My sincere apologies.
Thinking there would be any time to do anything other than drive, look, hunt, sleep, drive - well, that was unrealistic.
No pronghorn for the freezer, but a very good hunt was had! More to come. Phew! That was a fast weekend!
Monday, October 30, 2017
Thursday, October 26, 2017
72 Hours. In the Life Of.....
As we prepare to take a kind-of long weekend break (both of us need to work the morning hours tomorrow), I will photo and word document our eastern excursion. As I watch friend Stephanie discover all the fascinations of her new digs (Bamenda Africa) there are places as remote and strange just across the Teton County Line! Stand by to see and learn more as we venture to the rough and tumble wilds of Kayce, Wyoming where we will meet up with Antelope Guide, Russchelle Jones and seek the elusive, yet lovely pronghorn antelope.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
Peaceful Sunday Afternoon
Michael is puttering in his shop. I have the mess of lunch cleaned up - fed eight today here in Freedom. Benni moved cattle, Mike helped, and the whole gang feasted to beef stew and smoke sausage white bean soup. Yes, there is an Insta Pot at this location now too!
The horses and mules are full and bored. Playing "bite me" across the fence from each other, they enjoy the warmth of this afternoon. The skies are dark and ominous. A storm is moving in from the west.
I scored some great planters while Mike was visiting his mom. Check out this monster culvert!! There are two smaller ones stuffed inside too.
Walton Ranch Crew getting 'er done.
We pointed our noses south later yesterday afternoon. After a fine meal and bottle of wine, a bit of reading was had while the gas stove flickered its warming flames. We hit the sack at 8pm! With such a early night, getting up at 6 am was easy. No elk in the meadows this morning.
All summer, I have a fountain in Hoback at the front door. After last summer, the fish that made it through the season were transplanted to the inside aquarium. This year, I had a problem. All the fish survived and grew in their summer quarters. As the fountain got drained for the season, the fish got netted up and transported to Freedom where they now reside in the (heated) horse tank. They are doing great in their new digs.
The horses and mules are full and bored. Playing "bite me" across the fence from each other, they enjoy the warmth of this afternoon. The skies are dark and ominous. A storm is moving in from the west.
I scored some great planters while Mike was visiting his mom. Check out this monster culvert!! There are two smaller ones stuffed inside too.
The story on how I scored these culverts is rather laborious. Let's just say it started with a grass fire, a doctor tried to sway my influence by giving them to me, and I ended up hauling them away after giving him a check for $200. My influence is not for sale.
You might note the snow plow parts and pieces as well. As the doctor and his friend helped me load the trailer, he offered these up as well. Keeping in mind that Mike was looking for a plow, I hesitantly accepted. "I bet it's not the first dog you've brought home," the helper exclaimed. Never heard that said before, but yeah, it's not!! Since then, Mike has bought another snow plow - a pretty good deal, except just as worthy of being called a Project as these shown above.
I woke up today with a feeling of nerves jangling in my fresh cut lip. Turns out, the stitches, dis- solvable, are starting to dissolve. Strange and somewhat disturbing feeling. I've kept a serious lip all day.
Yesterday, we helped work cows at the Walton Ranch. There was absolutely nothing for me to do expect jab an unsuspecting cow with a hot shot every now and then. I grabbed my camera, taking pity on the old black girls.
"Where's my calf???!!""
The chute.
This is a picture of Ken preg testing. He checks each cow (well, unless it's a steer - a couple came through yesterday - oppos). It's a nasty, thankless job. With plastic glove sleeved up to his armpit, he reaches way up the stinky hole to feel for the swelling of a fetus. I hope he gets paid alot for the chore.
We pointed our noses south later yesterday afternoon. After a fine meal and bottle of wine, a bit of reading was had while the gas stove flickered its warming flames. We hit the sack at 8pm! With such a early night, getting up at 6 am was easy. No elk in the meadows this morning.
All summer, I have a fountain in Hoback at the front door. After last summer, the fish that made it through the season were transplanted to the inside aquarium. This year, I had a problem. All the fish survived and grew in their summer quarters. As the fountain got drained for the season, the fish got netted up and transported to Freedom where they now reside in the (heated) horse tank. They are doing great in their new digs.
