Harvest is on in Southeast Idaho and grain dust hangs in the
air. Clouds of the stuff rise slowly, pointing out combines working
in the distance. We’re not grain farmers, but the straw that’s left behind is
great for lowering the cost of hay over the winter. We hauled all day yesterday
and the banana yellow stack is safe and secure for another year.
Between loads I snuck in some reading - Marion Roach Smith’s The
Memoir Project. I’m trying to practice her admonition to answer the
question with everything you write (even an informal blog entry): “What is this
piece about?” It shouldn’t be so hard, but I wrestle with the task every time I
go to the keyboard.
The images of even one week are hard to narrow down. It
started with the youth rodeo, a family and community tradition since Mark’s
grandpa helped start it 48 years ago. It began as a project to “give kids
something to do in the summertime,” and turned into a two-day event that’s the
center of family reunions and home comings, and my hometown’s claim to fame.
The sign on main street reads: “Welcome to Firth, Home of the Little Buckaroo
Rodeo.”
Then on the following day my three local sisters and I took
a road trip to Soda Springs Pride Days to revisit our history, eat wild salmon
for lunch, and stop at an important site on the Oregon Trail where the route
splits south to California and north to Oregon. Mom, who loved western history,
was with us that day in spirit.
The week finished up with our annual Just Reunion. It was a big
deal this year because our family association acquired the deed to the old
ancestral home upon the death of my uncle last year. The house was built in
1887. It’s a beauty of handmade brick fired on-site and full of the original
antiques. I grew up next door, so returning to the house, mopping the floors,
sorting treasures, is a labor of love. The note that once hung on the door, “I
am home, come in” is gone, but my grandma’s love holds me tight each time I
enter.
Dang, I’ve done it again, tried to cover way too much and
got lost in the details. So what is
this blog post about?
Clancey gets a ribbon |
Sisters |
Doing a Tom Sawyer at the old house |
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