There’ll be no more running round for me, 
No more backing down, you’ll see —
Whatever lies in store for me, 
I’ll get through it.

There’ll be no more going half the way, 
You'd better listen to these words I say 
Whatever ties they bound to me, 
I’ll cut through them.

Now I found some 
Grace beneath the judge's gavel, 
Grace among my brothers on the firing line, 
Grace upon this road less travelled, 
Grace beneath the pines, the pines, 
Grace beneath the pines.

As Glen Hansard stood at the edge of the Chicago Theatre's stage, singing the first lines of "Grace Beneath the Pines" completely unplugged to a sold-out audience, I knew we were in for a mesmerizing evening. The concert tickets were my gift to Ben for his birthday, but it was one of those self-serving gifts because I benefited as well.

Talented singer, songwriter and musician all rolled into one, Glen Hansard is one of the finest performers I have ever had the pleasure to see live (twice!) and yet, his concerts don't feel like a performance; I left the theatre feeling like I had just spent two-and-a-half hours at a local pub with a good friend.

Having already seen Glen (I can't bring myself to follow professional writing etiquette and refer to him by his last name — it feels way too formal after having just "hung out" with him Saturday night!) perform this past February in Bloomington, Indiana, it is hard for me not to compare the two concerts. Comparing does not mean that one show comes out a winner and the other a loser, though; neither show can been deemed better than the other, but rather, they each serve as an example of his dynamic range.

The show in February was a bit more stripped-down and intimate, qualities probably largely influenced by the smaller venue. And yet, at this past weekend's show, even with a nine-piece band, there was still an intimacy he shared with the audience. He plays with such an undeniable passion for his craft that it feels like he's exposing part of his soul as he plays. And as he shares the inspiration and personal experiences behind his songs, you know the down-to-earth personality you're seeing is sincere and not part of an act. We had a chance to meet him after the show in February, and that experience only further solidified the fact that what you see on stage is genuine.


Ignore our faces; we were excited and they were partially frozen that way because we waited for an hour in 19-degree temperature... BUT WE MET GLEN HANSARD!

The set list for this show was largely focused on tracks from his second solo album released two months ago, Didn't He Ramble, but gems from his extensive career and covers of artists who have inspired him were sprinkled throughout. I keep changing my mind on what my favorite of the night was, as there wasn't a single bore in the entire set list, but these stand out as some of the highlights:

Grace Beneath the Pines - With lyrics that I can identify with, this track was already my favorite from the new album, but hearing it performed live was such a stirring experience. Most concerts I've been to start with a loud bang and steadily lower to a simmer, but Glen's approach of beginning quietly and thoughtfully unplugged, with the band falling in behind him one-by-one was so jarringly and hauntingly different.

Astral Weeks - I'll admit, outside of Glen's concerts, I had never heard this song, and it wasn't until I looked it up that I found out it's a Van Morrison cover. Regardless, he shines as a guitarist on this cover, and I have no idea how someone can play as intensely and passionately as he does on this particular song without passing out.

McCormack's Wall - Another of my favorites from his new album, this song allowed Glen to trade his guitar for the piano. The accompanying violin adds an air of nostalgia as the story of the song's lyrics unfolds. Despite the apologetic nature of the tune, it ends in a buoyant Irish jig. Some people in the audience couldn't help but break out some fancy footwork.

High Hope - This song has long been a favorite of mine from his first solo album, Rhythm and Repose, and I'm so glad it was included in this show.

This Gift - Sometimes seeing and hearing a song performed live is what you need to really appreciate it. I've never had strong feelings one way or another about this particular song, but wow... the live performance was fabulous.

Auld Triangle - This song just makes everyone proud of their Irish roots... even if they don't have any.

Falling Slowly - Featured in the movie Once, this is perhaps the song for which Glen is most well-known (it did win an Academy Award, after all). Part of me wonders if he gets tired of playing it, but I really hope not. I don't care how cliche it may be, it's still one of my favorite songs, period.

Her Mercy - Another track from his newest album, this song is a stunner live.

