Hawk fluffing up in the cold

Here we are, our first Christmas in Idaho. Life is as different as it can be. This is what we signed up for and so far, the magic prevails. We decided to use a couple more of our firewood tags for 2011 while the weather held, and headed up to the backcountry two days in a row. The temperature showed teens as we arrived, the crystalized snow sparkling off every naked willow and tree. Summit Creek still gurgles and game tracks riddle the land .  A pair of eagles soared off the high peak above us and kept us company with their voices during the day.  The sun warmed us to the point of shedding layers, but you couldn’t convince our new puppy of this fact. He bounded in the snow, grabbing sticks and trying to keep up with Zephyr until he tired and needed to curl up. He found our pile of coats on a stump and curled up for a nap.

On the second day, after we cut, we drove out a bit farther, turned the truck around in the middle of the road to put the tail gate into the sun, spread a horse blanket across the cold metal and had our hot coffee and lunch. We warmed up from the inside out and then took a little hike through the foot deep snow. We didn’t see another soul, not even on the drive in or out.

Our horses are wooly and their feet are doing much better. Yesterday, Sonata rolled in the new snow, jumped up and did a little bucking show. The temps have dropped. This morning we were at a lovely minus 5 when we fed the horses at 7:30. The fireplace keeps our house warm and toasty. I did some baking and we sampled our first sweets of the season. On Christmas morning, we will go back out there to find a Christmas Tree.  We look forward to our kids coming out in  few weeks for a delayed family Christmas, but as the actual day nears, we hunker down in our new life with each other, thankful to have true love between us, and the bounty of God’s earth around us.

Here is the beauty of what is also happening. No matter how much Two Feathers and I have bonded, she always shies away from me when I feed her or when she’s at liberty in her domain. Once I halter her, she is loving and attentive. After the first session of soaking her feet, she has changed her tune. She lets me rub her head as I throw the hay in her feeder, she comes over to the fence for a little loving, she seems genuinely grateful for the care I’m giving her.

This love is spreading around the ranch. Zephyr has begun to accept the new pup Chief. The first week, we had to give her a separate water bowl, she wouldn’t have anything to do with something that new little thing touched. This week, she has not only sniffed him, but she’s played with him in her odd blue tick coon hound way as we work on our many projects around here (like the passive solar water tank Tim just finished), and they napped together in the sun. It is the season for love and gratitude (really, they all are) and despite our quiet Christmas here in Idaho, the spirit of love is all around us.

I love seeing Tim this happy and I have many things to occupy my time. I’ve moved some of the garden inside, so even though the temperature rarely gets above freezing, we still have ample lettuce and fresh sprouts. Yesterday, I made some fire starters out of egg cartons, dryer lint or sawdust, and old candles. Today, I taught Two Feathers to ground drive. After a few minutes of confusion, she picked it right up and soon I was striding behind her, a long rein in each hand. And of course, there is Zephyr, our coon hound extraordinaire. She is having a bit of trouble with the pup, she isn’t the friendliest dog, but there are signs of melting on her part. Last night, Zephyr and I went for an evening run. As the last of the sun dipped behind the mountains, the temperature dropped. We ran on through the frigid weather, comrades with cold noses and happy feet.

Snake River Cheiftain

We’ve been vagabonds in our camper this past week. We traveled to Santa Cruz to see the family with our new baby. His name is Chief, Snake River Chieftain, to be exact. We picked him up a couple of weeks ago, a darling pup of 7 weeks who looked way too little to bring home. Now he’s a bustling 9-week-old bundle of energy who wants to chew his way over the Sierra, through the desert and back to Idaho tomorrow. We can both say, even though its been fantastic seeing all of our kids, this 50 something couple is looking forward to getting back home, despite the romantic life we live in our cab-over camper. We will say farewell once again to this verdant place, filled with throngs of wonderful, progressive people, and return to our quiet life, where our days are defined by firewood, projects, feeding animals, getting in shape for the snow boarding season, and for me, writing Pacheco Falls.

