and found a nice spot to camp right as it got dark. Just then I heard the cows mooing like crazy followed by shrill whines and screams.
I turned on my headlamp and saw some distant eyes moving quick along a ridge. I told myself I wasn’t going to bed until I knew what it was so I got a little closer but still couldn’t make it out. It kept screaming and its partner behind me did the same. I decided to keep hiking and went down into a canyon where I came across some cows. Fifty feet later, I look up and see them again about 100 feet away. I still couldn’t make them out until one turned to the side revealing his long puffy lion tail. No confusion this time. Guess they work in pairs now??? Camped at mile 307.4

Meet MJ, Granny Hat’s new trail angel hero.

Mission says that trail angels are few and far between on the AZT. He says it is so different on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) which has hundreds of trail angels, some organized into territories. There are so many annual thru-hikers on the PCT that the angels typically keep things simple and expedient, handing out bottled water or prepared food for a crowd near the trail or showing up at junctions to give shuttle service into towns for re- supply.

MJ does her angel work solo out in a lonely desert town a few miles from the trail. She is truly blooming where she is planted. For a $20 donation, she hosts hikers, feeds them, and gives them rides to and from the trail. (Granny Hat knows from experience how much a hungry hiker can eat, how dirty his laundry is and how much hot water he needs for a shower. $20 is a bargain and a half!) Mission said MJ left several clean hikers with full tummies in her house telling them to “make yourselves at home” while she drove out to the trail to pick up a couple more. There are few hikers on the AZT so MJ can welcome all that come her way. She has a tiny house, to the hikers it seems a palace with clear, pure, running water and the smell of home-cooked food. Look at her smile. She has a handle on happiness, I think. MJ, the desert flower, the lone angel!

And now the other item in the Strava account above, the one Granny Hat doesn’t really want to talk about. When she spoke with Mission’s older brother about the mountain lion sightings, this was verbatim what he said: “So awesome for Stephan. Very, very jealous!”

Granny just doesn’t get it. She is completely happy to never ever see a mountain lion in the wild. She doesn’t even like seeing one in a zoo! She is not jealous at all, unless it is of Mission’s courage. Some of her readers may remember the fuzzy Sasquatchy quality photo of a wild cat in the North Angeles hills on the PCT trek in 2018. There was debate about whether it was an innocent little bobcat or a cougar. Mission was convinced it was a bobcat. This time, he seems sure about what he saw and heard! Granny hasn’t slept well for a couple of nights. She keeps telling herself that fear paralyzes while courage inspires confidence. She sure is glad Mission could keep hiking past those lions.

Meanwhile, it was time this past week to mail two re-supply boxes to Pine and Flagstaff. New Lone Peak 4 shoes, stuffed with Larabars, sunscreen, dried fruit, jerky, dental floss and socks, had to be squeezed diagonally in to the Flagstaff box. Re-supply on the AZT is a piece of cake compared to the PCT though.

Today, Mission is in Pine, Arizona where he feasted, sent all these lovely photos to Granny Hat and will pick up his re-supply at the PO. He is climbing up to 8,000- foot heights where there will be trees and mountain views as he makes his way to Flagstaff.

As Granny promised: A Brief History of the AZT (from Your Complete Guide to the Arizona National Scenic Trail by Matthew J. Nelson and the AZT, Wilderness Press)

The Arizona Trail is the “little brother” among the Appalachian Trail, the Pacific Crest Trail and the Continental Divide Trail. It was established in 1994 largely thanks to the efforts of 5th grade schoolteacher Dale Shewalter, appropriately dubbed “Father of the Arizona National Scenic Trail”.

Dale had a dream during college to hike the Appalachian Trail but put it off while he started his career as a geophysicist. He moved to Arizona in 1974 and when he saw the Sonoran Desert, he was “instantly converted” and decided he wanted to thru-hike Arizona instead of the AT. But there wasn’t an organized, established trail yet.

In 1982 he walked the length of the Mogollon Rim, the easterly-westerly escarpment that divides the lower deserts from the pine covered plateaus of the north. After this he began to dream of a south-north continuous hike through the state.

