This year my daughter-in-law invited me to Idaho for my birthday.  I didn’t have to think twice.  I instantly accepted--a trip to Rathdrum would be the best possible way to celebrate. 

My brother Warren was pleased to be invited to go with me.

I baked cookies, filled the gas tank, packed a few clothes and on a sunny August morning headed to Northern Idaho—and to Annika, my seven-year-old only granddaughter, my son Brad and daughter-in-law Debbie.

A short distance from my home, I realized that I had forgotten to put on my watch.  Of course, I would need to go back and get it.  But wait…  Did I need a watch for three days? Was there something I needed to time? No. I did not turn back, and I did not miss my watch at all. 

Instead, I settled into timeless relaxation.

Every time I write about visits to Idaho, I know I go on about the beauty of the property on which Brad, Debbie and Annika live.

I always feel happy there. A quiet five acres; with an expanse of grass, an old red barn, a pasture... it is a most soothing location.

This visit, I did not see the deer that often travel delicately across the dusky pasture on their way to jump a fence and disappear into the woods. However, one late night, from my room downstairs, I heard a noise outside.  I ran up the stairs and through the kitchen to peer out at the lighted patio.

A mother raccoon and her youngster, startled, stared at me from a few feet away, directly in front of the cupboard Deb keeps on the patio with her cats’ food in it.

The mother stared fearlessly at me with her bandit eyes.  I opened the door and hissed—and two more young ones bolted out of the feeding area.

Mother raccoon glared at me and herded her triplets into the darkness. I closed the cat feeding space and went to bed.  Country living!  (Yes, I know we have raccoons, too, but these were Idaho farm raccoons!)

A summer visit to Rathdrum requires time spent in the heavy cotton hammock strung between two pine trees away from the house. No exception on my birthday!

Swaying gently in the dappled shade of the evergreens, I opened a novel.

Eventually, of course, Annika came out to climb into the hammock with me.  She brought her black kitten Axel, and we three drifted back and forth in the sweet afternoon. I heard myself sigh with contentment.

And then—get this! —I was allowed to bring Princess Annika home with me! 

Yes!  Her mother will join us on Monday; they’ll leave Tuesday. We are having a perfect time. The park, the beach, the toys, the treats—and Uncle Warren! 

As I write, Annika is asleep in my bed, arm around a stuffed bear.  My cat Benjamin sleeps near her. 

I am awed by circumstance, delighted by proximity. 
Annika is in Edmonds!