Going Back in Time

I don't know why I was so drawn to this picture when I discovered it the other day. It is actually a picture of some of my Dad's family, not my own family growing up, but the scene is much the same as I remember as a child with the exception that at our ranch we would have had the younger kids sitting on the top rails or peeking through the lower rails of the corral watching the proceedings of the annual branding of the cattle from a safe distance.

The guys would go out on horseback and bring in the herd and drive them into a corral. Dad and the boys brought out half a 55-gallon barrel that they had cut for this purpose and built a fire in it to heat the branding irons. They had a couple of irons so that one could be getting hot while they were using the other one.

The calves would be cut out of the herd one at a time. The picture is self explanatory. The calf didn't have much chance to get away if the men were doing their job. Someone would hold the front legs while planting a knee in the calve's neck. Another would sit on the horse and keep the rope taut between the saddle horn and the calf's hind legs. When the calf was set, a runner would bring the first red hot brand over and hand it off to the man designated to brand the calf.

Looking at the picture, stirs the senses. Can you smell the pungent barnyard dust, the smoke from the fire and the distinct aroma of singed hair as the brand seared the flesh and forever marked that calf with the "2 Lazy Y" that claimed it ours? If you listen carefully you can hear the stirring of the cattle in the adjoining corral suddenly drowned out by the bawl of the calf now overpowered by the cowboys--now freed to hobble off to join the others. I wonder if animal rights activists still permit branding of cattle in such a manner. It does seem cruel when I think about it, but then it was just an accepted part of life for cattlemen.


I sometimes had the very important job of recording the proceedings. As they branded each calf they would call out "heifer" or "steer" and I would make a tally mark in the book so that Dad would know how many calves were born that spring. Each tally mark represented cash that could help pay down the grocery bill at the local market or help make the land payment or pay next year's taxes.

Yes, the tax assessor came out to the ranch every year and sat down with Dad and he made an accounting of all of his livestock to determine his taxes for that year. I can see Dad now mulling over his profits that never seemed to stretch quite as far as he wished. But he was a good provider. We didn't have a lot of extras, but we didn't go to bed hungry. If I missed a meal, it was my own choice because I was tired of one more supper of bread and milk. Funny thing---once in a while I will break some homemade bread into a bowl and pour milk over it and sit down and ENJOY it and fondly remember my childhood.

A Legacy of Work

As I have been reviewing photos from my family from past years, I was struck with what a hard working family I had. When I have had the time to put their story together in picture form, I will share some of that rich inheritance with you. I also thought about my husband and children. Our children have a great legacy of work as an outgrowth of past family experiences. I see it in each one of you. Others have seen it as well. I have been told often what a valuable asset, your wonderful work ethic, you have all displayed, and that is due in large measure to your opportunities to work with your father.

I don't think we ever drove a car that worked when we brought it home. Well, there may have been one or two that just needed an oil change or a simple fix but Verlin knew what they needed to get them running. When he did end up with a nice looking, nice running vehicle, he always sold them! "Maybe we can keep the next one" he would say.

I must admit that over the years I complained A LOT and reminded Verlin that we probably could have been driving a new car if we had used all the money he put into broken cars and parts plus his labor (and yours) to fix them. He reminded me of two things that always shut me up. He said, first, that he was building and selling cars so that he could afford to get the snowmobiles and boats, etc. to have fun together as a family. That was a very strong motive for him. Second, he gently reminded me that he wasn't really building a car--he was building a boy. When I sit back now I get a little teary eyed thinking of what a wonderful job he did at building some amazing men and women that I am honored to call my children.

Here is just a short preview of the tools of his trade(s) and a sprinkling of the product of your efforts. (Most of you probably drove one or more of these vehicles.)I think I may have found one toy that he didn't really have to do much work on for you guys to have hours of fun---once he got the boat running!

Sands of Time

Time marches on, like sand through the hourglass. I was reminded this week of the passage of time in my own life. About a year ago, I was combing my hair and was struck with horror as I realized I had a bald spot on the crown of my head--about the size of a half dollar. When did that happen?! It had come silently on cat's paws. While I took meticulous care to be sure the spot was covered by combed over hair, I faced the impending reality that if this condition progressed my pride would be gone and I would have to accept the fact that my head may be exposed to the world.

I did a bit of research about this condition. I began with a term that I have learned in my medical transcription, and sure enough, the definition of alopecia seemed to accurately describe my condition. Sometimes it is brought on by the presence of an autoimmune disease and sometimes it is the result of experiencing trauma. I knew that I had indeed experienced a traumatic event and hoped this was the cause rather than an autoimmune disease. For some reason hair growth stops and it may or may not be restored, but if it does it will take as much as a year to get new growth.

Oh well,life goes on. I decided since there wasn't much I could do about it, I would just tolerate it. At first I was very self conscious about it. I especially did not like to be caught outdoors in the wind. So what did I do a couple months later? I went to Wood Badge and spent most of a week outdoors with about 65 other people. No big deal. Actually I only thought of it occasionally, but I was glad to have a hat.


As is obvious in this picture, I was not always successful in keeping my head covered; but that was then and this is now. Over the last few weeks I have realized that the bald spot is not as noticeable. In its place is a patch of gray hair, however thin.


This experience has certainly put things in perspective for me. Today when I look in the mirror, I can see quite a few more gray hairs than I had a couple years ago. I can say that those have come on gradually, and my children can probably each count the ones that they helped put there. I did not think that I would be grateful for gray hair. I now just consider the alternative and count my blessings

"Gone away is the bluebird..."

Here to stay is the "new bird". Maybe just until the berries on the fence are gone, but I will enjoy it while it is here.

Sledding on Evergreen Hill

The weather was beautiful today for a trip to Evergreen Hill to do some sledding. I filled up my camera card with photos and then filmed some video footage at the end. Moms may not want to watch parts of this...and you might wonder where the grownups were!

Yes, it is a White Christmas!

I have enjoyed watching the changing weather from my warm home. Here are a few more pictures from the last day or two.

White Christmas!

Here is a picture of our "back yard" six days after the previous post. After several little storms moved through, I think we will have a White Christmas. Maybe there will be enough snow to make a snowman!