tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91406746918230423062011-12-30T07:15:24.404-07:00True confessions of life in the Northern Plains.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.comBlogger1321100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-63318058913970988972011-12-29T21:23:00.001-07:002011-12-30T07:15:24.409-07:00

Don't worry my fair-hearted liberal friends...no animals were killed in the creation of this post.  Actually, no animals have ever been harmed when I join Danish Cowboy on his evening coyote calls... Canis latrans, more commonly known as the coyote (two syllables, silent "e" at the end, please) is a common resident of the prairie.  He feeds on a multitude of foods ranging in size from

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-49175567374869979932011-11-10T06:37:00.000-07:002011-11-10T06:56:49.293-07:00

Visiting with a good friend yesterday, I realized that this blog might be a really good sham of my existence. We had a good laugh about the insanity of life in these parts, about the insanity that life brings anywhere really. You don't have to live in Brockway to feel as if you're going crazy. I suppose it can happen just as easily in, say, South Africa or Missouri, as it can right here in our

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-30354297711513330092011-11-08T22:24:00.001-07:002011-11-08T22:29:52.857-07:00

Life happens everyday and then, suddenly, life happens just a bit too much.  And when it does that, it tends to throw you for a loop.  You either get really inspired or, in my case, the flame of inspiration is but a slight flicker.  But you get it back.  You always get it back if you try hard enough. So, as I was driving home and noticing the full moon high overhead and the snow in the road

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-72478015808326126562011-09-28T06:49:00.000-06:002011-09-28T06:49:39.670-06:00

"This is a moon rock," she said.  "Yeah, it's a moon rock because it looks like the moon and it came from the moon.  It fell off of it while it was sleeping and landed here." My first thought on Wednesday evening was that I would drop little man off with his dad to make some rounds on the tractor with him while he was seeding winter wheat.  I would then proceed home for a while with the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-86904454991304266272011-09-08T07:01:00.000-06:002011-09-08T07:03:02.821-06:00

 My son has this calendar filled with pictures of gleaming semi trucks and their various trailers.  The trucks are staged in equally gleaming locations and perfectly backlit.  I occasionally look at it with him and think to myself:  what kind of photographer aspires to take still life pictures of trucks?  Then, as I was looking though my picture collection of the last month, I had a slight

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-90850764189383381372011-09-01T21:05:00.000-06:002011-09-01T21:05:58.626-06:00

The greatest passions of your life are often, but not always, developed at an early age.  For me, horses and nature have always been an integral part of life.  Living where I do, I'm lucky because I am surrounded by those passions just outside my doorstep.   Even though I have them in my daily life, you never forget where the greatest love affairs of your life started. So when the kids and I

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-27586748220464715622011-07-27T07:16:00.000-06:002011-07-27T07:16:57.478-06:00

2003 Danish Cowboy started this tradition years ago and didn't really realize that it was a tradition until just recently.  I have married a man who believes greatly in the karma of tradition and here goes his philosophy:  since we started taking pictures of us in the winter wheat fields just prior to them turning to those amber waves of grain that everyone likes to talk about, hail has stayed

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-12604660608319072172011-06-26T08:30:00.000-06:002011-06-26T08:30:49.326-06:00

I've always wanted a pond...... so I built one.  This small area in front of the house was formerly occupied by annual garden beds.  My mother-in-law planted, literally, hundreds of flowers here every summer and tended to them with great care.  Annual flowers and I do not agree so well and while I tried to continue this tradition for a few years, it never looked nearly as nice.  So with one of

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-81472587103851961332011-06-22T06:38:00.000-06:002011-06-22T06:38:07.375-06:00

One of the many reasons that I love living where I do.  Animals give kids a sense of responsibility and a good work ethic.  Thunder and Boomer (the calves) are our two bums that my kids and my two nieces are raising this spring and summer.  It has been a delight to watch them gain confidence by interacting with them.

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-73586897170993725442011-05-18T06:22:00.000-06:002011-05-18T06:22:59.177-06:00

May arrives with a bustle of activity every year.  Calving season is winding down and crops are going in to the ground.  Inevitably, a rain storm hits and puts the brakes on the tractors for a few days.  With field work grinding to a halt (not that there has been much of that anyway with this extraordinarily wet spring),  a good day for a branding of the calves arises.  Branding is the same from

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-41494624146170221092011-04-26T22:04:00.000-06:002011-04-26T22:04:53.244-06:00

Much to the dismay of our mothers, Danish Cowboy and I decided to forego the Easter dinner of ham and chocolate that our families traditionally have and head to the Fort Peck reservoir with granola bars and fruit snacks for a few hours this past Sunday to try our hand at some springtime fishing. We decided early on that anyone with a hook and worm can catch large walleye and northern pike so we

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-23829395268348613092011-04-23T07:28:00.000-06:002011-04-23T07:28:12.867-06:00

 I set out with this post to tell a story about Easter.  This curious mind knows the Christian version quite well, but that story doesn't really tell you where the word and the traditions come from.  Turns out it's not so simple.  As with many things in our world, there are lots of stories to go around.  Most of them are valid, some not so much.  Traditions start, people move, events happen,

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-69246487787157174852011-04-03T21:23:00.000-06:002011-04-03T21:23:47.487-06:00

