Spring?

People who write songs about Montana seldom have anything to say about March. There's a good reason for that.  While the rest of the world is singing tra-la-la about spring and getting pedicures for sandal season, we in Eastern Montana are still...STILL...plodding through snow and ice.

The only thing that keeps us going, at all, is the new babies.  And really strong coffee. And the banker breathing down our backs. 

Other than that, we really have no motivation for staying here.

(Oddly enough, we don't get much company this time of year, either....My friend Susie K. is coming from the Boston area in a couple weeks and she's the only brave soul I know of who actually PLANNED to see our ranch in the depths of the spring gunk.  Although, after viewing these pictures, she may send condolences and a nice cheese tray, begging a tight schedule and no appropriate wardrobe.  I'd completely understand.)

Following the chuck wagon....behind the tractor is a trailer that holds two round bales, so we can transport a lot of feed in one trip.  The Farmer's family is one of the most intelligent, innovative bunch of ranchers I've ever been around and we have all sorts of things like this that they've designed and made.  I was going to say they saved time and labor, but I can't type that with a straight face...

I absolutely love this picture.  The cow looking, the calf skiting, the tractor in the background....it's the perfect picture for this topic.  I should've stopped there, because it captures everything I'll try to write from here on out...

A chilly pair, headed for the tractor, with all of the prairie and sagebrush ahead of them....

The Farmer drives around in his Honda, looking for new calves to tag and if they're chilled down, he brings them back to me in the pickup.

These are older calves, obviously....pushing each other around and rough housing.  You can't see the cow very well, but she's rolling her eyes at them and saying, "Shape up, now.  Stop that nonsense!  Someone's going to get hurt and I won't feel a bit bad..."  They don't care...go ahead and fuss, Mama Cow....it won't do any good....

More of beautiful Eastern Montana. Can you see why we get SO hungry for color, in the winter?

You can't see it very well, but the Farmer is tagging a calf here.  See the cow's mouth open, warning him?  She's not happy.

Done! She briskly gathered up her baby and trotted off toward the feed.

This bin holds the cake pellets and when Vern turns a switch, they trickle out onto the hay.

See the milk froth?  His breakfast was interrupted and he's a little miffed.

You can tell it's a bull calf because the tag is in the right ear....heifers get tagged in the left ear. 

Calve belonging to mean cows get tagged however it gets done....

Here's a REALLY new baby.  He wandered around the feed ground, completely bewildered by the commotion and his poor little mama followed him, worriedly, trying to grab a bite of hay and cake as she went.  Of course, he's the cutest calf there and every cow wants to make him thiers (she thinks), so it's very stressful.

 I don't care what you say, cows are just beautiful.  Aren't they? Especially black Angus cows. 

She can't figure out what all the fuss is, with the dry old hay.  But she tried some!

 Very elegant ensemble, here.  You can't see the insulated gold hand-me-down coveralls...

You can, however, see the wrinkles. 

Darn.

Another favorite picture!  I like mirror shots of scenery, because you get all sorts of perspectives...

If there was a magazine called Cute Cows, she'd be the cover girl...
Look at that perfect little hoof!

STILL adorable...

Look at that little forhead, cleaned within an inch of it's life by a mama who cares...

Did someone say, "Maaaaaaa!"  ?

Same cover girl....different pose...

Why DOES the hay on the wagon taste better than the hay rolled out by the tractor?

We put out straw, too, for bedding and this baby found the perfect nest, right in the middle of the action.

No, they are NOT Betty and Claude, two wannabe farm criminals of some sort!  Dixie and the Farmer, posing for me.  I think they're smiling.  Who knows?

Frozen calf, on the floorboard of the pickup with the heater blasting as hot as we can get it.  He was in very bad shape...glassy eyes, mouth open and shallow breathing, crying as I drove him in.  (He was and I was.) We put him in the hot box in the shop and when I asked at lunch time how he was, there was not much hope.

We give them colostrum in paste form, and had to warm it up on the dashboard.  He didn't get any...it's expensive and we need to see if he's going to be close enough to living before he gets any. 

And that's what our mornings look like, here.  Then I gather up the kid(s) at Grandma's, run home and make lunch and pick up the pieces from our mad dash out the door that morning.

When people talk about March Madness....this is what I think of.  Not basketball!

And the winner is....

Purse #2! 

It has been ordered and should be winging its way to Cohagen in a couple of days.

I'm going to tell you one of the reasons I decided to order this purse, anyway...besides the fact that it won.

A friend of mine sent me an email saying she couldn't vote for it because she looked at it and thought about the OB chains they use to pull calves and the grommets on grain tarps.  If THAT doesn't just holler "The Farmer's Wife", I don't know what does.

