Scenes from Grampa and Grandma Jasper's house!

When we go to Bigfork for a visit, we don't usually do anything really spectacular...

We play with the "cousins" next door, Cece and Quinn...

(How handy is it to have BUILT IN COUSINS?!?!)

We don't wear shoes.  18 hours out of each 24, we're barefoot!  

 We dress up as well as down...

Take time to watch airplanes take off and land...

Maybe have a gin and tonic or two with Auntie Sara...

(Kindred crazies seem to find each other, thank goodness!  You're also looking at the crew of the Whisper Go! Thistle sail boat, minus the Major Captain, Sir.)

 We eat outside a lot...

(Amendment to that statement...we eat a lot, period.)

There's time to explore things like muskets, slugs and the intricacies of hockey games on t.v....

We ride bikes...

We usually find water of some sort...

This is Flathead Lake.

Look how clear the water is!  I love the leaf shadow on the rocks, below...

We find pirate ships...

...and sail them to parts unknown.

Even the scurviest of pirates have to eat!

Hot dogs and potato chips, no plates, silly hats on the Fitzgerald article...

Mermaids....
("He's taking all the SUN!")

C-o-l-d....very c-o-l-d...

We hike...

We're happy in the mountains...

Cauliflower and Chocolate

One of the best things about having a blog is that it's a ready-made soapbox.  In my case, soap FLAKE box, but still...

And I'm dragging it out, now, so brace yourself.

It took me the longest time in life to figure out an honest truth:
I don't have to like everyone I meet and they don't have to like me.

It's nice if we DO like each other, but it's not a requirement for being a good person. God made all of us with very distinct, unique personalities and we also received our share of annoying traits and quirks.  Some of us He lent more than our share.  And some things just don't go together, like cauliflower and chocolate.  Doesn't mean each of those things aren't perfectly delightful on their own....they just don't compliment each other or even sorta need to be in the same meal.

(Don't you love it when a blogger gets all figurative and you're not sure if we're still talking about people or if there's going to be a recipe inserted in the next paragraph?!)

I had to learn that about people.
Some people are the cauliflower to my chocolate.
I don't HAVE to like them.
What a freedom!
There's someone else in the world who adores cauliflower!  I don't have to!
I DO have to be respectful and polite toward them.  Everyone, even cauliflower, deserves that much.

I've found that I can not like a person, yet still have sympathy for them.
Poor cauliflower who got picked too young...
I still don't like them, but I get that they have stuff that may be making them bitter to me.
Whatever.
I'm not going to feel guilty about THEIR issues.  And....this is the best part...THEY don't have to feel guilty or responsible for MINE!

It's okay not to like someone.
It's fine for someone not to like me.

God made us different.
HE loves cauliflower AND chocolate!

That's all.

Bouncing off my soap flake box, now...

(In case you're wondering, I'm allergic to cauliflower.  It makes me throw up.  I've tried it with cheese, raw, cooked, dipped, fried...everything.  I get wretchedly sick if I have it! Makes the symbolism a little more poignant, huh?  I didn't even think of that when I first started writing this, but now I'm laughing at the appropriateness!)

Delighted, I'm sure...

I was thinking today about the little delights in life...the ones you keep in your head like private celebrations.  Do you know what I'm talking about?

Those moments that only YOU are thrilled about, the surprises that make you want to pump your arm "YES!" but it would be too difficult to explain to everyone in the room why it's such a big stinkin' deal that you found the new container of sour cream in the refrigerator at exactly the moment you needed it.  Or when the mail comes and peeking out of the pile is Bon Appetit AND Runner's World.  THAT'S delightful.

Perhaps some people are more easily delighted than others.  

Do you think?

Today I noticed that I had at least 5 of these occasions.  In ONE DAY!

I'm thinking I need to get out more...

The hay bale unrolled perfectly, this morning.  It was lovely to behold.  After fighting with these crummy bales for weeks, one had the graciousness to unroll the way it should.  

"YES!"

I accidentally made perfect hummus without noticing because I was so irritated by opening a $20 bottle of glorified apple juice.  Dipped into it, eyes popped wide...

"YES!"

