Once Is A Tradition

Just as when Steve had one of anything, it immediately became a "collection," it seems that in my circle, if we do anything once it becomes a tradition.  This applies even to my dog.  It is my practice when back at the house after barn chores to sit down for a bit to rest.  A week or so ago, I'd no more than sat when Bessie asked to go out.  At her bidding (I'm well trained), I got up and opened the door for her.  "You come, too."  Since I was going to sit anyhow and it was a nice day, I decided I could just as well sit outside on the deck.  Next day, same timing, same routine.  And the next, and the next.  Tradition.

Yesterday was a day of tradition for me.  Ten years ago, Steve asked me where I'd like to go for our anniversary lunch.  (With goats, dinner out was/is never an option.)  I was hungry for Chinese food, but then remembered that he liked Mexican better and suggested Tortilla Flats in Placerville.  It was his anniversary, too, after all.  Turned out, through no fault of his, it was the only time in his too-short life that he ever stood me up on a date.  With few exceptions over the years, I've celebrated our anniversary by going to Tortilla Flats for lunch, sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone.  Yesterday, Linda was my guest for the occasion (she even brought flowers!) and it was lovely, a truly happy day.  Later, we wandered in and out of some of the great shops in Old Town, and I frivolously treated myself to a new can crusher and a boot brush/scraper for the front porch.  Anyone who knew Steve would acknowledge that those are exactly the kind of gifts he would have chosen for me, too.

Back home again, I caught an old segment of Huell Howser ("That's amAZing!") when he visited the Kellogg Horse Ranch in Pomona, California, in 1992, and that reminded me of another tradition, this one involving my mother.  My mother was not into animals, per se, and I don't know how it started, but for years on Mother's Day my dad and I would take her to the Kellogg Ranch for their special tribute to mothers.  The horse show featured many mares and their foals, beautiful and darling.  They must have planned their breeding season carefully for the occasion.  Even Mother could not resist their appeal.

Just for the sake of "tradition," though not spectacular, I took a picture of last evening's sunset anyhow.  The computer, however, will not give me the photo.  I guess enough is enough.

It was a good day.

PS:  a wild wind is blowing and a storm is on its way in.  Poor Bess.  What will she do?