The success of my garden has inspired me to build yet another in anticipation of spring, in about a hundred years from now. This one is of course, even more massive. I will be able to feed a small nation, so come out and visit, but don’t forget your boots and your work gloves. My building verve has not limited itself. I built a new circle for ornamentals and when I decided to surround its raised borders with large chunks of the red rock of Bartlett Point, I tapped on Tim’s shoulder for help. He turned off his chain saw, took off his earphones and asked me if it was a necessary endeavor (ie, not food). I said, “Beauty is necessary.” He fired up the 4 wheeler and heaved home my rocks.

Everyday, as the temperature warms near 30 degrees, Tim and I head outside to work on our respective tasks. He cuts wood and I tend and build garden spaces in the heat of the day. If the temp reaches 40, we start to strip down. All work makes us a dull couple, so we sprinkle in some rides on the girls, who look at us like we’re nuts. On Sunday, we watch football, eat popcorn and drink hot chocolate. Today we helped a neighbor move some cows from Dry Canyon to her winter pasture. Our young horses aren’t much help, but we did turn around in the frigid wind to retrieve the trailer. Thank goodness for multiple layers and warm gloves. Next ride, I’m breaking out the long underwear.

I’ve been riding every day lately and throwing in a run for myself most days, so pretty soon I’m going stir crazy inside.  I head out for a walk despite the weather.  I got my coat, my hat, my wool socks.  After about a mile or so, I finally warmed up.  I climbed up toward Rock Creek and decided to explore the other side of the rock formations.  As I wound through the sage brush on a game trail, the scent of rain released sage infused my senses.  By this time I was high up and could see down into the Big Lost River Valley and up to the mountains on all sides.  The sky roiled with clouds, thunder boomed in the distance and in a temporary moment of partial clearing, I could see a newly snow-capped Mt Borah.  At every choice, I took the longer route and soon I was atop another ridge.  The world mesmerized me with its stunning beauty. When I looked to the west, the direction of my house, I saw a solid black sky approaching.  I picked up my pace, hoofed it toward Bartlett Point. An eagle called just above me, but not in the sky.  It was somewhere on the point, but I couldn’t see where.  The heavy rain whisked in right behind me.  Luckily, I had already harvested my dinner.  The wind and rain have not stopped since.

Mt Borah

The next day, I was greeting with snow-capped mountains in every direction.  This time, I took my camera with me when I went out to walk.  While heading past my place, I couldn’t help but notice that there were about 60 extra cows in Sally’s big pasture.  I climbed a big hill to snap some photos of the great light that was going on, and I saw that Sally was out there moving those cows.  I abandoned my walk plans and went to see if she needed help, but mostly, I wanted to take her picture in action.  By the time I got to her gate, she had all the cows on the far side and was splitting off a few.  Her dogs were in full action.  I followed and took pictures, most of them blurry, until I was close enough to yell out.  She told me where to go to herd the free grazers off her land.  They were munching up her winter pasture. After we got the herd out, she thanked me and I mentioned how much I want to help sometime with Two Feathers.  She told me that she already told Travis, a local cowboy, about me and that he agreed to let me help when he had an easy beginner job.  I guess that means next spring.  For now, I’m watching the snow come down.  I made a beef stew in the crock pot and had Sally and her sister Diane, over for supper.  We poured over the topo maps and made plans for all the places we want to ride.  I’m still hoping for a of couple high country rides this year and when I mentioned it, they both told me to look outside.  Good thing it was dark.  I can still hope. But, I’ll settle for the low country, which around here is in the 6000-8000 foot elevation range.  The snow continues to come down, but it’s warmed up to the high thirties and isn’t really sticking.  My dog didn’t get out of bed ’till noon, so perhaps a good few days rest is what we both need.

Sally Johnson, Cowgirl

Do you think they see me?

Two Feathers, ready to go

My neighbor Sally and I had planned a ride up Burnt Aspen, a steep climb with loads of switchbacks that takes you up to a grassy saddle with a fabulous view.  We already did this ride with a group earlier this summer, but this time, with our horses in great condition, we wanted to move out with some trotting.  We arrived and parked, basking in the glorious sight of changing leaves and majestic mountains all around us.  The canyon back in Kane is stunning.  As we saddled, uur dogs played, yes even Zephyr.  We warmed the horses up with a half mile of walking and then took off at the trot.  Soon we began to climb, slowed our gait and the horses hunkered down to work.  When we reached the fork in the trail, we decided to explore the way we didn’t know.  This was the beginning of our true adventure.