Another friend (blogging friend) told me that she positively identified me in Walmart because she knew my crazy purse.  This will completely give her a frame of reference, don't you think?

So, there you have it.

Thanks for voting and commenting!
(And I really never could look at Purse #1 without thinking "kidney bean" after that.  Darn it, anyway, Anonymous!)

Time to vote....

...for a new purse for the Farmer's Wife!  (Remember Madame Serengeti?)

Keep in mind that no matter which one you vote for, I'll buy it in red!
I bought a purse last year that I've been living with, but not happily.  It says, "This is your mother's purse..." and I want something that says "Oh, yeah....That's Mary's purse, alright!"

It's a very serious thing, this choosing of the purse. 

Consider all the occasions and scenarios this purse will have to accompany me to....
Consider the books/makeup/children's junk I'll have to haul, stylishly.
Consider that I don't want a purse that looks like I'm smack dab in the middle of my retirement years.

THEN vote.

:)



Purse #1



Purse #2

Vote on the poll to the top right of this page!
Thanks for your input.

Chivaree!

The Farmer and I were visiting, yesterday, about a friend of ours that is planning on getting married and he tossed out, "Well, he'll probably run off to Vegas and get married, anyway."

"Then we can chivaree them!", I said, happily!

"We don't do that, here."

"Never? You all never chivaree?"

"Nope."

"Have you been to a chivaree? Ever?"

"I told you.  We don't do that here."

Proof that you can grow up in the same county, 50 miles apart, and live totally different cultures.

Chivaree...pronounced "shiv-uh-REE"....is the American spelling of the French word "charivari", which means, in it's literal translation, "rough music".  You can Google the whole history of it which, quite frankly, has mean origins.  But where I grew up....just across the county...it was done with good humor and the best of intentions.

When a couple snuck off and got married, without allowing the community to properly celebrate with them, they got chivareed.  The friends and community members would secretly plan a middle-of-the-night party, where all would gather at the newlyweds' house, bringing food, beverages (alcoholic and otherwise) a wheelbarrow, pots and pans to clang, rice to put in the bed as the bride was being hauled around in that wheelbarrow, and all other manner of nonsense and revelry.  Sort of a raucous reception to celebrate the union and show the couple that a party WOULD be had, whether they wanted it or not. 

The only one I really remember was when I was very young...maybe 5 or 6?...for Bill and Jackie Brown.  I remember thinking the grownups had lost their minds, but being very impressed at the party in the middle of the night.  I'm sure we didn't stay long, Mom and us kids, but it was something that stuck in my head, for sure!  It was loud and happy and good-natured, and so very strange, to have this big old celebration with no warning. 

So they don't chivaree, here. 
If our friend goes to Vegas, I do believe I might have to start something....

*For all you locals, reading the Chronicles: I'm sure you know who our "friend" is and if you happen inform him that this could occur, we may need to do a practice run at your house.  To celebrate 7 or 21 or 30 years of wedded bliss or something...

Crazy Mary

More questions for Crazy Mary!
I don't know what's more disturbing, really; that someone actually wonders about these things or that I'm taking the time to answer them. 

In no particular order of importance:

1. Do you read magazines from front to back or another way?

I usually just open it up in the middle and look for something interesting.  I almost always scan to the back, from there, then scan to the front from the middle.  EXCEPT in Bon Appetit, where I read the back page first, every time.  And Shape magazine, where I read the success stories first.

2. On what side of your mouth do you chew most of your food?

The inside.  Next question?

3. What was your favorite thing to do at recess, as a kid?

I went to country schools from Kindergarten through eighth grade, so this answer is not going to be a "stock" one....

When I went to Sand Springs school, there were still outhouses that we used as forts.  Isn't that great?! I mean, talk about the perfect dungeon for captured enemies! We left notes in them...love AND hate notes...and did capture prisoners or trick them into joining our camp.  Usually, it was Boys vs. Girls, but a couple years there, there weren't a lot of boys, so there was sometimes a mercy trade.  I'm not sure how merciful it was, to either side, but it sort of evened things up.  As I type this, I'm laughing that we really did that!  I know the teachers, bless their frazzled old hearts, were just happy we were outside and out of their hair so they could have a nip at the bottle and call another country school teacher for moral support....

At Big Dry, we didn't have playground equipment for the longest time, so we played "horses".  What country school kids DON'T? We'd thread a jump rope through the back belt loop on our jeans and another kid would take the reins.  This game came to a screeching halt when all the mothers started comparing notes and they put the kaibosh on this most lively of sports, because ALL our Wranglers had broken belt loops.  Our good Wranglers. 