As the weekend comes to a close, the peace and solace of this place surrounds me as I write this blog, Bach's piano music sounding out its rhythmic orderly measures. We begin to pack up and think about heading north for the week ahead.
May your week be productive and a good week.
Friday, October 20, 2017
The Sun is not Your Friend
I love the feeling of the warm sun on my face. Eyes closed, feeling the heat warm my skin; I recall so many places and times I have soaked up the sun. In Illinois, laying on the fresh spring grass, my head on my old dog Precious belly, looking up at the clouds and forming animals out of their white floating shapes. In Tucson under the desert sky, pulling soil samples from the hot, dry Indian reservation - dead cattle lay under most of the scraggly desert bushes. In the high mountain wilderness, sitting in a low hunting camp fabric chair, soaking up s the morning warmth from the sun which has made its way to the southern side of the horizon.
Sunshine, on my shoulders, makes me happy. John Denver said it so well. I've used Carmex with no sunscreen protection, on my lips most of my life.
On Wednesday, I spent the majority of the day having a squamous cell carcinoma growth removed from the bottom lip on the left side of my face. Using a procedure called the Moh's procedure, the cancer is cut out (I was given copious amounts of lidocane throughout the day; lidocane is our friend!) and examined under a microscope to ensure the margins are clear of cancer. After the third time round of getting margins clean, I listened to some options from the doc on closing the gaping hole in my lip up. He ended up making an incision starting at the middle of my chin and up to pull the two sides of lip together. Here is what it looks like.
Did it make you wince when you saw this picture? Don't worry, the whole thing was really quite painless. Even today, >36 hours later, I am only taking Advil when needed (none yet today).
From what I've read, there is a 94-99% chance that this cancer will not reoccur. I'm hoping to be in that percentile, but will remain vigilante to sores that do not heal or nodes that start to hurt and/or whatever else freaks me out.
I'm now a member of the Cancer Club. The day I went in for this procedure, a friend of mine, ten years my junior, went in for a mastectomy. I thought of her all day. She put my procedure into a different dimension. What happened to me is pretty minor; however, like her, I am aware a cancer is a significant threat. All of us in this club feel the change in life. The brush up next to mortality. The longing for the joys of living and the desire to continue living; sharing one's life with the amazing partner I call husband, friend, and love of my life. More now than ever, these things are so precious and important.
Cancer can kill. So can a car crash, a horse wreck, a structure fire, and an avalanche. Be careful out there, my friends. And wear sunscreen on your face and on your lips.
Sunshine, on my shoulders, makes me happy. John Denver said it so well. I've used Carmex with no sunscreen protection, on my lips most of my life.
On Wednesday, I spent the majority of the day having a squamous cell carcinoma growth removed from the bottom lip on the left side of my face. Using a procedure called the Moh's procedure, the cancer is cut out (I was given copious amounts of lidocane throughout the day; lidocane is our friend!) and examined under a microscope to ensure the margins are clear of cancer. After the third time round of getting margins clean, I listened to some options from the doc on closing the gaping hole in my lip up. He ended up making an incision starting at the middle of my chin and up to pull the two sides of lip together. Here is what it looks like.
Did it make you wince when you saw this picture? Don't worry, the whole thing was really quite painless. Even today, >36 hours later, I am only taking Advil when needed (none yet today).
From what I've read, there is a 94-99% chance that this cancer will not reoccur. I'm hoping to be in that percentile, but will remain vigilante to sores that do not heal or nodes that start to hurt and/or whatever else freaks me out.
I'm now a member of the Cancer Club. The day I went in for this procedure, a friend of mine, ten years my junior, went in for a mastectomy. I thought of her all day. She put my procedure into a different dimension. What happened to me is pretty minor; however, like her, I am aware a cancer is a significant threat. All of us in this club feel the change in life. The brush up next to mortality. The longing for the joys of living and the desire to continue living; sharing one's life with the amazing partner I call husband, friend, and love of my life. More now than ever, these things are so precious and important.
