Postcards From the Prairie

I was looking through the photos I'd taken in June. June is when Montana puts on her finery and rewards us for living with her in January. Truly, I think the people who settled here probably got to the area in June, decided they'd found paradise, changed their minds in January, and by the time they got packed up to leave, it was June again and they forgot about January.

My Grandma roses! I don't think I've ever seen them bloom like they did this year.

The bush was weighed down from the blossoms and when you drove in the yard and got out of your car, the rose smell was just amazing. 

The road up to our house.

My Jodi roses! 

(My dad used to name his horses after the guy he bought them from. The "kid" horse I learned to ride on happened to be bought from a guy with the last name "Gross", if you can imagine. It was fairly rough when someone asked me what my horse's name was...

Anyway, I've taken to naming some of my plants after the people who gave them to me. This rose was from Jodi Pierson and neither of us have any idea what variety it is, so I just call it the Jodi rose.)

This was right before she took a huge hail pounding...

On the way home from Miles City, close to Angela and looking south at a storm blowing into Miles. We'd just finished a baseball game when things started getting stormy so we were glad to be out of there. If you look very carefully at the center of the picture, you'll see a slight ghost of a rainbow!

 Maggie and I love our antelope.

They're difficult to photograph, though, so anytime I get some image that's reasonably decent, I feel triumphant.  Kind of like taking pictures of a toddler.

Montana skies will wreck you for any place else...

The trees in our shelterbelt look to me as though they're always telling each other secrets. 

And when the wind blows, their "tummies" shake with laughter!

I wish I knew what was so funny.

There's no way to do a full moon justice in a photograph.

This one was particularly lovely in its flamingo pink tone!

(Okay, they call it a strawberry moon, but I like the flamingo pink idea better.)

Heartwarming

The blog challenge assignment today is to write about five ways to win my heart.

I'm changing it to five things that warm my heart.

It's my blog. I'll do what I want! 

1. There's something very dear to me about children's hands being held by old people's hands, or vice-versa. Actually, now that I'm typing this and getting it out of my head, I think ALL hands warm my heart! So much of your life story and personality is right there at the end of your arms.

2. Genuine, happy laughter!

It's just the best!

3. Special songs from good times in my life warm my heart. Especially if they show up from out of the blue.  Yesterday I got in the car to head over to Vern's to work cows and a song from Grease was on the radio...it was like a gift, and it made my heart happy! Here it is, so your heart can be happy, too: (click here)  (Go ahead and dance...no one's looking.)

4. Baby calves. Baby anything, but baby calves have big, curious eyes with 2 inch eyelashes, sweet little noses covered with feeler whiskers, knobby knees, big stick-y out-ie ears....little heart warmers, right there.

5. Oh, man...I can't decide between a fish on the line or homemade bread, here.  

Glacier Park

I'm not going to write much in this post. I'll just post pictures and let you imagine what a delightful day we had celebrating Maggie's 12th birthday in one of the most breathtaking places in the US.
Enjoy! (We certainly did!)

Lake McDonald

We like to "skip" (translation:chuck) rocks.

Hiking to the falls, through the fairy woods.

It was SO LOUD!

He explains with great authority things he knows nothing about...

He explains with great authority things he knows quite a lot about...

Something big has been here!

Like, a bear. 

A tall, very strong bear.

Not so very long ago, either...

Maybe we should go another way!

You can see the burned trees on the horizon...

That was the side of the park the bears lived on, but they moved looking for food. 

Obligatory wildlife shot...

I didn't even get to the pictures of the lodge or the ferry boat!  Glacier saturates your brain with its unparalleled majesty, leaving you to just stagger open mouthed out to the "real world". We just saw a teeny tiny part of the park; next time we think it would be fun to ride the red buses up Going to the Sun Highway.

Let's Not Go There

Today's assignment is to list five places I'd like to go. 

Since I want to go EVERYWHERE, it's easier to list the five places I really never want to go. After that, I'll show you pictures of Glacier Park in a following post. Everyone wins! 