Found an actual blooming flower when I cleaned out one of my flower beds! Nothing else has the guts to put forth a petal, but the squill don't know that it's too cold.  

"YES!"

I finished reading MY bookclub selection from...get this...JANUARY, while waiting for the school bus.  I've been working on that wretched mystery for a-g-e-s.  It is finished.

"YES!"

Four good songs in a row on the radio...

"YES!"

See what I mean?  

Delights!

Tiny, personal joys!

I hope your day contained at least 3 delights.... 

I hope you recognized them...

"YES!"

Coffee grounds aren't working...

It's that time of year, again.

I'm all out of Mary Kay Super Spackle and Moisturizing Miracle Cream.

*sigh*

And I mean ALL OUT.

I've been eyeing the foot cream for a couple weeks, wondering if that just might....

but, no.

I don't think I'm ready for that much minty, rejuvenating tingle.

There's all sorts of information on the internet about home skin treatments.

I swear, I'm not making this up....these are actual things that people have sworn work!  

For cellulite...mix warm coffee grounds with olive oil, rub it on the offending body part, cover with Saran wrap for 20 minutes. 

For puffy eyes...beat egg whites until they're stiff, then dab on your eyes, letting it dry for 15 minutes.

For fine lines and crow's feet...mash up grapes, obtaining juice to apply to your face.

I'm not saying they don't do the trick.  I'm just thinking they'd make more dishes to do than they're worth.  And THEN I'd have to crack a raw coconut to obtain the milk to heal my dishpan hands.  

The good news, though, is that my friend Traci just sent out the "official" email that proclaims that she's starting her Mary Kay business!  Huzzah! She'll be amazing, because she knows and is related to 65% of the population east of the Mississippi.  Pink Cadillac by September!

Mary Kay parties are tricky in Eastern Montana, because they often have to be scheduled around things like branding (come give vaccinations and get a facial), school bus runs (four cars at one spot...instant party), or a combination of that sort of thing (stopped to pick up the kids at the bus on your way to town to get vaccine for branding).  I've been trying to figure out a get together to see the products and have a visit, but it's not working so well.  I think I'll order online.  

If YOU want to visit Traci's website and see what she's got, go to:

http://www.marykay.com/tracileeg/en-US/Pages/default.aspx?lcov=1

Or meet her at the bus stop.

True Confession #412

I'm tweet impaired.

It's true.

I cannot, for the life of me, come up with anything clever to say in 180 CHARACTERS (including spaces)!
I'm more of a "1000 word essay"  kind of girl, really.

I thought using Twitter now and again would make me a better, more succinct writer. I read Homer Hickam's tweets, which are witty and interesting, and marvel at his tweet-talent!  Will Middlebrooks, a player for the Red Sox, has funny, honest tweets that make me laugh out loud. And my friend Michele sort of says things that run through my brain but I can't get out.

It's probably a great social platform for people who are trying to promote their products or careers.  I have cows to promote, which gets a bit monotonous, and I think my career has stalled as a stay-at-home mom/wife/rancher/blogger.  It's not really the place for me.  I can't figure out the hash tag business, retweets get mangled, can't bring myself to conserve on characters by typing "u" instead of "you".
Seriously!
"u" almost hurts me to look at!

Do you tweet?
Or, as my description says, squawk?

Once in a while...

I catch something cool with my camera.

This was at a party, all sorts of action swirling around...the light bounced off the balloon just right and the focus was amazingly dead on.  It's accidentally, serendipitously cool to me...

In Stitches

You know, one of the things I really dreaded about being a mom was teaching my kids to sew.  I remember MY mom attempting it and we both ended up mad, the project wasn't full of love (a yellow nightgown with birds...I'll never forget it), and we only tried it once.  I think Grandma Dutton and Aunt Bert ended up teaching me, then I went to high school home ec and soldiered on.  I like to sew, too!  But the learning process wasn't pretty in my case.  And, I have to say, neither were the finished projects, really...

Anyway, 

Maggie has been wanting to make headbands for just ages.  My sister made me a zebra print one and every time I turned around, Maggie was wearing it!  She needed her own.  I wanted my funky headband back! And she's eight, so it's the "perfect" time to learn to sew.  

