Half the Town

So last night I took the "big kids" out riding.  We have Miss Jade staying with us, who is sixteen and Payson came too.  Jade was needing a riding lesson on the art of posting.  Especially since my good ol' Rhett has always had a trot that will jar your teeth! Payson and little Black Gold pretty much wandered around, half out of control in the large paddock where I gave the lesson.

The contrast was humorous.  Jade on the lunge line, steadily concentrating and studying the rhythm of strides.  Working to rise and sit with precision.  Payson on a little black fuzz ball, zig zagging, stopping, backing up randomly and heading over to belly high grass to munch whenever possible. That pony is the most tolerant little guy I've ever seen. Most of the ponies I know would've rubbed off that kid who kicks and jerks and refuses to "only pull one rein when you want to turn!"

We finished at sunset on a perfect evening.  When we pulled up the street in front of our house there was an old Ford truck parked right in the middle of the road.  The neighbors and some friends were standing in the street telling stories and having a beer.  I had no choice but to almost run them over to get past and into my drive way.   I heard, "Hey watch my toes!" through my open window.  But they weren't worried enough to move even an inch out of the way.

"Geez Stubby," I said, "do ya think you own the whole road!?" Stubby is an old guy with a stub where one finger should be and a beard that makes him look like a cross between Grizzly Adams and Charles Manson.  The first time I saw him I admit I was leery.  But then you realize he's really a good ol' throwback of a guy. "Well," he said, "I do own half the town!" 

"Yeah, but I own the other half! " I quipped.  Stubby looked around at my house and beyond to the street where my little yellow house and the trailer house are.  Then he and the neighbors all laughed uproariously. In this town is sure doesn't take a lot to own, "half the town."

Jade was laughing into the driveway and said, "I love this place! It's like you guys are all family". 

"Yes", I told her, "it is just like that"....

Storms

In the middle of last night we had a thunderstorm.  It eerily arrived at 2:00 a.m. as though to catch us off guard after a nearly perfect, calm evening.  The loud thunder and rain on the roof woke me kept me from sleep for quite a while.  It was an odd feeling I had.  I was anxious because we've had several tornadoes in the area this summer.  Yet I was grateful at the same time.

I had driven home from yet another trip to North Dakota last night.  On the northern horizon was evidence of a huge fire.  A line of smoke stretched as far as I could see.  I said a silent prayer as I drove through the haze.  This is harvest time here in North Central Montana.  This one month provides the one paycheck the farmers get for the entire year.  A prairie fire is a nightmare.  Miles and miles of wheat on other crops stretch up into Canada.  This is part of our country is feeding the world and I'm grateful for it. In the middle of the night I was hoping the rain on my roof was helping put out the fire. 


This morning I was able to sneak away for a long walk down a gravel road.  The strong wind from the west was actually chilly!  But the skies were clear and free from smoke.  The prairie smells almost spicy after a rain.  Rich aromas that you wouldn't be able to imagine unless you've been here.

The dry prairie and I both needed last nights storm....