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|
|Doing a Tom Sawyer at the old house|