Monday Memoir, Feb 26, 1966

 

The excrement had not yet started to really hit the oscillator  but that was coming.  Maybe I was or am slightly clairvoyant but I sensed the pressure building. I was still trying to stay calm, cool and focused on just the events of each day as it came. Borrowing trouble never helps and worry is useless, really. So keep on keeping on...

Feb 26, 1966, Sat

Just another day. A rather bad one weather-wise but otherwise okay. Woke up with a sore throat which plagued me all day. I staggered reluctantly out to feed. Mom drove Charlie Mike and me out to do the morning chores. We got rained on some. That’s our lousy luck. I walked uptown for mail and bought some thread. I hoped I’d hear from Dusty but no such luck. I did get a letter from Evelyn though. Charlie Mike was sorting and took my whole room up most of the day. I was a little disgusted; couldn’t really do anything all day. Hauled hay down and did the noon chores. After lunch had to go see Peckham. We didn’t  really cover much ground today. I’m beginning to think it’s all a waste of time. What is the purpose of it? Got groceries and butane and came home under a clearing sky. But after the home chores were done another squall came along just in time to catch us at the pasture. And then it cleared again. I could’ve flipped but to what avail? I sorted and squared up my stuff some and wrote Evelyn after supper. I’ve got a cold and feel pretty raunchy. If I wanted to let myself go, I could get awfully disgusted with everything but I won’t. I am a little worried about Dusty; guess that is the flea for this bitch to bite.  He hasn’t been feeling well. I know I probably ought to walk out on him…stomp, stomp, stomp. “Anita, you’re dreaming.” I like to suffer I guess. How come all the psychology and psychiatric stuff ends up on sex?  I think sex is overrated, really. It’s sure a damn nuisance. Oh shit. That’s my favorite expression nowadays. I guess I am rebelling, don’t you? Don’t figure quite where Dusty fits…no accounting for love is there?

I may sound a bit jaded or cynical here. You think? Well, I was two months from turning 23 and felt I was in a deep hole. I tried to stop digging but life wasn't giving me a lot of help. So I kept on keeping on for want of any other possibility. 

Dusty had asthma and had it all his life. Stress would make it worse and getting too tired, being out in the cold, especially damp etc did too. He was striving not to get to the point of having to take medical leave or anything and I did worry. Was not able to see him often or much at this time and that was hard. I know he tried like on Friday afternoons but I could not always be out and about. 

I wrote notes and letters often, he not so much. Well I could understand that too--time and what to say, why try as it was hard for him when we *might* cross paths any day...but at times it did bother me a bit so my old insecurity and "was it my fault?" worries would kick in. "Anita, You're Dreaming" was a song on the C&W list at that time; forget who sang it but it was a sad no-happy-ending one.... OK. it was Waylon's song, partly written by him and released that year--just checked. Not one of his more popular ones but nearly fit my situation in some ways. Ouch. No beer to cry in. 

I felt a shadow coming close, inexorable. .March and April were full of really difficult and painful times and I sensed that but did not foresee most of the whys and wherefores. Well, I knew B&B6 would be pulling out soon for one and dreaded that very much.  I'll get to all those things in due time as we go on.

Pictures? Just work and horses and mules and wet weather and ...like I said then "Oh shit!" So just toss in few oldies for 'tax' of sorts.  First, Charlie Mike and me in the junked up back yard, probably a year or two earlier. Not sure which mule. Then at the pasture. The mule under saddle is Annie who I rode a great deal. And then Charlie Mike on Prez. We both rode this big old guy a lot and loved him although he could be a bit 'mulish' at times. That big truck was our F750. It got a lot of use hauling--wood, hay, stock... We called it Big Green. Five speed (?) split axle and all--I drove it very little and Mom would not even try. 

MondayMemoir, Feb 19, 1966

 

Odd that the day actually falls on Mom's birthday. I will mention it elsewhere on FB but here it is part of the narrative for the date. Let's see, she would have been 46.  At this point nobody's birthday got much noted. I tried and Charlie Mike too to at least let Alex have a little special--he would be 7 in May.  We were past caring for our own. 