I didn't even have a glass of wine before we started.

I taught her the way I like to be taught...

Show me.

Stay beside me for the first couple times through.

Go away (out of the room) while I figure this out for myself.

And it worked!

It was peaceful and fun!

Here's how it went:

First, practice seams...

 She's very careful and precise, no runaways with the foot pedal!  (I remember having those...I liked to make the machine sound FAST!  Poor Mom.)

Checking out the mechanics of the needle and bobbin...

See?  I can handle this!  (I'm embarrassed to say that I probably still don't sew as straight as she did on her first go.)

Simple pattern that only had two pieces.  Even I couldn't mess it up!  

Much.

Working on the last part, which was sewing the elastic to the main band.
I ripped out one seam and made her do it again, but she was a good sport.  She could see how it wouldn't work when we turned the band right side out.

Ta-dah!  Turned out pretty cool, hm?

She wore it to school the next day and we now have orders for 6 or 7.

I've created a monster...

She's thrilled about the idea that she can make one of a kind fashion!  Haute couture!

I think I had a glass of wine when we were finished.

I may get "business" cards made up with this image...

What do you think?

Opinionated...

At one of the last gatherings I had with my nearest and dearest friends (whom I won't name or give the reason for the gathering), one of them remarked that she never blogged anymore because she didn't think anyone would want to read what she had to say.  She explained (after I nearly dropped my margarita) that if she said what she REALLY thought, it would be bad.  She said she wasn't brave enough.

It's not like she's going to write anything that would incite violence or compromise her family, legally.  Unless she writes about her famous-in-certain-circles pot brownies...

*JOKE!!*

People post their thoughts and beliefs on Facebook left and right, even my friend, although she's thoughtful about what she puts up.  But most of the stuff there is re-posts with other's words, from online publications, with a tiny endorsement in the status line.  On a blog, it's YOUR thoughts and ideas, explained from YOUR point of view....it's YOU, not just an agreement with someone you highly regard.

My friend has good things, tough things to say.

And she feels vulnerable, because once you put it on your blog, anyone can read, judge and refer back to it. They can even link to it!  It feels as though it can and will be held against you.  Almost as though you need a clause under your blog header that says, "This opinion in no way reflects the views of my mother or anyone in my family, is indicative of my mood that moment on the day of the post, and very well may be influenced by female hormones or lack of sleep."

I know that I'm not the best person to start handing out blog advice or even advice on bravery regarding words in print. But I DO think it's important to feel free to express your thoughts and opinions if you have something to say.  That's one of the beautiful things about being American.  As of right now, we have the privilege, the right, the blessing of being able to say what we think.  Especially on a blogging platform.  If someone is offended by my posts about killing flies or cows calving or recipes that don't turn out so well, they can stop reading it.  That's THEIR right.  (Losing followers by the handful, I'm sure...)

There's courtesy and respect involved in blogging.
There's the great little tool that allows one to invite only certain readers to a blog.
There's the ability to vaporize a post, and believe me, I've done that more than once!

But then...
there's the opportunity to "meet" incredible people you never would have, otherwise! (From Australia, Florida and Michigan, to name just a couple places.)
There's the journaling aspect.  I had forgotten some of the funny parenting/ranching moments until I read back through the Chronicles!
There's the authenticity.  This is your safe place, YOUR publication, you are the editor.

I dearly hope my friend begins blogging again.
I hope that she doesn't hold the pot brownie joke against me. :)
I hope you all read the Chronicles with a greater understanding of how brave and vulnerable someone has to be to write about hole-y underwear, depression, dreams, parenting and more.

I know I appreciate my faithful followers more, now that I've truly thought through all these things.
(You all need to know THIS about me...I'm one of those people who wants an "UN-SEND" button on email. To lay my soul bare here on the Chronicles expresses the greatest trust in mankind and grace.)
Thanks for your kind tolerance and continuous support and interest!

Postcards from the pasture...

Yesterday morning, I had a wonderful surprise when feeding!

It wasn't the flowers, although I was completely shocked to see them already blooming just two days after the snow melted off them.

