Karbon Kounty Moos

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.

Read the back of the card.

This card was printed in Germany, but it doesn’t name a publisher.
It was mailed to : Leo Hudson, North Vernon, Ind. Walnut St.
Postmarked Apr 24 1908 - looks like Kansas City
Postmarked Rec’d Apr 2? 1908 at 8AM in North Vernon, Ind.

It reads (in pencil):
Garden City
April 23
Dear Leo,
We have been spinning along pretty lively today having fine time. Be good & careful.
Mama

and now we can.

Photo taken 18 October 2005

Congress will soon be deciding how much funding the federal government will provide for cancer research. While the leaders of the House and Senate have agreed to provide a $7 billion increase for health and other programs, including NIH and NCI, their proposals fall far short of that goal. In fact, the funding levels that they are currently considering would result in a cut for cancer research. There is still far too much that needs to be done within the field of pancreatic cancer research to accept a cut in funding. We need early detection tools, treatments, and a cure. Make sure your Senators and Representative know that you think pancreatic cancer research is a funding priority and should be one of their priorities too.

You can do that by clicking here. It’s painless, and only takes a minute.

A year ago we were trying to get into the sugar beet fields. Like now, it was too wet. This year there are beets in the valley, but none in our fields. I never liked sugar beets, they took too much time, energy and expense.

I wish that we could be out in this beet field again.

Allan’s Page

I’ve driven by this field a few times this year. I finally stopped to photograph it.

Click on the photo for a better view.

If you look carefully - you’ll see a leg - and two feet.
He hasn’t been run over by the top saver.
He’s cleaning it. So you know what that means.

A splash of color - from the side of the road by Bridger:

Warning - Manic Run-on Sentences Ahead

The beet digger got into the final field - #4 on Tuesday evening. Wednesday was spent there, until the beet dump went down. One of our trucks hit the piler, breaking a belt. We were told that it would probably be a couple of days before it was repaired. I was busy wrangling pets, and sorting off a heifer to doctor while waiting for the phone company to come and install my new ADSL modem. I’m also doctoring Ty - since Friday. We had an emergency vet visit on Sunday. And a followup on Monday in between parts runs to Bridger (imagine that!), Red Lodge, Billings and Lovell. I really need to make a grocery run.

Ty seems to be doing better. I’m pulling my hair out with Sugar. I’m using a Gentle Leader with her. She is not thrilled, but I hope that we’re making progress.

This morning we thought that we’d “sleep in”, since we couldn’t dig. Then the field man called. He informed me that the piler had been repaired, and was ready to accept beets. I made phone calls and breakfast. The Baron ate and then headed out. I prepared his lunch. When I went out to the Mule I discovered that Rocky (the cat) had vomited several large mole and/or mouse parts all over the seat. I scraped the seat cover, removed it and tossed it in the washer to soak. With lots of bleach. I guess that it could have been worse. It could have been the sofa, or the bed. . . Then I brought the lunchbox out - in the pickup.

I just came in from bringing Allan some cocoa (sugar free) - and a pill that he forgot to remind me about. He was recently diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. Not a good deal for a Sugar Beet Baron. Or anyone else. I got back to the house with Lucky and Sugar. Ty is wearing an Elizabethan collar. Sugar was harassing him, so I put her in the kennel on the porch. Then the dogs went wild again. Jan had stopped by with her grandchildren who wanted to see the puppy. There was no way I was taking the Devil Dog out now. We’re all on the porch with a yammering puppy when Wyatt came in looking for a bandaid. He’d sliced his finger open with a beet knife. Ty and Lucky were in the house barking their heads off at all the excitement on the porch. Wyatt has now been doctored. I need a cup of coffee. Or maybe something stronger.