Dale tested sections of the trail and then began traveling around the state giving presentations on his vision of the AZT and how it would connect communities, mountains, canyons, deserts, public lands and historic sites. In the late 1980s the Kaibab National Forest management hired Dale as the first paid coordinator for the AZT. In 1994, the association was incorporated as a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization and became an advocate for the trail.

Granny Hat just noticed a few entries on Mission’s Strava that might be interesting to her readers:

AZT Day 16 Cottonwood Creek to Buckhorn Creek, 15 miles Spent seven hours swimming, talking and eating at Roosevelt Lake with Kayla, TFP and Trash Pocket. Left around 4, crossed the Salt River Bridge and began the long ascent into the Four Peaks Wilderness. Camped at Buckhorn Creek, mile 348.

AZT Day 18 Sunflower to Barnhart Junction 29 miles Started a climb through Ventana Wilderness type land as the weather changed to chilly winds and clouds. Moved through very green hillsides and eventually powered up a lot of switchbacks into a beautiful pine forest with great views of surrounding peaks. Passed the Halfway Marker and started dropping down into Bear Spring Camp……the spring was very sulphury. My heels felt tense so I moved slowly through a beautiful section underneath the towering Mazatzal Peak. My second favorite section on this trip so far. Camped at Barnhart Junction, mile 409.

AZT Day 19 Barnhart Junction to near Pine 29.5 miles Did not make it out before sunrise as my alarm never went off. Walked about 10 miles to Hopi Spring where I saw a poor little fox that I think was dying or something because it was shivering a lot. Walked through rocky hillsides and mini pine groves with my first views of the San Francisco Peaks. Saw my first Mojave Green Rattler near Bush Spring and then went down, down, down near the Verde River where I met Lowrange from Liverpool/Boise. It was 3 pm and he was the first person I had seen all day. Crossed the river and stopped to soak my feet and eat some food. Met Dozer who was heading south to meet up with “Two and a Half Statches”, a hiking group, after a knee injury forced him off the trail. We talked for about an hour about Florida and hiking. Left and walked through cruisy cow forests and found a small spot to camp at mile 438.5.

“It is not the strength of the body that counts but the strength of the spirit.” J.R.R. Tolkien

“I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.”
Oliver Wendell Holmes

Mission described the Arizona Trail like this to Granny Hat the other day, “Basically the AZT is 80% the worst and 20% the best thing ever. There’s no middle.” Granny has decided to channel one of her favorite authors, Charles Dickens and with Mission’s photos help her readers visualize the contrasts of his statement. 

“It was the best of times, 

 

…it was the worst of times, 

…it was the age of wisdom, 

 

…it was the age of foolishness, 

…it was the epoch of belief

…it was the epoch of incredulity

…it was the season of light

…it was the season of darkness, 

 
…it was the spring of hope, 

…it was the winter of despair,

 
Mission insists that the Gila Monster he saw on the trail was “cool” and “beautiful” but Granny Hat has a reason for listing that desert dragon with the badlands. Granny had a bad experience 58 years ago that left her with lizard PTSD. She had just moved with her family to the Tropical Savannah in Pernambuco, Brazil. They lived in a cinder block house with no electricity and running water that had to be boiled before you could drink it. Since there was no garbage disposal and fruit scraps were a neon invitation to bats, monkeys and denizens of the forest, garbage had to be dumped daily on the outskirts of the settlement. Mother (who was a very tough lady indeed to move to such a place) handed Granny and her little brother a heavy tin pail overflowing with stinky, rotting banana peels, orange rinds and guava skins and tasked to carry it down a scary, vine draped path, emptying it into a gaping dump the size of the Grand Canyon.  

The two children struggled with the slop and just as they were about to tip the pail over the rim of the festering pit, a huge tropical Iguana who was feasting on the garbage reared up on his hind legs and stood towering 20 feet over them, hissing. Granny and her brother dropped the pail and turned tail, running and screaming back up that path. Mother, who as Granny already said, was very strong and figured her children would have to be resilient to survive in this brave new world, sent them sternly back down the path to collect the bucket (buckets were essential and you couldn’t just get another one at Target). She assured them iguanas are “more afraid of you than you are of them”, that “there was nothing to fear but fear itself” and several other “it is what it is” style platitudes. 

