December 12, 2015- Found My Camp Tore Up

Took a frantic call from Joe yesterday telling me my camp had been tore up. He didn't stick around to see if it was wind, people or vermin. He had gone up there to cut firewood and found my tipi on the ground and equipment and gear scattered about.

So, Joe picked me up in his jeep yesterday late afternoon and dropped me off at my camp and I began the laborious and lamentable task of putting my tipi back up which wasn't easy because the poles and the tripod they were attached to were all discombobulated with the tarp skin have on half off.

I had to take it all apart and start from scratch cussing like a drunken sailor the whole time I was working on it. It's doubly difficult because I'm trying to set it up on uneven ground. I swear there's not an inch of flat ground within 6 miles of my camp.

Gathered up miscellaneously scattered stuff like my camp coffee pot and fry pans and such.  Holes were ripped in my beautiful pink quilt. Believe those 4 dogs that wanted to feed on me the other day are the culprits behind this cowardly terrorist act.

They surrounded me last week while I was gathering logs for the cabin walls. Their gang consisted of a rottweiler, a pit bull, a rottweiler mix and a dalmation.

While I was dragging logs they suddenly appeared out of a piney grove and began to advance upon me entering the clearing in the glade where my half constructed cabin sits, them snarling with their lips curled, eyes blazing red and barking while simultaneously growling. I was struck with the horrible thought that they must have the hydrophoby.

I immediately dropped what I was doing and began to mount a vigorous defense using the 2 walls of the cabin as a fort. But, the rott mix and the dalmation started flanking me on the right and the left respectively with the pit bull and rott mix sneaking up from behind stealthily like.

After about an hour or so of their devious maneuvering and war like behavior I had had enough and summoned the Cavalry. 

The Sheriff's dispatcher said he could hear the dogs in the background and told me not to hang up. Advised him that I needed both my hands to swing my axe at them. He said for me to rest the phone on a log or something but not to hang up.

He also advised that I was on my own for at least a half hour as the Deputy was on the other side of the County. "Damn, you guys are never close around when I need ya!" I says as I gripped the axe in my right hand ready to take a swipe at the alpha male rottweiler who was steadily closing in while holding the phone up to my ear with my left.

The beasts started growling more menacingly and kept creeping closer and closer.  As I was talking to the dispatcher these nasty brutes behaved ever more aggressive... as if they knew I was conspiring against them by calling in the big guns of Clear Creek County.

Told my new found buddy, the dispatcher, that I now knew how claustrophobic Custer and his men must have felt with the Sioux closing in on all sides. "Yeah." he says.

Some 40 minutes later he advised that the Deputy had finally arrived and had pulled over on York Gulch Rd maybe 300 yards west of my position. Apparently, the Deputy could hear all the fuss the dogs were making and was trying to find me. Told him I would shout for him.

Finally, the Deputy came scrambling up the canyon wall out of the deep dark trees to my right and entering the clearing he was huffing and puffing, his breathing clearly tortuous, his face ruddy, him bent over trying to recover from his arduous scramble.

This large, fleshy Deputy found me defending my fort as if it were the Alamo.

He hobbled over clumsily to me to ascertain whether I had been injured in the ensuing melee. Once he discovered I was okay he says "Okay let's charge em." I said, Charge em? Just shoot the damned things! " That won't be necessary." The Deputy says. " Oh, really? I responded.

"Well then give me a gun just in case your brilliant idea of charging them doesn't exactly pan out." I says. He chuckled and said, "Yeah, right, your a funny man I can see that."  All the while he was smiling at me like I was some toddler wanting to play cops and robbers. "I can handle a gun." I says. "County policy, sir, sorry."

On the count of 3 we charged the brutes with both of us yelling, hooping and hollering with me screaming the old rebel yell trying to mimic Pickett's charge at Gettysburg.

The dogs...seeing this horrific onslaught of human power and manhood coming at em turned tail and scattered each to the four winds. Well, I gotta hand it to the Deputy. He was right. The charge worked.

The Deputy and I must have run 75 yards or more through the brush and trees before I realized that we had somehow separated in all the confusion and now I was all alone.

I stopped to regain my bearings and stood still but turned my head in all directions to see if I could see or hear the Deputy or the dogs. An eery quietness suddenly fell over the forest.