Cancer can kill. So can a car crash, a horse wreck, a structure fire, and an avalanche. Be careful out there, my friends. And wear sunscreen on your face and on your lips.
Sunday, October 8, 2017
Dear Joe
Dear Joe:
I went to your auction yesterday. It was a fine day for an auction! I went to your auction so I could give you a big hug - you are one of my favorite people in the fire family. But you weren't there. Once we started going with the auction, I understood why.
Many of your friends were there. We crowded into the dining room/living room space, speculating on where you were going. Dave, the auctioneer, started promptly at 10am, standing over the lovely kitchen table made just for your home. Around the room Dave went and soon, we were all moved outside to a trailer. As I watched snow shovels, chaps, bridles and bits, tank heaters, and electric shears being sorted out and held up, I thought, this is what my estate auction will be like! I am glad you are still amongst the living and moving south to join your family.
I heard the last of your sheep all died this spring. My step-dad Raymond used to say sheep are just looking for a way to die. I don't think his thought is original, just the first time I had ever heard this about sheep. Later, your sheep shelter would sell, be loaded up, and hauled away for another's try at this furry creature.
Of course, that beautiful serious-looking snow plow was the main attraction. In seasoned auctioneer style, Dave took us through the entire course before we got to the plow. I stood next to the young man who won the bid on your New York City police belt; holster, cuff holder, baton, key to the cuffs but no cuffs present. He was fascinated by the thing. Admired it and pondered your wearing it on duty. You would have enjoyed that moment.
We ambled on, item by item. Wooden duck decoys, a cast iron tea pot, enormous wrenches and sockets, feed bins, salt feeders, a chicken coop, white tail deer hides. I believe it was one of your neighbor's who won the book collection off your book shelf. My favorite title, as I gazed through your books, "Practical Farm Shelters". Those kind of books never go out of date. Her son, here visiting from California, helped her load her wins. She bid on much and took home much. Your stuff isn't going far from your mountain home.
I should have bid more on your banding irons. That's a nice brand, M lower J. I bet you would have transferred it to me. But I have a brand and owning two seems more than somewhat silly. I hope the person Carey got them for carries on that brand and thinks of you every time he pushes the red hot iron onto the hide of a critter. It's a nice brand.
I did get your bed. It will be a wonderful guest room bed in our Freedom house. My husband is out of town right now, but I managed to wrangle bed frame, box spring, and mattress out of the horse trailer, into the house, up and around two flights of stairs, and got it all set up. For a bit there, it was a battle and the bed frames was winning. The frame fought me and I cut my ear. Blood dripped down the battle wound and I became more determine to win. When I left this morning, the bed was fully set up, made with your clean linens, and I walked away from the battle ground a real winner.
I also won the bid for that beautiful piece of cabinetry in the kitchen the other women there were calling a "side board". I'm pretty sure I paid too much for it, but I was determined to out-bid the gal across the room (dammit!) and I figure this is kind of like a donation to Joe's moving fund. Use it well, my friend!
I also bought your boot scraper. Right?!! I love that thing. It's like the industrial-type boot scraper. No excuses for muddy feet now!! That thing is awesome! The country you lived in there isn't very wet and you can tell - that boot scraper is practically untouched.
Driving south, I thought about how sad you were going to be to return to your spot on the hill looking east to the glorious Wind River Mountains, wind in the grasses and sage, and know you will be leaving this place. The people around here are going to miss you Chief Joe. You are kind and big-hearted. You are serious and sincere. You were someone they could count on. I heard that in the eleven years you were around, there have been two structure fires. Finding volunteers is really tough up in that wind-blown retirement community. You will be missed.
At Daniel Junction, I stopped to eat dinner. Why not. Here's to you, Joe. I raise my gin and tonic (only one, still a long drive ahead) and wish you safe travels to be surrounded by your family soon in balmy Florida. I celebrate the chance to have met you and known you - albeit, our relationship was brief, I got a glimpse of the kind of man I know you are. May you find warmth in your new surroundings, less wind, no wolves, and certainly, no sheep. You, Sir, are a hero of mine, indeed.
