The View From Our Place

(an old fence post standing in the middle of the pasture away from all other fences)

There are two parts to the ranch we live one. The original part of the ranch is where Malcolm's parents live. The other part is about 7 miles south of there. Its a ranch that was purchased by Malcolm's father a few years ago. It is commonly referred to as "the south place" and its where we live.

The south place is composed of I don't know how many beautiful acres. God put a lot of care into the creation and upkeep of this part of the land. Human's, on the other hand, have failed to follow His example of care. The previous owners pretty much let things fall into disrepair. The place looks a sight better than it did a year ago, after Malcolm's father had the scrap guy from town come out and haul off an untold number of old tractors, vehicles, tractor parts, vehicles parts, machinery, old irrigation pipe, and a wild accumulation of other things metal from the place. It had just been piled, rather randomly, all over the ranch, but particularly around the old buildings and on the hills surrounding.


The corrals and old barns are mostly beyond repair. Its just a matter of finding the time to tear them down and rebuild...something that is not on the priority list. Malcolm and his dad did manage to take a morning off that should have been spent haying to patch up a small pasture/corral for me so I could bring down my two yearling colts to play with. (I say play because I hardly call what I did "training.") It was much apprecaited. It turned out the whole day of haying was lost because by the time they were done with my project, the neighbor had called to say one of the bulls was in with their cows. Rachelle and I road out to retrieve said bull and discovered it was more than that. It was several cows and calves, a bull, and an entire section of fence down...again. (its been a problem fence between these two places for some time apparently) Anyway, what I was getting at was that after doing a little fencing project for me, they had to go out and repair that one too, and by the time they were done, the day was lost. I guess thats just the way things go, but I was oh so appreciative for my little horse pasture, and enjoyed it thuroughly my entire time home. So thank you Malcolm and Malcolm for your time and effort. It meant a lot.


Back to where I was going. So the place is kind of dilapidated, which to a ranchers eye is appalling and a mess and useless, but to my eye (and parts of Malcolm's) its beautiful, artistic, and quaint. I'm realistic...to be useful, the place has to be gutted and redone, and I look forward to the potentially great ranch that it will be someday. But I hate to see the old buildings done away with.


One of the old buildings that will eventually meet its demise at the hands of Malcolm's bulldozer, is this old house.



It is, if not the first, one of the first houses on this ranch. It stands behind Rachelle's house. It is filled with old junk from broken furniture to old jars, an old smashed bathtub, and much more. It has, on the faded torn wallpaper, water marks that are shoulder high from where Box Elder creek flooded several decades ago. There is an old 1930's green (you know the color I mean?) cabinet that is built into the wall, an old cook stove, and a treasure of other useless but really cool things. The windows are mostly gone and the place smells of mice, mold, flood and age, but it is, to me, so amazing to see it still standing. I have no age on it. I don't know when it was built, probably not as long ago as I like to imagine. It has seen so much.



This is the outhouse that stands back a ways behind the old house. I dont' get to close...it looks snaky, but I've been to the door and its definatly an old outhouse, which to some is gross, but I think its cool that its still around. Its structures like this one that, if you close your eyes to Rachelle's house and mine, you could almost imagine you'd steppe back in time.



I dont' have pictures of it but there is also an old cellar dug into the hillside. It was really neat because there are cactus across the doors threshold and they had big yellow flowers on them when we got home, but they had wilted and fallen when I was taking my pictures. The old chicken house is neat and one of the buildings that is not slotted for distruction. Rachelle and I have high hopes of making use of it one day soon.



A couple of the old buildings that will probably be gone in a few years. With no livestock around, the grass and weeds own the place, but they give the place a pieceful, undisturbed look.



Away from the buildings there are a million little "secret" places I love to go. They are not really secret, everyone knows about them because they are common places on the ranch, but probably not everyone knows that I love to go out to them and, well....just be there.

I love windmills. This is one of the windmills on the ranch that is a place I like to go. This time home Malcolm used his bulldozer to build a new dam below it to catch overflow and rain water. I was curious what kind of picture I could get with my camera as the wind spun the blades in a blur. Well, my camera took a picture of a "still" windmill. Really it was quite a windy day. I was surprised at the shot.









There are a million sights to see and drink in when I'm home. I can't possibly put them all on here, and pictures truly don't do it justice. Maybe one day you'll get to see it for yourself. I'd love to share it with you.

