We are back home, or the home for now place. Thirty-six degree mornings and 77 degree afternoons, which translates into gloves in the morning and shorts by afternoon. I must admit after 11 weeks away, it was so nice to crawl into my own bed and look out my living room window at the lovely East Ridge mountains.
Lucy and I enlisted the help of family to ferry us and all the stuff I thought was so important to lug along. My sister kindly assisted me for the Asheville to Minneapolis leg and my father and mother squished in to drive from Minneapolis to Butte (same distance for each leg incidentally). My poor mom became a human wedge when we used her body to prop bags and boxes so they would not fly into the front or out the side. You could not see her when looking in the car, just the boxes and bags that covered her.

Our first goal was to make it to Glendive to meet up with Keith. Minneapolis to Glendive is about 11 hours. We reached Glendive on Friday afternoon after a stop at the North Dakota badlands Painted Canyon and Theodore Roosevelt National Grasslands: a vast brown, rust, and sage vista after miles of ND farmland.

In Glendive, we got to work immediately. Keith’s rancher friend invited us out to move 80 cattle across a grassy stretch and road down to a little creek (pronounced “crick”). Rancher Tim, his wife Amy, Keith and I loaded up at 5:45 Saturday morning. Tim had risen even earlier to saddle the horses and load them into the horse trailer. The early hours and massive amount of work required to run a ranch rubs a little reality into the idealistic vision of cattle ranching. This is hard work.

After unloading the horses, Rancher Tim told me to hop on Stormy, a large, white-gray horse. While standing on the ground the stirrups for Stormy were at my eye level. I, for a moment, envisioned if it were at all possible to do the splits while standing. While I was envisioning the impossible, I felt myself lifted like a bag of feed and the next thing I knew, Stormy and I were ready to ride. Rancher Tim wasn’t messing around.

Dear, dear Stormy. We crossed the grass, shouted at the perpetually pooping and wandering cows, rode round to set meandering cattle in the right direction…dear, dear Stormy. I don’t know how to ride, I don’t know how to turn this way or that. Wise Stormy did his job despite the flea on his back. The sky was blue and huge and despite the pain in my knees, life seemed pretty perfect. We brought the cattle down across the road and into the second pasture. Only a mile or so left, but with the cattle a mile can last over an hour. There is no rushing a herd of cattle. I went back to get a few wanderers and as we pushed forward, Stormy lurched to the left while a huge rattlesnake darted to the right. I shouted “Rattlesnake” to Rancher Tim (envision this) who galloped across the pasture, leapt off his horse, ran toward the snake and whipped the knot of his lariat repeatedly on the rattlesnake’s head and then stomped on the snake with a gusto. Rancher Tim then bent down and ripped the rattle off the now very dead snake. Eight rattles in all.

Wow, all in a morning’s work. Cattle moved, snake killed, knees sore beyond imagining. I keep being reminded that Keith and I are creating some pretty awesome memories. I just read that the best money spent is spent on experiences rather than things. I would add that you don’t have to spend money to create a memorable experience.

So now we are home. Keith is back in classes and we are settling in to life in Butte once again. Montana still has so much for us to explore before we leave here. Last week we visited Bannack State Park, a ghost town that once had at least a couple thousand citizens and now only has 50 buildings, sans citizens. A former mining town gone bust. I guess there are many of those sorts of town around here. In addition, we still haven’t visited Yellowstone or Glacier and that is on our list of things to explore. In the meantime, there is a Master’s degree to get and work to be done. We are feeling welcomed home.

Bannack State Park, school house.