When the children got back to the garbage dump, the Iguana was nowhere to be seen, but that lizard and his entire family visited Granny in her dreams for years. She was always carrying a bucket that she couldn’t drop and running in place but getting nowhere and the iguanas were faster. Yeah, Granny hates all lizards. If trolls guard the bridges in northern Europe to travelers’ peril, Iguanas guard the garbage pits of the tropics. And Gila Monsters watch over the AZT so don’t mess up, STAY ON THE TRAIL! 

Granny hopes you have a fairly accurate picture of Mission’s trip so far, he has completed more than 200 miles, so is 25% done already. He passed through Carney, Arizona and is presently at around Lat 33.244704 Lon –111.158166. 

Granny’s mother was right, of course, mama knows best. In another favorite author’s words: 

“It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit.” J.R.R. Tolkien 

Mission isn’t afraid of much but many of his thru-hike followers are, so Granny leaves them with this: 

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9 

Our creator also promised ”streams in the desert”. These water sources will have to do for now!

History of the AZT will have to wait until next time. Thank you for reading and following and praying. Granny appreciates the feedback and text comments- a big thank you to her niece Ariadne who assisted in naming the desert dragon pictured above.

When Mission texted a few days ago that he “made it to Patagonia”, Granny Hat pictured this:

Or this:

But Patagonia, Arizona is just a little “gateway town” in the desert near the Coronado National Forest. Mission said the town has bragging rights: a couple markets, four cafes, bike rentals, a state park with a lake and some history of mining, Jesuits and ranching. It claims to be a “naturalist’s playground”. What mattered to Mission most was “just had maybe the best breakfast burrito of my life!” Granny Hat is a little skeptical, she watched him mix and pack up those cold soak oatmeal mixes. A few mornings of porridge like that and ANY breakfast burrito would be ambrosia.

Mission also found a little hostel called Terra Sol that welcomes thru hikers and had a restful evening. He was lulled to sleep by three hours of African drum music (IS Patagonia on the southern tip of Chili and Argentina or is it near the Cape of Good Hope?) and other revelries around the campfire. The owner of the hostel, a friendly 60 something hippie, and her friends were just living their best desert life under the stars. 

Mission passed the 100 mile mark Sunday, April 10 and sent Granny some beautiful desert pictures. For the readers that dig GPS his coordinates that night were Lat. 32.062343 Lon. -110.626338. He also related some adventures from the past week which she will try to tell in mostly his words.

On day 4, after his stellar Patagonia burrito, Mission hit the trail from Terra Sol “feeling rested, started a long walk up the road and eventually reached Temporal Gulch Trail Head where the day fell apart.”  He had accidentally taken a newly constructed part of the AZT instead of the current trail and realized they hadn’t connected them yet. This meant he had no information about the next water source, which is the most important consideration on a desert hike. He said he thought long and hard about his three options: “One, I could keep going with no true idea of my next water source. Two, I could cut one mile cross country to Anaconda Spring on the AZT. Or three, I could suck it up and return to where I had left the real trail. Following option three, I returned to the trail and used a water cache there, feeling some signs of heat exhaustion. Met Bandit and we talked for a little. Once I felt better, I continued to Anaconda Spring and filled up before a big climb. Met Sonny from Kansas and climbed the 1000 foot switchbacks with him, hiked in the dark to Casa Blanca Canyon where we bived by a nice stream.”

Streams in the desert! Granny Hat is glad Mission found one. He listed his trail miles as 16.1 for the day but that doesn’t  include the wrong trail and backtracking.

