Westward, Ho! Day 1

June 26

A friend of mine, upon finding out that Jack and I were on our way to California with no children, only a few days before our 15^th wedding anniversary, wished us a safe trip, and hoped we could have a second honeymoon. What a sweet thought, and much appreciated. How very short of the reality.

At 5:00 am on the morning we were to leave, Jack became suddenly and violently sick to his stomach. Still very groggy from having stayed up way too late folding clothes, I lay still at first, hoping he would stop. Finally, common decency dictated I get up and offer some sort of assistance.

I figured he would probably sleep in after that, and so he did. He slept through a semi starting in the back yard not far from his bedroom window. He slept through the semi driving all the way along the house before leaving. He missed the children waking up and thundering downstairs. Long about 9:30 am, when I thought we would be ready to leave, he opened his eyes and looked around. Now, it wasn’t exactly 0-60 in 3 seconds, but he was amazingly spry for such a recent cookie-tosser.

Over at Mom & Dad’s house, there were still a few things that had to be done to the car before he could go, like swap the tires from the Deer Suburban (you remember the Great Deer Hunt of 2010, starring my own mother, The Deerstalker), over to our replacement suburban. The replacement conveniently came in Montana Dirt Color, so it all blends in. It’s a popular shade among us country folks.

As Jack was working, a sudden outbreak of snarls and screams sent him running. By the time he found the source, Tina was standing there covered with blood, and holding a neighbor’s small dog. Very dramatic stuff, I tell you.

In a nutshell, Laura was walking the neighbor’s dog, and came up to the screen door to check in with Tina. Hannah, my parents’ German shepherd, busted through the screen door and attacked the little dog. When Tina quite deliberately stuck her hands in Hannah’s mouth to make her let go of the other doggy’s chest, she was bitten several times.

Thanks to that noble and selfless intervention, Muffins is still above ground and slowly recovering. Hannah physical body may be above ground for a little while yet, while the rabies testing is carried out, however she is no longer with us. This was not her first attack on a small, domesticated animal, but it was most definitely her last.

Somewhat blood-streaked himself, Jack returned to work on the car, and at last we made it out of town at 6 that evening. “We can at least make it a little way down the road before we go to sleep,” he explained. “Yeah, like Plentywood,” Tina snickered not very kindly.

Despite comments from certain skeptical individuals, we did make it farther than Plentywood. Not far out of Billings, we put up our flag for the rest of the night, flopping over in our cushioned bed right there in the back of the suburban.

I wish it had been that simple. First we had to remove all the boxes of tools, brought to put the trailer sides together or in case of trouble, the monster jack, more tools, and tarps, then spread out three fat sleeping bags and our fuzzy wolf blanket.

Jack complained the next morning about some blanket tug-of-war, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. If he had some disagreement with himself over his blankie, that’s hardly my problem. As long as it isn’t vigorous enough to wake me up, I don’t care.

Until the next day,

Noni Beth

Montana Mardi Gras

The Caped Avenger of Vacation Bible School. 

The Caped Avenger spots the camera.

The Caped Avenger is displeased.

VERY displeased.

Through a Glass

My recent status as *ahem* international truck driver has led to the usual challenges a trucker photographer faces, mainly that all the cool stuff to see or photograph slides right on by, with nowhere to stop. I've had that problem for years. I've driven right across the Swanee River (at night no less), past the exits for scads of famous Civil War battlefields. I've seen all the famous New Orleans cemeteries whiz past, exits to Boston and Washington, D.C. I've driven right past the turnoffs to the Painted Desert, Carlsbad Caverns, and more museums than you could shake a stick at. 

My bright idea won't solve all those little challenges, especially the museums, but with an autofocus camera, it occurred to me that I can photograph at least some things. Somewhat. The necessity of keeping my eyes on the road adds a certain unique slant to my perspective, though that may improve if I can learn to hold the camera somewhat straighter without looking. 

So here are a few snapshots from my loops to Belle Plaine, SK. I've had many destinations, but so far only one pick-up place.  Now that fertilizer season is pretty well over, that may change.

Going around through Plentywood, the road is your average two-lane country highway. But up through  Scobey is much different. Most of the way is narrow, so narrow they didn't even bother to paint a white line.

The lovely little town of Coronach has one of the more vivid grain elevators I've seen, and I have seen quite a few out here.

Dropping down into the also-adorable town of Willow Branch, home of some kind of giant that I couldn't stop and check out, is a grade that almost passes for a baby mountain.

That truck can thank me later for distracting the DOT guy long enough for him to slip past. A complete Level II inspection, thank you very much.

My first trip up through Crane Valley, SK, it rained  almost the whole way.

