Fall days on the Juniper T finds us hauling horse hay home for the coming winter months.
I always feel better once we have the hay bought and loaded into the barn.
The colors of Fall are more intense…softer light…with amber hues. I have loved my flowers this year…with the cooler weather they bloomed incredibly…they will continue until the first freeze.
This planter of mine is interesting…do you know what it is? It is the iron wheel off an old combine used to farm the land here…my Grandpa would have used it way back when…sometime in the 40′s my Dad had the idea of making it into the barn water trough in the large corral beside the barn…it was perfect for watering our horses.
When I was little my Uncle caught me drinking in it with my horse Prince…of course he gave me a swat and said “You do not need to drink out of that Marcia Jean”. The water trough continued on at the barn through raising our three kids…we even had goldfish in it for a while…and in 2004 Wild Bill remodeled down at the barn…installed a new trough and I said ok I want that…lots of history in that old wheel.
“Hay…did I hear someone mention hay?”
“What? Who said hay…new hay….fresh hay…my prayers have been answered!”
Melody loves her hay…and I love her and Annie:)
Pat and Jack are excited as they will get a whole new house for this winter.
Kiah is the cutest girl we have had….”What is hay?”
“Horse food?…No bones or chewy stuff then huh? Can I go with you to get it?”
“Oh geezo…she is rather simple-minded huh…why did you bring her home anyway?”
“Oh for the love of Pete…I am 16 years old and I still wonder why any of those dogs are outside my window…they are very much complete ding dongs…even I know what hay is…mice hide in it and I can burrow in it and use it for my bed if need be…although I sleep here in the house on Mom’s bed…”
“Seriously…what is hay? I am only a year old…and I don’t know…but I am cute.”
“Ok so let’s go get the dang hay so Kiah will know what hay is already…”
Annie is ready to go…such a pretty girl!
I am pulling into the hay-field with my Burb…
Wild Bill’s trailer is almost loaded…he loves it when the hay farmer has a tractor to load the hay on the trailer!
“I expected him to break into song and dance”…”It’s a beautiful morning…ooooaaahhhh.” It is embarrassing but he has been known to do that at certain times.
One trailer loaded and ready to go…WB tying it down.
And then he did this…you want to know what they are talking about…cars…old cars…how you could fix one up…hot rod or antique…hmmmm.
So I took pictures while they discussed life and cars.
I found someone to talk to…look deep into my eyes…and say “Mooooo.”
A fun shot…we actually live just over the hill…but we have to drive about 2 hours to get there as the gravel road over the hill is not good right now.
Ok my turn…”Saddie Suburban”…yes we name our rigs…on another post I will tell you more!
We are loaded and headed for home!
Fanny Annie is waiting…hay hay hay!
So is Melody…did you say hay hay hay?
“I just want to be loved”….Dasher is very cute too…waiting on Wild Bill to get home.
“Zoom Zoom…1928 Dodge Coupe with a V-12 Jag Motor”…”Wild Bill is still building “Jagged” and we do intend to take it to the Grand National Roadster Show”…I know kind of odd for me to put this in but remember I am a “Hot Rod Cowgirl”…be sure to check out our web page too if you like cars and artistic ability…www.holtonsecretlab.com
“We build cars…restore cars….frame off restorations…whatever our customer wants from classics to muscle cars to hot rods to antiques. Go to our website and there is a link for YouTube…we have several videos up of the restorations we have done.”
“Yeah well I was here first….well they love me as I am cute….whatever I am older and wiser….well I am cute and playful…well…shut up…no you shut up…no you.”
And with that said…all was quiet in Juniper Canyon on the Juniper T…everyone was happy…Hot Rod Cowgirl got her hay…Wild Bill got to dance a bit and was happy to get the hay too…all the animals were happy too…”Night Wild Bill…Night MJ” and all was quiet on the Juniper T Ranch.
Sep 23, 2011 @ 11:17:06
Great pics! Fall has definitely arrived and I couldn’t be happier about it. ;D
Sep 27, 2011 @ 20:34:46
Love this post and the story you tell with it!
Nov 01, 2011 @ 22:45:30
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Sep 10, 2012 @ 13:40:36
What kind of breed is Dasher? She seems to be mixed but do you know any of the breeds? She has an interesting face.
Sep 10, 2012 @ 13:56:30
Dasher is one breed and that is Austrailian Shepherd…his color is called a Blue Merle….tucker is a Red Merle and Kiah is a Blue Merle. All three have different fathers and mothers but they are all Aussies. Wonderful dogs:) Good watch dogs too:)
Sep 10, 2012 @ 14:04:30
Wow, interesting. I never would have guessed. Australian Shepherd. So, I would guess that they herd the cattle? I may have heard of this breed before. I’m going to check. I hope I can find what I’m looking for. If I do, I’ll get back to you on this.