They arrive during the day amidst tractors feeding hay, four wheelers zooming about, and the constant hum of a farm that is preparing for the work of spring.They arrive in the cool stillness of the night, the shiny afterbirth that covers them glistens in the spotlight that checks them at 10:00, 2:00 and 6:00.  Their mothers are bred to be attentive, protective, and loving and the wet, floppy

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-29707916446479707012011-02-17T21:11:00.001-07:002011-02-18T20:02:08.268-07:00

Having grown up on the prairie, all that Danish Cowboy really knows of sledding consists of short hills and pulling a sled behind a four wheeler or a snowmobile.  Having grown up in central Pennsylvania, I know more.  A lot more.I know so much in fact, that I would consider myself an expert.  I've always wanted to be the awesomest at something and now I've figured out what that is.  I am an

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-26137516654386147872011-01-30T19:15:00.001-07:002011-01-30T19:15:55.527-07:00

The sign usually appears early in the week on community message boards throughout the county:Poker Run.  Brockway Supper Club.  1:00. p.m.  Saturday.$5 per hand.On open winters, which we haven't had  in quite some time, the poker run would involve 4-wheelers.  But when the snow has set in with drifts several feet in height, the snowmobiles come out in full force.The game goes like this:  You put

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-41589095483360492262011-01-27T22:49:00.000-07:002011-01-27T22:49:39.818-07:00

We're in the depths of hay feeding season out here on the outskirts of my little time warp town, and are those cows ever lucky that we love them.  It's been frightfully cold, snowy and windy.  When it turned 30 degrees yesterday, I was loading up some supplies at the store and felt as though I should have purchased spring gardening projects:  it felt that warm out.  Back to reality.  Have you

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-16242468639882028102010-12-29T21:03:00.000-07:002010-12-29T21:03:08.993-07:00

Vacations don't come very often around here, much less vacations that last a week or more.  We tend to find our relaxation in the wildness and loneliness that surrounds our home.  So when my folks decided to take their family on vacation to Florida, we jumped at the opportunity.  Let's just say up front, though, that I'm not very good at planning.  I'm more of a "fly by the seat of your pants"

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-19551096154761244232010-11-22T22:37:00.001-07:002010-11-22T22:38:14.293-07:00

The problem with an amazing autumn filled with beautiful evenings and more horse time than I've had the opportunity to experience in a great while is that it comes to an end.  A brutal and cold end marked by blowing snow, temperatures that struggle to rise above zero degrees for several days and the chopping of ice in the late autumn pasture used by our cows before they return home.  You don't

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-51644915343492307192010-11-09T06:43:00.000-07:002010-11-09T06:43:15.982-07:00

There comes a time in every horse's life when they get to retire. For Joe, retirement comes in the form of endless days in the pasture, some special senior feed to help him keep up his weight, and perhaps the occasional short ride to enjoy the beauty of the day. Not that he ever worked too hard to begin with, but cattle work has just become too much for him to keep up with. He is 26 and as

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-18635652967540077722010-11-04T07:07:00.000-06:002010-11-04T07:07:56.054-06:00

Last Saturday, we gathered the cows and calves from the hills.  A herd near our house and a herd approximately 15 miles to the southeast of our house were rounded up and locked in corrals for one last night together. Sunday morning arrived quickly and Danish Cowboy donned his sexy coveralls, rounded up our posse of horse trailers driven by neighbors and friends and headed off to be at the far

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-59279595982037135732010-11-03T05:43:00.043-06:002010-11-03T06:15:21.843-06:00

I don't remember very many Halloween nights when I actually went trick or treating.  I remember the feeling of excitement, the avoidance of certain scary houses, the dumping of the candy on the carpet when I got home to inventory the loot. It was a much anticipated holiday for me.I do remember one Halloween in particular when I was in high school.  The marching band had a Thursday night practice

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-90359162826954367512010-10-28T23:06:00.001-06:002010-10-29T09:55:20.167-06:00

When people come to visit us, we typically run out of notable things (from our perspective) to do in about one day.  Most people enjoy the daily ranch activities as a sort of vacation experience because it is unlike anything else that they have ever experienced.  Danish Cowboy and I, however, feel bad when we don't go to any destination locations with our company.  The probem is that if you've

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-66790097470291293232010-10-19T21:58:00.000-06:002010-10-19T21:58:11.456-06:00

When the frost has knocked the plants to a deep winter's sleep,and there is no more wheat left to reap, We leave our farm yard on foot and bike,introducing the kids to the art of a short little hike.The hay yard to the north is a favorite spot,the perfect distance for an evening jaunt. Tons of hay, tons of barley, rows of straw and homestead history, tooAnd all around us the great Big Sky of blue

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-71877457010923691672010-10-17T22:11:00.000-06:002010-10-17T22:11:17.108-06:00

I suckered him into it last weekend.  With a hankering for Bitterroot valley apples and pears, and several years' worth of missing the scene, we headed to the Missoula farmer's market last Saturday morning before the football game.  With both kids wanting to go with me, guilt was piling high on Danish Cowboy to hop in the vehicle with me and head downtown.  He isn't a farmer's market sort of

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-80435516630099674822010-10-12T22:24:00.000-06:002010-10-12T22:24:00.466-06:00