On Day 5 Mission hiked 26.8 miles from ” Casa Blanca Canyon to IDK”, guess the desert scenes all start looking alike. He started at 6 am to beat the heat and at breakfast he stopped and “talked with Flying Pig, Zac, Lightning and Lauren”. He hiked for some time with Lightning who told him all about “some adventures he had in New Zealand and about his homesteading plans”. They reached Kentucky Camp, a historic gold mining outpost and “we chilled in the shade for two hours”. They resumed at noon and saw folks driving raptors across the desert. After that he “continued on the long, hot road through nowhere. Stopped for a rest at this nice shady spot and Sonny and Bandit caught up.”  They found “magic” 300 feet up he road and enjoyed some cookies and Sunny D. Granny’s faithful readers will recall that “magic” is when a trail angel provides unexpected help, food, rides etc. to weary thru hikers.

Mission said his legs were very sore but the “Ocotillo groves made the section enjoyable”. The three hikers “caught up with Pinch and Butt-Tape and all camped at mile 92.4 where there were these evil pincher bug grabby insect things.”  

Granny Hat just has to add that she blesses the Aussie hiker who back in 2018 dubbed her son “Mission” on the PCT. As trail names go, he got a pretty good one!

Mission’s GPS came in this morning as: Lat 32.3177 Lon -110.585954

Hikers are happy with the occasional cow pond for water supply.
Next: some AZT history and more pics from Mission plus some rattlesnake tales!

Granny Hat’s better half never ever throws anything away, especially not socks.  They can be worn quite comfortably even if toes stick out and heels brush the floor, flirting with splinters. Dad routinely begs Granny to darn socks for him but they don’t make socks like they used to, they are rarely properly knitted or woven, but rather hot pressed in some textile factory in who knows where.  Sometimes she tries to fix those darn socks but at least in their retirement, they make great stain applicators, non-abrasive scrubbers and ……. well, that’s what this post is about.

Really, today’s musings were supposed to be just about the launch of Mission’s newest adventure but some socks got in the way. 

Mission, Granny’s son who trekked the Pacific Crest Trail in 2018, decided it was time for one last, independent journey before signing his next four years away to dental school. So, he quit his job, shaved his head, packaged up homemade mixes of cold – soak trail food, tested his gear, checked the oil and packed the car for a drive to the southwest to thru-hike the Arizona Trail.

This will be a relatively short, just over 800-mile trek from the U.S.- Mexico border to Utah.  It crosses through such scenic places as Saguaro National Monument and Grand Canyon National Park.

On April 1, Mission signed Granny up for text messages from Garmin, the device that will replace “Spot” on this trek.  Dad helped Mission de-clog the car’s window washing system and clean out the air filters.  There were prayers and hugs and cookies.  No stone left unturned.  As he waved goodbye, Mission talked happily about his planned dinner break at In n’ Out Burger in Salt Lake City.  It’s the small joys in life!

Five minutes later, Dad got a call.  Mission had broken down on “Elk Hill” just two miles up the road. The car had lunged, hiccuped, shook and showed all the signs of transmission failure.  Granny Hat and Dad accused Mission of playing an April Fool’s trick but he insisted it was no joke.  After towing the car to Honda, Mission and Dad sat down to discuss possible costs of getting the car back on the road.  Granny’s better half has always said “cool heads prevail” and she was glad to see that everyone stayed calm and thankful.  Thankful for safety, for proximity to home when the car broke down, for perhaps a sparing from something no one knows anything about.  God doesn’t play April Fool’s tricks.  

Early on April 2, Granny Hat woke up abruptly; there was soft snow falling but bright lights flaring as Dad rummaged through the closet frantically searching for his winter socks. He was on his way to the local Fire Station’s Annual Auction hoping to bid on a summer canoe.  That’s how it is in NW Montana, spring means “planning for summer while you are still watching the garlic and daffodils sprouting up through a white blanket”. 

Suddenly Dad yelled, “Socks!  I may have done a terrible thing!”  Now Granny was fully awake as she listened to the men talking about how they had stuffed two old socks in the air intake to protect the engine from dirt when they blew out the air filter.  They were pretty sure they had forgotten to remove those socks, blocking the air intake.       

Firefighter’s Auction on the back burner, Dad and Mission hurried off to the Honda dealership and sure enough, it was true.  They had “put a sock (or two) in it” and forgot to remove them!