Oops! I says. Now what? Where's the Deputy? More importantly, where's those damned doggie demons?

I decided to find my way back to camp where I found the Deputy pacing back and forth talking on his radio.

" You better come down with me. I can't guarantee your safety until we find the dogs' owners and have a little conversation with em." Told the Deputy that safety cannot be guaranteed anyway and that I needed to get back to work. After our heroic display of bravado I told the Deputy those canine troglodytes probably had had enough. The Deputy told me I was going back to Joe's house or Idaho Springs. One or the other. And that was that! "OK", I says, now realizing he was probably right. And, anyway, I was bone tired. So, we started down the Canyon to his prowler parked down on the side of York Gulch Rd engine still running.

Afterwards, the Deputy was going to do some checking around to find the owners so he can ticket them as they were in violation of the County leash law. The Deputy drove off and I hiked back to Joe's house.

I couldn't get the camp cleaned up yesterday and the tipi back up before dark so I'll just have to wait until next week. But, because of the constant hassles trying to get a winter cabin built I'm seriously considering scrapping the whole damned project. This has become so much more time consuming and dangerous than I had anticipated. What's more, it's taking  precious time away from writing my book.

I'm going to make a decision next week. But, I'm leaning towards forgetting the whole thing.

After drowning my sorrows in several cups of newly roasted Costa Rican coffee at the Frothy Cup, Glenda, came over and asked me what was wrong. After I told her the whole story about the dogs and all the resistance I was experiencing trying to get this damned cabin up she asked me what the Universe was trying to tell me. Well, isn't that always the question? Since when do I listen to the Universe? Or anyone else for that matter?

BR Schoenbein
December 12, 2015- Saturday

 

December 10, 2015- Cold Nights Up On York Gulch

Camping up in York Gulch has been an uncomfortable revelation. The nights are cold, iron-black and seemingly endless. I tried hiking during the night in an attempt to confront and war with my fear of being alone in the middle of an inhospitable winter forest. I say I tried because after about 15 minutes I felt an overpowering need to escape to the illusion of safety inside my tipi.

That sometimes bright white orb that hangs from the black Coloradoan skies was nowhere to be found that night. She was cowering somewhere on the other side, a loner who only shows herself when you don't need her.

I brought along a flashlight but used it sparingly, to avoid draining it, to make it as difficult as possible to navigate the interior of the bush. There was no fear of falling off a cliff as I knew well the topography of the land between York Gulch Rd and Ditch Rd. The only caveat was an old abandoned gold mine but even that is covered in a huge mound of mine tailings, so falling in was next to impossible.

I encountered no wildlife other than hearing a barred owl which seems to have moved in 50 or so yards northwest of my campsite.

Normally, as the sun disappears just over the Divide to my west the howling and yipping of the wolf hybrids who are being raised by a family a mile away to the southwest sends a shudder up my spine. These are not coyotes but wolf hybrids. Out in the wild you learn the difference made by both species when listening to their respective howling. But, this dead night they were not to be heard.

I began my careful descent down the rocky and steep hill down to York Gulch Rd and found my campsite welcoming me back with the smoldering firebrands of my original supper cook fire. I immediately placed more firewood on the dying embers and stoked it up real hot. It wasn't heat I particularly wanted it was light that I desired, light to ward off anything or anybody who could have been following me in that ghostly stillness.

It's the quietness that most unnerved me about camping and hiking in the woodsy nights up on York Gulch. The interstate is too far away and hidden by the valley foothills to make intrusive sounds. In fact, I cannot hear any traffic from the valley.

Most of us have been conditioned to hearing white noise or background noise. Up in the forests of York Gulch there is no such thing as white noise. It's primal and eery.

The damp night air is yet another oddity that I had to get used to. Seemingly out of nowhere snow would form and swirl around even when the sky appeared clear.

Looking up at the winter black skies there is no collateral light as Denver is hidden by the surrounding mountains. Orion's Belt, the Big and Little Dippers, the bands of the Milky Way swirl high above in a quiet dazzling display of the Creator's artistic talent.

As I sit next to the fire soaking up it's inviting warmth, gazing up at the cold starlit sky I begin thinking of the time when time began, what it must have been like for early man to look up and wonder about these sparkling little lights dancing about.

Who is man that you are mindful of him? Or the son of man? Or what about me?

