Laying Low

Oh, December, how beautiful you are. I’ve been fighting a headache today, lying around on the couch indoors. My fogginess lifted this afternoon, enough to get me outside, and what a perfect December day it is. Crisp and cool and still. And the colors are lovely, if you can call them colors, just shades of brown and slate. Have you ever thought how the colors of a season match the activities that we associate with that season? Reflection and cozying up in winter, and by spring we’re running here and there, as crazy as the riot of color all around us.   

We had a lovely Thanksgiving holiday with the kids. The November college break is especially fun because they’ll be home again in another three weeks for Christmas. No sad goodbyes this time around.

Callie is helping Mark sort yearlings today. I’m quite sure she’s the only yoga teacher that works cattle on her off-days. I am enjoying going to her classes. Such a change of pace from ranching activities (or not depending on how you look at it, but that’s another blog post). She’s a very gracious teacher. Isn’t grace a wonderful word? In all the vicissitudes of life we should pursue grace. It fits every situation I can think of.

If December is so great and the kids will be home soon and Callie is here for another month, why am I so melancholy? Is it okay to not analyze it and just lay low and know that I’ll feel better soon enough?

I went into Walmart yesterday and Christmas has absolutely exploded there. With - you know it’s true, every cheap thing you would ever want to give, display or eat. I walked around and repeated to myself how these folks, pouring over newly displayed goods, were spiritual beings just like me and didn’t need my poor attitude. I wasn't very successful at it, I’ll admit.

Then as I was leaving the store I saw a friend who put me right. She has a ton of stuff on her plate right now, way more than me. She explained her plight and assured me there wasn’t a thing I could do for her. We laughed together and exchanged a touch and a smile. I hope it gave her a lift, I know it did me. 

my girls, good walking companions

Same Trail Different Generation

The cows didn’t want to leave, and maybe we should have listened to them. Perhaps it is as they say that animals can read the weather. Mark and I believed the forecast of heavy snow and high winds and so determined to fetch the cows to the valley, but as it turned out the storm didn’t materialize and we could have left them a little longer. And every day matters when you’re counting down to the haystack.

But, still, they were the last holdouts of the neighboring herds, and at the highest mountain pasture, nearly 2000 feet higher than the valley floor. And now they are here, safe and sound, and so are we.

Today was the last day of the trail home and I knew we had enough help so I asked Mark’s 95-yr-old grandmother if she wanted to ride along with me in our little Ranger pickup. I could let Kate keep the tail end of the herd caught up and Bonny would get to see Seth and Anna riding and be part of the day. She tried to talk herself out of going, but couldn’t find a good enough reason to stay home.

Mark and the kids started the herd early and I arranged to pick up Bonny at 10:00. I loaded Kate in the pickup shell and tucked in a blanket for Bonny's lap. We came upon the herd just as it was streaming down the last bench of high ground above the Snake River Plain. Grandma was teary-eyed as she wished out loud that Eldro, Mark’s grandpa now 14 years gone, could see the cattle.

She talked to me about the old days. How she was a town girl uprooted to the country and none too happy about it. She had to learn to like the cows; had to learn to like trailing them back and forth to the mountains. It wasn’t her idea to be a rancher’s wife, but after all the years she spoke with obvious pride in the herd, in the stake that she and Eldro had worked so hard to give us.

She said Eldro was the most determined man she had ever met, determined to build a farm and a cow herd, and how he had never cheated anyone out of a dime for his own benefit. Yes, it was hard for her to play second fiddle to the cows, but there was no regret or bitterness in her tone. She did what she had to do and it was a good life with many happy years.  

Bonny, and Anita, Mark’s Mom, and I are very different. We all married into this place and these cows, but we live this ranching life on our own terms. The details vary but the outlines overlap. Is it the same with other families? Or is it particularly so on a family ranch that the generations seem so close, almost side by side, separated only by the thin thread of time. 

reluctant to leave

trusting the movement

Looking Towards Home

There’s been a sea-change in the weather. Last weekend we were moving cattle through lovely stockpiled grass and enjoying mild temps. By Friday we were fighting a foot and a half of snow in the high country and getting cattle collected to fall back to lower elevation pastures.