The other really, really fun game that we played at both schools was Annie-I-Over.  Do you all know that one?  The kids split up into two teams (and you want the fast kids, here) and each team takes a side of the house...the long side.  The designated thrower on the one side throws the ball over the roof while hollering "Annie-I-Over!!!".  If the ball doesn't clear the roof, the thrower hollers "Pigtails!" and tries again.  If the ball DOES clear, the other team has to have a fair catch (not on a bounce) and the whole catching team comes blazing around the end of the building, with the catcher trying to tag someone on the opposing team.  If they tag 'em, they get to keep them on their team.  And thus sides are exchanged and starts all over.  The point of the game is to capture everyone on a team.  This can go on for DAYS, because there's always a sizzlingly fast kid that can't be captured, but he can capture plenty, exchanging slow kids back and forth, back and forth. 

At Sand Springs, we played it over the teacherage, and that was the perfect building!  At Big Dry, we played it over the actual school building and broke a window, eliminating the game from our choices until the next year when we got a new, innocent teacher fresh out of college and started it all over again.  By the end of the year, she'd have found someone to marry to escape the profession, or started chainsmoking and applying to schools in Alaska, so we never usually had to worry about losing the game for more than a few months.

4. What one thing did you decide not to buy that you really wish you would have?

Besides a winning Lotto ticket? 
Honestly, I'm not really a "thing" sort of person.  But I AM an "experience" sort of person and wish that I had spent the money to do some really fun things when I could.  Everytime I did, I didn't regret spending the money, because I'd live for a long time on ramen noodles and peanut butter to have the memory of whitewater rafting or midnight golf, you know? 
I can't really think of any one thing.  This is the blessing of being impulsive and crazy, to an extent!  No regrets until you get to age 70 and have to work at Walmart as a greeter because you spent your retirement  funds on a 15 day fly-fishing expedition in Canada....

5. Describe your life in six words.

Blessed. Rural. Surprising. Evolving. Yummy. Full.

Had you asked that question a month ago, before the sun came out and when things were at their tensest, here, it would've probably included words like:  Dreary. Medicated. Stuck.



The other question that was posed had to do with my favorite childhood television show and I answered that with the Waltons post, BEFORE the question was asked!

There you go.  Send Crazy Mary questions anytime!  

Shop Cats

Look at the pads of his paws....white feet, black toesies....like he walked through black paint or grease!

 The stools in the shop are almost always pre-warmed...

 Looking for a project to get in the middle of!

 Found one! Supervising, unless there's a cord dangling and then he checks the end.

 They get a lot of attention. 

 But when it's time to get serious about mechanic-ing, there's no time for cats!

First Calf 2011!

It's always a big deal.

Every year, the first calf is greeted with cheers and phone calls are made.

The kids and I pile into the car and drive over to see the little thing, take pictures and oooooo at how sweet he is. 

You'd think it would get sort of ho-hum.  After all, in a week or so, there will be calves all over.

But I can tell you that, for me at least, each new calf is dear and miraculous. 

No matter how many times I see it.

He can't decide whether he's getting up or down....

It's a terrible place, this in-between, and it's a long ways either way!

Going down!

I love how they rest their little chins on the ground, making themselves flat and round!  He's so very shiny new that the sawdust is sticking to him, making him look pretty scuzzy.  I'll bet this morning he's soft and fuzzy, his mama having worked him over several times to spiff him up.

Speaking of his mama....she's so cute! This is her first calf and she doesn't know what to think.  She DOES think, however, that we should be moving along and so we do...

 Little man, picking his way through the muck, past the barn.  It's so warm, right there!

That had trouble written all over it, so he got a ride.

 And THAT'S what we were walking around and through.  It smells just as charming as it looks. Although, (and you're going to think I'm nuts)(MORE nuts) I really sort of like the smell of barnyard.  It's....homey, to me.

 Okay, you see that big hill, just past the Farmer?  That's snow/ice/dirt.  And it has melted quite a little.  Can you believe that?  It's going fast, though....the days have been 40+ degrees and the water is running!

 These are the girls who are waiting.  Do you see how absolutely round they are? That makes me smile.
I remember how I looked, at nine months pregnant and it was exactly like that!  And probably as cheerful...

Last look at the barn...we left the door open a little, so the new mamas could have some fresh air...

NOW, Spring is here!

Time Machine

I found one!

Do you remember....?

The Waltons

When I was little, little...like four years old....my family had television.  And the shows I remember were: HeeHaw, 60 Minutes and The Waltons.  My Mom tells me that my first crush...even before Joe Gibson and his romantic moustache....was John Boy Walton.  And my Dad would tease me about him and I'd wail. 