"We were raised at the intersection of great trout rivers in Missoula, Montana."~the narrative voice of Norman Maclean from A Rivers Runs Through It The last 100 miles of the trip from our house to Missoula is the most anticipated journey that I make every year.  You drive through Lewistown and on to Great Falls along Montana Highway 200, with the Judiths, the Little Belts, the Highwoods, the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-49747840519807209042010-10-05T06:22:00.000-06:002010-10-05T06:22:21.741-06:00

When the majority of people in our society invite their neighbors over to help them with a project, they offer them drinks or maybe order a pizza or two. Not us.  We choose a different route and wet down the old, dusty manure in our corrals so it doesn't get into people's noses, eyes, boots and shirts.  Also, it allows Danish Cowboy to unleash the inner fireman that is present in all men.   A

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-142055314878770392010-10-04T06:31:00.000-06:002010-10-04T06:31:39.399-06:00

 Sometimes we get Autumn.  Sometimes we don't.  Although a brief mid-September snowstorm threatened to put a damper on the fun that can be associated with fall activitities, October is shaping up to be the perfect month of Autumn that it should be. So on Saturday morning, Danish Cowboy and the other adults in the party headed out at daybreak to gather a portion of our cows out of the pasture and

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-37147417763164751142010-09-21T05:00:00.001-06:002010-09-21T05:00:03.515-06:00

Our harvest was finished three weeks ago on one of the last beautiful days of summer.  We consider ourselves lucky because the cool and rainy weather of fall  has set in early.  Way too early in some cases. The entire growing season was marked with wet weather which meant yields have been high.  It also means that the crops ripened late and there is a great deal of grain still standing in the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-86043689486589837252010-09-20T06:14:00.000-06:002010-09-20T06:14:37.644-06:00

It's September 20th, and it's officially going to be Autumn in two days.But winter has already arrived.

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-13005236735169053432010-09-01T06:50:00.002-06:002010-09-01T06:56:30.988-06:00

I've met a lot of interesting people since moving to this place in 2003.  None is quite as interesting as my friend Orville, though.A gardener known for the biggest cabbages at the fair, a sculptor, a keeper of chickens, a World War II vet, a jokester:  he is a man so satisfied with the beauty that every day life brings.  He comes in to my office every few days and we update each other on our

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-70767079717928942982010-08-26T22:00:00.000-06:002010-08-26T22:40:35.819-06:00

Traveling west from our home this past weekend, Danish Cowboy intended to make a quick check of the water situation for some of our cattle.  He was stopped a few miles from his destination, pulling over to the side of the road just before what he described as a small microburst touched down a couple of miles in front of him.  It ripped the road sign off of these posts and also laid over three

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-84735986722143479612010-08-25T23:47:00.001-06:002010-08-26T06:31:46.220-06:00

Harvest time is about cutting the crop, safely putting a hard year's worth of work in the bin.  Hail storms have been avoided and our fields somehow escaped the ravage of the grasshoppers without the expense and danger of the insecticides that make me so nervous. Harvest is also about the social aspect of life.  People and beautiful scenery are what it make it enjoyable.  Long days and late

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-89694693744286288942010-08-15T22:56:00.002-06:002011-06-07T12:04:29.172-06:00

Harvest time is upon us.  The hay has been cut and baled and the winter wheat and forage pea crops have been combined and placed in the bin. Rain showers visited us for the weekend and the combines are at a momentary rest before the spring wheat and hay barley will be ready for harvest.So, finally, I had time to deal with pictures.  And discovered a story in photographs from last week.  As the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-34086971094491450842010-05-18T22:38:00.001-06:002010-05-18T22:40:05.691-06:00

The greatest gift that my parents ever gave to me is one that I still have, that I still enjoy every day.  It is unbreakable, always in style, holds its value quite well and I can pass it on to my children while still keeping it for myself.  Music makes my world go round.  Driving to town the other day, I made a fantastic effort to ruin my kids' potential love of music by listening to the the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-13900342770108987792010-05-04T07:00:00.001-06:002010-05-04T07:01:15.497-06:00

I caught myself doing it the other day as I was finishing up yet another outdoor project.  There I was, sweeping dirt off of a landscape timber on to the yard which is always about two precipitation events from reverting back to native prairie and dust.  Yes, I was sweeping dirt in nature which was ironic considering my history. I've had a lot of jobs in my time but certainly none sticks so

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-23734232289665162722010-04-22T06:59:00.000-06:002010-04-22T06:59:41.401-06:00

Some of you are probably wondering how I named this blog.  Was I scarred by spring in central Pennsylvania when gaping potholes cropped up around town and I inevitably drove through them, badly traumatizing my car's joints and also destroying a fresh car wash if those potholes also held runoff?  Is potholes actually two words as in pot holes and it describes the current state of my cookware?  No

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-74841343625361713872010-04-22T06:22:00.000-06:002010-04-22T06:22:39.639-06:00

I kind of lost my will to blog for a a few weeks there.  It's probably been a week since I've even thought about snapping a picture.  The wind, the cold, the idea that spring might never arrive:  it just became too much for me.  And calving season brings tiredness.  Not that we are necessarily an insanely busy family during late March and early April, but the checking of the cows for impending

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-64842678881004390862010-04-06T07:42:00.005-06:002010-04-07T06:25:36.605-06:00

There's probably not a passage in the bible that says "thou shalt distribute multi-colored eggs filled with candy and goodies on the day before Easter,"but by golly, I love this tradition! My kids have been practicing for weeks and though they have now tired of Easter Egg Hunts and the pressure to perform, we'll certainly look forward to them next year.Yes, even though one got cactus stuck in her

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-2328249830593645172010-03-29T21:02:00.004-06:002010-03-29T21:40:00.916-06:00

The weekend is over and what an eventful one it was. I feel fortunate that it was also an informative one for me. Here's what I learned: Number one is that spring is here. The bunch grasses are slowly greening up around their crowns, the animals are wandering farther from their hay in search of fresh pasture. The whole prairie will soon turn from a monotonous shade of brown to a verdant green.