We knew they needed to come down part way, and it’s not much fun to drag a horse trailer in deep snow, so we determined we could get the herd started with a 4-wheeler and a couple of dogs. Especially since Callie was home and she’s a force to be reckoned with on foot.

We loaded up and went in to town for gas and sandwich makings at the local Stop’ n Shop. We saw a friend there who inquired about our day’s task. I assured him we had the provisions we’d need to tackle snow country - chains, a shovel, walkie-talkies, hot coffee. He smiled and said, “remember my cell number?  . . . . forget it!”

Things went okay, but it always takes longer than you think it should. It snowed all day, a wet sticky snow that eventually worked through our layers of clothing. Our dogs were troopers, bounding through the snow, taking bites for drinks. 

At one point Callie and I had to wallow up a mountain to retrieve a third of the herd that had decided to follow a side hill full of bitterbrush. They kept climbing and climbing, enjoying their nibbling, and what could we do but follow? And then when Callie and Kate finally got around the highest individuals they were so content they just turned and headed back at the same elevation. After much hollering on our part they finally made it back to the road. We got them into the overnight pasture at dusk.

We have a new catch phrase for days like this. We heard it this summer from a rancher who takes interns on his ranch. On those particularly challenging days when the interns are wondering what they got themselves into, he says to them, “not everyone gets to do this!”

Kate at work 

by day two we had sunshine

Closure

There’s snow in the forecast for later today but it’s mild so far this morning. It was a warm walk with the dogs except for two pockets of cold air sitting quietly on the ground, a harbinger of what’s to come.

It’s the first day of November - and I can believe it. There’s a kind of stillness in the air. Like the water in the canal, just a series of puddles sinking slowly into the aquifer. The dogs dive in like usual, not knowing to relish their last taste of it, but I do.

We didn’t get any trick-or-treaters last night, the usual since trunk-or-treat took over the ritual of driving between neighbors in the country. I realize the advantages of the parking lot celebration, but still . . . And yes, I always buy candy “just in case” and end up eating it myself. 

Callie and I harvested the last of the garden yesterday. She dug all the potatoes while I knelt and rifled through the dirt. She was a godsend, as it’s hard work to do by yourself and I hate to bug Mark; he doesn’t need another job. Cal thought it was fun to turn over a shovel full of dirt and have these beautiful red darlings tumble out. Like finding a fat asparagus spear among the grass in spring or colorful eggs at Easter. We pulled up the last of the beets and purple onions and clipped the parsley and rosemary to dry. 

The last chore at dusk was delivering the potatoes to Grandma Bonny’s pump house, a thick-walled storage building at the end of her sidewalk that keeps vegetables at just the right temperature. It’s a gem. I wish I had one, but she is glad to share hers. She used to have an underground cellar which filled with a foot of sub water every summer. How happy she was to move her wares into a dry, ground level, climate-controlled room of her own. 

Harvesting what the land produces is a particular joy of this way of life. Whether it’s a sturdy calf crop, a stack of alfalfa hay or a bag of herbs in the cupboard. It’s all fun. As Callie said, “nature is so cool!”   

lots of beef

a young strong back

October's Mixed Bag

The wind is kicking up. Dang it. I hate it when it blows this time of year and sends all the colorful leaves to the ground. Last year the cottonwoods were a dull brown, this year they're brilliant golden. Does anybody know why that is? The severity of frost I suppose.

We moved the cows on Wednesday, and on the way out of the field saw that we had left a few - actually quite a few in a far off pasture. Mark and Jesse went back up today to fetch them and doctor a couple of cows that have foot rot.

Callie is home until the end of the year trying out her new yoga certification with mindbodydancer. She is teaching dance and yoga in our closest city of Idaho Falls. Oh, what fun it is to take class from her! And afterwards we wander around the old downtown trying out coffee houses for lunch. 

She worked three days on a blog post to send to her yoga community in New York City. She struggled to explain the differences in how rural Idahoans relate to one another as opposed to how residents of the big city boroughs do. She loves and appreciates both communities, but knows that here in small town America we truly see each other, and that everyone needs to be seen.