If you haven't even heard of Glen Hansard (which sadly, Ben and I encounter a lot), do yourself a favor and start looking up his songs and give them a listen. If you ever have a chance to see Glen Hansard in concert, don't hesitate in buying tickets! And please buy me one, too...

Kimberly

Ben and I started planning our September Pacific Northwest adventure before last year even came to a close. Airline tickets were purchased and most of our lodging accommodations were booked as we entered the second week of January. To say that I like to plan things in advance is an understatement.

Part of this trip had been in the making long before last December, though... the part that entailed Mount St. Helens.

Let's journey back to the year 1997. In February of that year, the natural disaster movie Dante's Peak starring Pierce Brosnan was released. James Bond, who? Brosnan's most iconic role to me is that of Harry Dalton, volcanologist for the USGS. While I can't tell you what kind of critical acclaim the movie achieved (probably because the answer is none), I can tell you that it had a profound impact on 9-year-old me.

After seeing that movie, when a well-meaning adult would ask, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I would answer without hesitating: a volcanologist!

The word was bigger than I was at the time, and the answer generally received one of three common responses: 1) a smile with a quiet nod, 2) a blank stare, or 3) the oh so hilarious question, "So you want to be like Spock?" The latter was sometimes accompanied with a chuckle as the well-meaning adult laughed at his or her own joke. I never found it amusing.

My career aspirations eventually changed as I grew up, but I've never lost my fascination with volcanoes. So starting our Pacific Northwest adventure at Mount St. Helens was my way of finally getting to see one of the volcanoes I studied with intense passion and obsession up close.

Day 1: September 3, 2015

Ape Cave
We headed to the southern side of Mount St. Helens, located in Gifford Pinchot National Forest, to the first destination on our list for the day, Ape Cave. Ape Cave is actually the longest continuous lava tube in the continental United States, formed thousands of years ago during an eruption when lava streamed down the southern slope of the volcano; the outer edges of the lava cooled first, creating a hardened crust above the rest of the still-flowing molten stream.

Volcano geek fun fact: The type of lava flow that results in lava tubes is actually unusual from stratovolcanoes such as Mount St. Helens, whose eruptions tend to be more explosive (for example, the Mount St. Helens eruption in May of 1980).

We arrived at the Ape Cave ranger station just after 9 in the morning and were a little surprised to find it closed. In all my pre-trip planning, I had read that the station opened at 9 am, and I had counted on renting the recommended hand lanterns from the station.

Perhaps against our better judgment, we decided to hike the cave with the light sources we did have available to us: a tiny flash light on Ben's keyring and our cell phone flashlights. Correction: Ben's cell phone flashlight... because I never downloaded the app on my phone... and was without necessary cell reception to download it at that moment. So much for pre-planning, right? But at least we were dressed appropriately for the cooler temperatures inside the cave!



I find caves to be inherently creepy to begin with (which is probably why I enjoy them so much) but our tiny lights made the dark void of the cave seem even bigger and eerier. We opted to hike the easier lower cave; the more strenuous upper cave would have been impossible without the proper lighting. Even on the easier route, we encountered very few fellow hikers the entire time we were in the cave. Washington state is apparently Sasquatch country, and if we were going to encounter him anywhere, it probably would have been Ape Cave!



Trail of Two Forests
Once we were done exploring the cave and the area around it, we headed to another destination nearby: the Trail of Two Forests. This trail is a quarter-mile boardwalk that loops through lava beds with old growth Douglas fir and western red cedar — the first, more obvious, of the two forests referenced in the trail's name. The second forest is composed of ancient trees that stood thousands of years earlier, but their only remnants are large holes in the present-day forest floor.



Volcano geek fun fact: The holes interspersed along the Trail of Two Forests are casts of the ancient trees that burned up in a previous eruption of Mount St. Helens (possibly the same eruption that formed Ape Cave). Lava surrounded them and caused them to catch on fire; the lava cooled faster than the trees burned, resulting in three-dimensional lava casts and a graveyard of sorts of the forest that once was.





There is a small detour off the boardwalk for those who wish to adventure through a short tunnel composed of vertical and horizontal tree casts. I ventured down the ladder, but the crawl to the other side was way too tight of a squeeze for my liking!



