Euel Gibbons?

If you remember Lassie telling Timmy that he must come Grampa is in the well...you can well imagine Cheney tugging on my shirt sleeve telling me we need to go for a walk! When we are finally out of the driveway she lets go and romps off toward the woodpile where the cottontails are hiding or up the hill where the chukkars are chuckling!

I noticed on our last walk that the ditch was spilling over its bank on the back side of the hill. I thought I should check it. It was another beautiful late October day, perfect for a morning walk. This time I took my hoe, some plastic bags and my camera! Sure enough the water was still running down the hill. Maybe more now than a couple of days ago. The ditch is being overrun with the roots of willow trees that grow here. After several attempts I could see the hoe did little good in this situation. I did manage to make some makeshift dams that slowed the water in most places to a trickle. "Good enough," I thought. "At least until Mike can deal with it better."

 In my family one of the bright spots of the year was a springtime "mess of greens" as my mom used to call them. It would usually be mustard greens gathered from the fields or watercress gathered from a ditch. On my last walk I had noticed the watercress in our ditch was growing. Thus the plastic bags! It looked clean and healthy to me, bright green, not blooming.  So... I plucked a bag full. I couldn't see why it wouldn't taste just as good in the fall as it does in the springtime.  When I got home I picked it over to make sure there were no leaves or sticks, snails or other wigglers, then soaked it in cool, salted water just in case I may have missed something. While it soaked I dug new potatoes and pulled an onion from my garden. My pork "boil meat" was already doing just that, boiling in the pot with a bit of garlic. I added the onion and potatoes. After a bit  in went the watercress. In no time at all the house like "home"! When suppertime came that watercress tasted just as good as I remembered... springtime or fall makes no difference!

Happy Trails

Our Friday adventure actually began a couple of weeks ago when my friend asked, " Do you ever go to Lovelock? How far away is it anyway?". She has been writing an online history of a little Northern California town. In her investigations she discovered that one of the past residents was buried in Lovelock, Nevada. She needed a picture of the gravesite for her history. "Why not?" I thought. "This could be fun!" My son had a day off and my husband was away on a hunting trip. I recruited my son and a date was made. Our journey began with a stop at the Empire Distributing Store to buy a bouquet for our new "friend". We chose fall flowers in a horseshoe rocking chair made especially for us by Gay! Perfect! Our trip took us up Jenny Creek and over Limbo, the backway to Lovelock. We were in no hurry so we followed C-punch cowboys with their horse trailers who graciously opened all the gates for us! It was a perfect day. Blue sky, lots of sunshine, t-shirt weather and no time frame to put a damper on our day! It had been such a long time since either of us had been this way that we tried several of the "roads not(usually)taken". Our first landmark "Adobe Flat". Too far south so we headed north. Gray, white, and spotted desert burros curiously watched as we made our way along the narrow road. A shiny, silver windmill stood sentry in the middle of the expanse. Another band of burros wandered our way as we stopped to play at the water tank. Thinking I might get a picture of them I climbed up into a cattle chute. Ahh... but to no avail! They were not to come that close. The only thing I got there was covered with creosote from the fences I had climbed! On to Lovelock we went. It seemed like we were there in two flicks of a burro's tail. With the help of our GPS we easily found the pretty little cemetary; Big Meadow Cemetary, 3 miles south of Lovelock, between I-80 and the railroad tracks. The contest was on! Who could find Mr.Sovy's resting spot first? I did! Right away! We took our pictures, one of the cemetary sign and one of the grave site. We were on our way...successful mission complete! Wonderful memories made!

Buckskin and Blue

Cheney, Mike's yellow lab pup, and I just got back from a walk on this beautiful October day! The leaves on the cottonwood trees down along Squaw Creek are a patchwork of gold and green. The sky is a brilliant blue with only a wisp of cloud here and there. In places the sagebrush matches the sky. The desert weeds have lost their green and taken on a buckskin color. There is not the breath of a breeze. Only the quail talk in the rose bushes along the ditch. Granite Peak watches all that tarry beneath her skirts!