Grandma knew the river would be high. The snowpack was still melting even in mid-July. The ranchers in the valley would be wearing grins like hogs at a slop bucket as they saw their pastures and hayfields sprout with the bounty from the San Juans. She always had water for her own herd and hay crop, since grandpa had dug a ditch from Devil’s Creek to fill a couple of large ponds on the upper and lower pastures. Devil’s Creek never dried up – Charles had picked the right spot for his ranch and worked hard to make a go of it.
Today I lost a friend of 14 years and her passing leaves another hole in my life.
Sometimes I feel like a slab of Swiss Cheese, more defined by what is not there than what is.
In 1916, Mabel Steele went to teach school at the ripe old age of 18, in extremely rural Colorado. The community consisted of three families who made their living raising trout for restaurants in Denver. She had to learn to maintain disciple when some of the students were bigger than she was. I suspect it was an eye-opener to a very self-confident, albeit naive young woman.
One of Mabel’s fond memories of that time is:
Sometimes the tastiest recipes are the simple ones.
America contains the Good, the Bad and the Ugly.
Take your choice.
Some things give us hope. Thanks, Pete
The ArchdruidReport examines the end of progress.
One thing I like about Greer’s posts is that he declares a pox on both houses, progressive and liberal. He respects history more than opinions, which is a helpful reminder for people on both sides of the aisle to be more objective.
The jury is still out on what we do about it, but if you want to know how we got where we are and why we seem to be stuck there, JMG should be required reading