Lava Canyon
Our entire day had been kind of cloudy with a few raindrops, but the sky was spitting rain by the time we arrived at the trailhead for Lava Canyon. Thankfully, it cleared up long enough for us to wander through the uppermost sections of Lava Canyon.

There are several signs at the trailhead warning of the potential dangers along the trail. As anyone who has hiked knows, the combination of water and smooth, rocky surfaces can create slick conditions that warrant extra caution with your footing. But the sign below provided the real warning: don't be THAT hiker.


According to informational signs along the trail, much of the beautiful Lava Canyon was hidden among a lush forest until the May 18, 1980 eruption of the volcano. The eruption sent a 15-foot abrasive wall of mud and rock through the canyon, clearing away the trees and exposing the rock formations and waterfalls.

The entire landscape has been shaped by the erosive forces of flowing water and the volcanic activity of Mount St. Helens. The resulting masterpiece is quite impressive.




Stratigraphy Viewpoint
Lava Canyon was our last planned stop for the day, but as we began the drive back to our hotel in Kelso, we noticed a small sign that simply read "Stratigraphy Viewpoint" on the road leading to and from the canyon. We pulled over and walked the short distance to what was our first glimpse of Mount St. Helens. Unfortunately, the clouds obscured the peak of the mountain, but seeing the volcano towering behind the mudflow from a previous eruption was still quite striking.



Day 2: September 4, 2015

We checked out of our hotel and made the journey north on Interstate 5, taking the exit for State Route 504. Our final Mount St. Helens destination is probably one of the most well known: Johnston Ridge Observatory.

Volcano geek fun fact: The observatory is named after volcanologist David Johnston; he was on this ridge (not a visitor center at that time, of course) when the volcano blew in 1980. His final words were "Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it!" His body was never found.

The observatory is roughly 50 miles from the interstate exit, and those are 50 winding mountain road miles. About five miles from the exit, however, is the Mount St. Helens Visitor Center at Seaquest/Silver Lake, and seeing as I've never met a visitor center I didn't like, we stopped.

Upon entering the visitor center, I noticed large poster boards detailing information about climbing Mount St. Helens. "BEN! WE COULD CLIMB MOUNT ST. HELENS! BEN! LET'S DO IT!"

Once the initial excitement wore off, these sad realities set in: such extensive climbing requires permits, usually purchased in advance, and, oh yeah, we've never actually done mountain climbing of that nature (requiring skill and training). Sigh. But Ben did suggest that we could return someday with the intention of climbing Mount St. Helens. And this motivator is one reason why I have a gym membership, people!

Back on SR 504, I had my eyes glued outside the passenger side window, where the volcano should be, but where I saw clouds, clouds and more clouds. The landscape surrounding Mount St. Helens is very beautiful, and I do not mean to detract from it at all, but it wasn't the main attraction. I had dreamed of seeing Mount St. Helens for years, and I didn't want to come all that way only to leave with the same dream.

The area was certainly mountainous, and that fact combined with our hope to finally see the volcano started messing with our heads a bit.

"Is that Mount St. Helens?" one of us would ask.
"I don't think so," the other would answer.
"Are you sure?"
"No. But I think we'll know when we actually see Mount St. Helens."

Repeat that conversation 5+ times and you'll have an idea what the car ride with us would have been like.

About 20 miles from the observatory, we noticed the clouds had broken up a bit and we could actually see Mount St. Helens. Luckily, the revelation also coincided with a conveniently located pull-off. We grabbed our cameras and I ran, afraid it would pop back into the clouds just as quickly as it peaked out. I snapped some quintessential Mount St. Helens and Spirit Lake photos and then began jumping up and down like a little kid who just found out she was going to Disney World. Mount St. Helens is kind of like Mickey Mouse in my world.





By the time we made it to Johnston Ridge Observatory, the clouds had already moved back in and reduced visibility of the peak.



We explored the visitor center and viewed several of the exhibits detailing the iconic May 18, 1980 eruption.

