It started out as a white December. Of course it was a white Christmas. By this time in the afternoon - it was looking blue. It was too cold for many photos, for me and the camera battery.
Sugar has always been my shadow dog. Now that Lucky is gone, she is sticking even closer. I’ve even caught Rocky the cat sleeping next to her. Will wonders never cease?
Let’s try to appreciate all that we have to be thankful for every day.
Happy Thanksgiving!
This morning I had breakfast in Red Lodge at the Cafe Regis and said goodbye to my newfound friends, Elizabeth and Steve.
We met the other afternoon. I was in the laundromat washing a down comforter. They were obviously traveling, so I asked if they were staying in town or hitting the road. It’s a curse, being shy. Elizabeth immediately picked up on the vestiges of my accent. We soon discovered that we had been as close to being neighbors in New York as it gets.
There was so much to talk about that we decided to meet for supper later. We enjoyed a great dinner and company that night at the Carbon County Steakhouse.
Incredibly, we kept finding more things in common. Steve’s parents had owned a grocery in Queens. My father and grandparents owned a grocery in Brooklyn.
Elizabeth mentioned Wurtsboro. I asked about the gliders. Aside from being world travelers, they’re both pilots!
This morning they told me about a trip that they took yesterday through Elk Basin, to Powell and on to Cody.
They unknowingly drove right past the farm and out to where our cattle ran.
It’s not very green here, but we wish you a great day. Spring is not very far away.
Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!
This was my view of Red Lodge Mountain from the Golf Course last night. Billy Waldo & the Flying Grizzlies reunited for a concert benefiting the Stan Bustos Memorial Foundation.
What a great party!
You can view the rest of the concert photos here.
That fire is thirty miles west of here on the West Fork of Rock Creek. The area burning has somehow escaped fire the last few years.
It was a last minute decision. Let’s go somewhere. Let’s do something. I have half a hundred things that I should be doing, but. . . they will still be there later. No one else is going to do them. N suggested a ride. Good idea - as long as we didn’t head to Red Lodge or the Beartooth Pass. Not on Sunday, at the beginning of the tourist season. The thought of driving behind motor homes up the switchbacks, and then on to Cooke City wasn’t appealing. We headed out on the gravel. Not far from home we found these cows in search of shade.
I drove through Elk Basin and cut across to Frannie, Wyoming. A bit further south we stopped for something to eat. Bad move. We walked in the cafe and looked at the salad bar. Hmmmmm. The mushrooms were rotting. I don’t like mold with my fungus. The lone waitress directed us to a booth. It smelled like bleach. The table was wet. So was the seat. The waitress moved us to a dry booth, and tossed the menus on the table. I said, “I hope that the kitchen is cleaner than the menus”, as the waitress brought N’s coffee to the table. N opened a half and half container and poured it in her cup. It curdled. We walked out.
Crossing back to the car, I suggested knocking on someone’s door and begging for a meal. A few people were coming out of the LDS Church. We asked a woman if she had any ideas on a place in Lovell to eat. Lovell has never been known for its fine dining. The lady told us where not to eat. I continued south. We stopped at Minchow’s Food Court. The teens working there were very entertaining.
I was still eating my ice cream cone when I noticed the Buelingos from the previous post. The next stop was one of the overlooks in the Bighorn Canyon. There are incredible views from every direction. I was amazed by the speed (and the sound) of the swallows that buzzed over my head.
Wait until I tell you about the horses.
Times change. Things change. Life happens. Hopefully, we grow.
I am very much alive. I have not been here - on the blog. But I have been here, in Carbon County, Montana with Ty, Lucky, Sugar, Rocky and Tuffy. I haven’t taken the time to post. I haven’t found the time to sit here at the keyboard. I rarely keep up with my telephone correspondence. Ask my friends. Before I married Allan I worked at a desk, with a telephone and a computer. That company did not have internet service then. We took orders over the phone and by mail order. Ahhh, but they were still making their product in the US at that time, too. Sometimes I wish that I had the luxury of constantly being on-line. Then I come back to reality.
I still field the question at least once a week, “You don’t work outside the home?”
Come on in, you’ll see what I get done inside the home. Not much.
