My Accident

Well, here it is, the long-awaited account of my accident. I left that morning with no idea my whole life direction was about to be, well, re-directed. It had rained the night before; the sound of raindrops on windows had been a welcome change from the usual hiss of snow. So I had to chip a 1/4 inch layer of ice off the windshield. That meant nothing.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, and I enjoyed soaking in some sun as I dropped John off at school and headed south towards Williston. I drove slower than usual, because I knew the roads might be icy after the storm, but I really wasn't having any trouble at all. There wasn't much ice on the roads, just a few patches where the road wasn't still wet from the rain.

I reached 13 Mile Corner, a corner that is--you guessed it--13 miles from Williston. As I merged, there was a whole string of pickup trucks and a semi or two going by slowly. "Hmmm, they must be caravaning to somewhere for work." I continued down the highway, passing with caution and holding it to a modest 60 mph on a 70 mph road. "Oh, look. Just up ahead is another caravan of vehicles going slowly."

I passed them also, and merged back into the right lane. I still had experienced no trouble with slick roads, and was even being passed by some vehicles. Just as I reached the top of the middle of the three hills before Williston, my van started to fishtail. I really don't remember anything specific about the next few seconds, just rapid-fire impressions.

I know I tried some subtle (and yes, they were subtle. I'm very good about not over-correcting. I get very quiet and still in emergencies!) corrections with the steering wheel. I remember thinking, "Which way is the van turning when I turn it?" Then, just as I reached the edge of the road, now facing the opposite direction I'd been traveling, I thought "Maybe I should let go of the steering wheel." Then, "It's really not going to matter now, is it?"

I slid into the ditch sideways with a loud whoosh of crunching snow. I don't specifically remember the van tipping on its side, but there I was, suspended at the now-top of the van by my seatbelt. I clicked the buckle and my feet swung heavily to the ground. I checked that no windows were broken and turned off the engine. I looked for my cell phone, but didn't see it, and by then someone was already at the van asking if I was alright.

He helped me open the van door since I didn't have the leverage to get it open from where I stood. Then I clambered out and sat on the side of my van. Cars were stopped on both sides of the divided highway. People were rushing up. "Is anyone hurt? I'm a paramedic!" "Is everyone OK? I'm a paramedic, and my wife is, too!" "Does anyone need help? I used to be a fire fighter and a paramedic." Alas, they all left disappointed, because due to the watch-care of God, I was absolutely fine.

Turns out ending up in the ditch signals the beginning of a traditional North Dakotan meet-and-greet. I felt sorry I didn't have any refreshments to pass around to the jovial crowd that gathered to share stories and secretly rejoice that it wasn't them in the ditch. And please don't get me wrong! I was glad for all the willing help I got, for the nice man who stayed until the highway patrol got there so I could sit in his warm truck cab, for all the others who willingly offered assistance. It's sort of the winter equivalent of a barn raising.

And in this particular instance, there were two vehicles to assist, since one nice gentleman who stopped had to watch his pickup slide sideways into the deep snow-filled ditch because he parked a little too far off the road. He was towed out by a straining pickup, tires spinning on the slick roads.

The highway patrol finally got there, and we had a lovely visit in his car, me with my hood pulled down over my face, lamenting the fate that still had my California plates fastened on that gleaming beacon of careless driving. Sigh. I learned a lot in that visit. Things like the driving conditions of that day were some of the most dangerous North Dakota can throw at you. Things like if there's freezing rain, just stay home the next day because things will be so bad outside.

See, those charming wet roads with the occasional patch of ice were really dangerously slick skid-ways. The sun had melted a thin layer of the liquid-poured ice from the night before, swallowing up any gravel that had been poured on it by the highway department that morning. There was actually a no-travel advisory for the very stretch of road I was on.


My van was towed into Williston, there to stay until the 27th, the soonest an adjuster could come look at it. It had sustained very little damage--a small dent on the side and a missing side-view mirror--but was totaled once the deer damage of a few weeks before was added onto the tab.

The patrol officer said that if you had to crash, I did it the right way. Of course I knew it was my angels protecting me, because I really did land so softly in the deep snow. I suffered no major pain or stiffness, and couldn't even say for certain what was from the accident or not, since I'd put a coat of primer on my living room in the morning, then came home after the accident and painted it in the evening and again the next morning.

Nothing is wasted if you learn from it, and I've tried to learn from my adventure with ditch-diving.

Lesson 1: When God is trying to get your attention with string after string of slow-driving cars, each one noted and pondered over (Look at all these cars driving so slowly. I wonder why?), PAY ATTENTION!

Lesson 2: Some people have their lives flash before their eyes. Some people pray. All I had was an overwhelming sense of embarrassment as I crashed. (Now everyone will look at me, and I look like an idiot.) Maybe I need to work a little more to focus on more important matters than others' opinion of me.