Feb 19, 1966 Sat

Just an ordinary Saturday. I don’t especially care for weekends. It was Mom’s birthday but we didn’t make much of it. B’days really don’t matter much. I’m going to ignore mine this year. “They” had conflicts most of the day. Charlie Mike and I rode. We bought Mom a big chocolate bar and after lunch I did the dishes and made a cake while she was in Cottonwood talking to Peckham. I drove for Dad in the afternoon and did pretty raunchy because I was all tensed up. He was pretty reasonable and helpful about it, though. I finally finished my letter to Judy and it got late pretty quick. I only wrote twenty pages to Judy. We trimmed Little Dusty today. He is a doll but awfully high strung.

I actually do not recall what the fussing was about--maybe just same crap, different day, but Mom and Dad were gnawing at each other most of the day. Charlie Mike and I tried to make ourselves scarce in such cases. So we had either driven or ridden out to do the chores and then were  exercises most of the animals we had there in Clarkdale.

Dad had not been going to the pasture a lot but for some reason went that evening and did not take the wheel, which surprised me. I was nervous and expected every gritted gear or jerky motion would be 'discussed' but that did not happen. Sometimes I swear he had a split personality. A dim memory comes that he got over being peeved with Mom and told her to stay home and relax or something and then was very mellow with my still amateurish driving, suggested a thing or two, but no yelling or bawling out!

Little Dusty was the buckskin colt the buckskin mare from Gallup had the summer of 1965. He was now of course weaned and often in a pen now with Tina's second colt, Rico.  This day we trimmed his feet and generally worked on him some. I had been leading him for exercise and socializing most days. He had a very sweet nature, a gentle colt from the first and a real pet of mine.

Photos:  The first is Little Dusty--early fall of 1965 I think. He was then several months old. I have no later photos of him and am not sure why.  Then two of Mom about this time, probably a few years earlier. She was showing her age some but still sweet faced and some of her youthful beauty was still there. For a time along here I took few pictures,  rarely having film and also mostly barely out of chronic depression that got worse as this year went on.  I am sad about that now. I missed some things I would like to have those memory joggers of. C'est la vie. 

Monday Memoir, Feb 12, 1966

 And the relative calm continued. I was fearful of a coming (family) storm and it did hit in awhile but not quite yet. I guess I was blessed to have some time to adjust and regroup after my sudden trip and return. Mostly the weather was not bad along this time.

Feb 12, 1966, Sat

Today was all right--pretty damn good, really. I didn’t accomplish much but that’s beside the point.I got to sleep in this morning. Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out and did the chores. We found more pottery and hauled some dirt into the big feedbox. I drove all the way home. I was proud of myself. Mom and I did the washing. It only took us a good hour and it was a whopping big washing, too. Maureen came by about noon. She’s had her hair straightened and was wearing shades and I almost  didn’t know her from anybody!  She seemed friendly enough but I never know for sure what she’s up to anymore. Made it over to the MHC on time. I talked to Peckham about music, writing and my childhood and school years. Fairly safe topics, I guess. Hope so anyway. When we got home I messed around with Charlie Mike til 4:30 and then Mom, he and I drove out again. I gave Scarlet a shot and we did the regular feeding. I drove home again. It isn’t too hard once you get the feel of it. I’m improving steadily I think. We did our home chores and then came in for the evening. I redid my bulletin board, read the Verde Independent and finished the letter to Dusty. Not a great list of accomplishments I admit. But it will have to do for the time being. I’ve got to get some sewing and writing done soon, not to mention my QH data and other studying. There’ll never be enough hours in the day for me. I may as well get used to it. Hope someone is okay. Tomorrow evening maybe he’ll be back. I’ll have a letter waiting for him.

It looks and sounds like a very ordinary day. Mom was allowing or even encouraging me to drive many times to and from the pasture. This was a real boon and I gained confidence almost each trip. Soon driving the stick shift F150 pickup was almost routine. It was more important after a time.  Scarlet was the worthless old mare we had gotten back in September 1964. She never was healthy or reliable and died not long after this. Poor old thing. 

We had been finding pottery shards near a trail that went up to the higher parts of the pasture and the east end fence. I am sure it was from the same culture that built Tuzigoot. By today's rules and standards, maybe we should not have collected it but it seemed all right then. I still have most of it in a jar with my rock and scrap colored glass collections. So come bust me, culture cops!

Maureen was going to NAU at this time--still ASC actually--and it was her fourth(?)  semester. I did not see much of her any more as we were moving off in different directions. Kind of sad as I had valued her friendship a great deal.Have never found her in recent searches. 