I went to your auction yesterday. It was a fine day for an auction! I went to your auction so I could give you a big hug - you are one of my favorite people in the fire family. But you weren't there. Once we started going with the auction, I understood why.
Many of your friends were there. We crowded into the dining room/living room space, speculating on where you were going. Dave, the auctioneer, started promptly at 10am, standing over the lovely kitchen table made just for your home. Around the room Dave went and soon, we were all moved outside to a trailer. As I watched snow shovels, chaps, bridles and bits, tank heaters, and electric shears being sorted out and held up, I thought, this is what my estate auction will be like! I am glad you are still amongst the living and moving south to join your family.
I heard the last of your sheep all died this spring. My step-dad Raymond used to say sheep are just looking for a way to die. I don't think his thought is original, just the first time I had ever heard this about sheep. Later, your sheep shelter would sell, be loaded up, and hauled away for another's try at this furry creature.
Of course, that beautiful serious-looking snow plow was the main attraction. In seasoned auctioneer style, Dave took us through the entire course before we got to the plow. I stood next to the young man who won the bid on your New York City police belt; holster, cuff holder, baton, key to the cuffs but no cuffs present. He was fascinated by the thing. Admired it and pondered your wearing it on duty. You would have enjoyed that moment.
We ambled on, item by item. Wooden duck decoys, a cast iron tea pot, enormous wrenches and sockets, feed bins, salt feeders, a chicken coop, white tail deer hides. I believe it was one of your neighbor's who won the book collection off your book shelf. My favorite title, as I gazed through your books, "Practical Farm Shelters". Those kind of books never go out of date. Her son, here visiting from California, helped her load her wins. She bid on much and took home much. Your stuff isn't going far from your mountain home.
I should have bid more on your banding irons. That's a nice brand, M lower J. I bet you would have transferred it to me. But I have a brand and owning two seems more than somewhat silly. I hope the person Carey got them for carries on that brand and thinks of you every time he pushes the red hot iron onto the hide of a critter. It's a nice brand.
I did get your bed. It will be a wonderful guest room bed in our Freedom house. My husband is out of town right now, but I managed to wrangle bed frame, box spring, and mattress out of the horse trailer, into the house, up and around two flights of stairs, and got it all set up. For a bit there, it was a battle and the bed frames was winning. The frame fought me and I cut my ear. Blood dripped down the battle wound and I became more determine to win. When I left this morning, the bed was fully set up, made with your clean linens, and I walked away from the battle ground a real winner.
I also won the bid for that beautiful piece of cabinetry in the kitchen the other women there were calling a "side board". I'm pretty sure I paid too much for it, but I was determined to out-bid the gal across the room (dammit!) and I figure this is kind of like a donation to Joe's moving fund. Use it well, my friend!
I also bought your boot scraper. Right?!! I love that thing. It's like the industrial-type boot scraper. No excuses for muddy feet now!! That thing is awesome! The country you lived in there isn't very wet and you can tell - that boot scraper is practically untouched.
Driving south, I thought about how sad you were going to be to return to your spot on the hill looking east to the glorious Wind River Mountains, wind in the grasses and sage, and know you will be leaving this place. The people around here are going to miss you Chief Joe. You are kind and big-hearted. You are serious and sincere. You were someone they could count on. I heard that in the eleven years you were around, there have been two structure fires. Finding volunteers is really tough up in that wind-blown retirement community. You will be missed.
At Daniel Junction, I stopped to eat dinner. Why not. Here's to you, Joe. I raise my gin and tonic (only one, still a long drive ahead) and wish you safe travels to be surrounded by your family soon in balmy Florida. I celebrate the chance to have met you and known you - albeit, our relationship was brief, I got a glimpse of the kind of man I know you are. May you find warmth in your new surroundings, less wind, no wolves, and certainly, no sheep. You, Sir, are a hero of mine, indeed.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Wednesday Post
Mike gives me an update this afternoon. He spent the day at his mother's bedside. Exactly the reason he made the trip. Janet is tired. And who wouldn't be? She made it through a round of dialysis today, as Mike observed. He washed her hair and combed it, urged her to eat some lunch, and sat with her. The entire day.