Looking out the panoramic windows of the observatory to where the volcano lie hidden behind the clouds, I said to Ben, "Wouldn't it be cool if the volcano erupted now?" His face was a mixture of horror and confusion. I want to say that my somewhat morbid interest in natural disasters was something he knew about me before we married, but I think that was an — ahem — pleasant surprise that came after we said our I-do's. It's a quirk that makes me endearing... right, Ben?

I purchased several items from the gift shop (because just like visitor centers, I've never met a gift shop I didn't like), and we listened to a ranger talk and hiked along a nearby trail that gave me more opportunity to admire the landscape that has been carved from eruptions.



Through the ranger talk and hike, I kept nervously watching the mountain, hoping it would pop out again, but the endless sky of clouds indicated it was unlikely. We said our goodbyes to Mount St. Helens and began the trek to the next stop on our Pacific Northwest adventure: Mount Rainier National Park.

Kimberly

November is Adopt-a-Senior-Pet Month, and in honor of this month-long holiday that you may not have known existed until now, I want to share the adoption story of Annie, our very own senior girl.

In the midst of gown alteration appointments and stressing about wedding guests returning their RSVP's in August of 2013, I was also keeping my eyes open for a dog to adopt into our soon-to-be family. When Ben and I married the following month, I would be moving out of my parents' home and leaving the two cocker spaniels I had loved for the past 6 years, Phemie and Boone. Phemie (pronounce Fee-me) was my little girl, a birthday gift from my parents years earlier, but she and Boone were littermates and had been apart maybe only a handful days their entire lives; I couldn't separate them. Not to mention, my mom had bonded with Phemie and even though she was technically my little girl, my mom was her person.

Ben also had Drifter, a retired racing greyhound, so our home together would not be entirely dog-less but Ben was Drifter's person. I wanted a dog that would want me. I follow several of our local rescues on social media, so there was no shortage of dogs for me to consider, and though a part of me falls in love with every dog I see and I wish I could give them all their forever homes, none of them were the one.

Then on a Thursday in August, there she was in all her fluffy cocker spaniel glory on Warrick Humane Society's Facebook page: 9-year-old orphan Annie with her sweet spaniel eyes staring back at me through the computer screen.

Two important things I should mention:

1. I have an undying love for cocker spaniels all because of one I grew up with named Dana; I always joked that even though she was a birthday gift for my mom, I was her favorite. And because of the bond I had with Dana, I will always want to share my home with at least one cocker spaniel.



2. I have a soft spot for senior dogs because I've had the privilege of loving several family dogs into their senior years, and I believe seniors should not spend the remainder of their golden years in a shelter after they've given so much of their lives to their humans.

I felt oddly competitive after Annie's picture popped up on my newsfeed. I sent her photo to Ben and immediately contacted the shelter. "I'm sure you've gotten a lot of interest in Annie," I wrote, "but I'm very interested. I would love to come out and meet her tomorrow!"

The response? "We actually haven't had a lot of interest in her since she is a senior... Everyone comments that she needs a good home, but it will actually probably be very hard to adopt her out."

Perspective is a funny thing. In my mind, Annie was going to be adopted right away because she was an adorable cocker spaniel. The reality was that her senior status scared potential adopters away.

I used my lunch break the next day to visit the shelter and spend some time with her.

The video isn't the best, but it captures the moment I knew Annie was the newest part of our family. There was paperwork to sign, of course, and I wanted Ben to meet her as well, but she was already mine.

We had a wedding out of town on Saturday, but Ben and I both went back to the shelter on Sunday and ended up signing the adoption papers. They hadn't even had a chance to create an official folder for her since she had only been at the shelter a few days.

We didn't take her home immediately because she still had to be fixed, but we scheduled a time that I would be able to pick her up from their vet later in the month. As that day neared, I received a message from the shelter letting me know that the vet discovered some mammary tumors during the spay surgery (allow me to pull a Bob Barker for a moment: have your pets spayed and neutered!). The news was scary, but it didn't change the fact that I wanted her. If anything, I wanted her more so that I could love on her, as if that would fix everything she had been through.