The Road Home

There are few who are not familiar with the feelings the begin to swell within one's soul as you move down the road that leads to home. Some of us, I being one, have two roads to home. One of my roads home is composed of the various routes that lead to my parents house in Tennessee. These roads conjure up memories of my life leading up to and including moments after my marriage to Malcolm. As I move down these paths, my heart swells with love for the family I am drawing nearer to. They bring on a sense of nostalgia for childhood and simpler times that were nothing but pleasure, fun, and security.

The other road I now travel to home is a route few of you have traveled. So I thought I'd share it a bit with you. There are, as with my home in Tennessee, several routes to my home in Montana. Mainly three are traveled, and when we are returning from being on the road, there are two routes we take.

The first, and used most, starts in Miles City, MT. From there we leave the interstate and begin the treck east on US 12. It is about an hours drive, maybe a little longer (depending on who's driving, the weather, and the number of deer on the road). This highway, for me, is sometimes a long drive, but I enjoy the scenery and the sense of anticipation that truly begins when we leave the interstate.

The other route into Baker that we have taken a few times, but rarely, is from Wibaux, MT (pronounced Wee-boe). Here was also leave the interstate and drive south about 40 miles or so to Baker. This route is still like new territory to me, so I don't have the attachments to particular landmarks that I have with US 12. However, I know I'm almost home. Tucked into eastern Montana, just a few miles from North Dakota at the intersection of US 12 and state highway 7 is the town of Baker. I can't tell you the population, etc, having never been one to pay much attention to statistics and such. However, I can describe the scene that greets you as you come upon this little western oil town. Coming from either direction (12 or 7) the first thing you'll notice, as with any western town, is the grain elevators. In Baker's case, there are two. They are the old style, the ones that still have the wood plank interior walls, the square boxy type. Not the massive concrete structures that grace the skylines of midwestern towns. Baker sits down in a little hole, almost, so as you approach you can see the spread of it across the land. We approached from the north on this trip home, pulling past the vets office, the junk yard where piles of old farm machinery and scrap metal are confined, but not hidden, behind a tall privacy fence, past the old buildings on the edge of town, Prairie Fuel who comes out to fill our fuel tanks at home, and into the edge of "downtown". "Downtown" greets you right away with the main three eating establishments in town, Heiser's Bar, The Corner Bar, and the Tavern. Heisers has great chicken and pizza, the Corner Bar has a neat interior and the food is average, and the Tavern....only been there once and probably won't go back seeing as how it has a reputation in the family for being gross and I wasn't impressed with my one experience. These three are on your right, Baker Furniture is on your left. There are a couple of other stores that are so nondescript that I can't think what they are. You reach the intersection....THE intersection because its the only one. We are a one flashing red light town, and I'm proud of that. Turn left to go to Bowman, North Dakota, right to go to Miles City, straight to go home. I prefer straight. Past the insurance store, the chinese resteraunt thats pretty good, past the Bank of Baker, the grocery store, several old boarded up stores, and the lake with the "Bed and Breakfast". You head into the "suburbs" of Baker, past the side street that turns off to the courthouse/library which are housed in the same building. Pass the street that leads to the medical clinic, the high school, and the elementary school. As you leave town you pass the fair grounds with a big sign across the entrance advertising the dates for the fair (about mid August, and I'd like to go one year, but don't think we'll make it this year either). The houses become more sparse and soon your back out in the open, passing hills with rock projections near the tops. There are cattle and scattered horses in some of the pastures. This time home everyone was haying so there were windrows of hay on the ground, tractors raking and baling and swathing periodically, and fresh bales baking in the sun. The sense of anticipation increases. We're heading towards something bigger than a truck and the road. We're heading towards piece and solitude and so much more.

A couple of turns, one here and one there, and a few more miles and the road makes a "Y". We go right, over a little hill, and hit gravel. Many dislike the gravel and I'll admit its hard on vehicle paint jobs, tires, and windshields. But I love living on gravel roads. We have, I think, about 30 miles of gravel to traverse before we reach home. Its a drive I have memorized. I have spent a year questioning my drive. "Who's house is that again?" "What's the people's name who have the trees that cover the road like a canopy?" "Leroy is Harry's son, right?" "The Cox's own this or lease this?" A year devoted to learning my surroundings so that I can converse about where we are, but more so because I want to emerse myself in my new home and belong, and part of belonging to the land is knowing it and its inhabitants. I am proud to say that I can now identify the residents and owners of almost all the places along the gravel and a few on the pavement as well. I even finally met a few of them this trip home.