Five places I never care to see:

1. Las Vegas. Don't even begin to defend it or encourage me to be open-minded about this city; I just don't want to go. I'm sure there are very interesting people and things to do there. There are ALSO very interesting people and things to do everywhere else in the world, so I'll take my carry on elsewhere.  

2. Barrow Point, Alaska. I had family that lived there when I was a kid, so I read up about it in National Geographic. I can very confidently say that there's nothing there for me....especially since my cousins moved further south.  

3. Yankees Stadium. Meh... see the note on Las Vegas.  (Really, this is just to make sure my frienemies are still reading my blog and to get them stirred up for Tuesday's rivalry series.)

4. Death Valley. I just told a friend of mine that I didn't want him to send any photos from his recent stay in Los Angeles because Hell shimmers in the background. Later, I realized it was not Hell but Death Valley. Same difference. 

5. Caves. No caves. Not even blanket caves. Just no. I went to Lewis and Clark Caverns with my friends the Yosts and realized about 15 minutes in to the tour that caves were NOT for me. 

Whew!  Glad that's over!

How Inspiring!

Yes, it's late, but I'm still getting the post up! 

The assignment was for me to write about someone inspiring, and I find it hard to narrow this down because I'm inspired by so many people. 

Really! 

And as I was riding on the four wheeler behind so many cows that make me happy, a couple thoughts occurred to me about this.

Here's the first:

I'm inspired by people who don't keep very close track of their chronological age, choosing to quit things because they're "too old".  Several months ago, I read an article about a woman who was 101 years old who broke the track record for her age group (anyone over 100) for the 100 meter dash. I was enchanted! 

There are so many cool things about this. The thought that there's an actual category in the record books for those over 100 years of age in track and field...that's pretty remarkable. The fact that someone over 100 years old is "dashing"...I'm still working on that notion. And she didn't start running until her 70s when many catastrophic things happened in her life. She began running in her 70s, y'all. She didn't say to herself, "I'm 73, my body is old and fragile and hurts, and I could fall and break a hip.".  This woman ran ANYWAY. There was a lot of tragedy in her life at the time, she really had nothing more to lose from what the article said. 

She just did it.

Nike should have her image on every box of running shoes they sell. 

And last week I read an article about a nurse in Montana who finally retired after 65 years of nursing. Like...she started nursing back when they invented it, right?!? 

She was 87 and had nursed all her life, raised a family, buried a husband and kept on going.  Guess what she's going to do in her retirement?

That's right. She's volunteering at the nursing home to help all the "old people". 

She'll probably read about our 101 year old racing friend and begin training to usurp the record in 20 years. 

The number one barrel racer in the country right now, earnings-wise, is 67 years old. 

No one told HER that the statute of limitations was 50 years of age. She's smoking all those 20 something darlings at the Cheyenne Frontier Days! 

THAT'S inspiring to me. 

Secondly, there are the quiet inspire-rs.  

I encounter them when I'm at the grocery store or in the parking lot (when I go to town) or in the library...in everyday life.

 They're the ones who send ice cream cones to a young mother with a toddler and a baby and a grandma at McDonalds on a hot exhausting day. (Bless you, sir; whoever you are. I'll never forget that 10 years ago.)  

The ones who unobtrusively pick up things that fell in the aisle at the grocery store rather than walking around it and pretending it's someone else's problem. 

The people who take time to say "hi" to a baby who just learned the word and has been saying it to everyone she sees all over Home Depot with no response, save one kind person. (Again, thank you. I was near tears because no one would say "hi!" back to my baby.)  

The ones who faithfully and kindly read blogs about cows and flowers and dogs and shoes and recipes and children...for YEARS...and never fail to encourage or comment. 

You inspire me. 

I want to be one of those people.

Look around you this week, please.  Read articles not of political or economic interest, but of good people doing kind things. Look for people who forget they "should" be in the nursing home who are still rocking their running shoes or horseshoes. 