This grey morning was spent irrigating pasture. I hid Sugar’s frisbee so I could get some water set. She’s the only one I spoke with this morning. Sugar doesn’t answer me, really. I called her off the road a time or two. She listened. I implored her to quit eating cow pies. Sugar paid me no mind. I always say that it was a good thing I didn’t have children. I can’t even get the dogs to listen to me.
I have had time to think. We always do. What we do with all that thinking is what matters. Way back when - in August of 2004 - I started writing here. I was introduced to blogging shortly before that. Ed Kemmick’s blog, City Lights was the lively place I first encountered. Ed recently called it quits - at least for a while. Hopefully, it won’t be too long a while. I miss that place already. I began writing about day to day happenings here on the farm, or “in the neighborhood.” I’d post photographs, all scanned then. Some were mine, and some were old postcards that I’d collected. After I started taking digital photos, I began posting them to flickr, which quickly became a new addiction. Flickr can be a very real community. I should say communities. Karbon Kounty Moos and Flickr accurately depict much of my life. At least the parts that I chose to share.
I think that everyone who has blogged, or blog commented - and those who post to flickr have had these moments. You are in the middle of something, exciting or mundane - and you think, “I have to blog about this”. Or - “I have to shoot this and post it on flickr”. Remember “Kodak moments?” These are more intense. I never considered myself a journalist, I’m just a person who likes to read and write. And share. I never take myself serious. I was chided on flickr for my “snapshots”. I’m someone who enjoys taking photos, no delusions of grandeur here. I have been accused of being naive and uninterested about politics. Not true. I am very interested in politics. I also collect condom tins, and I know that this is the first time anyone has read that here. There are more than enough political bloggers out there. I am not interested in becoming yet another one. I don’t think there are any condom tin collector bloggers. I mean, other than me.
I have met some wonderful people through blogging and flickr. You know who you are. I met some crazies, too. You know who you are. I would not have met all these people without sitting at the keyboard. I am very thankful for that. I treated my blog visitors as if they were sitting in my kitchen. Some of them actually did. I discovered friends in the most incredible places. All because of my lousy hunt and peck skills. I like to talk, but I do know how to listen. I have a tendency to interrupt that I’ve been trying to break for forty something years. There is no 12 step program for it. I simply ask my friends to point it out to me, and if all else fails, tell me to “shut up.”
My blog readers have been great. You have seen me through the last four years of my life. And what a ride it’s been.
Postcards, fairy tales, and hangovers. Millionaire farmers, harvests and cemeteries. Recipes, bucket calves, and too many dog stories. Radio shows, memes and missing links. Ciphers, my hejira, and my mother’s death. Job descriptions, parts runs and strange encounters. Halfhearted HNT attempts, the Sugar Dog and Rascal Fairs. Gated pipe lessons, sugarbeets and corn. Beer drinking in parking lots, barley and Pioneer Days. Mosaics, bumper crops of eggplant and missing waffle irons. Getting kicked by cows. Allan getting sick. Allan finally diagnosed properly. Being reminded that there are people who take pleasure in other’s misfortunes. Trying not to turn this into a medical blog. Modems, calving and hospice. Losing Allan. Photographs and memories. My wonderings about black clouds and helicopters. Learning to irrigate and run the loader. Fences, rattlesnakes and raccoons. Flowers, cattle, and friends. Songs, silliness, and tractors. Feeder trucks, the romance of ranching, and switching to WordPress. On the radio - but on the cutting room floor, since I was not talking about politics - as usual. Trying my best to maintain these little places. Karbon Kounty Moos and my farm, by myself. It takes a lot of energy and a lot of time. I continued to post photos, work my butt off and laugh at myself.
Everyone gets fed here before me. Too much coffee in the morning isn’t a good idea when you’re wearing coveralls and out in the open. Once I know that everyone else is okay, then I can take care of my needs. Which involves copious amounts of coffee. I learned to do many things by myself these last two years. I have always believed that there’s always more to learn, so that’s been fine with me. I’ve learned a lot about myself and other people. Brucellosis has taught me more. I am tired of repeating myself. I have written (and linked) extensively on my experience, it’s all here. Click on brucellosis at the bottom of this post - you can find all my postings.
Last night when I heard one of the “B” words (the other one is “beets”) on TV, I knew what I had to do. It was time. I haven’t posted since April. Mostly light hearted posts with photos. Yes, I write about my bad luck. It’s excellent blog fodder. Much of it is unbelievable. Especially since it’s happening to me. Why has it been so quiet here? Because it hasn’t been. I may write about my misfortunes, but I don’t think that I am the “whining government farmer” that I’ve been accused of. I really don’t think that’s ever going to happen.