What am I supposed to do with this life given me? What possible difference can I make, one lone man, with no resources, few family and friends? Does anything I do matter one way or the other? What about 75-100 years from now when I'm but dust and ash and everybody I ever knew is gone? It will be as if I never existed at all.

These are the thoughts that go through my head as the red and yellow spires of my fire dance in the troubled wind that blows up in York Gulch.

These are the same questions that drove me out of society, onto the road and finally here in the boundless piney winter woods. So, I am back full circle from where I began. And, that's OK because these questions aren't supposed to have answers. They are not problems to be solved but are instead designed to bring me back to the Lord.

So, as I pack up my day bag and take a last glance around my tipi and camp I begin my hike back down the mountain to Idaho Springs. I feel refreshed having escaped the manipulative, consumerist, bickering society I used to be part of if just for only a few days at a time and more importantly to meet up with my God high up 9200 feet on top of the wild mountains of York Gulch Colorado.

BR Schoenbein
December 10, 2015- Thursday

December 9, 2015- Taking Donna To The Chamber Mixer Tonight

Well, I woke this morning feeling better than I did when I went to bed. I was raring to go drive Mary to her appointment but at the last moment
Bill decided to take her himself so I didn't get the chance to travel to Golden and walk down memory lane. Oh, probably for the best anyway.

Donna just informed me that the Chamber of Commerce Mixer is tonight at 5pm. I had earlier confirmed that I was attending the regular supper at the Blackwells. So, I cancelled to attend the mixer and mix with the movers and the shakers of Idaho Springs.

Anytime I can go out with Donna I will! She's very good for my spirits, always positive, upbeat and so on.

In the 10 months I have occupied Idaho Springs I have met people from all strata of society here from desperate drug addicts and prostitutes to multimillionaires to the clergy and everybody in between.

Events like these Mixers gives me the chance to meet the business leaders, opinion leaders and small time politicos and talk about my journey and about God etc.

I do not confront people or put them on the spot. I introduce myself and quite naturally the conversation goes to what we do, job wise; then I tell them what I do, then inevitably,the follow-up questions like why are doing this kinda work and what led you to hit the road, those type of questions arise quite naturally. That is my witness.

Conversed with Jonas one of homeless kids hanging around the Frothy Cup. I bought a couple of tobacco pipes from him a while ago for $10 for the both of them only to find out one of them is worth $50-75. Yay! Told him if I sell it I'll split it with him.

Jonas is in his 20s and is a self proclaimed expert in computer repair. His minimalist, homeless lifestyle is partly as a result of choice and partly by bad circumstances.

He would need a vehicle, wardrobe and many other trappings of corporate life just for the chance at an interview. He cannot get help from his parents due to his estrangement from them.

I tell him, "stay upbeat and to start low by taking a bussing job over at Beaujos Pizza and save up as much as you can to purchase a cheap used car. Then clean yourself up, cut your hair and buy a set of business casual wear. Then interview, interview and interview as much as you can."

He wants to do all that but I can tell he doesn't fit in with the business office culture. He's brooding, sulking and intimidating with large bushy eyebrows, his large knife sheathed to his side and a hatchet hanging precariously on his belt, wearing a long olive green duster topped off with Nazi looking military boots.

I'm amazed that kids his age have never held a steady job or a started a career or even attended college. I didn't get these countercultural ideas like intentional homelessness, dying to self, compassion for one's fellowman, etc until my mid 50s.

I wished I had experienced this conversion earlier in life. I would doubtless made better life choices. But, the timing must have been right for me nonetheless.

I never would have guessed that simply walking from Illinois to Colorado would have effected as much change in me as it has. It's the whole vagabond, itinerant style of living that put me in touch with the Almighty in such a way that I recognized that I was living a shallow life, even a hypocritical one. I acknowledged biblical truth and practice but really didn't take it seriously enough for it to impact my life or the lives around me.

Life for me used to be all about making a living, securing food and housing, staying alive and that's about it. Life for me now is much fuller, less scrappy and more challenging in a purposeful way. I'm now dealing with my demons and my failings instead of hand wringing and blaming my childhood rearing and others who came into my life at various intermissions.

Anyway, tomorrow, Lord willing, I will be baking Christmas cookies with others at Neighborhood Church and passing them out to the townspeople.

Friday and Saturday look like snow days so I probably won't be going up to my camp in York Gulch until early next week.