This wasn't quite the first thunderstorm of the year, but close. That reminds me, I need to tell you about Damon's first call in to the weather service as an official weather spotter, only a few minutes after this photo was taken. Let's just say they're probably still talking about him.

4.5 meters....4.5 meters......that's how many feet again?  Think fast - will the truck make it or not? Oh bother, I wish I'd paid more attention in school.

Whew! Note to self: your truck is shorter than 4.5 meters. Whatever that is.

The Hunt Goes On

In the continuing saga of my study of the Wild Life Photographer, this week I really struck pay dirt. The shots just poured in, despite a minor malfunction in my tranquilizer gun. You may call me Noni Stauffer.

As when studying any species, it's very important to observe it in its natural habitat, within its family groups.

Intent on its own hunt, the WLP, Wild Life Photographer, doesn't even notice the furtive scientific observations.

So beautiful in motion, like a poem composing itself right before your eyes.

The WLP continues its search for prey, possibly the endangered panorama.

They say you can't study anything in the natural world without changing it, and I am excited to have proven this hypothesis to be without merit. My subject continues its natural behaviors without deviation, thanks to my own caution. I cannot help but pause for a moment of self-congratulation.

Have I mentioned how very elusive is the WLP?

Honesty compels me to confess that, on this occasion at least, my observation did cause a certain amount of change to the subject's behavior. In my eagerness to obtain an almost unheard-of head-on view, I was most definitely spotted, and very nearly struck. I shall have to exercise extreme restraint for quite some time, until my subject again grows accustomed to my presence. In the meantime, are those not some of the most beautiful fingers you have ever seen?

The Thrill of the Hunt

Stalking the wily....

...elusive...

...wild...

...nature photographer.

Oh dear. I think it heard me.

It saw me. Oh dear, oh dear. I'm sure it saw me.

Distraction. Quick - it's my only hope! 




Oh, look - was that a duck?


Hide the tranquilizer gun.

Mayday! Mayday!

May 1, 2011

It all started so innocently the night before, with a stiff breeze.

A VERY stiff breeze.

The tree only a few feet from our front door. Although a blizzard had been forecast since late afternoon the day before - not much warning, to be sure - the severity caught everyone by surprise.

It was the kind of blizzard in which you could get lost between the house and the barn. 

In the morning, it was so dark. It didn't take long to figure out that every single window on the whole house had been covered with a thick layer of snow.

A while back Naughty Clancy had jumped through our front screen. As irritating as that is, it did make for some interesting snow patterns in the front entry.

After a couple hours, we were finally able to see the neighbor across the street. The thick, heavy, wet snow weighted down the pine trees terribly. Many of them broke, including a 5-foot section just to the right of this photo.

In the space of about 12 hours, all the hard work of melting snow had been undone, and our driveway was drifted in again with snow, as deeply as it had been all winter. Between the car and the cottage, you can just see the 6-foot-high trailer sticking out of the snow.

Everything had a coat of snow, including the power lines. Tina had just brought back her borrowed propane heater the day before. The Model of Efficiency became the poster child for freezing people huddled in bed to stay warm. She spent the night with us - we were already down to our emergency heat due to the carbon monoxide, remember? The outage didn't phase us a bit.

Once again, the roads became imaginary; only guesswork mapping out a course for others to follow.

Between the wind and the snow, the gargantuan pine tree in Mom and Dad's front yard looked just a teeny bit scary. It survived the storm, but we were all nervous about walking under the tipsy side for several days.

At last, a thin strip of blue sky announced the end of the blizzard, too late to save thousands of cows and new spring calves across Montana and North Dakota. Many of those that died, blundered into flooded places in the pasture, covered with a thick, deadly coat of ice and snow. With so little warning, not many could be herded into shelter.

Mom and Dad had several trees and large branches snap right off. One of them landed on the TV antenna, bending it into a perfect rainbow shape. This tree was more than a foot in diameter.

24 hours earlier, this was brown, bare grass.

Amazingly enough, the snowplows made it out toward the end. As you can see, it was pretty clear in town, but out on the prairie where the wind still howled, visibility was poor. We sure appreciate the intrepid snowplowists who go out in all kinds of weather to clear our roads.

One of the oddities of the storm was the stop sign at the main intersection in town, blown completely sideways.

Many of you have doubtless seen Pig from the comic strip "Pearls Before Swine". 

Am I the only one who sees the uncanny resemblance?

Our shed is bright, candystriper pink, at least for a little longer. We enjoyed seeing what it would have looked like in bright white.

Blizzard over, sun goes down on another day. Someday soon, the power will be back on. Welcome to May, everybody!