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-75802596909978123502010-03-17T22:39:00.005-06:002010-03-17T23:26:13.426-06:00

We lost an old friend today. I walked out the door this morning to go for a sunrise jog. Tucker Dog and I noticed at the same time a black spot laying just across the drive. With a sinking feeling, I realized that it was a cat and turned back inside to let Danish Cowboy know that it was his duty to deal with it. We both went back and decided that yes, it was a cat, and yes, it was no longer of

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-10290259802400551482010-03-16T07:00:00.002-06:002010-03-16T09:04:43.265-06:00

I'm not the only one around here who's bored. The dogs are relentless when it comes to chasing this little, evil cat. It's hard to feel sorry for him, though. He's relentless in teasing them. Spring? Hello? Are you out there? Our sanity is slowly ebbing away...

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-17575052502994132572010-03-15T06:14:00.006-06:002010-03-15T06:48:46.277-06:00

Beware, patrons of Prairie Potholes: this post contains bad science and pictures of a cow's (actually two cows) nether regions. Please stop reading if reality frightens you.Danish Cowboy assured me that by March 13th there would be baby calves everywhere, or at least they would be starting to arrive on a regular basis. Well, they aren't. We have three. So this weekend, when I was able to go on

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-27863402885719096012010-03-10T06:50:00.004-07:002010-03-12T12:32:00.925-07:00

Did I ever tell you the one about how I got here? I mean how I actually ARRIVED here in a physical sense? Danish Cowboy and I crossed paths in Missoula on a perfect December evening. Come January, he had convinced me to make the trek from the peaks to the prairies to get a glimpse of his lifestyle. I obliged. After all, he owned a horse. How bad could he be? As I sat in my Missoula

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-28172434898398048142010-03-08T06:49:00.003-07:002010-03-08T11:20:40.621-07:00

Even though the winters are generally long and uneventful around here, we still have a tough time breaking away for the weekend. I mean, who really wants to leave the cold, the ice, the frozen cow pies, the endless trips to the hay yard and back? Me. That's who. After Danish Cowboy finishes refereeing basketball tournaments, we generally have one weekend before calving starts that we can escape.

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-41062200783712956702010-02-22T06:47:00.006-07:002010-02-23T21:26:46.966-07:00

Perhaps I've been locked inside for just a few northern nights too long, but the wildlife is starting to weird me out. I don't mind the great horned owl hooting in the early evening as his silhouette is clearly outlined in the treetops and I don't mind the lonely coyote howls echoing across the prairie. What I do mind, however, are those pesky rabbits: the white-tailed jackrabbits, to be more

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-76011566114435453052010-02-11T21:54:00.003-07:002010-02-12T06:46:21.336-07:00

If ranching were an actual major in college, the Fencing aspect of it would be a required minor. The course catalog description would read something along the lines of: must have fantastic upper body strength, must have updated tetanus shot, leather gloves required, laboratory time is dependent on cattle activity (be prepared for professor to call you at all times of day or night if fence needs

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-88107434753509267192010-02-03T19:12:00.000-07:002010-02-03T22:25:08.818-07:00

The thing about living in the country is this: you can buy a case of Bud Light or you can buy a case of Busch Light or you can spend $27.98 and buy a six-pack of a microbrew that really isn't a microbrew anymore because corporate greed took over. The beverage choices around these parts are less than glamorous. Now don't start thinking evil things about me: I'm not exactly prone to drinking on a

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-58193645002354238602010-02-01T19:34:00.003-07:002010-02-01T21:04:49.625-07:00

The moon was scheduled to be at its brightest moment of the year this past Friday evening and it did not disappoint. I arrived home just as the sun was setting over the snow covered prairie and quickly donned gloves and a coat for some photographic opportunities of said lunar object. Rather than starting with the northeast sky where the moon was rising, I was drawn to the sun setting quickly on

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-64458977908878548442010-01-31T18:45:00.003-07:002010-01-31T20:49:00.476-07:00

I'm starting to notice that a lot of the introductory pictures on this blog feature cows. Cows eating hay, cows with babies, baby cows, cow poop, cows with ice balls hanging off of them. Great balls of fire, where has my life taken me? How did I get here? Anyway, we had some weather recently.Most of the time, the severe storm warnings (be they of the snow type or the hail type) don't come true.