Lesson 3: I really, REALLY don't like being out of control. Oh, sure I knew my life and safety was in God's care and keeping. But that smug surrender meant He was supposed to keep me out of trouble, didn't it? You mean I have to trust Him even if things are out of my control and I don't like what's happening? >:(

Lesson 4: God always brings something good out of our bad. And sometimes a big disaster is only God preparing to take you in a different direction. You just have to let go of the wheel and let Him steer.

Random Pictures

I am getting so behind with my posting that I have to throw these out before they get forgotten in the mists of time and car accidents. (Oh, I haven't told you about that one yet?)

The first pictures were taken on my way to work one Sunday morning. It was foggy, but for a brief moment I drove through a sunny patch. The sun was surrounded by an almost complete halo with 2 sun dogs shimmering on each side. I stopped to take a picture (which my camera could only get one side of it, but just picture one more of the same), and on my way back into the car, I looked up. There above me was an icebow, made from all the fine ice crystals blowing in the wind. It was so pretty!






The next set was taken on my way home. There's a very picturesque church on my route that I've always wanted to take some pictures of. Things were so pretty, still with dastardly frizzle, that I had to stop. I didn't get any great shots of the church, but it was still pretty, with the soft pink sunset and muted lighting of mists closing in for the evening. My hands nearly froze off, but one must suffer for one's art, mustn't one?

The Last Green Patch in North Dakota

After I moved (such as it was) into my house (such as it is), I needed the trailer moved from the campground in Grenora. It sat there for about a week waiting for my dad to make it up between snow storms to take things apart and haul it out of there.

Last Monday night, on my way into Westby for the evening, I got a flat tire. Shredded tire was more like it, because the gravel roads make so much noise I didn't know it was flat until it was in ribbons. Thankfully my wondrous dad came out and assisted John in changing the tire in the bitter cold snow storm.

The next morning I awoke to find I had no running water. Feeling a bit overwhelmed by my double trouble (amateur!), I decided to call in at work and spend the day getting my tire fixed and going under the house to fix the pipes I assumed were broken.

Upon venturing into the scary and forbidding danger zone under my house, it didn't seem that any pipes were broken. There may still turn out to be a problem in the pipes, but it wasn't readily apparent. What was apparent was the pump that pumps water from the holding tank into the house was no longer working.

Since there was nothing we could do about that, it was onto Grenora and a fun-filled afternoon of freezing our fingers off as we undid the sterling, built-to-last edifice my dad had constructed not two months earlier. It was a nice day, as winter days go, and I enjoyed being out in the sun, since I am beginning to look like an extra in a vampire movie. I go to work when it's dark and get out when it's dark. I've heard of the sun.....I think I remember such a thing, but it's been so long, so very long.....



Once we started dismantling the trailer we could see that I had some burst pipes in there. There was a column of ice leading from my wall down to the ground. So no more staying in the trailer this winter even if I wanted to. But the amusing thing was underneath my trailer the grass was still green, albeit frozen.

While my dad was laying prone beneath the trailer, I seized the opportunity to sneak off for some photography. I snatched a few shots and dashed in slow motion through the snow, trying to get back before he caught me. I was too slow and he saw me just as I was getting back to the trailer, but he was gracious and didn't say anything.


My last picture of the view from my peaceful camp-spot.


I've wanted to take this shot ever since I moved in, and caption it,
"More Bars in More Places."


Everything was liberally coated with another coat of that dastardly frizzle that caused the power outages responsible for all my frozen plumbing woes.


Then it was time to hitch up and go. Thus I left the Grenora campground behind me for what I hope is forever. It wasn't bad, really, to live there, and I'm grateful for the timely shelter it provided, but when all's said and done, I prefer a house. Any house, as events have proven.


The same afternoon, I was able to take a few pictures out at my new place. The first pictures show my little settlement from a distance. It kind of blends in, don't it?





As we were approaching my driveway I saw a large lump on the power line just down the road. I was sure it was an eagle, and so it proved to be. I've seen it once since then, so I think it hangs around my general vicinity. Maybe I'll get a chance at a better picture later....













This is the tree right outside my side door. It looked like a fruit tree in blossom at spring time until the wind blew it clean a day or so later.

A House by Any Other Name....

(This snow man greeted us the day the kids first saw the new house. I don't know who built it, but it was really cute to see so unexpectedly.)

Oh. My. Goodness. I have been busy these last couple of weeks. A few days before Thanksgiving I got the word that there might be a house available for me to live in. I was soooooooooooo excited, especially since the temperature dropped right around then and my plumbing in the trailer was freezing. I had blankets taped over all the windows and the door, but the frigid wind was still coming in far too much. The toilet clogged when it got too cold and the only way to fix it was to stick a stick down there and stir until things went down. I had to heat all my hot water on the stove and wash my hair in the sink. My fridge wasn't working...first it melted and then it froze. In a nutshell, I was ready to be in a real house.