You come around a sharp "S" curve, pass the "Cut Across" road that goes over to North Dakota, come through the "scoria hills" and as you crest the summit, small though it may be, the ranch spreads out before you. Down the hill, across the auto gate, and we're on family land, and just a few miles from home.

We usually stop here to drop off something we picked up on our way in for Malcolm's parents, or just to say "hello, we're home" and then head off after a brief or long visit, depending on what groceries are in the car or what the weather is doing. Over another hill we pass Bart's place with the log entry over his drive, round the turn where you cut off to go to the Colbach's place. You drive down over the culvert of Horse Creek which sometimes rises over the road a bit after a heavy rain, pass Buddy's house, over another hill, a couple more turns, and pass the new road they put in for the oil well that failed. They are now ripping out the road and returning the land back to its original condition.

A few more miles and we're almost home. Down the dirt road, which will eventually be graveled, but for now we stay off it after rain if we can because you'll just as soon end up in the ditch as you will at your destination when the stuff gets wet. It's happened many times. Our drive crosses two other rancher's land before you get to our place. I love the entrance to where we live. As we crest the hill the land spreads out before us. The road drops down into the valley that contains the houses and barns with the backdrop of the pine covered hills. I love to go to the hill at the beginning of the property and just gaze out across the land, especially when its almost dusk and that time of day when the angle of the sun gives everything a purplish orange hue. Its my favorite kind of light. I often stop on this hill when I'm driving by myself to gaze out across the land and marvel at this beautiful place. All of eastern Montana possesses my heart, but there is something extra special about this particular place, something that possesses me more than the others. Maybe its the solitude, or perhaps it all the feeling that God put special thougth into this little "valley," or perhaps its just because I'm home. The day before we left, I was driving back from Malcolm's parents house near sunset. I stopped at the top of the hill and got out to get a shot of home to take with me. I have collected nearly a dozen of the same, but something compels me to keep taking a picture from the same location everytime we're there. I climbed up on a little rock outcrop, something I hadn't done before. With the vehicle turned off and the sun setting behind me, it was just me, God, and his creation. I've never claimed to hear the voice of God before. Not in a "hi Sarah how are you" sort of manner. But I beleive I hear God in many places when I'm home, but definatly from this hill. I hear him in the breeze, the rustle of the grass around me, the birds that are singing their last song of the day, the sound of the wind as it comes down the pine hills across from me, the occasional distant calling of a cow to her calf and the herd....God speaks to me here. I stand on my hill and I feel so full of piece and happiness and Him.

Home in July

After three wonderful weeks at home, we're back on the road. Back to the grind stone, back in the saddle, however you want to say it.

Last time we went home we were buried in a foot of snow, remember? Well no catastrophies or natural disasters this time....at least none worth mentioning right now.

Remember this little scene from mid-May? Kind of dry and brown looking....still like winter?



Well try this on for size...mid-July, after an unusually moist and cool summer.

This was the scene that welcomed us home. And it was a very welcome sight.



We had a really nice, though really busy, break. It's haying time, so Malcolm spent a good many of his days swathing hay or doing other jobs related that were needed. He got to use his new welder to make some repairs on the equipement too, which he really enjoyed doing. I spent the time playing with my two colts from last year, working on our house, and making sandwiches for everyone in the hayfields.

Overall, the time at home was refreshing and full of the usual unexpected events, etc. It was a much needed break and we feel refreshed and ready to get another run on the road done. I've taken way too many pictures to share all of them with you, but I'll try. Be looking for future posts. I've got enough to fill several days worth.

Although it would have been preferable to stay home, it's good to be back with my computer and all of you. Look forward to hearing from you soon.