Sep 10, 2012 @ 15:53:08
Yes they have the natural instinct to herd the cattle…..we used to use Australian Blue Heelers up in the mountains…WB and I did not get Aussies until 2004 as we had always had heelers and I would still love to have a Blue Heeler with at least one black patch over his or her eye. Heelers are very smart and awesome cattle dogs. The main difference between the Aussies and Heelers is that the Heelers need more work to do as they get bored….the Aussies are content to just be with you when they are not herding…they stick closer to home and do not wonder off as much.
Sep 10, 2012 @ 15:44:08
No, the breed I saw was called Pyrenees and Akwyd (I can’t remember the spelling!) They are almost feral dogs. I learned about these dogs from a documentary on PBS in 2011. It was so good, I watched it several times. Here’s where it gets interesting: the film was called Sweetwater. Have you heard of it? Here is the link: http://www.pbs.org/pov/sweetgrass/film_description.php
Brief description: Lawrence Allestad and family were among the last of the traditional sheepherders of the American West. Under a public grazing permit that had been handed down in his Norwegian-American family for generations, (I just learned today on your blog that your family is Norwegian.) Allestad was the final rancher to drive his herds into Montana’s rugged Absaroka-Beartooth range north of Yellowstone to fatten on sweet summer grass. The family members and their hired hands conducted the drives much as their pioneer forebears had — on horseback, with dogs for herding and guarding, and armed with rifles to frighten away bears and wolves. Over the years, better gear — walkie-talkies, four-wheelers and cell phones — took some of the edges off a hard life, but still the work remained exhausting and dangerous for both men and animals.
Any chance you knew them or are related to them? The film drew a lot of controversy that really ticked me off. I defended the ranchers and the filmmakers as if they were my family! LOL. If you have the time, read my comment on the link above under the name Marcy R.
Sep 10, 2012 @ 20:19:58
My Grandfather’s name was Gunder and he came to America at the age of 13 by himself. The boat he was on ship wrecked in the Azores but he eventually made it to America and first went to Kansas and Nebraska where there were some Norwegian settlements…then he returned to Norway to share his news of this new country and the opportunities in America to homestead land…when he came back to America the second time he traveled to Oregon and on to the Pendleton area and began to farm and homestead the land around Helix. We live 8 miles from the town of Helix…Grandpa eventually homesteaded 10,000 acres. He brought his brothers and sister over to America to help them homestead a place if they wanted…and the house I live in today was built for his mother Anne Marie…she came over to this new land in 1920 so that she could be with her sons and daughter, their families and enjoy a new life. She was 78 years old…can you imagine? At that time here in the house there was no running water or electricity and the paved roads were dirt roads at best…it used to take all day to travel the 20 miles to Pendleton for supplies…and her view of the beauty of Norway was now the beauty of sage brush and rolling hills…a view of new life filled with hopes and dreams for her family here in this new land.
I often feel the spirit of hard work and not giving up, perseverance and being tough, comes from my Grandfather Gunder…I never met him as he passed away a few years before I was born…and Grandmother Karen worked hard side by side with him, while they raised 9 kids up in the traditions of gratitude and grace…honor and love for their families…hard work…and humble hearts filled with hopes and dreams.
All of my Uncles and my Dad were very athletic…my Dad was the only one who fell in love with cattle and horses…he loved ranching. Before he and his brothers bought the 800 head herd of cattle he farmed with his brothers for many years…in fact when he and my Mom married in 1939 he was the first son to move out hee and farm with his Dad….eventually he convinced his older brother to join him and the twins who were the youngest joined their two older brothers in later years. His three brothers continued to farm the land while Dad ran the cattle ranch up in the mountains every summer and the winter cattle ranch about a 100 miles from here. I loved that we moved up to the mountains each summer the day school was out. It was just Dad, Mom and I….oh sure we had a fencing crew as none of the 25,000 acres were fenced!!! My summers were filled with working cattle and moving them to different pastures…often putting in 12-14 hours days in the saddle…I loved it! And I miss it today.
