Firewood . . . .

Each spring during March and April we gather dead-fall from 100 or so cottonwood trees along the creek bottom.  This year is far worse due to a deadly storm last July that brought hurricane-force winds and amazing destruction.  We have been cleaning up since that storm, but the tall grasses that grow in summer inhibit a very concentrated approach.  We decided to wait until winter and try again once the snow had subsided.

Not full yet . . . .

Many of the larger branches and stumps had to be cut with the chain saw to make them manageable.  We concentrate on those first, and then gather up the smaller branches and twigs.  It is tedious, scratchy work.  We dump each load into a burn pile and dispose of them in that manner, keeping the larger chunks for the wood pile and the fireplace we burn in the cold months.  Smaller branches are cut to a shorter length for our outdoor patio stove which we burn in late spring and early autumn when we can avoid the mosquitoes.

Aching backs . . . .

We attempt to mow these grassy meadows in summer and my ambitious plan for a private nine-hole golf course is still a dream in the distant future, however the cleanup has to occur first.  Even the brush hog pulled behind the tractor cannot deal with this kind of mess.  It is cut, bend and stoop, load on the trailer and haul away to be burned.  Like it or not.

Sir Winston and Maud . . . .

We have lots of helpers who want to get in on the fun.  Maud attempts to grab onto the end of the limbs while we are carrying them, and Sir Winston gets tangled up in our feet while he tries to give us a friendly rub.  We couldn’t do it without them.

Dry Creek? . . . .

The Not So Dry Creek has been running since mid-中日韩精品视频在线观看.  Flood stage had subsided and most of the snow had melted one week ago, but this week we have had another 8-10 inches of snowfall and bitter cold.  Trying to get tractor, trailer and other equipment in to some areas is a challenge that will not go away soon.  And when this latest snow melts, we will be back up to some level of flooding again.  Ethel will be in heaven.

A goose’s favorite pastime . . . .

Ethel, our one remaining goose has been waiting in a dusty, dry poultry house all winter for a bath and a good meal of roots and mud.  She is in her element and spends the entire day fishing and bathing in the water.  The chickens like to pick along the creek bank although it is a mystery what they are after – still too cold for bugs and worms!

A creek runs through it . . . .

My fondest dream as a child was for Dry Creek to run again all year long.  I spent the spring flood season splashing around in the water up and down the creek.  My bum lambs would join me for a nibble of green grass.  Alas, by July the water was gone and I was back to being a dry-lander.  Underground springs are found for several miles along the creek bottom and we have a nice pond that is spring fed.  In the early part of the last century, homesteaders built dug-outs in the creek banks and utilized water from seeps.

Not so deep . . . .

The water makes its way downstream to eventually join the North Fork of Powder River.  Reservoirs that hinder its progress have been overflowing and the underground water still makes its way to join the river, which flows into the Middle Fork of the Powder.  Who knows, perhaps climate change will bring my dream into reality and Dry Creek will run once more!  I’m not buying a fishing pole any time soon.

“Aren’t I adorable?” . . . .

Maud was born on Memorial Day, 2017.  We lost our dog Rosie to poison a couple months earlier in the year and felt the only way to fill the hole in our hearts was with a new puppy.  I read a notice in the 人妻熟妇乱又伦精品视频app Livestock Roundup last July advertising “purebred Australian Shepherd pups” and could not put the idea out of mind.  We hemmed and hawed for a few days and decided we needed to see a photograph of the puppies before we could decide.  The breeder, a rancher in Columbus, Montana was most helpful and friendly, but decidedly not into email or texting.  Could we wait until his daughter could help him out?

“Where’s my furbee?” . . . .

Finally, after what seemed like an interminably long period of time, I received a photograph of a wooly-looking puppy with a freckled face.  It was love at first sight.  We called the breeder and said we would take her and would send a deposit right away.  She had been spoken for previously but the potential buyer did not follow up with the deposit.  We were thrilled that she was available.

“Oh this water feels good!” . . . .

We drove to Montana, a trip of 259 miles to Columbus, and another 20 miles out in the hills to the ranch where Maud was born.  There were still four pups left, including Maud but we definitely liked her color the best.  She was hiding under a dog house in the center of a large fenced kennel and had to be pried out so we could have a look at her.  I held her while we visited with the breeder, then put her in a crate in the back seat of our pickup.  It was a very long ride home, as she became car sick and was so dehydrated.  We stopped to buy a couple bath towels to wrap her in and I held her in my lap the rest of the way, which calmed her and she settled down.

Oh puppyhood! . . . .

Maud became a good traveler and began accompanying us to our cabin in Colorado,  resulting in huge messes on a regular basis.  What are puppies for?  She could not resist a bowl of pine cones and anything else available that she could chew on, including her puppy pad.  Aussies are notorious for needing something to do at all times, and Maud is no exception.  I believe she can set the standard for busy.

“What snow?” . . . .

Maud has earned several new nicknames for her mischievous behavior–“Maudzilla,” “Maud the Marauder,” “Maudly,” to name a few.  She loves to chase chickens, dig holes, maul the cats, growl at Feed Lot, and harass the herd of deer that lurk around outside the fence.  She has learned to behave a little better around Tilly the filly.  She has to be kept on leash when we leave the confines of the yard, for now.

‘My furbee–don’t try it!” . . . .

Her friend Gus loves to play ball or run for the furbee.  He lives in the neighborhood and stops in to play and see if there are any treats.  He always seems to outsmart Maud and get there ahead of her for the furbee.   She hasn’t figured out how to outmaneuver him, even though she is bigger and equally as fast on her feet.   The look she gives him in this photo makes it clear the contest isn’t over.  Isn’t that just like a female?