I was still seriously studying the Quarter Horse bloodlines and other news in the Quarter Horse Journal and also carrying a few of my own projects forward at this time, without a whole lot of flack. Again, too good to last but enjoyed. Of course Dusty was never far from my thoughts. I saw him much more seldom than we both wished so wrote a lot of letters in lieu of visits and phone calls, which were not possible. Time went on... It was to be six more months as things soon slid abruptly down hill to nearly the worst ever, but eventually my "sentence was commuted." I almost felt I had died and been reborn. If only I had known it was coming, the interim might have been less painful but the final wait  surely made me appreciate the sudden change of life even more. 

So what for pictures? Got zillions but not all are applicable. Okay--best I can do. A dark shot of Scarlet. She was a very ordinary looking mare with no markings to mention--one white foot and a nose snip I think.. Chestnut and no special breed or type.  Next is looking at Tuzigoot from the bluff above the corral area of the pasture. You can see it was not a large distance. Last,  looking at the pasture from the west side of the river--the cliff is kind of a straight line that topped the bluff rim, and the top of it is where the last shot was taken. Near the right edge is where a trail went up and down via a jutting ridge and where we found the pottery.

Memoir Monday, Feb 5, 1966

 I had come to waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had been a few small flare-ups of the familiar "troubles"  but they faded down fairly fast. So I figured when it fell it would be a Size 15 irrigation boot with lots of barnyard attached.  It was hard to do all my work with fingers crossed! At this time I recognized a vague female deity for whom I yet had no real name but I asked Her to continue to protect me.and thanked her for the umbrella thus far.

Feb 5,1966

Everything has been going good. I’m nearly scared to believe it. It just can’t last, I fear, but I can hope! I got up late and lazy this morning; we had biscuits for breakfast and drove out to the pasture to do the chores. We all went and cut off another section of the big cottonwood. Dusty was ‘with’ me all the while. I can see his face so clearly now as it was yesterday with dusty blue eyes half teasing and half tender… Charlie Mike and I did the midday chores hastily and debated who’d go to Prescott. I was selected. We went via Cottonwood where we stopped at the feed store and the clinic. I guess the Boss had a good talk with Peckham (who I heard on the radio yesterday while visiting). We headed over the mountain about 3:00. I bought a shift pattern, a valentine for Dusty and some tampons. I have finally gotten so I can use them. You really have to relax to put one in. I went twenty six days this time. I still have cramps some but not as bad as I used to. We got groceries etc. and came home about 6:30. Charlie Mike had done the home chores so we just had to go to the pasture. We hustled the chores. Had a good supper. I recorded my expenses and such and thought about my sewing projects. I think I can make a shift jumper dress and a gathered skirt from the navy blue material. Then I’ll make a blouse from the butterfly print if I can and two blouses and a skirt from the other blue rose/lace print--one peasant style and one tailored. Then I’ll have a wardrobe of clothes for sure. Maybe I’ll draw them quickly before bedtime but I’m about ready to quit for the night. Love you, Dusty. The valentine I bought cost 36 cents but it is really lovely. He likes roses--had a Jackson & Perkins catalog (the same one Judy sent me) on the counter yesterday. One more thing to add to the list of sharing.

I had managed a good visit with Dusty on Friday. With iffy weather, close tabs on my time and work and no way to get out at night, it did not happen as often as I wished. So every time I could sit and talk a little while was a treasure. He was still saying I should have stayed in CA and I knew that was probably true but we still were both glad to be able to share a moment here and there. He wanted to be sure I did not get in trouble over it. 

I can't recall Dad talking to Peckham again but I guess he did. Why he did not come out in a snarling fit and tantrum I have no idea! Maybe after hearing more from Mom and a bit from me, the counselor knew what not to say or how to say things that would not seem offensive. Dad did NOT want anyone telling him how to do anything and that certainly included dealing with the family. Hmmm. Wondering now about that. 

Going to Prescott was really not a huge treat but I took advantage of it since I still had a little money to spend. I had put most of what I came home with in secret savings (I had both checking and savings in my name only) but was glad to be able to buy a thing or two now and then. It was also a relief to stop using the awkward belt and pads each month. I never went back to that!