When I picked her up at the vet, the nurse told me that the doctor wanted to speak with me. They took me back into an examining room and brought Annie out and laid her on the table. She was heavily sedated from the surgery and wasn't moving at all. The doctor told me a little more about the tumors that were removed and gave me some signs to look for in the future. I didn't realize she would still be at risk for tumors, but unfortunately, I learned that older female dogs have a higher chance of developing mammary tumors if they weren't fixed as puppies (ahem, see my Bob Barker PSA above!).

Her incision seemed so big for such a little dog. I remember feeling so sad and a little overwhelmed, and as a nurse helped me get Annie to my car and laid her on my passenger seat, I looked at this sweet unmoving fluff ball and couldn't help but wonder, "What did I get myself into?"

I took her home (which, at the time, was still with my parents), carried her inside and gently laid her on the floor of our family room. She still hadn't moved. Phemie and Boone sniffed her and seemed to disapprove of my bringing another dog into the house; they kept their distance the rest of the night as I sat on the floor by her side.

Ben came over to visit and still, Annie hadn't moved from the spot where I set her hours before. I hate to admit it, but part of me wondered if we made a mistake in adopting her. I hadn't anticipated the tumor scare, and I wondered if we would be able to give her the attention she needed. Ben was ever the optimist, though, and told me I would feel better about everything one she was awake.

Then, late in the evening, her head popped up and just stared at me with those same sweet spaniel eyes I remembered. I knew everything was going to be ok.



Despite having turned 11 this year, Annie acts spunkier than her much-younger four-legged siblings. She has provided us with so many laughs through her playful antics and quirky personality and with even more snuggles, as she loves nothing more than to be cuddled up close to her people. Saturday mornings are my favorite because we'll sleep a little later and snuggle in bed.



She bosses Drifter around and occasionally Phemie and Boone when they come for a visit.





Adopting our sweet senior girl is definitely one of the best things Ben and I have done. Don't be fooled — just because a shelter pet may have a senior status does not mean they don't have a lot of life left in them!

There are a lot of perks to adopting a senior dog as well.  Don't have time to potty train a brand new puppy? More often than not, senior pets are already house trained, and even those who may not be all the way there will pick it up very quickly. You also won't go through the dreaded puppy teething stage! Seniors are a lot calmer than their puppy counterparts and their low-key nature equates to less mischief and more sleeping.



These traits can vary on a case-by-case basis so it's always a good idea to visit your local shelter to meet the specific pet you're interested in and to ask the employees questions. With seniors, their personalities are already developed, so you'll get a good feel for if they're a good fit for your family and lifestyle.

As much as I am an advocate for senior pet adoption, I realize that it is not the perfect answer for everyone. Our life with Annie has not been entirely wagging tails and treats—we had another tumor scare last October, but luckily we caught it early, we have a fantastic vet and it did not escalate to something life-threatening. Our vet is keeping a close watch on some cloudiness in her eyes too, but she still seems to see pretty well. Yes, she has a tendency to run into things, but that isn't from a lack of being able to see, it's from a lack of paying attention (because 9 times out of 10, she's craning her neck to turn around and watch you).



More health issues are definitely something you should be mindful of when considering a senior pet, but I know if you give a senior shelter animal a chance, the good will far outweigh the bad.

I saved the best trait of senior pets for last: senior pets are very loving. I can vouch that Annie is one of the most loving, appreciative animals I've had the pleasure of sharing my life with, and several stories online suggest this extra love is common among rescued senior pets.

The faces of senior pets may be growing white, but they have hearts of gold.

Kimberly

You can usually learn what my latest phases are with a quick glance at my Pinterest page. Once you get through all the adorable dog pictures (which is NOT just a phase... the dog culture is a way of life) my latest pins always reveal the trips I'm planning, the meals I wish I could cook and the crafts I plan to attempt.

This summer, as Pinterest would show, the big phase was gardening.

The desire to exercise my green thumb all started with a beautiful little flower my dear husband purchased for me. On the rare occasion that I will voluntarily venture into a grocery store, I first spend a few minutes admiring the latest arrangements in the floral section. And on the even rarer occasion that I will venture into a grocery store with Ben (I learned early in our relationship that grocery shopping is not an activity we should share together, for the benefit of my sanity and his safety, but that's another story entirely), I drop hints about how much I love getting flowers. On one of those rare summer grocery trips we made together, he offered to buy me the flowers of my choosing, and after carefully considering the options, I decided against cut flowers and instead picked a flower with an attractive deep pink bloom and several more buds preparing to open.