I remember trying to pick these when I was a kid and they were impossible...now I know it's because they bloom in impossible places at impossible times.  Town kids get dandelions, ranch kids find these little rock flowers.

It wasn't the lonely sage hen who blends so brilliantly into the prairie that it looks like a patch of grass shifting slowly.  Sage hens are r-e-a-l-l-y slow. And I'm not sure they're all that bright.  They are quite deliberate birds, so when I rousted this one out of her hiding hole by nearly driving a 4 wheeler over her, she was less scared than annoyed.  I could tell she was thinking, "Well, NOW I have to find ANOTHER perfect sagebrush to sun in and it took most of this morning to find THIS one...huff!"  (If you look closely at the photo, you'll catch the scowl.) (Who knew sage hens scowled?!?!)

My wonderful surprise was Daisy's new baby!  All spring, I've been worrying that perhaps Daisy was open, no calf, because she didn't look big enough.  About a week ago, though, she started bagging up and looking a wee bit fatter, so we decided she was just going to be a late calver.  I kept telling the Farmer that she was so smart that she was waiting until the spring snow storms were over.  Bless her little bovine heart, she proved me right!

I hadn't been out with the guys feeding for a couple days, so I hadn't seen the cows or checked on Daisy.  But when I drove in the Coal Mine pasture that morning, I could see this little cow with a new baby so I drove the pickup over to check it out.

Daisy just had finished cleaning the calf off as I pulled up.  It was almost as though she'd timed it exactly so I'd be the first one to see her baby that morning.  She was making the little "mmmnnn" mama noises, worried about me being so close and wanting the little thing to stand up.  I left a little cake for her, took proud pictures on my phone and went on to feed the other cows with my heart singing!
The Farmer tagged the calf about 20 minutes later with the OC 1 and announced it was a heifer!

Later that afternoon, I took the wheeler out and tried to get pictures.  It was impossible.

I'm pleased to introduce little Violet to you all!
(She's just exquisitely tiny and perfect...AND she can run like crazy.  Here she is, 5 hours old.)

Daisy is such a good mama!  So...along with being the World's Most Beautiful Cow, she's also showing that she's smart, maternal and has great timing. (Remember her first calf was born on my night watch?  Isn't that remarkable?  What are the odds, huh?)

They finally posed for me, but only for a moment...

I should have little cow birth announcements made up, probably.
Because..you know...everyone is as thrilled and interested in this one cow as I am.
:)

Oui! C'est merveilleux!

It has been a hard, sad month with calves dying in the snow, the Boston bombing at the Marathon, a fertilizer plant explosion, my little dog had a stroke yesterday (lived, but tips to the left badly)!  I had forgotten completely that I had gotten a new magazine in the mail, having laid it aside for more comforting reading.  I picked it up yesterday and it was good medicine for my heart!  I've been meaning to share it with you since December, but obviously pictures of cows in the snow take precedence...*rolling of eyes, here*

I know we get magazines (NOT IN BROWN PAPER WRAPPERS) that make the postmistress say, "Huh...!"

National Geographic Travel, Boston Magazine, Bon Appetit and...

France magazine; 

the topic of this post. 

It's a delightful publication that is delivered every two months, which in my opinion is not nearly often enough.  It has travel articles that are not flowery or run of the mill, very specific advice on where to stay and local (not popular) sights.  It also includes a section for people like me who are trying to learn French and really want to make certain we're translating what we're reading, correctly.  In this section, one half of the page is in  French, the other half in English.  I read the French side first, then flip to the English to see how close I got to the gist of the article.  I'm getting better!  There are puzzles in French, reviews of French movies/music/books/style, food news (AND recipes!), and every issue profiles a different Paris arrondissement (area of town...think Billings Heights and the West End).  At the very end of the magazine are rental properties in France to be had.  

That's just cruel. 

But for the most part, for me, it's a multi-page postcard and letter from France...not incredibly touristy, but not snootily local.  

Yesterday, when I could bear no more sadness, couldn't pray another thought, I happened to see the France magazine and opened it almost absentmindedly.