My old paper-doll-making practice had mostly morphed into design work. I sketched ideas and sometimes did really use one of the dolls to trace around and then color and detail a project. I had five yards of the blue print I mentioned and did as I had planned out. Or maybe no; I know there was a peasant style blouse, but I think it may have become a dress--full skirt and fitted waist with scoop neck rather than a skirt and no tailored blouse in that fabric--would not look right..   The butterfly print,I can barely recall. I had made a shirt in an orange-red butterfly print Grandma gave me, but that was earlier. The navy blue did make a gathered skirt and simple straight sleeveless dress.  For a tomboy cowboy girl I did love clothes and rather feminine styles too.And I made new things whenever I could even if they were aarely worn.

Relative to that morning, we had earlier cut down a big cottonwood tree that was mostly dying and although it is punky wood that does not burn clean, it was heat. We cut slabs maybe a foot to eighteen inches in height and split them with wedges; that was a task Charlie Mike and I did a lot. We used a single jack or sort handled sledge hammer and drive old ax heads for wedges to split off chunks.  It was hard to get up to Mingus to get better wood at this point so we made do. We were not living 'high on the hog' at this time!

Odd photos:  Me wearing the butterfly shirt I mentioned. It was a favorite. The blue print fabric--here in a quilt square. The fabric used in the shirt, again in a quilt square, and last, a bit of the fabric I used to make matching shirts for Dusty and me. I thought it was so pretty! This was in a scrapbook. I find many reminders of projects in the first quilt I completed after Jim died and a smaller one that I use for a lap and nap robe. And then the larger quilt just after I finished it--half of the front of it.

Monday Memoir, Jan 29, 1966

 Already the interlude of being gone was fading to a dim memory. I was back fully into the cowboy girl life and a daily routine similar to what I had lived from June 2, 1962 on. So far the big half-day talks had not resumed and I was properly grateful for that. I did all I could not to invite any of them. The relief was short though.

Jan 29, 1966

Got up about 7:45 and had breakfast. Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out to do the morning chores. It all went off fairly quickly and well. When we go back we talked a little and then I went out to saddle up Frosty. He was a little nervous but reasonably cooperative. He was high for about ten minutes and would have pitched a little if I had let him but a few little climbs took it right out of him. He went right into his running walk in a few minutes and never refused a thing. Nuanez came about noon with his sons. He really liked Frosty but did not have any money right now. He just loves Buckshot-Tony and Patrick and may be able to buy Frosty in a few weeks. I had to go talk to Peckham in the afternoon. Well, at least I got a bath out of it. He kind of bugs me. I said my main goal or ambition was to get married and raise a family and he was surprised. I said I was currently going with a construction worker a few years older. What he thought of that I can’t say! Ugh, I rather wish we’d stayed clear of that but it’s too late now. The ditcher gang is Fleetrunner, all right. We went out to feed again and did up the home chores. I spent the evening reading Western Horseman. I am going to really work with Frosty, Buzzie and Leo on reining in the next few weeks. I sure hope it does not storm but I guess we are due for one soon. It’s not too late but I feel awfully wheezy so I suppose I’d better get on to bed promptly. And dream of Dusty again. I did last night. We drove down by old F.C. Hill’s and parked on a semi-rainy moonlit night. It was one of those ‘real’ dreams where you can feel the warmth of each touch and everything. I am much less reserved about expressing affection since Dusty taught me the magic of touching.

Frosty was Elaine Stoos's young appaloosa gelding. I had brought him home to try and attempt to sell a few days earlier. I do not think he was one of Chief's colts although now I am not totally sure. No, he was too old for that come to think of it. Al Nuanez was the stable manager at the Verde Valley School and he had bought Patrick and Tonalea/Buckshot the previous fall. 

Why we continued going to the family counselling clinic I am not sure but we did. Well, mostly Mom and me. I do not think Charlie Mike ever did and Dad went seldom! He was not enthused about it. LOL. I tended to throw different info into our conversations each session as I had come to be disillusioned with the whole thing.  Keep 'em guessing!? In the end there was one positive result anyway for which in time I was grateful.

A ditcher is another specialized piece of RR maintenance equipment and is a type of crane/shovel machine mounted on a flat car that cleans along trackside and at washout or landslide problems.There is normally a small work train with the operator and maybe a helper or two at most, one living car and the equipment, maybe a fuel tank. As I corrected in a few days, this operator was a Native American man correctly named Footracer rather than Fleetrunner. Tribe unknown as I never met or saw him up close but think Charlie Mike spoke to him a time or two. They were not in Clarkdale long. 