I am not sure if you read about my Dad’s sports injury in his Senior year of High School. He was the star football player that was certain to go on and play professional and was going to play for University of Oregon at Eugene, Oregon. One of his last football games his senior year he was tackled and a cleat punctured a boil on his knee…within hours it became a full blown infection and he was admitted to the local hospital…and after several days of failing and being close to death his high school buddies snuck into the hospital and snuck him out. One of his friend’s father owned a mortuary so they loaded Dad on a gurney into a hearse and got him to the train station and loaded him on the Portland Rose train for the trip to Portland…they or someone had made arrangements for Dr. Dillhut to take over Dad’s health care. This was before penicillin and moden medicine…the infection in Dad’s leg turned into Osteomyelitis and in the early 1930′s the only way to get the infection off his leg was to operate and literally scrape the infection off his leg bone from the top of his hp to the bottom of his foot. He was in the hospital a year in Portland and most of the time in a body cast. He survived but his left leg in the knee joint became stiff from the trauma and he could not bend his knee. He was finally able to come home a year after the injury…can you imagine going through this as a young man…his dreams of football crushed. He told me he holed up out here in the country with his older brother Jens who had played football at the U of O…Uncle Jens got Dad’s head back on and said now go finish your high school degree and then get your bottom down to the U of O…and that is what Dad did. He continued to have flare ups of the infection off and on and finally when they had penicillin the flare ups became less. Before Dad asked Mom to marry him he went to his bone dr. and asked “Will I be enough of a man to get married with this bum leg”…his dr. patted his back and said “Heck yes” so he asked Mom to marry him and in 1939 they married, and lived a happy married life for 59 years…I loved them both so very much. They taught me to love and to stand tall, to never give up, to fight when the going got tough and to remember always where I came from. Great Grandma Anne Marie passed away in 1938 and Grandpa had always said that which ever son marries first will live here and Dad was the first son. He neglected to let Mom know there was no power or running water…all he wedding gifts that were electric did not work…Mom’s Dad Grandpa Virgil gave them an electric dishwasher…hmmmmmm. Mom went out and collected signatures for electricity and by the second year of marriage they had lights.
I have gone on and on….sorry but once I get going writing it is hard to stop:) Someday I want to write a book of family times, simpler times…back when time stood still and the world was still hanging in the right place:) I thought of Dad with this sports injury when I saw you were researching them….I never knew he had a disability as he pushed himself and never complained once that I remember. I watched him rope and jump off his horse and I rode with him in steep country gathering cattle and he often hopped off his horse with no sign of pain or hassle. He lived his life fully and did not allow his stiff leg to keep him from living every second of it. I was in my late 30′s when the osteo flared up again and Dad was in the hospital and that is when I realized his leg was stiff and yet….he lived as my Dad without grumbles or whoa is me…he lived like a man…and my cowboy Dad.
By the way my legal name is Marcia…I am called Marcy as well:) Middle name is Jean so often I am called MJ too:) It is time for bed for me…was up super early today….hoping you have a wonderful night:) Hope this did not bore you too much:)
Sep 11, 2012 @ 18:29:18
Dear Marcy ; – )
As if I could be bored by anything you wrote!!! You leave me with my jaw dropped! I don’t know where to begin! As for your having “gone on and on” not only do we have the same nickname but we have the same habits! Once I get started writing, I tend to write on and on (always more than anybody else) not that I’m trying to. I often go back and delete whatever I can to make it shorter but it doesn’t help much.
My grandparents have a similar history. They came over from Northern Italy. I think I heard someone in my family say by frigate ship via Canada.That’s on my father’s side. On my mother’s side they came from Southern Italy and that grandfather owned a horse and buggy and gave rides around Central Park. They owned a large apartment building in New York but lost everything in the Depression.They had owned an olive farm in Italy. She had 7 children, two of which were twins which died.
My sister lives 2 blocks from the house that my grandfather (on my father’s side) built. So, I guess I get my love of horses from one grandfather and my ability to make home repairs from my other grandfather!
One of my uncles was a boxer. He was in the Golden Gloves. (Are we two peas in a pod or what?)
No, I didn’t get to read about your dad’s sports injury yet.I’d like to read your entire blog. I’ll have to do a little at a time. What your dad went through was more than any human being should have to go through. Thank God for penicillin. (I can’t take it; I developed a reaction to it.) The story about your dad’s friends ….Momma Mia! A hearse no less. Did he laugh about that? They ought to ban football. and boxing. Thank goodness for Uncle Jens! I had to laugh when he asked his doctor if he would be enough of a man. He was more like 5 men rolled into one! Possibly verging on too much of a man! I’m glad they got electricity. I noticed you wrote “mom” got the signatures. I imagine she was desperate for electricity. Good for her!! My mom had polio when she was a child. It effected one side of her body. Yet, she raised 3 kids on the 4th floor of an apartment building. Each floor had a flight of stairs, then a landing, then another flight of stairs. In all, 9 flights of stairs. She is still climbing them at age 85. I only climbed them for 21 years and then I got married. Kids today are too soft…and obese. See you in the next post!
