Monthly Archives: July 2015


We all have secrets. Want to here one of mine?

I don’t believe in tattoos. I’m horrified by the permanence of them and having read the Rise and Fall of the Third Reich when I was about thirteen and how they discovered lampshades made by the Natzis out of human tattooed skin I determined never to get one. That part is no secret (ask my kids).

That being said, I am fascinated by those tatoo shows on TV and I’ve always drawn on my skin with pen (but pen washes off, right).

So I talked my cowboy into letting me draw on him, over the scar he got on his arm when he was up north. It’s big and he hates it.

I thought I could make it cute. What do you think?



Last two weeks I’ve spent way too much time in town and it’s no fun at all. 👎

Swift Fox

Saw our first one this week. He was too fast to get his picture but here’s a link click here telling all about them in Alberta. They sure aren’t very big, comparable to a large house cat, I’d say.

Our Anniversary

We celebrated with dinner and a movie.

IMG_8462.JPGbest anniversary ever.

Fencing Weather

Finally finished the last of the fence checking/fixing for this year. Thought maybe we’d get rained on but it stayed south of the Milk River in Montana.


Blue and I found this shed. I was amazed at how heavy it was considering part of it was busted off. Then it occurred to me that this was at least a six point white tail shed. The busted off part must have had two tines and you can see five, even broken. Guess there’s a reason it was heavy.


Some of the country is wild and rough like I’ve said before but I like it.


And I love the big sky and the clouds and always being able to see the weather coming at you, not just when we’re fencing.



I like Mondays, it always feels like a brand new week, a clean white page on which to write a new story. Such a hopeful day, Monday.

Everything started out so sweet. We had bulls to gather and we did, 3 gentlemen. Really nice bulls in a good herd with the fattest calves here. The calves are so fat their bellies remind me of a bowl full of jello when they run and buck and play.

But then there was the black purebreds, the headache herd.
So this lovely Monday afternoon we were down by the flowing well trying to fix some fence this herd had gotten through in a low spot and what do we find. Supposedly all the heifers and cows were bred but two bulls found their way into the bunch I’m guessing because they weren’t all bred.

Of all the days, when we get back to the yard who is here unannounced, again? the very owners of this herd. So now we have explaining to do, fence to fix, then bulls to round up and my cowboy’s crabby and I’m feeling a little beat up.

And it started out such a nice Monday.




Windmills I have always wondered about them since I tried reading Don Quiote at the age of 12 (I know, it was a little too ambition for my age but I’ve always had delusions of grandeur, I thought I would read all the classics in my lifetime and knew I needed to start early).

Well, anyway, I didn’t have to fight this one; it was already partially disassembled (there is power to this well now). But I did climb it.

Not very often I’ve ever seen one in this good of shape. It’s not very tall and there wasn’t too much to see but a cow coming for a drink, looking at me, thinking: “what in the world is going on?”

IMG_8340.JPGand a cute cowboy wondering the same.


His Hand

I heard an interesting idea today about someone who never went to sleep without writing in his journal about that day and, even more interesting, he always tried to write about how he saw God’s hand in his life.

When you live close to nature, like most real cowboys do, it’s easy to see His hand everywhere, like today for instance.

It rained today where we work. It was cooler and there were puddles and actually mud when we came back this (Sunday) evening. I could tell before we had arrived because the grass I thought (and I know this is going to sound really strange) but I thought it looked thankful. It has been so dry and hot and although not greened up it did look different.

I told my cowboy I was sure everything was glad for the break from the heat. It’s been in the high 90’s. Way too hot for me to enjoy and I can only imagine what it must be like for a black cow in a country so sparse on shade trees.

Anyway, I saw the rain as a kindness sent from the Creator to the creations of his own hands, creations he loves: me and the grass and black cows. We’re all thankful for His hand this day.

Brisket Tags

They seemed like a good idea to me when I first heard it, thinking they would save cows ears. The ear tags get caught and pulled out pretty often which tears the ear.

But note that this tag (once put into the brisket on a cow) we found by a tank still in tact, meaning it tore the flesh in the cows brisket when it pulled out. much harder to do and a much bigger injury.

Maybe not such a good invention.

The Willow Gate


There is one of the few trees on the whole place and it is right by a gate. I told my cowboy: “I like this tree. ” He said it was a willow (something I hadn’t noticed).

I’m not sure why but I’ve always liked Willows; they feel so sheltering, motherly in fact.