Will continue writing my book on Friday and Saturday.

Pics show Donna at the Frothy Cup and the "light at the end of the road" a pic I took out at York Gulch.

Please feel free to visit my blog at voiceinthewilderness59.blogspot.com as I don't share all of my.posts on Facebook. And, you would be able to go back to my earlier posts when I first hit the road in April of 2014. Thanks!

Peace and Grace to you all

BR Schoenbein
December 9, 2015- Wednesday

December 8, 2015- Fell Ill This Morning So Did Not Hike To Camp

Suffering a bit of sickness this morning so did not think it wise to hike up to York Gulch. Stayed at Bill and Mary's and slept most of the day.

Read some. Ate one light meal and drank quite a bit of Gatorade.

Going to do some writing, reading and maybe watch "The Last Station" a film that revolves around Leo Tolstoy's last days and his death at a railroad station 250 miles south of Moscow. The film highlights the conflict between Tolstoy and his wife Sophia. Apparently, it was a constant battle between the two over his copyright to the totality of his work which at the time was reportedly worth one million rubles. Sophia wanted to inherit her husband's estates and more importantly his copyright. Instead, Tolstoy penned a new will giving his copyright over to his Tolstoyan organization headed by his obsessed disciple Chertov who despised Sophia. Believe me, the feeling was mutual.

Anyway, Lord willing, I will be driving Mary to her doctor in Golden tomorrow. I love Golden. It's a beautiful town situated along the banks of Clear Creek at the foot of the Rockies. It's the seat of government for Jefferson County and was Colorado's first capital.

There are many good memories for me of Golden which makes me sad and longing for the "good ole days" if there ever were any such days in fact.

Mardell, the kids and I used to drive on over to Golden which was only a short distance from where we lived in Lakewood to hike and to watch the kayakers navigate the boulders in Clear Creek. We would take supper or lunch at any one of the many fine eateries downtown. Dining out was always a treat for us as Mardell was very frugal and balked most times about the expense.. The kids and I however were the profligates.

Clara, my former step daughter, who I cherish to this day as if she were my own, loves Golden too and wants to someday relocate there. I told her that I share her hope and would like to someday live there as well or in Boulder, or back in Lakewood where  the Griders and I used to live. But, I'm afraid there are simply too many memories, good and bad in Lakewood for me.

Plus, I have no idea of when or even IF I will someday settle down for good. I suspect however, there will be a time when the vagaries of life will necessarily force me to do so out of infirmity, weakness, or ill health if nothing else.

How long I will be able to walk from town to town state to state considering my current state of health is yet to be determined.

Will I even be able to go back to a "normal" or "civilized" manner of life again? And, with the way the fabric of society appears to be rapidly unravelling will there be a "civilization" to go back to?

BR Schoenbein
December 8, 2015-Tuesday

 

December 7, 2015- Getting Ready For My Hike Up To York Gulch Tomorrow

Buying some food for tomorrow's hike to York Gulch to work on my shelter.

Concentrated on writing today at the Frothy Cup. Staying at Bill and Mary's tonight. Met Richard a 60 something who was born in Peoria like yours truly. Wasn't raised there though.

Working tomorrow once I get up to the cabin. Then sleeping up there Tuesday night then have to hike back to town Wednesday morning so I can take Mary to her Dr's appt in Golden.

May hike back Thursday and stay through Saturday to get the last two walls finished. Hopefully the pack of dogs won't bother me too much.

It's forecasted to get colder by the end of the week with snow possibly coming on Friday.

Thanks out to the Pearl Harbor veterans remembering  that day that will live in infamy. December 7, 1941.

BR Schoenbein
December 7,  2015- Monday

December 6, 2015- Cabin Coming Along

It is getting towards the end of the first week of December and 2 of the 4 cabin log walls are up now. I spent the last few days camping up in York Gulch constructing my temporary winter shelter. Once finished I plan on camping there 2-3 days per week.

I have been asked by many here in Idaho Springs and back home why if I have 2 places to live in Idaho Springs do I need yet another place to stay. And, why would I want to camp out in the middle of nowhere...and to boot in the winter of all times?

Well, my answer is that I wanted to build a "house" with my own 2 hands for the first time in my life. I want the satisfaction that comes with living inside a building which I alone constructed.