Warm regards,
Marcy
Sep 14, 2012 @ 13:55:08
Hi Marcy:) Most other Marcy’s that I meet spell Marci with an i or Marce with a e so I am very glad to meet you Marcy:) My Grandfather on my Mom’s side wanted Marsha to be spelled Marcia and often I have people pronounce it Marcia’ an that sounds like Italian??? Not sure. Hope this makes sense:)
I think we both have families that fought hard to come to America and worked hard to give their families a new life in this new country. I admire how your Mom is yet walking up those stairs…wow…that says a lot for a woman who is 85! Yes the younger people today frm about 19-20 all the way up to around 40 do not know how to work hard. Growing up on a ranch I learned that we worked 24/7 as we had animals to feed and care for….that includes holidays and rarely did we take time off to go anywhere but we lived in beautiful surroundings and for me, I did not know any different. One of the most shocking things our youngest son did was right when my Dad was in ICU the first time and this son had just graduated from HS…anyway my folks had a one level house next door to us and when we went to WY for a few years Dad got sentimental about the old house so they moved back in while we were gone. While Dada was in ICU my Mom asked BIll and I to move them back into the one level house next door and for us to move back into the old house which I was happy to do. In order to have our son help us move my folks in two days the only way he would help us is if we paid him a wage to help. My views as his mother changed that day with him…and since that time he has continued that sort of behavior to us. I do not understand….but it has happened so many times now that we have moved on to not claiming him as family.
Anyway…blah blah blah…my life is very blessed:) I know the hearse story was one that Dad always told laughing as these were his very best friends and thank goodness they snuck him out as he would have died in Pendleton…it was a Catholic Hospital and the Sisters felt they could help Dad but they did not know what to do with this type of infection…so his friends knew they would loose their buddy if they did not risk getting him out and that hearse actually saved his life:) I have had people marvel at the story I share about having breast cancer and I know I was tough and to this day do not make excuses or use that I had cancer for sympathy as for me….I feel very blessed and what I went through is a blessing as I am alive and healthy…I often forget I had it now. My folks taught me to NOT be a victim as I see some people do with their lives whether it is cancer or their job or their spouse…I would never want to be a victim and yet so many young people choose that role. It is sad as they miss out on so much!
I truly enjoy your writing and when God gives out the writers trait we that have it love to write and explore our lives on paper….being creative is a lot of fun…I am learning more each day with writing and photography:) I so enjoy taking pictures and seek always to find the right shot that tells the story with the image….of course I like to write about it too but if I can get that one shot where no matter who you were you could see and hear the story in the photo:)
Happy Friday Marcy and Happy Weekend! And Let ‘Er Buck….that is a Pendelton Round Up expression:)
Sep 10, 2012 @ 16:06:58
My bad. The name of the film is Sweetgrass not Sweetwater and the breed of the dogs is Great Pyrennes and one Turkish Akbash. I think I just have Australian on the brain because there are so many Australian bloggers on WordPress!
Sep 10, 2012 @ 20:20:25
Oct 19, 2012 @ 14:28:52
My son sounds like your son. Mine is bipolar. There isn’t much they can do for people with bipolar disorder but he refuses to take any medication that would help. He’s very difficult to get along with.
Oct 19, 2012 @ 14:45:47
Yes, I am not sure exactly what he and his sister have but they both have completely different perspectives on life than what we have. WB is not their biological father as I was married young to a very abusive young man. I felt sorry for his life as he had a hard life so I tried to help him and the next thing I knew I was married and going to have my first child…a girl. The abuse continued and when I was prenant with our son I knew that if I did not get out I wold end up buried 6′ under and how would that help my kids…so I got my big girl panties on and divorced him. Daughter was 5 and son was 2 so I thought that they were young enough to grow up good and be good people. As it worked out WB adopted them and he too had a little red headed 3 year old boy so our family truly blended….we tried to do everything right as parents do and with my parents close by we al thought they would grow up with good stuff. When they reached the teen years they began to slowly change…lies, crazy times and drinking and on and on…we actually do not have much to do with them now…our middle son the red head is doing wonderful and we are very proud of him….our daughter and other son had so many super opportunities ti advance their lives but they remain stuck…..and blame the world for their problems. And also vey difficult to get along with.