Mission kicked it in gear and happily resumed his  southbound road trip.  Dad headed to his auction (feeling like a heel) and is most likely still there lost in the noise and excitement.  Auctions here in the Flathead Valley are legit, they are a religious experience.   

Back home, in the quiet, Granny Hat is reminiscing about the day she started her blog (way back in 2018 before the world went crazy) to document and enlist prayer partners as Mission hiked 2,650 miles on the PCT.  She enjoyed posting beautiful photos and GPS progress.  It kept her from worrying about fire, snow, cougars, bears and poodle dog bush.   

Over the past two years, Mission has hiked, rock/ice climbed, skiied and paddle boarded in Glacier National Park.  Granny was concerned about a new list of dangers: grizzlies, wolverines and avalanches. When her son goes to dental school in Florida, she will worry about gators, but she refuses to do so today, today has enough trouble of its own. The AZT promises rattlers, jaguars and gila monsters, not to mention extreme desert heat.   

Granny has decided to put a sock in it!  She will write instead of worry, pray instead of pursue fear, follow the AZT adventure faithfully for her readers.   Stay tuned for life on the Arizona Trail!

Mission, may your feet be fleet, your journey blessed and may your socks hold up!

 “Long sleeps the summer in the seed.” Alfred Tennyson

Granny Hat’s seasonal education is progressing well. She was warned over and over again that Old Man Winter had retired in the northwest corner of the Treasure State. So all through glorious, golden Autumn, Granny saved a list of indoor sewing projects and unpacking marathons for the long, dark days of hibernation in her new Montana home. 

She didn’t panic when the polar winds blew in; she was happy as a clam and snug as a bug in a rug sewing accent pillows, opening boxes of books and forgotten treasures, organizing closets and drawers.  Every now and then, Granny would take a break from her tasks to stare in awe out her window at the swirling snow or jump up to snap a photo of some Big Sky winterscape. Surely, there would be plenty of time to finish her to-do list before spring arrived in a blaze of glory, maybe in April!

Granny learned quickly, however, that winter’s bluff and bluster doesn’t stop all Montanans from going places.  They keep busy building barns, snow shoeing, milking cows, skiing and even shopping at Costco. It’s business as usual even when the temps dip below zero.

Granny Hat didn’t want to be left behind so she joined the Glacier Symphony Chorale, got busy teaching Sunday School at Trailhead Church, and went walking with friends whenever the roads were safe. 

Before she knew it, the late February weather warmed to a balmy 45 degrees. Little green shoots were shyly peeking through a layer of snow in the flower garden and deer were literally dancing in Granny Hat’s pasture. People were spotted wearing shorts at Natural Grocers and the friendly neighbor across the street declared winter to be over! Granny’s better half began celebrating but Granny wasn’t about to leave the house without her coat.  

You might be from Montana if …………. 

You have left the house wearing shorts and a coat at the same time or……… You have suffered both sunburn and frostbite in the same week.

There was still another principle of Winter 101 to be learned! Just because a hardened Montana native tells you winter is over doesn’t make it so. Granny never understood the phrase “March came in like a lion, went out like a lamb” until this winter! 2022’s third month opened with plummeting mercury, fresh new snowfall and howling winds. 

You might be from Montana if ………..

You never really put much stock in the weather forecast because you know it is almost always wrong.

Granny rushed back indoors to hibernate a little longer, to finish indoor projects and ponder the lessons winter has taught her:

She has learned that driving in powdery snow is safer than slip sliding away on the ice. 

You might be from Montana if……… 

You prefer driving in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.

Don’t even think about washing the car until May. Melting snow and ice mix with dirt into a thick goo that cannot be navigated around. It’s very acceptable, even chic, to drive a dirty car in Montana, embrace it! License plates and registration are discretionary in a Montana winter, the Highway Patrol can’t see them anyway. 

You might be from Montana if……….. 

You haven’t washed your vehicle in over a year because you fear the dirt is the only thing holding it together.