Prepare to be inspired!

Peeved

Today's assignment is to write about three pet peeves.
Just three.
A study in restraint, I see...

My first pet peeve is chewing gum.
Very few people who chew gum know how to do so with class and good manners. There's smacking mastication. There's tiny in-mouth bubble popping. It's all funny in the movie caricatures with loud talking waitresses, but in real life it's pretty annoying.
I could tolerate the personal rudeness, but the thing that REALLY peeves me is that no one seems to know how dispose of the stuff discretely and unobtrusively. One of my first jobs was as an assistant janitor at my high school between my freshman and sophomore years. Let me say right now that I believe EVERYONE should have to janitor their own school for three months as a part of their class load.  Once you've scraped dried gum off the bottom of every desk in the building (save the secretary and principal's desks), or cleaned and waxed all the bathrooms, or repainted the lockers...ALL the lockers...much greater care is taken of the educational resources you're provided with.  That's why I can't stand gum.  I cleaned up so stinkin' much of it!  This isn't even counting the gum I cleaned off shoes from the random spitting in the parking lots. Or the gum out of my kids hair.

The second pet peeve on my (rather extensive) list is "I seen".
I really and truly try not to be a grammar Nazi, brace myself against the misuse of "their", "there", and "they're" in writing, but my palms absolutely sweat when I hear someone say "I seen them cows..." or "I seen a big cloud over..." etc.
"I saw..."
"I have seen...."
"I will have seen...."
But not "I seen".
I don't know why this bugs me to the dying end, but it does.

Thirdly, (and blessedly, FINALLY) is when people who are shopping decide they don't want a product or find a better deal on a similar product, and leave it in any old random place in the store. Or their empty Shlurpee container.
Again, this goes back to retail work experience from a job I had with Jo-Ann Fabrics.
It's quick and convenient for the customer, and what's the big deal, right?
It's a big stinkin' deal to the college girl who is working three jobs and has to sweep/organize every aisle after the doors close before she drags off to home for another 3 hours of homework, only to start it all again at 6 AM. Or the retiree who is putting in the hours on this job to afford rent and little Christmas gifts for their family with this job that runs until 9 PM; their legs ache and they can't understand what happened to common courtesy.
It's a big deal.
It's rude.
It's unnecessary.
Take the product back to the aisle it belongs; it's another 5 minutes out of your leisurely shopping day. Take the empty container to the trash at the front of the store that you walk past ANYWAY to leave. Just do. Be decent. Be a good person. It's not that hard.

Tomorrow is "Someone inspiring"!
I will lose sleep tonight over this! So, so many inspiring people that I know of...

You don't say!

(I guess I was supposed to do TEN things that make me smile for yesterday's assignment. YIKES! Count your lucky stars that I didn't get it correct...)

Today's assignment was to write about something someone told me about myself that I never forgot.
I spent my whole run this morning trying to come up with it. All I could remember was the negative because of course that's what we all hang on to, right?

One of the things that I've never forgotten wasn't said directly to me, but I remember hearing it a lot and taking it quite to heart.  It wasn't anything bad, but it sure shaped my self-perception.

When I was growing up, I was (and still am) very bookish. I loved reading, loved my horse, and loved drawing.  My sister was kind of a tomboy and rode bikes, played basketball, tumbled and did all sorts of physical things.  I remember when I was about 9 years old, I heard my mom tell someone that "Jen's athletic and Mary's artistic".  It struck me that if I was artistic, I couldn't possibly be athletic and besides, Mom should know.

It's very true that I'm not good at team sports. And I thought that's what athleticism WAS....playing basketball or volleyball.  I was fast at running in high school gym class, but when approached by the track coach to go out for the track team, I declined....because I knew I wasn't athletic.  In fact, I avoided any sort of sport or activity that would show the world my lack of ability.