We followed along a babbling creek, through forest and meadow, past wide creek beds, and  along a narrow trail that crumbled away.  We climbed and climbed until the trail petered out at the foot of an enormous bowl that offered two choices for a sure view.  We studied each route. They both looked like elk trails, possibly sketchy, but also possibly doable.  We chose to go right, because it looked a bit closer.  As we

At the top, Devil's Bedstead in the backgroung

made our way along a faint game trail etched into some fine loose shale, Two Feathers lost her footing and began to slide down the draw.  She couldn’t quite figure out how to hold herself steady.  Once she was able to stop, I dismounted on trembling legs and immediately understood her problem.  I sunk my boots into the rock with each step and attempted to lead her back up to the trail.  She turned this way and that, but we made it.  We followed Sally and Jade (her bay mare that is almost Two Feather’s twin) until we came to a tricky, steep wash. I stayed back until Jade made the manuever.  Then it was our turn, but Two Feathers was afraid.  She scrambled and she fell to her knees twice.  We made a another attempt, but I couldn’t get in front of her and she went down on her belly.  When she got back to her feet, we paused and regrouped.  I stroked her neck and she calmed.  Sally tied Jade to a bush and came to help.  I tossed my lead up to Sally, so she could let Two Feathers make the jump.  It worked.

The climb was not yet over.  We reached a flatter area and remounted.  Meanwhile, Zephyr took off in full howl, the one that says I’ve found some game.  We wished the trees weren’t so thick, so we could see what she found. We decided on a final destination and soon the top was in sight, but not before another steep rocky section.  I dismounted again and led Two Feathers up the final ascent.  Sally rode to the top.  “How is it,” I asked from below.  We had no idea where we really were.  “I’m not going to say anything,” she said. “You have to see for yourself.”  I peered over the top and gulped.  We were looking just about eye to eye to the Devil’s Bedstead.  It is the closest to this massive  piece of rock that either of has ever been.  We could see the entire Kane Canyon, the mountains beyond.  We could see Mt. Borah and the Three Sisters to the east.  After drinking in the view, we found a sheltered place to tie up and have lunch.  The hot green tea my horse toted up for us was perfect.  I tried not to focus on my fear about how we would get off this mountain. Soon it was time to descend.  Our trusty dogs seemed to find the best route.  We both led our horses and picked our way down.  Two Feathers stayed right behind me.  She didn’t rush, didn’t push.  When we reached the tricky part, we found a better way down.  Soon we were at the bottom of the bowl, all smiles.  The rest of the trip back to the trailer was magical.  It was obvious that Two Feathers was a different horse.  She had more confidence on the downhills, she was attentive to my subtle requests, she seemed elated.  What surprised me the most, was how much energy she had.  We slow trotted some of the flats, on narrow soft trails, our horses moving with swishing tails on loose reins.  Our dogs scouted ahead, frequently dipping in the abundant water.  Once back at the trailer, the horses relaxed as we unsaddled.  They loaded up without hesitation.  As we drove the 10 miles back home, Sally and I knew we had better horses than we did in the morning.

Lunch at the top

Zephyr and Montana

 

Sally, Jade and Montana

 

Kane Canyon

Tired Zephyr back at home

Cooling off in the horse trough

I’m actually happier than this, especially when Tim is home.

My little love bug Zephyr, taking liberties.

I gather flower seeds everywhere I go.  I will keep you posted with respect to the much hoped for spring glory

The never ending quest to create actual soil, featuring my backside, pictured by Laura.  Had to use it.  Not bad for 53 years old.

Lots of water needed out here on the high desert.  We are already eating out of my new garden.

Me and my sweetheart Tim watching football.  He looks a little scary, but what’s new?