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-78447182225758451872010-01-30T16:04:00.000-07:002010-01-30T16:55:25.786-07:00

On a recent day just before the Blizzard of 2010 and the ensuing Great Freeze threatened to trap us in our home, I embarked on a snowshoeing journey. It wasn't so much a journey, not really an epic expedition, but more like a 0.5 mile walk up to the rockhills overlooking the ranch headquarters. On a clear day, it stands out boldly.On a day just before a blizzard, when the winds are high and the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-21778915785151879872010-01-30T07:30:00.000-07:002010-01-30T17:29:22.779-07:00

His hair an auburn red, I bury my face and hands in His straw colored mane for warmth,He stands quietly, just being.His perfection in my eyes is massive, just like his stature.I look to the side to discover perfection of a different form,Snowflakes.Quietly and delicately latching on to his auburn side,Surviving the warmth which he exudes. The gentleness and beauty of the moment is not lost on

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-44297385260230205152010-01-25T16:07:00.003-07:002010-01-25T17:50:31.473-07:00

Cows are creatures of habit, their lives centering around food and babies. It's an interesting observation because my life isn't much different.

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-35796834587426864262010-01-25T07:48:00.003-07:002010-01-25T08:13:04.886-07:00

I'm fairly confident that unless you live in eastern Montana, you didn't hear about our recent weather. It may have snowed 2-4 inches in New York City or rained a bit in California, but our part of the United States is a big black hole to most weathermen. Even the TV meteorologists from Billings tend to stand directly in front of the spot where our house is on the map. Our official tally

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-84904971207940348042010-01-19T06:56:00.003-07:002010-01-19T07:12:15.693-07:00

In yet another bold and surprising move, Danish Cowboy purchased another homebrewing gift certificate for me this year. I love this man! You're probably wondering how that chianti from last winter turned out, aren't you? Not very well. It had promise, it really did. While I've tried to open a bottle every so often and enjoy it, that finally became impossible this weekend. This wine has a

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-58820025952513619832010-01-12T08:30:00.005-07:002010-01-13T06:43:57.755-07:00

When you have cabin fever, your sense of humor becomes warped. You find yourself laughing hysterically at your children when they are so bundled up that they can't see anything and they have shuffled themselves into a very deep snow drift. You tell yourself that they look like an image from South Park and giggle some more and take some pictures before your rescue them.And then your husband

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-46482274535683381642009-12-31T06:35:00.007-07:002009-12-31T07:52:17.917-07:00

Christmas is over, the goose got fat, did YOU put a penny in the old man's hat?Oh, the fun we had this month! The excitement of putting up a Christmas tree and marveling at the decorations, the Christmas cookie making, the exclamations of "Christmas!" whenever Little L saw something remotely beautiful in shades of red or green. Not to mention the special times spent with family and friends

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-51913827416889252182009-12-29T20:01:00.008-07:002009-12-30T06:19:09.056-07:00

DANCING People are curious about why I write this blog. And I fear that the pressure I placed on myself to post consecutively, 12 days in a row, has led me away from the reason that I started writing it a year and a half ago. It may have even offended some. This was not my intent. To be cliche, this is a happy place. If you want to contact me to start a dialogue on something I have said or if

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-83597882091374795362009-12-28T07:15:00.007-07:002009-12-29T10:00:01.811-07:00

Though difficult to imagine, the past few days have been hectic ones. After blizzard warnings and endless days of sub-zero temperatures and gift giving and gatherings with the in-laws and personal hopes of posting 12 days in a row being shattered, I'm glad Christmas is over. But wait! Is it?I managed to get myself stuck on Christmas Eve morning in a deep and hard drift outside of our home. I

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-17302544556598682782009-12-22T21:36:00.006-07:002009-12-23T09:58:44.896-07:00

Don't let them fool you, not even for a minute. The holiday season with toddlers is insanity at its finest. I turned them loose in the living room, unsupervised, and guess what? There were tree ornaments strewn about the place. The wrapped presents had become trampolines to my boy and my little girl, bless her heart, was organizing the ones that weren't being jumped on.So I brought them into the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-79300478963814635512009-12-22T05:46:00.003-07:002009-12-29T10:07:34.387-07:00

Winter solstice is, scientifically, the time of the year when the axial tilt of the earth is at its greatest, causing one of the northern or southern hemispheres to be at its farthest point from the sun during the 365 day calendar year. In a traditional sense, it is a time of celebration and the marking of a New Year, perhaps the last celebration before a community would enter the sparse months

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-83398386331099230542009-12-21T05:32:00.005-07:002009-12-21T06:50:48.595-07:00

We awoke to a heavy fog in our little valley yesterday. Bitter cold is soon to be returning and the cows are back in the routine of being well fed with several bales of hay each day."What a perfect morning to do a little cleaning, listen to A Prairie Home Companion and enjoy a hot cup of tea while Danish Cowboy takes the kids feeding with him," I thought naively to myself. (Above: Do you see them

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-33031932798647409412009-12-20T13:51:00.004-07:002009-12-20T14:16:13.817-07:00

I'm having a bit of an identity crisis.I used to consider myself somewhat normal, somewhat modern, somewhat middle class, whatever that might be. In the past few years, however, I've noticed that my activities tend to be more rural in nature. For example, we lack hills around here so we share the thrill of sledding with our children by pulling them in a calf sled behind a four wheeler. As we

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-64046391470034575802009-12-19T13:57:00.006-07:002009-12-19T14:38:19.906-07:00

This cat is the reincarnation of someone I once unknowingly made fun of. What goes around comes around, right? Well, this cat is the come around part. I don't really care for the feline species in general, although I am partial to momma cat, who gave birth this past spring to the single orange kitten shown above, and in so doing created a daily battle of wills about who is allowed in the house

