The Sweet Life of Sierra Sugar

A late summer moon rises in the night.
Full and round with its soft amber light.
Watching quietly.
Traveling patiently,
Keeping vigile from it's path across the sky.

A late summer moon rises in the night.
Mostly ignored for the glare of city lights.
Busy people.
Hurried people.
Too distracted in their chaos to notice the sky.

A late summer moon rises in the night.
Guiding the Trucker by it gentle glowing light.
Helping Truckers.
Friend to Truckers.
All the world slumbers, yet the Trucker and his moon travel the roads til morning light.

~Sierra Sugar (c) 09/01/2015

Now that we've all had a chance to finally sleep since the weekend, let me tell you a little bit about my first experience with the Great American Truck Show.  Yes my first. Even though my involvement was fairly high, though not as much as others, like Tom Kyrk... Tom are you even alive out there?  For my first time around with this truck show there was a lot going on.

Farris Truck Stop - Big Rigs Restaurant

Faucett, MO

I-29 exit 35

Missy the pampered #TruckerPath puppy.

#Trucking link and hash tag courtesy of Trucking Social Media



Last night we pulled off to get fuel, but trucks were backed up onto the road and couldn't get into the truck stop.  Come to find out it wasn't the the fuel lanes that were full, it was a truck that was broken down right at the entrance. The driver was on the CB asking for help, no one was answering.  There were a good six trucks between us and the guy in trouble.  Allen started talking to the guy on the CB while we found another way to the fuel island.  I ran inside to let the fuel desk know they had a truck broken down outside.  Apparently, no one else had alerted them.

~Sierra Sugar

Last week while night driving through the western part of Idaho there was a range of mountains ahead of us that was covered in snow.  It was later in the afternoon, closer to early evening.  The sun hadn't quite set yet, so the sky had that bluish haze of dusk that makes things seem magical and surreal.  While my picture doesn't do justice to the actual site I saw ahead of me, hopefully you can get a little bit of an idea.  We have all heard about mountains being blanketed in snow.  Indeed these appeared that way, blanketed in a shimmery layer of whitish/bluish satin.

Of course cooler weather and snow at these elevations brings creatures of all sorts down from the mountain tops.  This created an up-close encounter that was slightly less exhilarating than the Bald Eagles from the other day.  Rounding a curve there straddling the center line was a mule deer.

A giant female mule deer.

A beautiful morning in Arkansas, just because.

Bigger doesn't always mean better.  Especially in the case of cities.  Certainly big cities have their benefits.  Most things you could possibly need or want are close by.  Bigger cities usually are a host to a variety of entertainment, cultural, and shopping centers, not to mention easy access to an abundance of educational opportunities.  But they are also crowded, congested, often dirty, and higher crime.  But the biggest thing that stands out to me while traveling across the country is the lack of architectural diversity in larger cities.  Yes, they have huge sky scrapers, interesting medical buildings, art museums where the building itself is a work of art.  But essentially they all look the same.

Look at that face!  You can't tell me she's not smiling.

My 12-year-old grumpy old lady of a puppy was having the time of her life at the beach!

Now let me give you a little background.  This is the dog that grew up in Florida.  She hates getting a bath.  She hates going to the beach.  She won't go near the water.  And she has never been much of a playful dog nor done much running around.

Since being in the big truck she has suddenly become my “all-terrain dog”.  

“Are those the waves?!”  I exclaimed as we came around a bend in the trail and the shrubbery opened up to the expanse of damp beach sand.  He could only laugh at me, which is his usual reaction to my apparently amusing expressions upon discovering something new.

It's funny how a song can bring back memories so vivid it's like you experienced them only yesterday.  One such song for me is “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley.  The music and lyrics are very poignant and maudlin of days past, especially growing up in Florida and spending summers at the beaches.  Those late summer evenings when the beaches empty early due to cooler weather is a sorrowful experience for us beach bound southerners, as it signaled the end of lazy sunny days and a return to school.  Even now as an adult, no longer privy to they months-long, carefree, summertime breaks, the change in weather certain songs still bring about the strong feelings of those long-gone days of youth. Needless to say, driving down the highway, in January, in Idaho, the juxtaposition of warm summer nights with the chilly windy north was rather strong.

Early morning fog along the Columbia River Gorge.

The other morning Allen woke me up with hot coffee and kisses.  “Baby time to get up, we're near Flagstaff and I want you to see everything.”  There at the truck stop I could see the mountain rising out of the flatland, sitting there like a snow-capped crown on a pillow of brown and green velvet.  I took some pictures but it was still so far away.


When I was in the 5th grade my parents and I went on a two-week trip from Florida to Albuquerque, NM, with a short trip over to Flagstaff, Arizona.  I don't remember much from that entire trip except the backseat of the Oldsmobile car my parents had at the time.  You see, the morning we left they woke me up to leave, I took two steps into the garage to get in the car and threw up.  And that was pretty much my entire trip.  I spent it sick in the backseat.

I vaguely remember stops in Texas, in New Mexico at the Carlsbad Caverns, the Grand Canyon, and even one day when my dad tried to take me snow skiing at Flagstaff, the mountain for which the city is named.  The only thing I remember about that morning from so long ago is vomiting copious amounts of orange juice.  It seemed more than any 9 year old little girl's body could ever possibly hold.  My dad turned around and took me back to the hotel to stay with my mother.  I don't even remember seeing the mountain, or snow, or anything.

Back to today, as Allen drove, I kept taking pictures.  And driving and taking pictures...