Spring in the Mountains

There are many things to dislike about this time of the year in Jackson Hole Wyoming. The vexing argument between winter and spring occurs every day.  Winter wins on most days.   Every now and then, a nice spring day teases up flaunting blue skies, warm temperatures, and joyous celebrations by all creatures great and small.  The day soon is crushed by Winter's strong arm and cold temperatures and snowflakes appear before the gray backdrop. It is a vexing time of the year indeed.

Today, on the way to work, I hear an osprey on the nest above Janet and Todd‘s house!  Brave Warrior here to help in the seasonal battle.

There are other signs of spring. The aspen trees buds start to swell and get all fuzzy looking. There are new birds that have arrived; I can hear them in the distance, see a red robin, and catch a flash of the ubiquitous bluebird every now and then. The grass has a slight green tinge to it, around the edges, sort of not totally green by any means but you can just see some of the south slopes starting to get a green sense to them.  The snow is melting on the valley floor and the dirt and dust come up and get swept around with blustery winds.  Rocks fly up into vehicles causing yet another crack in the windshield for the spring season. The south bare slopes are turning dry and the real threat of a grass fire starts to exist. The ground maybe wet, the ground may be frozen but the grasses are tall and dry and thick from last year‘s growth.

The thing I like the best during this mud season time is the elk. The elk at this time of the year can be seen everywhere! They’re coming off of their winter feed grounds in clusters of 30 or 40 or 100 or 200; they gather up looking for those green shoots heading higher and higher as the snows recede but staying close enough just in case Winter wins again.

At the Walton Ranch, new birth celebrates spring with the oncoming arrival of young calves.  Yesterday our cow had twins! This time, unlike the last time, both are alive. More and more come every day, born in cold temperatures, drying off and sucking for the first time that warm milk from their mother. Today's newborns will be greeted by Winter.

The Proper Use of Tools

There is a magnet above the sink where I cook. On that magnet hangs many knives. I have a curved knife for cutting orange skins, I have many pairing knives because pairing knives are my very favorite. I have a big Globe knife that Diana gave me years ago but still cuts magically through slices of rare flank steak cooked on the grill. I have a serrated knife because everyone needs one of those to slice through crispy hot ciabatta bread just out of the oven.  I have a long straight edge knife, it’s used for this and that not that much at the end of the day. But knives should not be used as tools other than the tool of knifing.

Yesterday morning our coffee pot ran over because Michael was in a big hurry on Friday coming from the ranch where many cows had been birthing and he had to get to dinner with Todd and Janet who graciously fed him (and me with leftovers) to pick me up at the airport Friday night and he forgot to put the coffee pot underneath the coffee maker. When that happens the water boils up inside of the coffee pot and makes a mess out of everything. It’s happened before. So dutifully I started cleaning the coffee pot after I got up on Saturday morning.  There was just enough to have a cup of coffee but it needed to be cleaned so I worked away. A knife should not be used as a screwdriver.  I have made this mistake before but never with quite the results of yesterday's slip of the hand. I knew as soon as I felt the ting in my finger that I had a pretty deep cut. “I’m going to have to go to the emergency room and this one'" I said to Michael.  There was a profanity uttered as well.  He immediately and rightly so began to question as to what had just happened realizing that I had cut myself really good this time with a knife.  Way to ruin a perfectly good day.  In the end I waited for 3 1/2 hours for the doctor to show up because he had a complicated wrist surgery before me. By the time he got to me it was 1:30 and then took 3 1/2 hours of surgery to connect the artery back together, the nerves, and the tendon that I cut through.  Now all bandaged up, I look back with a grimace of shame for doing something so stupid but also with elation that I didn’t cut off my finger. You always need to find something to be thankful for. The whole event ruined a perfectly good Saturday and now Michael’s behind and I feel bad. He’s off to Freedom to try to get things done.  I sit at this computer wondering how I’m going to do this.  It’s of course my right hand.

Good friend Cyndie, the owner of a hand therapy clinic, will be working on my hand tomorrow and getting me set up hopefully with a splint which I will be able to at least use some digits on my right hand; the two affected digits you can see below. Sorry it’s kind of a gory picture that may make some of you wintz.