A weekend at the ranch
The truck is packed up and ready to go: got the boots, the bag and the Carharrt, and Dallas' rifle
I left Moscow last weekend to spend a little time with my Grandparents, whom live in Montana. Dallas and I were both leaving town, him heading north to the Spokane area and me heading north-east, so we took to the road together. We drove north through the Washington portion of the Palouse, Dallas driving my truck and me resting in the passenger's seat. I stared out the window upon the rolling, yellow hills, looking into far off draws in search of whitetail deer. He told me that's where they like to hang out, in those lush and protected thickets in draws at the base of two intersecting hills.
We arrived quickly in Cheney, Washington, and went our separate ways. Dallas off to spend the weekend with his folks, and me onto highway 90, which after all this time away from it, seems like the closest representation of California. I can't believe how terribly unsafe people drive in the Spokane area. I headed east, without stopping even to refuel; I know the route, and although my grandparent's little ranch feels so removed from everything, in reality it is just a couple short hours from the big cities (Spokane, WA; Missoula, MT).
Sunset along the Coeur d'Alene River
I headed up and over the pass, a shortcut known by locals and few else. It's on the map, but I don't see many other people besides local families, loggers and the occasional RV. When I was a little girl, well, even up through the teenage years, my grandparents introduced us girls to the Toothpick Dance. The Toothpick Dance, which I believe was created by my grandparents as a way of letting us girls take in the view west toward Idaho, and to stretch our legs from the 2 hour trip from Spokane, consists of arriving at the top of the pass, where Idaho and Montana meet, pouring out of the truck, placing a toothpick in your mouth (which were always present around my grampa and dad), and dancing in any manner or fashion possible; as long as you look like a fool, you can assume that you are doing it correctly. Ha!
I arrived at the ranch Friday night, and spent the evening visiting with my family and my kitten, Maverick. The next morning Gramma and I went thrift shopping, which in Montana is one of the best ways you can spend your money. I bought a next to new pair of Sorrel snow/rain boots for $15...can't wait to get a chance to wear those babies. I caught up on some little jobs that I had been putting off, like removing the fencing wire that was holding my license plates onto the truck. My grampa and I rigged the plates up nice, using a 1/4 inch screw, and sawing off the excess with this cool machine that sparked when I hit it against the metal, it's always nice to learn something new.
My gorgeous saddle, a gift from my grandparents.
I come over to the shop and oil the saddle once a year, but this time I just brought it out into the sun, brushed the dust off, and enjoyed its beauty. Here are a few shots of my love. It's a weird feeling having a saddle and no horse to ride, I talk myself up, thinking "oh, it wouldn't be that tough to get a little foal and raise it." Then I remember the reality that I probably only cook a decent meal for myself once a week, which does not bode well for a young, dependant animal.
I call this design the "Sheridan flower". While living near Sheridan, Wyoming, I saw this flower in a lot of the leather work. Upon receiving the saddle, I was thrilled to notice my favorite design.
The sturdiest silver conchos
Most of the weekend was spent in bed though. I do most of my school work sitting comfortably wrapped in blankets...desks just don't work for me. I got to cuddle with this sweet boy, too. I miss Maverick. I like to refer to him as my Wyoming treasure, and apparently my grandparents agree. Gramma said he is a special cat, and even only having him at the ranch for the past month, she proclaimed that she doesn't know how she will ever give him back to me. So, with a lump in my throat, but out of love and appreciation for all they have done for me, I told Gramma that she can have Maverick.
Maverick
I hit the road back to Idaho Sunday morning, driving four hours through rain and an overcast, gloomy looking sky. It was a lonely drive, and I arrived to an empty house. Coming from my family home, warm and comfortable, I felt a bit sad to walk up to the farmhouse, but once the housemates returned from their respective trips, things fell back into place. The dogs were running around, hopping up and off of my bed; the best of company on a rainy day.
Acadia and Hoosier
The weekend came to a close, and as if to say "welcome home, don't worry too much about this gloomy weather. Here, take in this amazing sunset." All was right again.
The brightest of pink sunsets
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