Out, out, damn cough…

I got sick. A sore throat. And when I say sore throat, I mean forest fire in my trachea. I don’t think I’ve had a sore throat like this since high school. Sorry, niece, for the next eighteen years, I’m coming to visit a week before your big birthday party.

When I first moved to the boonies, I missed delivery food on a daily basis. (It doesn’t exist here, nor do public transportation or gay bars.) That longing faded, cropping up once a month or so, then faded even more – at this point, it’s nearly forgotten. The only time I really miss it is when I’m sick.

I have all the ingredients to make hot and sour soup, and I have a fantastic recipe memorized (I make it vegetarian and use dried mushrooms), but do I have the strength to stand upright for twenty minutes while I make it?

No!

Delivery foooooood….. I miss you……………….. sniff.

Country Cheers

The best place to eat in town isn’t actually in town, it’s in the nearby town of Hyattville. Hyattville, population 75, is… 30 minutes away? Maybe 20, maybe 45? I truly don’t know, exactly, because when you go to Hyattville, you go because time isn’t an issue. You go because you have no rigid schedule, no looming deadlines; you go when it truly doesn’t matter how long it takes.

Timing does matter, though, in regards to when you go – because this joint is only open once a week. Which is brilliant, really, in a town of 75, because when it’s open it is packed. Wall to wall people, and everyone knows at least half of the rest, and the people who run the place know your order without you having to say a word – if you’ve been there at least a handful of times and always order the same thing. Which I do: gluten-free pizza with black olives. (YES! This tiny place in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere Wyoming serves gluten-free pizza! This is all the proof I need to know the gods love me.)

A few of us went last night, and we always take the back route, which is a dirt road the entire way. You might pass one or two other vehicles, but sometimes you don’t see anyone else on the road at all. You will see deer, elk, eagles, antelope, and the light is always gorgeous. No matter the time of day, no matter the season or the weather, the light is always beautiful, bouncing off the rock formations and shifting the color of the red dirt road from bright orange to dusty rose. And on the way home, the darkness is complete, no lights from houses (there are none), no lights from streetlamps (there are none). Just stars, a zillion of them.

No time to title

It’s not even 9am and I’m way behind and sleep deprived and have already run with the bulls (they got out) and now have to run out the door. Here’s a portrait of Ranger….. more words tomorrow.

Sneaking Up On Cows

I took Chloe out at 6 this morning (Charlie will stay in bed till 8am if he has his way, which he does). It was well before sunrise but the full moon was still high and bright. All the snow has melted and all the mud has dried (here, “mud” is it’s own major season between “snow” and “grass”), and the bare ground shimmered with frost.

I saw Daisy as soon as I stepped outside, her white coat a glowing aura in the moonlight. She was asleep, curled up like a swan, her legs tucked under her and her head resting on her shoulder. The other cows were grouped behind her, as if she was the guard stationed to protect them through the night. And now that dawn was near, they were awake and she was asleep.

It’s very hard to sneak up on a cow. They are better watch dogs than most dogs. I walked softly toward Daisy and she didn’t stir. I got close enough to hear her deep, steady sleep-breathing and she didn’t wake. I crouched next to her flank with just a few inches between us and she didn’t even open one eye.

I moved past her to Fiona, who I could see was awake, and it was my whispered, “good morning, Fifi” that woke Daisy. She popped her head up and blinked at me, so I went back over to her to stroke her soft cheeks and kiss her broad forehead.

And then I was home.

I drove just shy of 700 miles this weekend. A family visit corresponded perfectly with a follow up with my voice doc. Both out of state, one big loop. Both great. I drove home yesterday.

As I got closer to the Wyoming state line, the wind mellowed. Traffic dispersed. And then I was in Wyoming. The landscape seemed to take a deep breath, relax, and just spread out. Houses and power lines vanished from sight. I passed magpies and an eagle feasting on roadkill. I passed a truck and horse trailer parked out in the sagebrush, two cowboys on horseback riding away into the vastness.

As I got closer to home, the earth changed from silver and tan to red. When I stopped on the road to open the gate to my driveway, I could feel the silence. Six mule deer picked their way across the pasture. A whinny from Kota broke through the quiet, and I looked up and saw a dozen faces watching me from the point of the hill above – Daisy and Maia and Li’l Six and Ranger and the rest.

And then I was home.