Boots

Some kids start out with teeny-tiny tennis shoes, others with sandals, a few with tiny hiking boots. All of Bill Dutton's kids started out with little cowboy boots. 


I don't remember what my first pair looked like, but I DO remember my favorite pair, right down to the stitching.  I think I must've been about 4 when I got red cowboy boots with black tips.  I remember looking at them when I was riding the fattest old kids horse, thinking they were surely the most beautiful boots in the world.  I ALSO remember looking at them on my sister when I outgrew them and had to hand them down, wishing the new brown pair I wore were red. (I'm not sure she was ever as infatuated with them as I was; after all, they had been worn pretty hard by the time she put them on her little feet.)

I wore boots constantly as a kid.  They are the perfect footwear.  Easy and fast on, lots of support, great clatter on floors, anything dropped on them bounces off with no real harm done.  Also, (and I still am this way) I was scared to death of snakes and Dad had told us boots would be the best protection against those creatures. (Along with rapid movement out of the area. But here's the tricky thing: there's no real traction in cowboy boots.  So you can really be kicking up a dust and not get anywhere....most snakes probably left in the clatter and screaming....)

One time, when I was in sixth or seventh grade, my sister and I were walking to the grocery store in our boots, probably from the library; I really don't remember.  A smart aleck town kid on a bike rode past us laughing and hollered, "It's Cattle Annie and Little Britches!"  I think that was the first time it occurred to me that cowboy boots may not be the only footwear in the world.  We had other shoes, of course, for church and sports, but I always grabbed my boots first. 

When I went to college, I took my boots and even dared wear them on campus.  Fortunately, Garth Brooks had just made cowboy boots sort of popular again, so I didn't get beat up or anything....
I had a work-study job at the campus library and the very first day I "checked in", I shocked my supervisor with the boots.  I don't know how to politely say this, but I had never in my life seen anyone so blatantly gay and he'd never laid eyes on such a hick.  We stood there gaping at one another.  Honestly.  I will never forget it.  Roger and I ended up getting along quite well, but I still laugh to myself when I think of it...

I feel confident and most myself in cowboy boots.  They make my legs feel long, and since I'm a big girl anyway, they lend another inch or so....intimidation factor when I'm unsure about the crowd.  There's really no place in Montana you can go and not wear them appropriately....weddings, funerals, clerk conventions.  I wore them last Tuesday for the dental appointment that I was sure I wouldn't live through.  They helped me feel brave.  And the lack of traction, again, ensured that I wouldn't be able to get out of the office before I was drilled and filled.

I have ranch work boots:

You'll notice that they are big and ugly and covered in fresh manure.  We've been working cows the last couple days, so that's a nice touch for the picture. Lends authenticity.  These were boots the Farmer ordered for himself and when they were too small, gave to me. (Too bad they weren't red with black tips, huh.) They are too big for me, but I wear bulky socks and they work.  They weigh three pounds, each, I swear, and more when they have muddy manure clinging to them.  I like to think they are helping make my legs shapely, but so far I really haven't seen any evidence of that.  They HAVE saved my feet from serious injury several times, so I'm sorta fond of them and lug them around with resignation.

I have dress boots:

These are the prettiest boots I've owned since the little red boots! I love the scallop on top that no one sees but me, with all the blue stitching.  I like the square toes.  Whoever decided to bring back the squared toes on cowboy boots has my eternal gratitude...they are classic.  I also like the heel that's a little taller, but not dude-tall.  There's a fine line, there, and I shudder when I see boots with Hollywood heels.  You can see they are getting a little scuffed on the toe, despite my cleaning and polish. (Yes, Dad, I do use leather cleaner and boot polish from the saddlery! I love the smell.)

In the porch, alongside my boots, is a little pair of boots that have travelled a lot of miles, through three or four kids, mine being the last cousins to wear them.

  I think they are adorable and I think I'm going to hang on to them, putting them in the baby box for my grandkids.

Wow! Willow Creek Winter Wheat

Big Chief Crabby Pants

Hay bottoms just north of our house...

See the little tiny dot on the horizon? That's A tree, Jason Harold!! We're so proud of it.

Twillabie running like the wind!

Willow Creek winter wheat is a variety we grow for forage (hay) and also some to sell the seed.  I'll include a link at the bottom of this post from MSU about the variety and there will be bar graphs and everything! But one thing I find remarkable is that it will grow as much as 3/4 an inch per day.  So if you stood out in the field for a couple hours, you could probably actually see it happening. 

This wheat floors me, every year, with its freakish height.

Some pictures for you from this morning, in one of the fields we rogued on Tuesday.

Keep in mind that the Farmer and I are both about 5'8" tall, and wearing boots....

Willow Creek is an awnless variety, which just means that it has no "beards"; a nice, neat head which is part of the reason it's so palatable for livestock.

She's SO happy for the little adventure! I love the pleased look on her face.

For more stats on the Willow Creek, go to: http://animalrangeextension.montana.edu/articles/forage/2007_willowcreek.pdf

It's amazing!

True Confession #297 (Or have I done that one already?)

I must preface this confession with another....

For the longest time, I actually thought I was a fairly practical person.  In the last fifteen years or so, I've learned that I'm a repressed romantic.  That's right.  I have to be practical most of the time, just by token of where I live and my occupation...ranchwife, parent and school clerk.  But deep down inside, I'm entirely frivolous. I'm sure you'd already guessed that....

So here's the confession:

With all my heart, I long for a clawfoot tub.

Outside.

Of course there would be privacy drapings all around it and plants and all that nonsense; maybe some deep glass candle holders....

And I realize I live in Montana where the wind blows 362 days a year, generally carrying weeds and dirt.

Whatever.

I adore clawfoot tubs, just for their elegance and graceful lines.  Being a tallish sort of girl, I also adore that they hold enough water to cover me to my chin, like no frugal, save-the-earth-by-using-less-water, modern tubs.  No knees sticking out!  I adore the hardware for the faucets, handles and drain....so richly styled, so heavy and substanitive.

I can think of no greater luxury than to have a deep, hot bubble bath and glass of wine under the stars, listening to the country put itself to sleep. Or a cool bath in the late afternoon of summer, after weeding all 8 flower beds.  Aaahhhh....

I found a picture in Sunset magazine when Wayland and I were first married, of a tub such as this, but I'm quite sure it was in Portland or Seattle or some other civilized place.  I clipped it out and filed it, but couldn't find it to scan for this post.  It's quite possibly filed under something like "European Notions" or "Easy Summer Projects". Somewhere very logical....

Isn't that the most impractical thing? 

Isn't it a wonderful thought?

Someday, maybe....