Dredging up photos...  I do not think this is Frosty as it looks like a mare but he was marked similarly. And was a rather short and stocky colt. Next a photo of either that ditcher work train or another in the Clarkdale yard about that time. You cannot see much from it. The last is the loading tower where limestone dust from the plant was loaded into trucks for transport but a work train--maybe ditcher-- shows in the background.  

Monday Memoir Jan 22, 1966

Back in Arizona for close to two weeks. It had not gotten too real and earnest yet but a few hints began to appear. I tried to ignore or just let them roll off. For awhile that worked pretty well.  

Jan 22, 1966

Got up reluctantly because it was chilly and ate. I “got” to stay home this morning so I went to work on Dusty’s shirt while the dish water was heating. It is really going to be awfully neat if I can just keep from making any dumb boo-boos on it. My original design is pretty sharp. When the folks got back from the pasture, the Boss and I went over to look at Kitty’s black Val. He is a bit feisty. We stopped to talk to her and her husband. His name is Ray Meecham and he seems like a nice guy. We looked at Elaine’s appy on our way home. Guess they are both worth trying to get. We had lunch. Charlie Mike had done the noon chores. I wasted the afternoon. Charlie Mike and I hiked over and visited the outfit. The new “bunk car” is really going to need some refurbishing.  They fixed the cook car up real nice though. Dusty has some boys that are clever carpenters. Of course he is one himself. We got the evening chores done up OK. I worked a bit more on the shirt too. Didn’t do much through the evening. I don’t feel too good. My upper right twelve year molar is being pushed out by the wisdom tooth. It’s really painful. I’m afraid it will have to come out. Damn, that’s lousy. Manana we’ve got a lot of fetching and carrying to do so since it is 10:30 I’d best trot off to bed PDQ. That’s really my favorite place anymore for there I can dream in peace knowing I am not in danger from being inattentive or wasting time. I’ve to get hold of myself and hit it harder, I reckon. The idea sticks a little but it really is the only answer. I  just have three ‘private’ projects. Finish Dusty’s shirt, finish my story up to date and get a few letters answered. I have to do them in snatches. Another hour would finish the shirt, probably. The others aren’t urgent.

The old pre-break routine of trying to work deals and 'sell' was back in play but for the moment Dad was doing a bit more and not insisting that Mom and I or even Charlie Mike pick up all the slack.  That didn't last as other issues moved to the fore for his attention as we were not bringing in much cash and still spending for feed and all so an effort was essential. (Lawsuit shit mostly)  Kitty and Ray Meecham were a local young couple kind of into horses and stuff. We had tried to trade or exchange first Patrick, Ginger and then one of the other trained horses for their colts that were a bit feisty. Same for Elaine Stoos, who was kind of friends with Maureen. 

I did not feel I had done so badly in the past six months but was now trying to really maintain my end and not leave any openings for tirades and harangues.  Good luck there LOL but I worked at keeping my head out of any daydream clouds and being low key on my personal projects to stay 'under the radar' as much as possible. Sewing was usually okay since I did a lot of patching and repairs and my making western shirts was never a big issue.  I had given some to friends and pen pals and made some for Dad and Charlie Mike too.  My project for Dusty was thus not anything to draw attention. 

What was projected for Sunday I do  not recall without going back and reading. Probably getting some hay--we got big loads when possible like from Phoenix but then filled in with pickup loads wherever we could snag a few bales here and there.I know that is not the best way to feed horses, especially hot blooded high stung ones. Colic and problems happen when you do not gradually blend over from one sort of feed to another which was often not possible. Even then I knew that but what could I do to fix it? Damn little. 

Pictures? Gee, I really do not have anything applicable but I'll grab something. Okay I will be mentioning driving to the pasture frequently. This view from the hills west of the highway shows part of the route. It went past the SW end of Peck's Lake and up a hill and then curved to go south to Tuzigoot, around the monument to the north east end and down the back to a gate and then around part of the Tavasci area and turned east and back south thru a cattle guard to the pasture area. That part is kinda visible in the newer color shot taken from Tuzigoot. The last is the corrals at Clarkdale. I think it did snow a time or two after I got back that spring. And that would always be a mess and hassle!

