Fall’s first reflection
of Julie in Battle Creek,
Seasons in motion.
Not the storm of the century
First snow (?) on Squaw Mountain
As we suffered through was we consider brutally hot weather (95 degrees), we were told that a huge early snowstorm was on the way. Our new cook, from Alabama, said she was terrified of winter and abruptly left. Sure enough, all over the state, roads were closed, power was off, tree branches were broken. Here’s what the storm looked like for us. Things have cooled off nicely though.
Sangre de Cristo–Summer of Fire
Red sunrise over Sheep Mountain
Sangre de Cristo,
blood red against the sky,
smoky crimson sunrise
illuminates the dry
and murky landscape,
grey haze that turns to pink,
and throws a rosy glow
to make night’s shadows sink.
Mountains rise ephemeral,
magic light against their rock,
a brief illumination
shows their beauty with a shock.
of this pink and hazy glow
wrought by fires in the south,
fire in the sky,
and fires bred by drought.
Flames that rise and roar
and eat all before their path,
nature and man’s doings
give way before their wrath.
We watch from distant fastness
as smoky fingers curl,
long tendrils reach with greed
to menace with their swirl,
and spread a grim grey threat
to make us tear and choke.
We wear a gauzy veil
of ash and haze and smoke.
It filters through our valleys
where grass stands stiff and dry,
where leaves hang low and thirsty
beneath this pall of sky.
Tales now come to haunt us
of flames that leave a stark
and ancient calling card,
borne aloft by wind and spark.
We watch and wait and fret
that such could be our fate,
while distant matches flare,
in a tinderbox, we wait.
Such thoughts all disappear
with wonder and with awe,
as sunrise works its alchemy,
paints the country with a raw
and glowing pinkwash,
with a brief and fleeting dye.
Sangre de Cristo,
blood red against the sky.
Red sunset over Battle Mountain
World class sheep exhibit at the Little Snake River Museum
This weekend marked the Grand Opening of the William MacPherson Sheep Center at the Little Snake River Museum in Savery, Wyoming. John and Catherine MacPherson donated restored sheep wagons from Carbon County’s early sheep production days, in honor of Bill’s father, an early sheepman. The Museum District and the MacPhersons saw to the construction of an exhibit building to house the wagons and other historic sheep production paraphenalia. A coming attraction will be an original wagon built by James Candlish and donated by the Vern and Della Vivion family. James Candlish was a blacksmith who is credited for building the first sheepwagon in Rawlins, Wyoming in 1884. It will be on loan from the Wyoming Wool Growers Association.
Here’s some photos of the event, which featured speakers, music, a spinning demonstration, children’s activites, a barbeque and a tour of the Savery Stock Driveway. Wyoming author and musician David Romtvedt presented Basque music, poetry and history (although most of Carbon County’s early sheep producers were of Scots, Irish and English descent). A great time was had by all!
MacPherson Sheep Center
Cat Urbigkit tells the crowd about predator challenges
Sharon reading poetry at the Government corrals
David Romtvedt playing Basque tunes at the Niland cabin in the Medicine Bow National Forest
County Fair in the Time of Coronavirus
Siobhan, Tiarnan and Maeve with their wool sewing projects
Irrigating the Mesa
Truly, our life’s blood
water, from stream to pivot,
brings life in winter.
Later that same day: bucks crossing the river
Pat and Siobhan
After we rescued the misguided GPS traveler on the morning of July 4th, we moved on to rotating the bucks to a new pasture across the Little Snake River. Even though the grass is greener on the other side of the Little Snake, the bucks were not enthusiastic about crossing. It did not involve any swimming (although shorn sheep can swim). This was not, so to speak, our first rodeo, and we knew that eventually they would see it our way. It took a lot of whistling, throwing of sticks, calling back the dog, roping and pulling a couple of bucks across to serve as a “draw”, but we eventually prevailed. Our crew included Pat, Meghan, Bridget (on loan from Arizona), Siobhan, Bubba and me, plus Belle the Border Collie.
Bubba pulling the buck across the river
Siobahn and Pat
Siobhan, Meghan, Bridget and Bubba trying to convince the bucks
Bubba across the river
more persuasion
Meghan supervising the crossing
crossing
Success!
You can’t make this stuff up
Jaime, Crescencio and Juan studying the situation
At the cookhouse breakfast, Meghan said, “You can’t make up my life.”
I had enjoyed a solid night’s sleep, so I asked her what was up. She said that she had been out int he middle of the night trying to locate a Harvest Host RV guest (another story), when she noticed lights in the middle of the hay meadow. She went to investigate, and discovered a young man who had somehow followed his GPS into the very irrigated field and gotten very very stuck. She retrieved him, pointed his really muddy self to a shower and a bed. Mind you, it was 3 a.m. It turns out that he was looking to spend the Fourth of July with his uncle, who lives in the mountains to the south and west. We mustered our crew, pulled him out, and delivered him to his grateful uncle and cousin. Just another morning on the Ladder Ranch!
Meghan assessing the stuck car in the light of day.
our tractor extracting the stuck car
Ladder Ranch