Plus, I love the adventure of camping high up in the Rockies during the winter. Apparently, I have this somewhat pernicious penchant for testing myself physically and mentally. Why else, would I walk  most of the way from Illinois to Colorado?

Native Americans built their homes without need of architects, carpenters, contractors and building codes...all with their own hands. If you were a man you built a home for your wife and children. Today, we moderns specialize so much that we are only experts in our own narrow fields of endeavor all the while ignorant of the universe of other trades, fields and endeavors. So, to have a home today we need to engage these specialists.

And, as far as I am aware natives didn't rent their homes. They built them with their own ingenuity and hands.

The natives were a simple people in the sense that they were wise enough to not unnecessarily complicate their lives. Their homes be they the wigwams of the Algonquin tribes or the teepees of the Plains tribes were simple structures. Simple, but warm, inviting, yet intricate too...in their own way.

Natives had no need of prisons, jails, psychiatrists, taxes, mental institutions, schools and the like. Why not? Because they weren't neurotic like we are. Why? Because they felt connected to each other, to nature and to God. They lived simple unpretentious lives more concerned with the well being of their tribe than their own personal egos.

But, getting back to homes; modern homes today have every convenience. Yet, because of their complicated design and function they break down and then we have to call a repairman or a contractor to fix the problem. And, do we need these conveniences and creature comforts? Do we need the problems that inevitably follows having these so called niceties?

It's too bad we and I'm referring to we of the Western culture...it's a shame we are not as concerned with the state of our spirituality and that of our culture as we are of the comforts and the wants driven by our physicality.

I believe that we are so tightly wound up and neurotic that we must regulate things to the extreme, making everyday life so complicated that life becomes a burden that must be endured rather than enjoyed.

At the end of the day we feel more like a pack animal than a human being. We act and believe that life is now nothing more than a drudgery than a magical gift from God.

Most of us wake up in the morning wishing we could stay in bed and at least temporarily get off the treadmill.

And, we are a fearful people. And, this is why we need to overly control things and people. And, the more we attempt to exert control the more we realize we cannot control or manage our universe. Realizing that...we delve into denial and escapism via drugs, alcohol and unfulfilling relationships which only drives us even further into unreality.

But, as I came to realize almost 2 years ago when I left Illinois and hit the road that the chains that fetter us are many times of our own making. At any time we can release our burdens. Instead, many if not most of us strive relentlessly to climb the ladder at work so we can build or buy bigger and more luxuriant homes. Homes we rarely see except late at night when we come home frustrated and exhausted from work and finally drop into bed wondering what the hell happened to us today.

When is enough enough?

Most of us seem to be only concerned with getting THROUGH life instead of actually living life, learning, loving and being grateful for the gift and the mystery that is this thing which we call life.

Anyway, enough of my pontificating. While I'm constructing my woodsy winter shelter I'm sleeping in a tarp tipi of my own making. I'm situated about 400 yards away from the cabin. I have 2 sleeping bags and several blankets to keep from freezing, but just barely. The interior of my tipi has yet to reach 30 degrees at night.

I usually go in for the night around 8-9pm. But, before, I do, I sit in front of the hot embers of what was my supper fire just contemplating things. Then I stoke up the dying fire for warmth.

Looking at the stars, and the way the Milky Way spreads out across the iron-dark sky I sit there in the cold, damp winter night with the red and yellow spires leaping up from my now feisty campfire.

I find myself gazing with now sleepy, droopy eyes at the whitened snow capped summit of Mt Evans, 30 miles yonder and southwest where it scrapes the black skies and wonder aloud much like I envision the boy King who wrote,

"When I consider your heavens, the work of your hands, the moon, and the stars which you have ordained, what is man that you are mindful of him...?"

Alone, I sit there with nothing to console or babysit me, no TV, radio, phone, people...nothing...in scary solitude capable of nothing else but to speak words of gratitude to the unseen God hiding out there somewhere maybe just beyond Orion's Belt.

Thank you God, I find myself talking out loud, thank you for my life, for just being and for the unbelievable ability to relate to and with the Almighty Creator and cosmic artist who designed and built this magical dimension.

