Coping with Pick’s Disease Story and Photos by Mike Turnlund I just finished refurbishing my third walking cane, each one of which is a classic type: wooden, a crook in the handle, and a black rubber foot at
Ode to the Past Story and Photos by Desiré Aguirre When I was three years old, a photographer came to our suburban neighborhood with a Shetland pony. He had the complete setup: he’d place a cowboy hat and
In the Month of May Story and Photos by Desiré Aguirre When my son Nik was nine, he and his friend Jackson trekked to the back ten of our old place, which we called the Samuels’ house, to
A Goose Enlightened By Desiré Aguirre Photos by Jenny Lopresto The Canada goose that came to live on Herrmann Pond in Sagle for the last stage of his release into the wild was developmentally delayed. We don’t know
Good Dog, Happy Boy Story and Photos by Desiré Aguirre When my son Nik was around ten years old, he began begging me to let him have a dog. His media campaign included a list of the advantages
In the summer of my distress over weeks of near triple-digit heat and forest fires last year, I racked up a notable first—attendance at a wedding held in a Sagle cow pasture. Continue reading
I moved from northern Sandpoint to Sagle because I wanted to be neighbors with my sister, Jenny Lopresto, who lives in Sagle on Herrmann Lake (a glorified pond) Road. Continue reading
I grew up in the suburbs and dreamed of living in the country, where I would own a couple of horses, have a glorious garden, and a little house with a woodstove to keep me warm during snowy winters.
No surprise, I eventually ended up in Sagle, in a small house on five acres with two horses, a green garden, a snowy winter, and a woodstove.
Taking care of the place keeps me plenty busy. Horses require hay and, in my opinion, riding. The garden requires plenty of planting, weeding, watering, and harvesting, the snow requires plowing and shoveling, and the woodstove requires dry wood. Fortunately, I mastered the nuances of owning horses, tending a garden, and moving snow before I actually got to the woodstove. When I first arrived in Sandpoint, I couldn’t start a wood fire, much less cut, split, and stack the wood needed to feed it.
When I moved into my humble abode in Sagle, I had to learn all about burning wood because the only source of heat in the new place was the woodstove. Fortunately, the previous owners left me a pile of tamarack and red fir, ready to cut and split. My mom, already a master of wood heat, advised me to get an electric chainsaw, and made me promise to don gloves, safety glasses, long sleeves, jeans, and boots when I cut my firewood. Continue reading