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-63896009591279587632009-12-17T21:37:00.003-07:002009-12-18T06:44:32.894-07:00

The weather has finally improved to the point of being tolerable so I wandered town during my lunch hour, trying to capture a few oddities that make our town so unique. I marveled at this field corn that had no doubt survived many stops and starts balanced precariously on the edge of the combine intake as it traveled down the highway on the back of a semi. It is a feast-in-the-making for a lucky

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-18809285246232157632009-12-16T20:57:00.002-07:002009-12-16T21:06:33.952-07:00

My tree is simple and sparse, an artificial one purchased the year my children were born. The ornaments are all well-loved, every single one given to our family over the years. Each has a special memory and I cherish the simplicity of the decorations and the soft lights reflecting across our living space. But,wouldn't it be AWESOMEif my tree really looked like THIS? And I recently purchased a

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-1330662885305062572009-12-15T21:23:00.006-07:002009-12-15T22:14:51.228-07:00

I have a problem with food. Here's the thing: my family used to think highly of my cooking. They would ooh and aah over my creations. They would turn to me to bake something yummy. And then something happened about 10 years ago to change all of that. This dude appeared and married my sister. Just look at him with his homemade pizza dough with red onions and fennel and sweet potatoes and

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-56951376269518226772009-12-14T21:26:00.003-07:002009-12-14T22:02:21.639-07:00

When I look back at our relationship, I see that Danish Cowboy and I have a foundation in rodeos in both a literal and figurative sense: i.e. us watching people do insane things in the name of tradition and us getting great amusement out of it all. Take our first date for example. He traveled to Missoula and took me out for a nice dinner. We ended up at Red's playing pool and watching the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-29059261059334016802009-12-01T06:58:00.003-07:002009-12-01T22:02:45.518-07:00

The cows are home. And so marks the end of exciting events to document in the blog. I mean really: how many winters in a row can you show people pictures of cows devouring hay and expect them to keep tuning in? Probably not more than one.Danish Cowboy gives them an occasional bale of hay every other day or so because he is a bleeding heart when it comes to animals. It's been 50 degrees and there

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-26923272223526333052009-11-24T21:01:00.005-07:002009-11-24T22:03:39.015-07:00

I've gotten myself into quite a pickle over my last little blog post. And I'm not talking about my covert trip to a central Pennsylvania restaurant or my analysis of our hospital stay. No, I'm talking about the use of the scientific method to analyze my Autumn 2009 college homecoming tour. I just can't bring myself to do it. There were good intentions, you can be sure of that. I can recall (

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-50453883438902199232009-11-23T12:24:00.005-07:002009-11-25T05:49:14.091-07:00

I bet you thought I forgot about this little blog. No updates, no pictures, no clever ideas. The truth is, I forgot my password.And the dog ate my camera.And I was whisked away on a romantic vacation to Baja by Danish Cowboy.Actually, life happened.Here's how it all went down: November started off with a trip to Pennsylvania with me flying solo with the kids. I PROMISED Danish Cowboy I wouldn't

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-65773400259007731022009-11-03T06:39:00.001-07:002009-11-03T05:51:38.194-07:00

Editor's Note: We escorted two HORSEYS around our little town on Saturday evening. We did not, no matter what the pictures show, take a unicorn and a bear in and out of their car seats countless times. Unlike some places that I know of that allow for trick-or-treating on nights that are distinctly not Halloween, we wander the town on October 31, goblins or not.I am not a make-up artist. But I

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-74325041304557862802009-11-02T06:30:00.003-07:002009-11-03T05:34:10.063-07:00

Now that the calves have been weaned off of their mothers, the herd that has been hanging around our house needed to be moved to a fall pasture for a few weeks. It's a quick and generally painless process. They start bunched up tightly around the cake pick-up.Much to the delight of my daughter, the cows are feeling good: bucking and playing and hitting the pick-up and stealing cake out of the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-5998657542124316542009-10-30T21:38:00.005-06:002009-11-03T05:31:52.677-07:00

Poor picture quality, hokey editing, not very exciting material: what's not to love? Don't watch it full screen as the quality is even worse. I promise to stick to pictures mostly, but this was great fun. Turn the volume up!

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-1578252087300142172009-10-27T06:48:00.007-06:002009-10-28T12:35:33.430-06:00

Autumn is finally here. The horses have been moved to a winter pasture, making the barn and corrals at our house seem empty.My dismal failure of a garden has been cleaned up and I am already anxious to receive my Fedco seed catalog in early January. Try, try again! There is no other way! The hay has been hauled and the wagons, which will hold a chopped version of that hay, have been anally and

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-32818651256094577102009-10-27T06:36:00.007-06:002009-10-27T13:29:22.974-06:00

Based on my synopsis of Missoula '09 thus far, you might think that I traveled west for football and interesting scenery and micro-brews. Not so.Actually, I traveled west to further my education. See, I had spent two years in Washington, D.C. working for a large law firm. I was exploring my interests, trying to decide whether or not I wanted to be a lawyer. As it turns out, I did not want to be a

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-18935910150673551422009-10-16T06:51:00.006-06:002009-10-19T22:23:26.942-06:00