It’s quiet today and I’m deep into year-end bookwork. Cattle prices are sky high, so figuring out how to make timely investments into the ranch now is imperative. We save on taxes plus enjoy improvements which will get us through the inevitable lean years ahead.

Halloween was always a fun time of year when we were raising our kids. I still have several boxes of costume paraphernalia that I’m saving for grandkids someday. I envision my kids loading up the car to go rummage through Gramma’s treasure box before the big night. Anna was always a princess, Seth something more heinous, and Callie something different every year. She's conjuring up a scarecrow costume to attend an early Halloween party tonight. She already knew what she wanted to be and then saw a straw hat lying in the median on the way home from town!

I dug out the witch I made back when the kids were tiny. It’s on black poster paper mounted on a big orange moon. It’s torn in a couple of places and the back is plastered with old masking tape but it still makes late October feel like late October.

as sinister as ever

go away wind

pretty excited about their new field

Fall Chores

Fall is quiet once the calves are weaned. We separated the cows from the calves and trucked the youngsters home to green stockpiled feed. After a few days of missing mom, they’re lounging around in the sunshine. They seem content with their new-found independence but glad to be in good company.  

We gave them their protective shots this week and a dose of liquid parasiticide. Each calf is weighed and the pounds recorded next to their Mom’s unique numbered I.D. What a pleasure it is to watch their healthy, stout bodies go across the scale.

We vaccinated the cows as well and trailed them clear up to our highest elevation pasture. They’ll spend a few glorious weeks on cured-off native grasses, the best of fall feed. Mark and I spent one day with them and I can’t wait to get back up, so beautiful.  

Every day is a bonus now. Any time it could turn off cold and wintery so we’re busily checking off items on Mark’s to-do list that have been put off until now. The ridge at Brush Creek needs a new fence, the cabin needs more oil, and the horse corral needs repaired. And that’s just for starters.  

The irrigation water has lost its summer time frenzy so Mark can afford a few more minutes in bed each morning. The remaining streams are lazy and crystal clear with a few yellow leaves drifting by. I stood along the canal that runs along the west side of our property and watched the horses gather up fallen leaves under the cottonwoods. It’s always fun to watch animals eat and it’s surprising what they sometimes consume.

If you get the chance, or rather make the chance, take a few minutes to sit under a tree and listen for a falling leaf. It makes the most delicate of rustles, well worth the wait.    

Sly, Mark's mount for the day

my walking route along Kimball Road

Before the Wreck

When things go wrong working cattle, the late, great, Bud Williams, always told us to take responsibility for it. It’s not the cows’ fault. “Were they doing it before you got there?” he would ask. Well no, they weren’t.

We call them wrecks – those days when the herd falls apart. They come infrequently, once every few years. Apparently we all need reminded that it can happen. One can get complacent.

I know one thing for sure; it’s harder on the womenfolk. Just ask Anita. Men take it in stride, just another day on the ranch. But for she and I the wrecks live on in our mind. We’ve been on the drag too many times when the weight of the herd gets heavier and heavier. More little heads looking back longingly for where they think Mom is. Second by second attention is required and it’s exhausting, even on those days when it doesn’t fall apart precisely because we’ve done everything in our power to prevent it.

It happened again on the first day of fall cattle work. It was a beautiful morning and I was sure Anita was getting some great photos as we let the herd out the gate into the lane heading down to Brush Creek. Poetic really, but in going through the gate and then confined to a narrow lane, lots of moms and kids got separated. When that happens they don’t trail well but keep looking around for each other. And it was just too many pairs traveling at once. We know this.

We got in the trees without enough forward momentum. Our crew was split and I couldn’t get Mark on the radio to send reinforcements, and they started running back in droves. By that time I was on foot, as my horse who had galloped into a badger hole earlier, had quit me. Not fun.  

But in the end the crew managed to gather up the ones that had run back and trailed them on down to the weaning pasture just as dusk descended.  

Someone said there was a beautiful sunset as we headed home. I honestly didn’t see it. We'd had one too many wrecks and I was too discouraged to notice.    

the gather - so far so good

looks peaceful right?

regrouping the renegades
 Gary, Anna and Callie
(and Martha)