Count Down

I'm finally there.....the count down to being home. I'll be there this afternoon. We're driving through northern North Dakota south of Williston, and it already feels like home. I love it when we get back into this territory, the Dakotas in general, because though its not quite the same, it looks similar to home and I just feel more relaxed with each passing mile.
Anyway, I'm retiring from truck driving, and thus blogging, for a couple of weeks. Thats how long we are planning on staying home....barring freak snow storms or other natural disasters as we are all familiar with how they tend to change things.
Which reminds me, yesterday we were high tailiing it across southern North Dakota driving into a really nasty storm. We were still traveling with the other driver from Baker (see following blog) and he came on the CB and said he wanted to slow down a little and see if we could miss the storm. As it turned out, we did, only catching the southern edge of it and a few sprinkles. And there was nearly golf ball size hail all over the road and in the ditch. Glad we backed off and let it pass. That would not have been pretty on the truck.
You should see the grass out here. After watching it stay brown all spring and not growing, its so nice to see it so lush and green. For those who don't know, we had absolutly no rain or snow to speak of this winter (until the freak snow storm in May). It was really bad. I'm talking dams down farther than they've been in years, and absolutly no grass to speak of which meant big time problems for the ranchers and farmers too. When it snowed in May it kind of opened up the sky's and now we're facing the opposite problem. It won't stop raining long enough to cut the hay. But when they do manage to cut it, as a few are in North Dakota I noticed....there will be hay. The grass is so tall I noticed it was up to the sides of the cows and dragging their bellies.
I'm quickly learning that out here, its either feast or famine in many ways.

I'll have lots to share in stories and pictures when I get back in a couple of weeks. So don't forget me in my absence.

A Runnin Fool

You know in the movie, Forest Gump, when he's running through town and the old man in front of the store says "that boy's a running fool"? Well I don't know why that line stuck in my head, but I think of it everytime I take Carlie Jean out to play. She truly is a "runnin fool." She LOVES to run, and goes and goes. Long after Paris gets tired of it and starts snooping, Carlie Jean is still running big circles and doing "fly by's" at Paris trying to get her to run some more.

When she's done running, she'll join Paris in snooping around. This is only after a long running time. Paris likes to pluck off the flowers on the clover and toss them. She's teaching Carlie, but Carlie just grabs big mouth fulls of grass and flowers. She's not very much lady-like.

I couldn't pick a picture, so I just downloaded them all. Thanks for your patience as I brag about my babies again.

There is a chain of truck stops in the mid-west called Sapp Brothers. Most all of them have a water tower next to them shaped like a coffee pot, and they are mostly all a different shaped coffee pot. I think they are neat, so I snapped a picture. This one is the Sapp Brothers in Omaha, NE.

We're in central South Dakota on our way to Williston, ND. You want to know how small this country is from the trucker's perspective. Well we were pulling off the interstate rolling through Grand Island, NE, and we pulled up next to a truck at a traffic light. It was another owner/operator that used to work for the same guy we worked for in Billings, and left there shortly after we did. Not only that, but it was one of the three guys from our town that worked for that guy. Not only that, but he's on his way to Kill Deer, ND which is not that far southeast of Williston. So we've been running together all day chatting about the company we worked for until recently, home town news and goings on, and of course, trucking. Well, he and Malcolm were chatting. I went to get some sleep when they started talking trucking stuff. I told Malcolm earlier, this country always seemed so large to me, but really....its juat a small lady-like.

Soggy in Wisconsin

In case your wondering what turns a 26 mile trip into a 57 mile trip, check out the pictures below.

See the pump pumping the water back into the "river."

See the houses in the trees. This was/is a neighborhood.

Such a piecefull little river.

These people had a sand bag wall around their house, and it looks like it worked, but they lost their yard and garage. These were all taken in Fort Atkinson, WI.

The next picture was taken in Iowa, north of Cedar Rapids.

I'm not sure how much of that is actually supposed to be river.

Enough water water everywhere....here is a pretty barn in Wisconsin. There are so many huge dairy barns up there.

We're in Kansas now....we left Wisconsin this morning around 6:30am. We make tracks don't we? We'll be delivering in Oklahoma in the morning, reloading and heading to Williston, ND. From there we are supposed to go to Billings, MT, and then home.

Speaking of home....my father-in-law killed a rattle snake IN MY FRONT YARD yesterday when he was mowing. Oh, the joys! I guess Paris and Carlie won't be running around like little wild indians out there. There are lots of rattle snakes in our part of the country, but not in my YARD!!!! Thats against the rules. There was also a really long bull snake in there too. Those are harmless, but I still don't want him in my YARD. Better yet, he was seen slithering out from underneath my house. I guess on the bright side...maybe I don't have mice in the house now. They are always a problem, but I'm thinking if I have a snake den under my house, the mice probably vacated. If I see any snakes that close in, I might vacate the area too!