We moved when I was five and didn't have television from then on, until I was in high school, I think.  But we'd see shows at our grandparents' house and so were not completely culturally deprived. The Waltons was a favorite of my parents and grandparents, so we suffered through it.  I remember it as greyish, boring and hokey. 

I found an unopened box of Season 1, last night, while looking through movies and thought I'd put a DVD in, to torture MY kids with. (They'd wail and the cycle would continue...)

The music started and I almost got tears.  Do you remember the theme song?

I'll bet you do.

The Waltons Theme

See?

It was sepia tinted and I don't know if they did that on purpose, or if that was just television color at the time.  Whatever the reason, it's perfect to my eyes, now, considering the times portrayed in the show...the 1930's. 

John Boy is still sweet.  I think I liked him because he was smart.  I don't know.  But I still like him.

I was startled to see that Ma is probably only a couple years older than I am now!  NO!

I love their house.  I loved it when I was a kid and I still do.  The big kitchen and table, the family room and...this is my VERY favorite part of it....the big front porch.  I have a terrible longing for a front porch like that.  How very midwestern of me, hm?

I had forgotten there were so many Waltons!  Can you remember all their names?  That's my challenge.  Without Google-ing or anything, look at the picture and try to name them all.  Bonus if you remember the mother and father's names.  And if you remember the grandparent's names, you must be watching re-runs somewhere.

It turns out, after the initial whining, that Maggie and Angus are already sucked in and want to watch more.  I'm glad.  I like that the family gets angry with each other, then mends the hurts.  I like that there's a little country store like Sand Springs Store used to be and that the neighbors are good hearted and nosy.  I like that they have to work together, as a family.  I like that they tease each other and support each other and share candy, but not willingly. 

So, once again, the Waltons are in my life.  At least for a DVD season.

I sure have missed them.



Dear Sara H.,

I just got the new issue of Bon Appetit, the magazine you so thoughtfully (or wickedly) subscribed for me this year.  The Farmer has EMT classes tonight, so I was going to wait until the kids went to bed, then gather up Bon Appetit and a glass of pinot noir and revel in richness.

It sat there, on the counter, in all its seductive glory, in the plastic wrapper.

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

3:30....

3:46....

4:03....

The Farmer came in to shower and leave for class. 

4:12....

4:28....

"Have-a-nice-evening-learn-lots-about-soft-tissue-wounds-and-hope-night-calving-is-easy-GOODBYE!"
 Slamming of the door behind him and a race to the counter!

Hello my sweet....
And I released Bon from the wrapper, hugging it to my body as I poured the pinot...
(No.  The kids are not in bed. But they ARE outside.  Good enough!)

Have you opened yours, yet?

Did you SEE that there's a whole section on Mediterranian cuisine?  Including a primer on how to roll grape leaves!  If only I HAD grape leaves...
And garden tools.
And passion fruit rum punch.
And....this is being tested on Friday....Steak Picadillo Soft Tacos.

No man ever greeted a Playboy magazine with as much greed and thrill as I did this Bon Appetit periodical.
(I can prove nothing....)

Bless you...a hundred times over.
And curses.  I didn't know what I was missing, before, and now I do.

The Farmer's Wife

(For the rest of my followers/surrepticious readers....Bon Appetite can be had for $12 a year.  You spend more than that on coffee every week!  Try it!)

(AND I want to encourage you to go to the website and get the Honey-Roasted Onion Tart recipe. And make it.  Really.  REALLY! Six happy bookclub women licking the platter can't be wrong...)

Pink Martini

My latest passion:

Pink Martini!

No...not the drink, although I'm sure it's perfectly delightful.

The musical group!

From Wikipedia:

Pink Martini is a 12-member "little orchestra" from Portland, Oregon, formed in 1994 by pianist Thomas M. Lauderdale. They draw inspiration from music from all over the world – crossing genres of classical, jazz and old-fashioned pop. Band leader Thomas Lauderdale describes the band's sound as "music of the world without being world music."

They're just classy.  They make me feel classy when I play them and cha-cha-cha around the kitchen!

Impossible to describe, just when I think they're more French, they toss out a Hispanic sort of jazz.  So, I think, "Ah...Hispanic!" and there's a Japanese song. 

You'd think this would be jarring, but it's a wonderful, surprising blend and I can't stop playing it.

The two albums (What DO you CALL them, now?) I have are:

And my favorite song is:

Lilly by Pink Martini

Also try:
Sympathetique
(the video stinks, but the song is great)

Or:
Una Notte a Napoli

Tell me what you think...

*I realize this is a leap, from Pat Green and George Strait.  Welcome to the maze of my mind...

You just never know...
Neither do I, really!