Breakfast, my world famous banana walnut buckwheat pancakes.  Those are my jammies.  I don’t wear the same thing all the time.  Actually, I kind of do.  I stand my jeans up in the corner for the next day, until they resemble dirt.

High school friends, Tom and Tim working.  Good men.  Firewood is essential here.

Me and Laura hiking up to Moose Lake.  The sign lies about the mileage, but Tom and Laura don’t know that yet.  Spirits are still high.

Me and Laura at the lake, finally.  She said she would love to hike, if it wasn’t too far or too strenuous.  Oops, it was 12 miles with about 5 miles straight uphill.  It’s been at least 4 years since we made this hike.  Old age is a bitch. I simply didn’t remember. 

Tim and I at the lake.  Love, love, love, everything about it.

Delicious rib eye steaks from Ivies Market in Mackay.  The best steaks I’ve ever tasted and we deserve them.

The family walk.

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Dad in the backcountry

I had company of late.  First my father arrived, 85 years old and still drove 900 miles alone to visit. Tim was still in Santa Cruz, so it was just Dad and me for a week, oh and all the animals. The first half of the visit was peppered with comments relating to why I was always on the move, outside working on my gardens, the horse pasture, horse training, keeping in shape, etc.  After a few days, Dad really got it, he sees how I am in my natural element here.  It was a moment of bliss for me, as the ususal comment almost everyone back in California makes is: What are you going to do all the way out in Idaho?  We had a simple time that consisted of eating home cooked meals, Dad sitting on the deck while I gardened, Dad riding along as I trailered Two Feathers for the first time, getting Dad out into the backcountry for a hike…   By the end, I believe that Dad cares as much about my sprouting Kale and Collards as I do.  He drove away early on the final morning and I sat down in some basic exhaustion, but only for a few minutes.  I had one week to catch up on some work before my daughter Genavieve and her boyfriend, Cheyne were to arrive

 I had one week to catch up on some work before my daughter Genavieve and her boyfriend, Cheyne were to arrive.For that week, I worked on my book every day, rode with my neighbor as much as possible and buffed out the ranch.  I met the kids over in Sun Valley and they followed me over the mountains toward  home.  The contrast between the generations is both stark and delightful.  The young couple jumped into ranch life with enthusiasm and I think my favorite moment of the visit was one morning while I was out in the new garden bed, Genavieve was reading on the porch and Cheyne was busy making me sprouting boxes in the garage.  My dream of creating a place for my loved ones to come and experience quiet bliss, to find new parts of themselves that may be hidden in the daily hum of life in the parts of the world where many people inhabit, was happening in real-time.  Genavieve and I rode the horses every day, even getting up and riding early on the day of her departure.  We borrowed a horse from Sally next door for Cheyne and he was able to ride as well.  There is a new horseman in the world!

As I watched the kids drive away, my sadness was tempered by the excitement of my husband coming home the next day.  I picked Tim up yesterday afternoon.  He is here for a short week before he returns to Santa Cruz for another 3 weeks.  We have never been apart so long as this last time and we have made a pact to never do so again.  As I again drove over the mountian, my love at my side, he reached over and took my hand, telling me that after his time back in Santa Cruz, he knows that this is home, that this is where his heart is and where he wants to be.  As difficult as it has been to be separated, his conviction was like a healing balm. Tim away from the ocean has concerned me, but I can tell without a doubt that Tim is ready to come home and stay.

I’ve been riding just about every day, not just in my own backyard, but out into the backcountry.  My neighbor Sally is just like me.  We just want to ride.  I joined her and some friends out to the Bellas Lakes.  It was Two Feather’s first jaunt into the high country.  We had some obstacles to master, such as small wooden bridges flanked with black mud on both sides, bushwacking over downed trees up steep inclines, standing tied during lunch (which didn’t go well), dealing with other horses and their dramas…  All new and exciting adventures for my young mare.  The ride was everything she and I needed and the company was stellar.  After the ride, Two Feathers was a better horse, many steps closer to a dependable mount.  We had our moments that day, and we continue to have them.  Yet, I still can’t believe that we are this far along.

Jan Meeks, Me, Tanya, Joan Ponton

Sally Johnson, my friend and neighbor