There are many ways to stay warm throughout a long winter; Granny recommends bread baking, brisk walking, skiing, hiking, wood chopping etc. When experts talk about base layers, pay attention!  Layers of clothing keep Granny toasty warm.

Don’t assume a blanket of snow means everyone fled to Arizona or is loafing listlessly by the fire. Hibernators are busy bears all winter long- Montana boasts one of the highest number of professional artisans per capita in the nation. These creative types soak up inspiration for three spectacular seasons then paint, sculpt, weave, forge and carve all winter long. Farmer’s Markets in the Flathead Valley are ripe with the produce of intense hibernation creativity.  It reminds Granny of her garden seeds and daffodil bulbs, hiding in the deep but not forgotten; dead, yet full of life and promise. 

“Truly, truly I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” John 12:24

Seasons help Granny Hat celebrate and remember, they teach her there is a time for everything under the sun.  Montana’s version of Ecclesiastes 3 goes something like this:

There is a time to wash the car, visit the nursery, plant seeds, spring clean, graduate from school and celebrate new life. 

Then there is a time to camp, fish, hike in Glacier NP, raft down the Flathead River, mountain bike, hoe and weed and BBQ.  

Next, there is a time to harvest, hit the school books, enjoy the corn maze, take in a rodeo at the county fair, jump into golden piles of soft leaves, go hunting, wave goodbye to all the tourists and pause to be thankful. 

Finally, a time to rest from the other three crazy seasons, to celebrate the year with family and friends, to remember the birth of our Savior and embrace the quiet, slower pace that winter brings, maybe more time to read, be creative, ice fish, and ponder what the new year has in store. 

There are different ways to picture the passage of a year. Some may imagine a year like a long time line with winter at the end like a brick wall. Granny sees each year as a wheel slowly turning from day to day, from one season into the next. But it isn’t always abrupt, it is fluid. In music volume progresses from pp to p to mp to mf to f etc. It can be gradual, ever changing. That is how Granny sees seasons, they ebb and flow and slowly give in to the next. Be patient! Summer is coming, it is in every seed!

Granny Hat wants to leave her readers with a winter miracle, a piece of exquisite art made from some of that snow/mud goo and a deep frost on the windows of Dad’s van.  Jack Frost often wins the artist of the year award for his “fern-like pictures left on windows in winter” (Wikipedia)  but Granny wants to give credit where credit is due. Our creator made man from the dust of the ground and brings beauty from ashes. Be sure to zoom in to see the frosty lace!

This “winter lace” melted by mid-morning, a fleeting reminder that heaven and nature sing! Every season, even the bleak mid-winter, tells the glory of God.

You might be from Montana if…………. When bears wake from hibernation the story leads the evening news.

Granny Hat is not the first travel blogger to write about Route 66. There are hundreds of articles that wax eloquent about the Americana Spirit, the must-not-miss diners, the coziest motels and the bang-for-your-buck trading posts. With Granny Hat and Dad though, there is more of an honest, “Why don’t they mark Route 66 better?”, “We might be lost!”, “Oh, look! We stayed in that Teepee Motel back in 1967 when I was a kid.” kind of feel.

When the AAA magazine VIA recommends a certain shop for authentic Navajo rugs and turquoise jewelry you can bet it’s a top dollar experience, authentic yes, affordable, maybe not! Route 66 is no trip for bargain hunters. Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints, (and check on Ebay later) is Granny’s new shopping motto.

Granny Hat and Dad traveled small portions of Route 66 between Amarillo, Texas and Williams, Arizona.  If you are an american patriot, a nostalgic soul, a turquoise collector, a Navajo rug purveyor, a diner burger and milkshake rater, a Disney Cars movie fan, or a snow bird looking for a beautiful desert drive, Route 66 needs to be on your bucket list. Large portions of the adventure cruise along Interstate 40 but the most spectacular views are on the two lane roads where the iconic route meanders into the outback. You will encounter wild burrows, roadrunners and the stunning red rock bluffs and mesas that inspired the Cars ride scenery. 