I sold last year’s calves a little earlier this spring than usual. It was probably a good decision. The market was so-so, but I was exhausted and tired of feeding at the lot and in the pasture. Once I did that I could devote myself to the cows and the new babies. Calving went pretty well. My shoulders, back and arms were killing me, but I kept pushing. There was sugarbeet drama, equipment to sell and property to buy. There were friends who needed me, and friends that I needed. There are people who enjoy being thorns in one’s side. I ended up with three bucket calves and hands that wouldn’t work. I was being beat up by baby bovines and my feet hurt so bad I considered the emergency room.
Yes, I had found the time to diagnose on-line. RA. Yes, I have seen a doctor and a rheumatologist. I have not seen a black helicopter in a while, though.
The last few weeks have been hectic. Everything that needs to get done is getting done. Maybe not as quick as it should, but it is getting done. I found happy homes for the bucket calves. My cows are doing well. I even kept some heifers back. I am on medication and keeping my fingers crossed.
What do I know? I know what I’ve read. I know what I’ve heard. But simply because you read or hear something does not make it so.
A bear passed through here last week. I didn’t see it, or hear it, but I know that it was here. No family of raccoons could have made that big a mess. The Raccoon Family Robinson did make a mess before that and has almost every day since, though. I haven’t fixed my (wince) traps.
I know that we had a wolverine here a few years ago for over a month. Research that. Wolverines do not live here, everyone knows that. This is not a pine forest. Well, I was not the only one who saw our wolverine several times in broad daylight.
I know who I am. I know who I’ve been. I know that they are the same person, even through the changes.
Times change. Things change. Life happens. Hopefully, we grow.
I know what I like. I know what I don’t like. I know better than to try to change people or their minds. I have changed. I have often changed my own mind. It is always something that I chose to do. I know who I love. I know that I am loved. I know that my life is good.
Times change. Things change. Life happens. Hopefully we continue to grow.
This was taken yesterday. Twelve above, still and snowing. Now it’s clear, windy (of course), and trying to get above freezing. One can hope.
I haven’t been keeping up with this place, or my flickr photos. I had a cold that was starting to feel like the plague. But I can’t take a break from the day to day operations of feeding my crew. I carry on. Runny nose, aching back, vertigo, shot shoulders, bum knee and whatever else happens to be going on is ignored for the time being. Once I’m finished outside, I can come in and crash for a while.
Betty Western has tagged me for a meme. And it is a Me Me. I haven’t done one in ages, so I think that it’s time. Please do visit Betty’s place.
Here are the rules. 1. Link to your tagger and post these rules. 2. Share 7 facts about yourself: some random, some weird. 3. Tag 3 people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them). 4. Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment at their blogs.
Seven facts about moos, I’m not sure if they’re random or weird or both:
1. I usually have a green thumb outside, but I can’t keep houseplants alive. Maybe it has something to do with the dust bison I raise.
2. I do not consider myself an authority at anything. I know a little bit about a lot of things. I know a lot about a few things. I always want to learn more.
3. I am second generation American. My parents were born in New York, as was I. My paternal grandfather was born in Kalavryta, which makes it extra fortunate that he came to the United States. My paternal grandmother was also an immigrant from Greece. My maternal grandfather was from Galway, Ireland. My maternal grandmother was born in Liverpool, England to Irish parents. Both of my grandfathers died when I was a child, but I do remember them. Both of my grandmothers died long before I was born.
4. I ended up in Williston, North Dakota before I made it to Montana. I like North Dakota. Honestly, I like all of the places that I’ve been. There are four states in the lower 48 that I have never been to. Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Kentucky. I hope to see them.
5. My favorite color changes all the time. For the last year or so it has been brown.
6. “Karen, why’d you do that?” My Queens accent comes out when I’m tired or angry. It’s not Fran Drescher, but my vocabulary shamefully will deteriorate to Goodfellas.
7. I love to cook - and eat.
I’m going to tag three bloggers. All are Montana ladies that I have met in real life. I hope that they can find the time for the meme.
Come on, Pandora.
Your turn, Laurie.
Martha - how about a little meme about you you?