Okay, I know I am biased, but that, folks, is a good, good man.
Have I ever told you the story when I knew I was totally in love with Michael? We were on a pack trip. It was the first day and Lucy, his loyal red heeler, chased squirrels the entire way in to our first night's camp. That night she had a stroke and we ended up putting her down the next day (which is why I will do anything veterinarian Ken Griggs ever asks of me - or his wife, Cyndie, for that matter).
Lucy lay there next to the grave site Mike began to dig. She looked so peaceful. I stroked her fur as he began digging. Tears rolled down both of our cheeks. Lucy was a good, good dog.
He dug and he dug. We were in grizzly country. The hole got deeper and deeper. I asked him how deep he was going to go (might have said something about China....) and he assured me it was important to get deep enough that the coyotes and bears couldn't get her. That was the moment. That was the moment I knew this was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
The sun slipped over the horizon. We laid Lucy in her deep, deep grave, said goodbye and covered her with rocks and earth. Goodbye Old Girl. You were a good, good dog.
With tear stained cheeks and reddened eyes, we walked back to our group, hand in hand, and joined them for a dinner of fried chicken.
And now he sits by his mother's side with that kind of love and care. You are a good man, Michael Earl Trumbower. And I love you deeply. I am glad you can spend time with your mother. Please let her know from me - she did an excellent job!!
Okay, I know I am biased, but that, folks, is a good, good man.
Have I ever told you the story when I knew I was totally in love with Michael? We were on a pack trip. It was the first day and Lucy, his loyal red heeler, chased squirrels the entire way in to our first night's camp. That night she had a stroke and we ended up putting her down the next day (which is why I will do anything veterinarian Ken Griggs ever asks of me - or his wife, Cyndie, for that matter).
Lucy lay there next to the grave site Mike began to dig. She looked so peaceful. I stroked her fur as he began digging. Tears rolled down both of our cheeks. Lucy was a good, good dog.
He dug and he dug. We were in grizzly country. The hole got deeper and deeper. I asked him how deep he was going to go (might have said something about China....) and he assured me it was important to get deep enough that the coyotes and bears couldn't get her. That was the moment. That was the moment I knew this was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
The sun slipped over the horizon. We laid Lucy in her deep, deep grave, said goodbye and covered her with rocks and earth. Goodbye Old Girl. You were a good, good dog.
With tear stained cheeks and reddened eyes, we walked back to our group, hand in hand, and joined them for a dinner of fried chicken.
And now he sits by his mother's side with that kind of love and care. You are a good man, Michael Earl Trumbower. And I love you deeply. I am glad you can spend time with your mother. Please let her know from me - she did an excellent job!!
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
5 Reasons Why
Mike is east-bound. Made it on time to Chicago. Safe travels, my love.
I was just thinking, in case any of you might be thinking about coming this way, here are 5 reasons why you should (you know who you are!):
I was just thinking, in case any of you might be thinking about coming this way, here are 5 reasons why you should (you know who you are!):
1. Fall colors are turning.
2. Reds and yellows below the clear blue sky.
3. Smoke and Ruby like walks!
4. Hot tub is set to 104 degrees!
5. Need I say any more?
Only In Wyoming
A snippet from today's event report from Grand Teton National Park.
Do you know what a mother bison tells her little baby boy when it comes time to leave home??
Bi-son!!!
Monday, October 2, 2017
Save $$ Today
Did I get you thinking about an Insta Pot? On sale - just today - at Amazon. You'll save $30! Check it out at IP On Sale If you want to support a great online IP site, go to Check out this IP Site and buy through their site.
Mike is packing to head home and be with his mother. It will be good for the whole family to be together during this health-challenging time. I'm sure having family surrounding her bedside will be uplifting for Janet. He leaves tomorrow. The dogs, cat, fish, chickens, and horses will be under my watch for the next week.
Mike is packing to head home and be with his mother. It will be good for the whole family to be together during this health-challenging time. I'm sure having family surrounding her bedside will be uplifting for Janet. He leaves tomorrow. The dogs, cat, fish, chickens, and horses will be under my watch for the next week.
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