This quaint relic from yesteryear is a great place to spend the night in Tucumcari, New Mexico. Classic 60’s Rock and Roll on the old radio greets you at the door of your room and the laundry is still free like it used to be in the good ole’ days. Plus the proprietor randomly gave Dad room 23, which is Dad’s special number. He was born on June 23 and that number follows him, frequently. It’s creepy and magical at the same time. Granny’s better half should own the brand 23 and Me. 

🎶Standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona…🎶

The Eagles really came through for this Route 66 town.  Their Billboard hit Take It Easy, released on July 22, 1972, put Winslow on the map and has kept it from drying up and blowing away like so many other small desert towns along the route. Granny really enjoyed standing on that corner and taking a photo with that flatbed Ford.

Often the best parts of a road trip are the surprises. Walnut Canyon National Monument in Arizona is a hidden treasure. Years ago Granny and her family ventured to Mesa Verde, the celebrated, magical cliff dwelling community that welcomes over 500,000 visitors each year. Walnut Canyon is similar, an ancient cliff village hidden away in a beautiful canyon with views of the San Francisco Mountain Range in the distance. Visitors can hike all through the gorge, getting up close to the  caves and shelters. The canyon is rich with Arizona Walnut trees, berry bushes and herbs that the Sinagua nation used between 1100 and 1250 AD.  The best feature is that only 150,000 people venture into Walnut Canyon each year so it is the road less traveled.

After a narrow, often treacherous, lonely section of old highway where the brays of wild burros can be heard,  Granny and Dad rolled into Oatman, Arizona which boasts that it is the best preserved and most authentic of the southwest Route 66 towns. The shops are run by locals and offer everything from exquisite leather work and hand made jewelry to local honey and jams. The desert burros wander free through town and there’s a fun Wild West shootout in the street in front of the bank. It reminded Granny Hat of Knotts Berry Farm back before admission fees and roller coasters.

Granny and Dad met an old Native American man who made jewelry and told tall tales about his adventures around the world. He had no plans to stay long in Oatman, it was just one of the many stops in his travels. Granny thought he was a bit of a lost soul, but she bought some of his turquoise bracelets. 

Dad says we will have to return to Route 66, there is too much to see and do for one road trip. Guess Granny Hat can’t cross it off the list yet!

Next: Heaven and Nature sing

🎶Amarillo by morning, up from San Antone…. When that sun is high in that Texas sky….Amarillo by morning, Amarillo, I’ll be there.🎶. Terry Stafford, George Strait

 That’s right, Granny Hat is back on the road again!. Two days after a sparkling white Montana Christmas, her better, cold-blooded half declared it was time to chase some warmer weather. But no matter which state line they crossed, Granny and Dad seemed to be taking the blustery ice and snow with them. They were 🎶stuck in colder weather🎶 with Zac Brown. 

Arctic air poured over the plains as Granny Hat drove into Wall, South Dakota to visit Ted and Dorothy Hustead’s famous drug store. Seems the Hustead’s moved from Nebraska to the Dakotas in 1931 in search of a small town with a Catholic Church. Wall was a town of 231 citizens and, as Ted put it, was perfectly “in the middle of nowhere”. He bought a humble, little drug store, called it Wall Drug and settled down to make a living. Business was slow for about 10 years until Dorothy suggested they offer free ice water to hot, thirsty, summer travelers on their way to the newly opened Mt Rushmore. The water did the trick and the rest is history. With the help of some iconic billboards along Highway 90 which travels from Minnesota to Billings, MT, travelers still pour in to shop, eat and reminisce at this American treasure.

Granny sampled the free ice water and the 5 cent coffee, did a little shopping and sampled some cherry pie. Dad is a cherry pie snob and he said Granny’s pies are better. She isn’t going to argue.

The polar vortex chased them right into Nebraska where they enjoyed time with their son and family, snug indoors playing Risk and doing jigsaw puzzles as 2022 dawned. Temps were below zero with the wind chill but Granny was sure the road to Tennessee promised warmer climes.