One good reason to move to Missoula is the presence of lovely little micro-breweries. I never once while living there went to Big Sky Brewing on a Friday evening to have a growler filled up with Moose Drool brown ale for $5.00, but I know people who did. And so it's nice to come back and visit for one of these marvelous creations, fondly called "motor oil" by Danish Cowboy.Another fine reason to

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-70863744515978826742009-10-15T06:41:00.005-06:002009-10-15T12:22:30.590-06:00

The idea of home, the definition of home, is not a concrete one for me. I've had a few different ones in my life -- south-central Pennslvania; Susquehanna University for college; Alexandria, Virginia; Missoula, Montana; and now the prairies of eastern Montana -- and the special thing about these places is that I still consider each and every one home. There are memories and traits unique to each

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-27642488441528604492009-10-13T21:03:00.008-06:002009-10-14T11:34:45.797-06:00

Driving across Montana is always an adventure. And when you haven't completed the trek from the prairies to the mountains in over four years, you get pretty excited about this sort of trip. You start out with making a left hand turn off of our gravel road and roaming across some of the most desolate land in the lower 48. Driving across Montana on a state highway becomes like a who's who of local

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-70719925356622186042009-10-07T22:19:00.011-06:002009-10-08T09:49:12.926-06:00

The crops are stored in the bins, the hay is hauled, the winter wheat is planted, the equipment and tractors used so heavily during the warmer months are cleaned and tucked safely away in the shed. Which means that it should be vacation season, only it's not.Remember those cows? Those cute little calves that were born this spring? Well they are no longer cute and will be off to new "homes" in a

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-74214879166814119372009-09-28T06:23:00.003-06:002009-09-28T06:50:26.915-06:00

Small town football in the heart of America: a Friday evening in late September simply can't be improved upon. Now I grew up in Class A (or maybe AA or maybe even AAA -- I really have no idea) football country on the right hand side of the country. It was a whole different world. The last time I attended a home town football game was 15 years ago, but I vividly remember the large bleachers

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-69043607496717473072009-09-21T06:43:00.004-06:002009-10-07T10:45:20.319-06:00

One dirty kids' table, encrusted with birthday Play-doh,a fantastic easel and two poor little kids who have to provide their own chairs,juice boxes,and last but not least finger paint all make for a fine morning of early autumn fun. A little bit of Prairie Home Companion playing in the background and the whole crowd was ready to settle down for some finger painting action!In case you have never

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-47211375163599154452009-09-08T21:44:00.008-06:002009-10-07T10:44:39.105-06:00

While our little family did not make it to Yellowstone this year, we did manage to escape for a quick two-day vacation to the big city and this is what I now know:*Rest stops exist for a reason. I can no longer, much to the chagrin of my obsessive-compulsive side, calculate how soon I will get somewhere if I manage to drive at a certain speed for a certain period of time. I can also no longer

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-85675643365594850982009-08-30T22:06:00.003-06:002009-10-07T10:47:04.197-06:00

I love taking pictures of my kids. I will sit there and snap away whilst they play. And when they turn and pose it makes it all worth it. The smiles captivate me, the goofball nose crunches make me giggle. So innocent, so sweet! But wait, there's more. Turns out he was laughing at me. The thief had stolen my tomatoes. Green, and too little to be fried (the tomatoes that is, not the kid). Dirty

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-35431167462216386202009-08-28T21:36:00.005-06:002009-10-07T10:47:19.973-06:00

So there I was (my favorite story intro EVER), cleaning out the bizarre world that is known as the underside of my porch where all things landscaping related are thrown throughout the year. Summer lasts for a fleeting moment around here (three days, approximately) and it was time for autumn clean-up. I was wondering what I should blog about this time around. The utter failure of a garden that

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-34537080062363874802009-08-24T21:53:00.011-06:002009-10-07T10:50:10.812-06:00

I like to write and while I've found that this is the best way to express myself clearly and boldly, sometimes others have said it best. Fair season is almost over and once again we are overcome with what our youth have the capability to do: "The state fair, at heart, is an agricultural expo, and farming isn't about getting rich, and farmers discuss annual income less than they practice nude

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-9890138706312115622009-08-17T21:27:00.006-06:002009-10-07T10:48:51.805-06:00

It's been awfully cold and rainy around here, a weather trait not very conducive to harvesting wheat. With a high in the sixties on both Saturday and Sunday and the calendar still telling us that it was August, Danish Cowboy and I began to experience a mild case of cabin fever. So we hopped on two four-wheelers, Tucker Dog included, and rode off into the sunset. Actually we just rode about a

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-51758050115741521372009-08-13T06:43:00.007-06:002009-10-07T10:49:21.285-06:00

Starting in late May or early June, the Great Plains region comes alive with the sight and sound of combines cutting and threshing wheat. Entire fleets of combines, known as "custom cutters," start in Texas and work their way north through Oklahoma, Nebraska, Kansas, Wyoming, the Dakotas and eventually Montana following summer northward and so with it the fully ripened crops. Many farmers no

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-88544146328061119442009-07-28T21:48:00.004-06:002009-10-07T10:49:39.893-06:00

I strongly dislike bugs. Just watching children play with them, even if the bugs are dead, can send a chill down my spine. But when I spotted these marvelous critters flitting about the yard, I fell in love (from a distance, of course).My camera, however, did not fall immediately in love. At first it managed to get nothing in focus. Then we discovered the macro setting and look! Just look at the