Then I saw the house.

To be fair, I saw it at night-in a snow storm-and it was about 40 degrees in the house. A palace wouldn't show to advantage under those circumstances. The next time I saw it, the heat had been turned up and things looked much rosier in general. This house and I had a history, even though I'd never set foot in it before.

See, last spring, before the Big Move, I'd planned on moving into this house, but due to some issues, it just wasn't becoming available. As the summer went on, I had to make other plans because I needed things like, oh, an address, and couldn't wait around on the chance this house might become available. So I camped at the lake, then got the trailer, and forgot all about that as a possibility.

But God had it all planned out, as always, and the circumstances that seemed random and confusing to me were actually designed to teach me important faith lessons, then ultimately to land me in a better position than I would have been in if it had happened with the timing I'd expected.

This house had renters for a few years, but then was left vacant for 2 winters. The pipes had frozen, and animals had, er, 'roamed' freely throughout the house, doing what animals do....freely. I knew about the mess, but figured I could tackle it. Well, God knew better, and over the course of the summer, the owner of the house had it cleaned out and did the fixing necessary to make it livable. Things I would not have been able to get done in retrospect.

So while my house-to-be was being readied for me, I was learning to trust God even when I wasn't happy where I was (that would be in a trailer when I wanted a house). And just at the right moment, when the trailer wasn't going to work for me any longer, there the house was. Now the house is my faith challenge, not the trailer!

I want to state very clearly that I'm very grateful for the house, even though it needs work. Taking everything into consideration, I'm still glad to be there instead of the trailer. I also want to be clear that the owner has always been honest about the challenges the house faces and helpful in getting things fixed (the toilets were clogged when I first moved in, and he and my brother-in-law spent Thanksgiving Day blasting out the poo frozen in my house's pipes!). He is even letting me stay the first month without rent or a commitment to buy, just to make sure I can handle the job.

That said, let me tell you about the house. When I first saw it, it was cold. That kept some of the smell down. The next time, things had warmed up and it smelled like a barn inside. Very literally. There was still a cat or two roaming around, so the new carpets that had been laid down (but not installed yet) now had cat poo all over them, especially in my room. Things were empty instead of disastrously clogged with animal excrement, but still needing to be scrubbed and disinfected.

It took a couple of days of working frantically after work to get enough space scrubbed to set a few things on the kitchen counter and have enough floor space to lay a mattress down.

In the last two weeks (exactly) since I spent my first night there, I've accomplished quite a lot, considering how much time I have left after working and commuting 3 hours a day, but so much more remains to be done. Especially since I've now lost the function of the pump that brings water from the water tank into the house and am carrying all of our water in buckets from the well house.

The irony has not been lost on me. I felt quite the martyr in the trailer when I had to heat my water on the stove and bathe from wash tubs. How pioneering I was! Now I have to do all that, plus haul the water from outside! But that won't last for too long, and the plumbing and hot water does work...just not without the pump.

I also lost the function of the two wall heaters in the front rooms. I have a blanket hung between them and the kitchen so we can keep warm. I don't have a fridge out there yet, but it is OK, because the front room is about 39 degrees and the entryway on the other side of another blanket is cold enough to freeze things. I keep my food in the 2 rooms and tell people I have a walk-in refrigerator and freezer.

Without further ado, here is a photo tour of my new house.

The outside of the house.

One of the front rooms, which will become my bedroom when a wall is built.


The living room.


The kitchen.


The two bathrooms.



The stairs in the laundry room/entryway area.



Laura in her new room. Neither of the upstairs rooms can be used until spring because there's no heat up there yet, but Laura's at school so I have time to fix them.


This room will be MINE to keep all my sewing and art supplies in where no one can get them. Ha ha HA! (That was my evil laugh, in case you couldn't tell)




I'd love to tell more, but it's late and I've got to take a shower before I head home. Plumbing is so precious to me these days, I can't miss the chance, not even to blog my home-owner adventures. I bid you adieu...a hot shower awaits!

The Westby Iditarod

It snowed all last night, and once again I awoke to a beautiful winter scene that filled me with inspiration. As I looked out on the pristine, new-fallen snow, my thoughts drifted naturally in one direction.









Dog Sledding.


See, if you hold the leashes of Hannah and Jackie and let Finley run free, they pull you quite enthusiastically. So I thought if I added a sled into the mix, fun things might happen.

I grabbed a sled while I was over at Noni's this morning, came back and got the gaggle of girls into their winter gear (Laura is home for Thanksgiving break), and went outside. Of course with something so unpredictable and potentially dangerous, I had to try it first, so I gingerly sat down in the icy sled, held the leashes, and gave the order to release Finley.