When I was 21 or 22, my friend Kim (who challenged me to do these blog assignments) took me mountain biking and kayaking, and I loved it! At the end of a particularly challenging ride (for me) I told her that it was kind of cool that I made it because I wasn't athletic.
Well.
She schooled me on what athleticism REALLY was, right there at the end of the bike trail, sweaty and tired. And guess what? It turns out, I AM athletic! I am!  I'm just not athletic in organized sports.

I learned that it doesn't matter what people say about who I am.  It really just matters that I don't limit myself and that I continue to try new things, evolving into whoever it is I want.
(I will confess this, though. I accept that I'm really and truly not mechanical in any way. I can barely run a toaster. But I can run 5 miles, and that's cool.)

It's an assignment...

My friend Kim told me she wanted to start blogging again and wanted me to join her in a blog writing challenge.  I've written probably 30 posts in my head over the last month, but just haven't taken the time to actually sit down and type them out here!

We decided to break down a 30 day blog challenge into the 1-7th of each of the next few months so it didn't seem so overwhelming that we'd quit partway through.  So from now until August 7th, there will be a blog post a day, at least, on the Chronicles! And September. And October. And November.

Today's assignment was to write about five things that make me happy.
(Yes. I KNOW. The Sound of Music song, "Favorite Things" just started playing in your head.  I'm so, so sorry! But I promise you, there are no whiskers on kittens in this. Or warm woolen mittens.)

I think you all know that spending time with my family and friends, books, coffee, wine, and sunshine make me happy, so I'm not going to write about those dear things.  (I mean, really...don't they make EVERYONE happy?!?)

1. Correspondence in my actual, physical mailbox from friends and family makes me SO happy! I love to see the loved one's actual handwriting or hear their voice through a typed letter even.  There's something about holding the page, smelling the ink and paper, the surprise of the envelope in the pile of advertisements and bills....  Oh, it's the BEST!

2. Cows make me happy. I like them in pictures, I like to be around them in person, I like reading about them in James Herriot books or Wally Badgett cartoons. They have funny personalities, beautiful eyes, great topknot hair do-s.  They're smart and sneaky. And here's the truth, without malice or mean-spiritedness: they are just like women.  If you've ever spent time with junior high girls, you'll know about yearling heifers.  A two year old with her first calf is JUST like a young mother with her first baby. A group of cows will watch you approach like a bunch of old ladies at a coffee shop....they don't want to look like they care what you're doing, but they're intensely curious and suspicious. It's highly entertaining to watch them, and they do make my heart happy, even on the bad days.

3. My dog, Tessie. And before that, my dog Molly. No matter how rotten a day I'm having or how tired I am, Tessie can make me smile.

4. Cooking a special meal for someone appreciative is a special delight! I know...I cook all the time. Three squares a day. Year round.  It's a good gig if you can get it!  But cooking "special" things is great fun, and watching people enjoy it deeply is different.

 One time, a friend of mine who had lived in more urban areas for quite a while moved back to Jordan.  She and I were talking about life and locale when she mentioned that one of the things she missed most of all about leaving the city was the availability of Chinese food.  I commiserated, and driving home decided I'd make a Chinese meal as a surprise for her!  The next week, I invited her and a couple other friends over for a Chinese buffet that had grown out of control. It's no exaggeration...the thing was ridiculous; broccoli beef, cashew chicken, General Tso's chicken, fried rice, egg rolls, sweet and sour pork. I think there were 6 entrees and 4 sides, all made from scratch. And sherbet. It was a pile of work, but it was so worth it to see her eyes light up and a big smile on her face as she filled her plate!  I sometimes feel like I don't have a lot of talents or gifts to share, not like other people, but I can cook and it makes me happy to make people happy through that.

5. (Warning: this is terrible and superficial and silly.) When my sports teams win, I'm inordinately thrilled and I walk around feeling all grand. I cheer. I talk about it to no one who cares. I obsess over the highlights of the game. I wear the gear in public, hoping someone will mention the victory.
It's not something I'm proud of, and I really and truly try to be a better person and pray for world peace, the cure for cancer, and all those things but...
(Do you think it's because there's so much awful junk going on in the world that it's so nice to have something with rules that is settled on a green field cleanly and neatly? I don't know.)