Because of my new nomadic way of life I have been able to simplify things and to detach from materiality and even from people. To live without expectation wanting little and loving much I'm living a life of renewal and conversion, but not in conformity to a westernized version of Christianity, but, rather to true religion, to the "Way", the way of self denial and subordination of the ego which Christ not so subtly suggested to Nicodemus one cold night when Nicodemus went to visit the Messiah seeking intellectual conversation and instead was told that he must be born again in order to see the Kingdom of God.

I am slowly and rather indelicately rewriting my past life of regrets trying to conform to the moral ethos of the Sermon On The Mount. For now, living as simply as I can and as a true human being and without the chains of the past or the expectations of the future, I believe I'm living now as God designed me. I am now enjoying life more and living it with gusto and joy.

Grace and peace to my friends!

BR Schoenbein
December 6, 2015- Sunday

December 3, 2015- Camping Up In York Gulch

After Pastor Bill Robertson drove me up to my campsite in York Gulch on Tuesday, I worked on the cabin and then set up my tipi and camp fire.. I've got 2 cabin log walls almost completed with the south and north walls yet to go.

I scoured the forest floor at Joe Eaton's mine claim which was originally patented in the 19th Century picking up and dragging dead logs and pulling down dead trees that are still standing. I'm using only a few live trees, aspens mostly.

It was difficult setting up my tarpaulin tipi Tuesday afternoon with winds at around 20 miles per hour which made this chore disagreeable with the tarp skin flapping around.  The tripod structure was already lashed and all I had to do is place the other 5 poles into position and then tie them to the tripod. Then comes the tarps which act as the skin. That part of the project is difficult because the tarps are rectangular and the tipi is conical. And, when you add wind speeds at 20 mph and gusts of 30-40 mph it becomes a time consuming and frustrating job.

Afterwards, got a working fire going to provide a bit of warmth and to make coffee.

For my tipi floor I layed down a tarp then place a large piece of foam on top then some pine boughs and lastly a propelyn pad.

Tuesday night was bitterly cold never getting above 25 degrees. My sleeping bags were damp due to the high humidity, so I placed a couple of candles in metal cans for some warmth but they both died out after 2 hrs and wouldn't re-light.

The high winds completely died out after 3 hrs making it a bit less cold inside the tipi.

At about 10pm a barred owl started trilling, Hoo-Hoo, Hoo-Hoo, perched somewhere in a small grove of  ponderosa pine about 50 yards off to the northwest.

Later, I was awakened to a strange animal screaming out in the early darkest part of morning before dawn echoing through the valley inspiring the local collection of neighborhood dogs and coyotes to  howl intermittently. Could have been a mountain lion or a bobcat.

The following morning I hightailed it up back to my cabin site.  As I was dragging dead logs 2 dogs suddenly sprang out of a thick stand of spruce from the southeast charging me. One was a Rottweiler the other a Pit Bull mixed. I threw some left over hot dogs in their general direction in a feeble attempt at an appeasement. It worked somewhat for the Pit but not the Rot. However, after an hour they both ran off.

They distracted me from my work because each time I turned my back to drag off more logs they came charging again.

Joe Eaton, told me they have harassed him, his wife and daughter. So, instead of being worried about marauding bears it's dogs I have to be concerned about up there.

Well anyway, I did make some progress whereby 2 walls are now almost finished.

I'm in town today to attend church at Neighborhood Church then Sunday I'm dog sitting for Pastor Bill. Tomorrow, Friday,  I'll trudge back up and work through Saturday. Then, I'll hike the 6 miles back to town Saturday afternoon so I can attend First Baptist on Sunday. Monday early morning I'll tramp back up to York Gulch and continue working on the cabin.

Hopefully, I'll be able to complete the cabin on or before Christmas.

Yesterday, Wednesday I had my regular Wednesday night supper at the Blackwells. Jerry Hanke attended as well. Then, we all drove over to First Baptist and got into the Book of Revelation taught by Pastor Dawit.

Today, Thursday, is my food pantry day and as I pen this article glancing at the clock I just now became aware of my hour and half wait at Loaves and Fishes to pick out my food items. My supplies have dwindled so I'll be replenishing my foodstores which I'll haul up to York Gulch.

This journey of mine is teaching me many lessons including detachment of  material things and even people. With people it doesn't mean I love them less, but now I've learned to hold on to them less tightly bringing me peace and contentment. No drama. Well...gotta go now.

In the meantime, take care and we'll talk to you later. God's peace and grace to you!

BR Schoenbein
December 3, 2015- Thursday