Seeing the Flood First Hand

Most of you reading this probably watch the news, or at least read the paper, on a regular basis. Doing so, you would have seen pictures and news stories about the extensive flooding going on in Iowa.
Malcolm and I have been aware of the flooding, heard stories from friends who drove through the state, and seen a few pictures as we have walked by TV's at truck stops. However, we haven't seen a lot of the news coverage. We just new it was really bad.
Well yesterday we drove through Iowa. We came out of Council Bluffs on I-80 and about 50 miles east of Des Moines, we got off on a side road heading north. We had seen along the way where the water had been over the interstate in places, where corn fields were still large shallow lakes, and other damages done in places, but nothing major. However, we were not off the interstate 5 miles before we were taking a detour because of a washed out bridge, and immediatly started wondering if it was going to be worth it to save a few miles. Perhaps we should have taken the longer route with more interstate driving.
The detour wasn't too bad, though narrow in one place. And we got to drive through the Amana Colonies (look it up online, it was interesting) and that was neat. I looked them up after we stopped to see what they were. Its 7 little towns that were started by a religious group from Germany in the 1840's. They practiced communal living and continued to do so until the 1930's. I was surprised they lasted that long. Anyway....I got off track.
So we were winding through the beautiful Iowa country side and Malcolm was tired so he went and layed down. I was driving and he hadn't been laying down 5 minutes before I crested a hill, took a gasp, and yelled for him to come up.

He had told me I was going to be driving through a town, but I hadn't realized that it was going to be that big of a town,. What I was looking at was downtown Cedar Rapids and piles and piles and piles of garbage thrown out on the sidewalks. I'm sure you've seen the pictures on the news, because at lunch today we saw Cedar Rapids being featured on Headline News. We drove right through the heart of down town, or what was left of it. I can't begin to tell you what it was like...other than heart breaking. Malcolm quickly jumped into the driver seat and took over because all the traffic lights were out, and we didn't know what we might encounter in the down town area. As it turned out it was a smooth drive through, but oh so sad. There was a stack of about 50 computers in front of one building. Another had piled up sofas. I could go on and on. The water mark on the buildings was high. I just couldn't imagine a city like that flooding. All you ever see flooded are these little "back woods" towns. But this was like looking at a miniatre of downtown Chattanooga.
Malcolm stayed up after that and we both did some sight seeing. We came to Dubuque, IA and saw a huge barge half sunk in the middle of the river and leaning against the bridge support. We stopped and ate and then finished the last 50 miles to our destination in Milton, WI. Along the way we had to take another detour because the bridge in that town was nearly underwater. It was dark, but the city lights illuminated the water and I could see it just barely below the cement of the roadway. Once we crossed the river, our road was closed, so we had to continue on another route, but it worked out ok.
In the end, we probably would have made better time staying on the interstate, but I was glad we got to see the damages firsthand. As we sat at lunch today and watched the news, well I feel silly admitting to it, but I almost teared up looking at the pictures of Cedar Rapids. It was something else to see what we had seen on Headline news. I just can't see how a town gets over something like that.
Malcolm's sister has a friend that lives in Oakville, IA whose dog kennels washed away and last I heard, she had gone to look at her house from a hillside and it was standing in water and leaning to one side. Rachelle told me yesterday that the whole town is destroyed.

Today we are on our way to Jefferson, WI to load in the morning. I guess things up here are bad off too. We're having to take a detour because many of the roads in Jefferson County are closed do to bridges being washed out.
Nothings washed away in Montana yet, that I know of, but we've had rainy day after rainy day and its so wierd. It seems like the weather patterns are just so messed up. No rain for so long, and then we're drowing in it, and I guess Iowa and other areas are having the same experience. You just don't know what to expect anymore.

Sunday morning we were driving through eastern Nebraska. It was beautiful (its my third favorite state in the country). You know those long sprinkler systems on wheels that farmers use in their fields? I don't have a picture to show you or I would, but I think most people are probably somewhat familiar with what I'm talking about. Well we probably drove for 20 minutes or more and those sprinkler's had been turned on their sides, disconected and twisted around for miles and miles. There was also a barn that had the roof blown off and a grain bin that was crushed, as well as a number of trees torn apart. There must have been a tornado or some incredible wind there recently.

Well thats my news to share today. We're loading in the morning heading for somewhere in Oklahoma. Somehow, and correct me if I've got my geography wrong, I don't think Oklahoma is in route to eastern Montana. Am I right? Well, we were here all day before we got this load, so I guess there's not much to be had. I'll just be greatful we got a load, and trust our broker to get us home as soon as he can. Hopefully thats going to be sooner than later.