The first Saturday and Sunday in October and April are my favorite weekends. They are when the fall and spring Conference Sessions for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are broadcast. Yesterday, we spent the day watching conference with my Mom and Dad. Between the first and second sessions, we ate lunch together. The hotdogs were fried in a skillet, placed on a bun with ketchup, mustard, finely chopped onions, and topped off with sauerkraut. Deli salads are not my favorite, but we had a variety of sides to choose from – macaroni, red potato, and coleslaw – along with cottage cheese and cut strawberries, as well as a veggie tray.

After both sessions were over, we baked Pilsbury biscuits to go with my homemade potato soup for dinner. My soup never tastes the same as my mom’s, dad’s or paternal grandma’s. I like garlic flavor in mine, ½ and ½, potatoes, bacon, garlic, onion, celery, carrots, Better Than Bullion, chicken flavor, salt and pepper. Theirs is a simple flavor of canned cream, potatoes, bacon, onion, celery, salt, and pepper. It’s the canned cream. It makes all the difference.

Sitting there in the house where I grew up, eating dinner with my husband and elderly parents, I realized that every day spent with my parents is a gift. My dad seems old. He is still sharp, but the edge is dulling a bit. All of the medications that are used to “help him” feel his best, I suspect, are affecting his quick thinking. The meds have not affected his desire and ability to talk…and talk…and talk…and spend quality time with his family, however. I am grateful for him and my mom and the days we get to spend together.

Today, I thought my husband and I would spend a quiet Sunday at home listening to Conference. My husband had a moment of spontaneity, though, and said he wanted to go for a drive somewhere today. He didn’t care where. He just wanted to go for a ride together. It was a cloudy, cool fall day, a great day for a drive. I planned a route that would take us on a 5-hour loop through several small towns in Wyoming, and loop us through older towns in the southern part of east Idaho.

Starting out later than anticipated, mid-morning, with my husband’s metal detector in hand and jackets on, we decided to go a different route, including what was supposed to be a 30-minute side trip to the old pioneer townsite of Chesterfield, Idaho, which was settled in 1881. It is a ghost town now.

After waiting for about 45 minutes for the stopped train to move past the railroad crossing over the road in Bancroft – the only way to our destination – we arrived at one of the buildings where visitors often meet prior to touring the old townsite of an old mercantile, “gas station” and homes of the settlers. Today, the visitor’s building was closed.

In front of the meeting house, my husband found an old square-head nail and a couple of bent screws. It was clear to us how well-made the old nail was compared to the more modern screws. While we were searching for potential “treasures,” the dark clouds in the distance, the thunder rumbling through the air, and the cold wind picking up urged us to stop looking. We returned to the pickup, turned up the heater, and headed back the direction from which we came.

My husband said he had a wonderful day and wondered if I enjoyed my time riding and enjoying the scenery to which I affirmed. The drive was relaxing. The changing colors of the trees amidst the evergreens were breathtakingly beautiful. Autumn has arrived. Listening to the uplifting words of our prophet and apostles was comforting. It was a wonderful day! Fall has always been my favorite season!