It was mostly rural France, with the exception, of course of the Paris section.  Brittany, Burgandy, St. Helena Island where Napoleon was exiled and eventually died....

A recipe for beef stew, another for coddled eggs, a review of a family movie (that I need to get my hands on) called Le Petit Nicholas, a snarky article about how to be French if you must (complain constantly).

It was almost like a hug. 

For 15 minutes, I wasn't fretting or sick to my stomach...I was enchanted!

I don't know if I'll ever get to France. Even Paris, Texas is a stretch of the imagination, really.

But every two months, I fall into her culture and remember why I love her!

Cows = Endless Spring Work

But at least they're amusing...to ME.

Here are some pictures of what my mornings look like and who I have coffee hours with (complete with "cake").

Could it be the world's most beautiful cow?!?!

Indeed!  It's Miss Daisy-ma'am, who is nearly always 2nd or 3rd in line for the feed.

The Farmer told me that sometimes when he tags a calf, she'll come running over to check it out and he feared that she may be open (not pregnant) this spring.  I reminded him that she was a little peculiar and that last summer when my bums bawled, she'd hustle over, too.  

Waiting and hoping for a heifer calf from her this spring...

Do you SEE THIS?!?!
This gal got on the bad side of a grumpy porcupine!
Astoundingly, she doesn't seem to have any infection, but man, does it look painful!

Yelling at the kid...

They make me laugh, when they bawl with their WHOLE body!

Snitching goodies before everyone else gets there.
#824 in the Fishing Hole pasture eats cake pellets out of my hand!  She'll re-a-c-h her neck out, then re-a-c-h her tongue out and when she feels the pellet, she curls her tongue around it and BOOP! it's gone!  The other cows scrutinize the whole scene, envious but suspicious.  They're certain it's a trap and that 824 is the bait cow.  Every once in a while, she puts her nose in the open window of the pickup and smells me with her big, slobbery nose.  Cow kisses are not nearly as charming as they might sound...

Here are the cows, trailing in to feed from the hills; some with babies, some solo (having hid their babies in a sagebrush "nest").  Those aren't blue mountains in the distance...just clouds.

This picture delights me!  These old ladies are chewing and smiling, pleased with the way the morning has turned out...
Cows never complain about what I feed them, only about the quantity of the grub.  There's never enough.

Close-up of a baby who couldn't figure out what in the world I was doing with a camera.  I'm certain that calves are born with eyelashes as long as they'll ever be.

More happiness...

My Saturday Sidekick, Speed (bump).
His specialty is horn honking and snack distribution (and elimination).
I was recently informed that he has been banned from the jockey box of the pickup because he has a tendency to re-arrange everything, sometimes losing important tools and such.  (Note the TTU cap; very proud of that...)

He's always telling the cows some sort of crazy story, like about cow-eating LEGO guys or something.  They don't pay him any attention...

So, that's what my mornings are like...

Stay tuned for more thrilling posts from 

The Farmer's Wife!

*rolling of eyes*

Easter in Bigfork Part II

On Easter afternoon, we all went to Susan's house for a ridiculously wonderful feast and egg hunt.  I have no idea what Susan's last name is or what prompted her to start the Great Easter Party, but I'm so grateful she includes us!  She fills and hides about 300 plastic Easter eggs in her yard, invites friends and family to a huge potluck meal/picnic, then turns the kids loose to find the eggs.  It's chilly, relaxed, happy, generous and great fun!

This is Susan, lining the kids out just before the hunt...

Angus had three desserts, chips and token strawberries for dinner.  It was glorious!  Do you like the hat?  That was his Easter basket this year, filled with funny little treats.

Three of my favorite people!  Jasper, Sara and Quinn-the-man...

Quinnie and his pal, playing in the dirt...

I have no idea what this gentleman's name is, just that he makes me laugh with his delightful sense of humor!

This picture pretty much sums up the party...

This is one of the more challenging egg hidey holes, if you can imagine!

I thought Grandma C. was going to tear out and find eggs, too, but she managed to restrain herself.  :)

They empty the candy out of the eggs, then Susan can re-use them for next year! Very serious business, this egg emptying project...