But as they crossed over the Wide Missouri and passed the Gateway to the West in St Louis, they were warned about impending snow in middle Tennessee. So, they decided to beat the storm and kept driving into the night, getting a little lost in the Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky Mississippi River doldrums. In the maze of bridges and swampy country roads they kept happening upon Cairo, Illinois a well-weathered, ill -favored, tired little hamlet cradled by the mighty Mississippi on the west and the Ohio River to the east, not the best place to be on a cold, dark night. Granny kept thinking it might be faster to take the river, Huckleberry Finn style. 

“The river went on raising and raising for ten or twelve days, till at last it was over the banks….the water was three or four feet deep on the island in low places and on the Illinois bottom.  The Missouri shore was just a wall of high bluffs. It was kind of solemn, drifting down the big, still River, laying on our backs looking up at the stars and we didn’t ever feel like talking loud and it warn’t often that we laughed, only a little kind of a low chuckle……When it was daylight, here was the clear Ohio water in shore, sure enough, and outside was the old regular Muddy! So it was all up with Cairo.” Mark Twain

Thank goodness, it was finally “up with Cairo” for Granny Hat and Dad as they managed to break free and cruise into Tennessee, getting to the Nashville area at midnight. The next morning they woke up to snow, six inches of it fell lightly and steadily all day! Dad treated the grand daughters to tail gate snow slushees made with cran/grape juice. They were declared delicious. For two days, temperatures were lower in Tennessee than back home in Montana!

Granny is heading back west now, stopping in Texas to meander down Route 66. All through Tennessee and Arkansas, Granny was reminded of the ways a traveler knows she is in “the south” or at least within spitting distance. Here is her abbreviated list, all based on her own fresh and unbiased experience:

Not just the tea is sweet!  The hospitality is sweet, the granola at the breakfast bar is extra coated in sugary goodness, the pecan pie is way too sweet, the “salsa” at the “Mexican” cantina is syrupy, the BBQ sauce is hot and sweet, the country roads up the hill and over dale are sweetly relaxing, no hurry, no worry. Oh, and the banana pudding is extra sweet!

“Is there anything on this menu that isn’t swimming in gravy?” Biscuits and gravy are served for breakfast everywhere. Some form of gravy is drizzled on all entrees, even at the “Mexican” cantina where cheese sauce and gravy meet.  Fried food abounds and then you dip it in gravy, or sweet sauce! Try fried okra, fried green tomatoes, fried catfish, fried shrimp & grits, the list is endless.

Waffle House, Cracker Barrel, What-a-Burger, Steak n’ Shake, Blue Bell Ice Cream – just a few of the southern standbys you can count on when traveling south of the Mason Dixon line. Blue Bell ice cream is something to write home about!

Smoking, hard liquor, swearing and Jesus are all best buddies. The southern folks seem to Granny Hat to be God-fearing along with their vices, not in spite of them. In fact, down in the south, vices aren’t considered vices. It’s a puzzler for Granny but she has to admit that her observations are largely taken from the passenger seat as the hills rolled by and billboards were read.  At church Granny heard one southern preacher whip himself up into such a frenzy she was worried about his health while the front pew erupted into dancing and loud amens! Preacher man kept apologizing for his hoarse voice, would calm down a bit, then ramp right back up again in a roller coaster of emotion. Granny Hat still isn’t sure what the topic of his sermon was but she felt good and preached at. 

Southern folks are often salt of the earth and don’t claim to know it all. Granny and dad get a kick out of chatting up the locals wherever they are and they hear some funny things. One friendly Arky working at a County Park struck up a conversation with Dad about the lodge pole pines they were culling from the preserve because of disease. Dad asked too many specific questions about the life cycle of the pest beetles and how the weather affected the spread of the blight. The southern gentleman chuckled and said, “Wall, ah know WHEN to cut ’em down and HOW to cut ’em down but, Lor, ah know nuthin’ about the biologicals.”

Granny Hat’s suggestion for road trips: Spend more time talking to local folks, less time in resorts and chain restaurants. Be sure to add extra time to your plans, small town porch sitters can bend your ear for a long while. It’s worth it, Granny learns something every time.

Next: Get Your Kicks on Route 66!