Memoir Monday, Jan 15, 1966

 So I was back in Arizona, my vaca-scape  (think vacation and escape morphed) of nearly a month ended. I had healed a lot in that time, at least at surface or superficial levels. I had been very worried about returning but to start it seemed I was the prodigal daughter and if not actually feted and treated at least was shown enough favor and respect that for a time I was very optimistic. Of course somewhere inside I suspected it all was too good to last, and it was, but for maybe 6 weeks and even a bit longer part of the time, I felt I had made progress and won some points. Then almost abruptly, things doubled down very savagely. 

Jan 15, 1966

Another busy day, a mixture of good and bad as most of them are. I kept busy as usual. We talked some. The folks went out.  I walked uptown and mailed Dusty’s letter and poems. Mom told me my confession upset Dad. I really never can tell when to believe what he says. I can’t blame him for it, but it is painful. I tried to encourage him though and perhaps succeeded in part. We had lunch and cleaned up to go over to the clinic. We’d planned that Mom and I would go in together but Mr Peckham called me in first alone. I think I did a fairly good job. He still says that it’s very important for me to do some things on my own but admits he was a bit hasty about encouraging me to leave. I said I found the city wasn’t my cup of tea and was glad to have that curiosity or doubt settled. It’s doubtful that we’re making much progress but one must try, I suppose. It looked quite stormy this pm which was disgusting to me. I’ve had all the bad weather I need. I made an applesauce cake and a casserole for supper and helped Charlie Mike do the chores here. Also did dishes after supper. We played records and I planned some sewing projects. I decided I’d try a shift out of the red plaid material that once was a pleated skirt. We went to bed about 10:30, I with Dusty on my mind. I dreamed he followed me down the trail and I held a hand back to him. He came up and put his arms around me with a sigh and I leaned back against him and tried to kiss him over my shoulder but couldn’t quite reach. But I could feel his nose against mine and my cheek, just as real as in life. Dreams can be so weird. I never really dreamed of being kissed until after I had been. A few nights ago (Monday evening?) I dreamed of him kissing me and woke up shaking, it was so real. A week ago I was in Blythe or Needles about now. God, it seems impossible.

I got home on the 10th, which was a Monday and the first few days passed quickly. I did not do any 'chores' but picked up most of the routine household tasks like cooking and dish washing. We went back up to Flagstaff to get the boxes and heavy luggage I had put in lockers at the depot and then to the Clarkdale station which handled local REA*  for boxes that had been shipped--food, clothing and other stuff  the aunts had gathered which was allegedly to help the folks. (*REA is Railroad Express Agency)

Wednesday while the folks went out to do the pasture chores I biked over to B&B 6 and spent a short while with Dusty. He chided me for not staying and going to school but was very glad to see me.  I hurried home to avoid any issues. Around that same time in a mostly fairly mild 'talk,' I was forced to admit Dusty had driven me to Flagstaff. There were no immediate fireworks but I later realized this was yet another ''charge, crime or sin" to be held against my sweetheart. No doubt--Dad totally hated him.

I was making a huge effort to keep calm, cool and not let things get to me. The partial healing did help me there quite a bit and learning the contrast between what the folks, mostly Dad, said and what the kinfolk in California believed and their unfavorable feelings and impressions had caused some serious erosion in my total acceptance of the enmeshed family story and stance. I would never buy all of it whole cloth again.That detachment was a saving grace as time went on.  

On my sewing, Aunt Roxie supported my hobby or efforts there and took me shopping where I got several lengths of fabric that came home with me. Over several months I put it all to good use as well as redoing some older garments to new styles. The first was a pair of matching western shirts for Dusty and me. He got his for Valentine's Day. 

So for the time being, life went on about as smooth and easily as it possible could. Did that make what came later easier or harder? Perhaps a bit of both. But I never came quite that close to murder or self-destruction (as on Nov 30-Dec 1) again, despite some very low lows. 

A very few pictures:  First, perhaps not the best match but Dusty really did resemble Steve McQueen.  Just 'cause--Leo was one of my horse faves and was with me until spring 1968. And a bit of the red plaid, which I had picked in Sacramento and even then knew I would use to make matching shirts for us. Wish I had pix of them but do not; I had mine for quite awhile though. That swatch is on a page in a scrap book and I think it is in one block on my 1st special quilt that is on my bed now.