The 2 dogs gave one giant lunge forward.

And then stopped, because Mom has spent the last month teaching them not to tug on their leashes. Hmmmmmm. This time I tried it with the girls pulling, too. Worked great except Hannah kept stopping and getting her butt run over by the sled, and Finley ran in large circles around us, so wherever Finely was at the moment was the direction the dogs wanted to face.

The girls each got a turn as we worked our way up the little hill on my mom's road. Then it was my turn again before we headed back inside to let the sled dogs warm their little paws. If that happened right at the top of the hill so I got the best ride of anyone all the way down, well, sometimes these little coincidences happen. They don't mean anything significant.


It was great fun, but Mom has at least temporarily forbidden any further Iditarod training for the poochies. Some muttered comments about broken necks and shattered elbows. The dogs are sad they'll never be able to realize their full potential and chase their dreams.


The END (also known as my frostbitten butt after sitting on that icy sled in thin knit pants)

Thrift Store Pillage and Plunder

What better way to spend a cold, snowy evening than playing dress-up with my latest thrift store bounty! I'm sure Noni could think of at least one better way in her opinion, since she wanted me to attend the choir performance she was accompanying. Hey, I had to do laundry, and if I did tried on a few clothes while the washer was going, I don't see a problem with that....

Last Friday I got to go to the thrift store in Plentywood. It's a wonderful place where they have "Fill a bag for $4" everyday. And let me tell you, I can stuff quite a lot into a paper bag! I was specifically looking for warm things to add to the winter survival conglomeration I'm putting together for my van. I found a few things for that...and a few other things, too.

My list of booty for the day ran like this: For the grand total of $34 I got.....

2 vintage jackets
1 pr. snow overalls
5 skirts
2 winter coats
2 shirts
2 sweatshirts
2 pr. gloves
3 ear covers
2 earmuffs
2 pr. sweatpants
2 winter hats
4 pr. socks
4 pr. snow boots
1 pr. khaki pants
1 sewing basket
Vintage picture in frame
1 corduroy sport coat
1 fleece jacket
4 winter vests

And a partridge in a pear treeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I wanted to get ugly enough things for my winter survival kit that I wouldn't be tempted to take them out, use them, and forget to put them back. I think I succeeded in the nondescript vests and rockin' 90's jacket. The snow overalls that I got turned out to be a little too small...more along the lines of a skin-tight cat suit than frumpy snow clothes (frumpy cat suit, perhaps?). I'm more likely to die of asphyxiation than hypothermia wearing those puppies! I'll be keeping my eyes peeled for something more size-appropriate, believe me!


Devon was kind enough to help model a few of my purchases, since his alternative was doing homework. He was also a willing, but not quite able, photographer when I tried on a few of my new clothes, so please pardon my appearance. It's hard to achieve a glamorous 'model face' when you're giving hissed instructions to a 9 year old. "The camera's crooked, push the button, are you pushing the button, hold it up straight, come on, Devon, hurry up.....etc."

Winter Wonderland

We had another snow storm in the middle of last week. It was a kinder, gentler snow storm this time, one that didn't involve no-travel advisories. The snow was wetter, the weather warmer (though as Noni pointed out, we'd still have been toastier in the average refrigerator than outside), and the new-fallen snow was just beautiful.

I'm still enough of a winter novice that I can face the charm of snow with poetic fervor and not the hacking and cursing that most natives produce when confronted with yet ANOTHER snow storm. It really is pretty, and the last two days have added a new facet to my experiences with this year's debut of freezing fog, or frizzle as it is called locally.

Frizzle occurs when it is cold. Really cold. And foggy. Really foggy. The fog freezes on everything it touches, coating the most mundane objects with a delicate dusting of crystal. The fog has no other socially redeeming characteristics than this, because when all's said and done, Montana fog is just as dreary as California fog, only 40+ degrees colder. But, oh, the things it can do.....


The picture at the top of the blog was the sunrise that greeted me Wednesday morning as I left for work. I wished so much that I had time to poke around Grenora a little and capture the scenes of freshly fallen snow, but time and work wait for no man or popsicle, so I contented myself with a few quickly grabbed shots as I drove out of town.

Since Noni was along when I took one of my pictures, I can offer a rare, behind-the-scenes look at the creation of my blog. She was exacting revenge on me because I took a picture of her taking her Tree-of-the-Month picture. Then when I sank knee deep in the snow, she felt it was a good time to take the motto 'turn-about is fair play', and take this picture of me, covered, nearly up to my ham hocks, with "winter wonderland".

The rest of the pictures were taken this weekend up in or near Westby.






And finally, a view of the whole town of Westby as you come into it from North Dakota. Looks chilly!