It was the beginning of summer and I was feeling adventurous. Why couldn't I nurture this pretty little flower? So what if I've killed nearly every other potted plant Ben has purchased for me over the course of our relationship? People can change!

At the time, Ben was also in the process of building three raised garden beds in our backyard, and we had already decided that one would be devoted to my flowers. I was committed to trying my hand at gardening, and this flower was my gateway into that hobby.

I checked the tag on this new living thing entrusted to my care and the name was one I had never heard of before: dahlia. During the car ride from the store to home, I Googled dahlias and was dazzled by all the gorgeous photos. I decided that my flower bed was going showcase dahlias because this flower I had never heard of before was now one of my favorites.

After many, many trips to Lowe's, Home Depot and Menards, I acquired all the perfect, dreamy dahlias I needed for my flower bed. With each new trip, I discovered a different colored dahlia that I hadn't seen yet, and of course, I had to have one in every color!



I also discovered that I liked gerbera daisies... and riegier begonias... and lantana... and various other little annual flowers that come in those 6-pack plastic containers. I ended up with more plants than I had room for in the flower bed, so I decided my new love of gardening should not be contained to just one flower bed; I would line our patio and porch with flower pots and our landscaping would become a beautiful explosion of summer color!

A friend took notice of all the gardening pins that were popping up on my Pinterest and invited me to a Master Gardener show, where I ventured outside of my annual-only comfort zone and bought a few perennials.

Things were getting crazy.

I became that person who talked about my garden given even the smallest window of opportunity. I shared photos of my flowers nearly as often as I share photos of my dogs. "Hey, look at this new color of dahlia I found when I was at Home Depot on my lunch break!"

I even finally built my own version of the beautiful flower tower picture that floats around Pinterest.



Growing up, my sister was always the one interested in flowers and I never had much use for them, but I assumed embracing my role as the flower whisperer was just one sign of my growing adulthood.

But then... my flowers weren't responding to my newly gained gardening skills. The dahlias, in particular, were showing signs of distress. In a panic, I turned to the Internet.

"Why are the leaves of my dahlia turning yellow?"

"Why are the buds on my dahlia turning brown and not opening?"

"Why are the leaves of my dahlia turning brown?"

"What are the bugs on the underside of the leaves of my dahlia?"

"WHY ARE MY DAHLIAS DYING? WHY?!?!"

With each click, I spiraled into what must be the flower version of WebMD; any problem a dahlia could experience, mine had it, and the outlook was grim.

In fact, that search revealed dahlias are finicky plants that require a lot of maintenance to keep blooming continuously and to ward off pests and diseases. Hmm... so that's the fine print I probably should have read before I was lured down this rabbit hole by a charming little flower, huh?

Regardless, I gave it my best effort to salvage the once gorgeous dahlias. I spent some time discussing the soil pH levels of my flower bed with a Lowe's nursery worker, and trust me, that conversation is not one I frequently have. I mean, I didn't even know soil pH levels were a thing until the flower WebMD cited that as a cause of the potential flower graveyard that was popping up in my backyard. I bought fertilizer, I changed watering habits, I concocted a recommended potion to fix a thing called powdery mildew (yep, that's a thing), I begged and I pleaded... Essentially I did everything short of a ritual sacrifice, but in the end, it was the Great Dahlia Massacre of 2015. A co-worker advised me not to pull up the dying plants but I got tired of their brown skeletons taunting me. Strangely enough, the one Ben bought me at the beginning of the summer was the one that held on and bloomed the longest.

I was able to nurse most of my other flowers back to health, but I lost a lot of the initial zeal I had for my new hobby. "Gardening sucks," I declared to Ben. "You can have all three raise garden beds next year because I'm done!"

Then I saw a hummingbird buzzing around my lantana flowers, and I relented. "Okay, maybe I'll keep a flower bed next summer, but I'm only planting easy flowers..."

Kimberly