Of course this is by no means the end of the things that bring me joy, but it's a pretty good start.

Happy August!

The Proper Way to Eat Steak

...is with toast.

It was an unspoken, unwritten rule when I was growing up that toast must be served with steak. (Or maybe I just thought that, but it was a good rule anyway.) It's my rule, now, and I'm very happy to share it with you.

If you slightly lift a chunk of steak that has been correctly cooked or grilled, you'll find a warm puddle of the most incredible juice you can imagine under it. To my taste, it should be dark and slightly greasy; if it's bright red, the steak is too rare (read: raw) and if it's NOT there, good luck to you because the steak will be dry. As you cut and eat your steak, the puddle should grow a bit larger from the juices released from the center.

Let it grow.
Don't let your potato or salad slop over into the puddle...it'll waste precious drops and you'll have regrets.
Trust me.

When the meat and salad and potato have all been consumed, you should have a lovely puddle of steak juice left on your plate. I personally don't use steak sauce, but if you do, it will not have spoiled the experience. (I've been blessed to grow up and then live where the best tasting beef in the world is raised. I like to taste the beef. That's why I don't mess around with steak sauce.)

Now is the time to take half a slice of buttered toast and soak it in the still warm steak juice. Don't get in a hurry, let it really absorb the goody. (If you've been lucky enough to have more juice than one half-slice will handle, the other half can do clean up.)
My favorite sopping toast is white Texas toast. I don't know why, but it's the perfect carrier for all the flavors. We now healthily make whole grain toast and it's okay, but all those crunchy seeds and grains sort of get in the way of the pure experience.

Pick the now saturated toast up and eat the best part of your steak dinner.
Really.
It'll be rich and beefy, soft and crunchy at the same time. Salty enough to make you crave more. Your fingers will smell like steak and toast, and you'll have to stop yourself from licking them happily. The next minute you may find yourself looking at your dining partner's plate, calculating whether or not they know the proper way to eat steak and if not, how completely inappropriate it would be to sop up their juice, too.
You won't even consider dessert.
You won't HAVE to!
Steak juice and buttered toast is the most perfect way to end the meal.

Happy Hunting

 Hiding Easter eggs in Cohagen is tricky. Prairie grass...if there IS any....is short and sparse. There are no bushes, shrubs, trees, or big rocks to tuck the treasures in, either.  This causes the eggs to look as though they were broadcast in a big general scatter...

Granted, these were hidden for the little-littles, but still...

 Three on an ant hill. 

Here they come!

The littles were released first, and they took no time at all in scooping up plastic eggs.

The big kids were given the option to help hide eggs this year, and help the little-littles find some. This was a great plan and they all had such fun! (Two of the more enthusiastic Easter bunnies, here.)

It looks much colder than it actually was; I think it was 42 degrees and no wind as we were hunting eggs. Barely cold enough to have to wear a coat, but they humored the adults anyway.

  Do they come any cuter than this?!?!

I love the Montana prairie stretching out behind these kids...

Big boy bunnies...(the skull and crossbones cap helps the swagger)

These two have been the best of pals for 3 or 4 years! Hannah calls Maggie "Iggie" and they seek each other out at every Cohagen event.

Iggie and Hannie

Okay, THESE two are so dear that I almost can't stand it.

They cheerfully opened some eggs so I could get a picture of the loot. 

Counting eggs to make sure they were within legal limits. (Before the hunt began, they were told they could only....ONLY....gather 23 eggs. Can you imagine?! ONLY 23. My head hurts at the thought of that much candy in a child.

The hat.  That hat is KILLING me. He wore it like that the whole time, and managed to gather up quite a clutch of plastic eggs. (Maybe it kept him from being distracted by other things, I don't know.)

I think we ended up with something like 30 kids, counting infants and preschoolers. Such a good bunch for our little school!