Welcome to Lost Creek

My father's mother, my Grandma Colyer, was born on July 11, 1895. Every summer, around her birthday, we would have a birthday party for her. This event, initially known as "Grandma's party," eventually turned into a family reunion, which is typically held at the rod and gun club where my brother and cousins are members.

I had made Grandma Colyer's famous peanut butter fudge on Saturday, and we took that and some pretzels along to the party. My husband and I had plans to visit my big sister Marilyn, who is in assisted living now in Millmont, on the way down. I took along some fudge and some clothing from Mom & Dad's; Marilyn just wanted something that belonged to them.

The place where Marilyn is staying is very nice, and she says the food is better than the last place she was. She has only one roommate, instead of several. She has a bit more independence, and she likes that. It wasn't long before she was nose-deep in fudge, and suddenly, the whole room smelled like peanut butter. For such a little person, she can sure put away the fudge!

We had a very nice visit and caught up on things, and then my husband and I made our departure, heading down over the mountain to the woods. We were later than usual in arriving, and we missed the annual family walk to the falls. It was a pretty hot day, with the humidity high and the temperature hanging just below 90 degrees F.

I have to admit that I missed my parents. In the past few years, with her limited mobility, my mom stopped attending events, but my dad was almost always there, one of our hosts, watching over things. His big smile would greet me when I'd arrive: "How was the traffic, Doll Baby?" After the party, we'd usually adjourn to their house and hang out on the porch for a while. Those are sweet memories.

I did take a few minutes to walk over to the creek for some photos, and here is a shot of Lost Creek, which I consider to be my family creek. We used to walk up here a lot when I was a little kid. When I look at these beautiful woods and waters, I know that I am truly HOME.

My cousin said a prayer, and my husband gave a special reading. Then it was time to eat. We got into crock pots and salads and desserts, oh my! My Aunt Dorothy made her special broccoli and cauliflower salad. I tried a few bites of most things. All of what I had was good.

Then we adjourned to the outdoors, with many family members sitting on the big front porch swings, and just a-swingin', on a hot summer's day. The kids took their shoes off and went for a wade in the creek. People splashed each other. Young mothers said, "Don't throw that" elebenty times. (And guess what? In spite of their mothers' wishes, they DID throw that!)

I watched as the youngest of our crew, my parents' great-granddaughter, went into the water to wade. My little sister supported her, tried to keep her from leaping off the bridge. On the wading photos I posted on Facebook later, my little sister said, "And the tradition goes on one more generation." I could practically feel my big sister Barb, the original barefoot girl, famous for wading in every "crick" she could find, smiling down on us.  :-)

I wanted a soundtrack song with something "lost" about it. So here is a song from the Lost Boys movie soundtrack, Roger Daltrey, with Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me.

P.S. One last thing. As we were getting ready to leave our house to go to the family reunion, my husband started up the car in the drive way and then hollered for me to come and see an orange butterfly, feasting on pink monarda. It was some type of fritillary, maybe or maybe not great spangled. But I knew my visitor right away! "Hello, Barbara Jane!" I said.