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-48492154073408351042009-07-21T22:08:00.006-06:002010-02-24T12:26:13.978-07:00

When it's Tuesday and the charcoal at the local True Value is on sale, that can mean one thing and one thing only: it is time to dig the old school grill out of storage in the barn and hose off the cobwebs and other unsavory items (the heat kills everything the hose misses, don't worry)! Tuesday steak and s'mores night! Tuesday steak and s'mores night! Tuesday steak and s'mores night! This

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-66141598306752252172009-07-19T21:40:00.007-06:002010-02-24T12:26:30.103-07:00

It all starts happening on Friday evening. Months of preparations result in the roughstock showing up at the rodeo grounds, ready to put on a great display of bucking at Saturday's rodeo.Volunteers arrive to prepare the rodeo grounds, ensuring that the arena has a soft enough footing (but not too muddy). The food and beverage stands are stocked with the necessary provisions, the public

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-64103994994642329632009-07-02T22:09:00.005-06:002010-02-24T12:26:47.873-07:00

Did you know that the 90 degree angle was a relatively new introduction to the world of home construction? I only recently learned of its value as I went through most of western Montana's old growth forest in order to properly cut baseboard trim for one room and in so doing discovered that the walls are not at 90 degrees. Or even at 89 degrees.It's true. There is no way that people knew about

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-75090860354920298982009-07-01T22:31:00.005-06:002010-02-24T12:27:05.162-07:00

I love me some stay-cation time! My garden beds are all now officially weed free. The 9 month old holes in the walls are patched, the bedroom trim is cut, the swingset and stairs are stained, and the house is in total chaos.I have mowed the lawn, installed all of the necessary micro-irrigation systems, taken a long nap every afternoon and squeezed every bit of relaxation out of this wonderful

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-47479050203222020542009-06-30T22:22:00.003-06:002010-02-24T12:27:22.120-07:00

As I was driving cross-country yesterday to pick Danish Cowboy up from his swathing duties, I came across an opportunity to mount my soapbox again. I haven't done this for a while, so bear with me. Eastern Montana is ranching and farming country. So what that means is that you will see native rangeland which has never been plowed where cattle typically graze, interspersed with cropland

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-55301913691282306732009-06-30T06:45:00.005-06:002010-02-24T12:27:41.019-07:00

Hay season is in full swing around here now. Haying at the Home Place below the rock hills. Haying at Hesselgessser's way down south. Every piece of land has a name, usually based on who it was purchased from or the person that homesteaded it but who is now long gone. Mike's, the Pardis Place, the Yarger Place, and the railroad section are all names that I have come to recognize. These

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-36049483265924675112009-06-28T23:02:00.005-06:002010-02-24T12:29:23.137-07:00

Most people take long Sunday afternoon drives around the country and end up at a lovely little country ice cream parlor (Does anyone remember Davis's in M-burg, PA? Mmmm...root beer floats.) We don't. Danish Cowboy usually quits working around 6:00 on Sundays in the summer and we hop in the pick-up and take a quick little spin around the farm to see what we can see and talk about how good our

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-71280466438986382402009-06-23T22:46:00.005-06:002010-02-24T12:29:44.944-07:00

Way back in March I told you that "hands down, calving season is my favorite time of year," or something to that effect. Yeah, well, I lied. I do not tell untruths very often so I am sorry if I have offended you, but after this cold calving season and wickedly icy spring, I am tired of the cows. I'll fall in love all over again next March for a few weeks, but I am a fickle soul and will again

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-69001503846934408542009-06-16T06:25:00.008-06:002010-02-24T12:30:16.752-07:00

Ah, Brockway! It is a town so similar to the many other frontier communities of the Great Plains, yet not without its own wonderful peculiarities. Brockway used to be a thriving little town, but now the actual townsite boasts only about 15 residents and many abandoned homes. A reference to Brockway now indicates the larger community throughout the southwest corner of the county. Surely you must

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-81468296116577047562009-06-12T06:17:00.006-06:002010-02-24T12:30:35.022-07:00

It was just like the good old days around here last week. In an effort to commememorate the wagon trains of the frontier days, folks from around eastern Montana gathered in Brockway and other locales on Sunday morning, prepared to traverse the countryside in old-timey wagons and converge on Miles City for a Saturday parade recognizing the Montana Stockgrower's Association. But it just was not

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-62120531138525130822009-06-09T21:48:00.004-06:002010-02-24T12:31:15.346-07:00

Normal people go to the supermarket or gas station and pick up free issues of real estate advertisements to review and gawk at the ridiculously priced houses. Not us, though. Instead, I get a call at work from Danish Cowboy every so often reminding me to pick up the latest issue of "Tractor House" from the Farmer's Union. It is published weekly. Really, it is. I get this call because Little C

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140674691823042306.post-70346095530089258452009-06-02T21:55:00.005-06:002010-02-24T12:32:47.201-07:00

Oh, Dearest Emily,We do this every year, you and I. All fall and winter you rave about the insanity of annual plants, about the waste that they cause on the earth. The endless watering to create a few short months of blooms, the expense of planting them only to watch them fade during day after day of 100 degree heat. And I remind you that they are akin to throwing money in the air. Unlike

Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12421158864034331045noreply@blogger.com0