Lily

(Click on the pictures to enlarge) As the proud owners of six year old Baron, the large GSD, we were on a mission, traversing the
back country roads of Bluff Country. Our
friends Steve and Jewel were gone for the weekend and had asked us to help
out. Come on along….

The land is mostly hills and valleys but there are rolling areas of corn and soybean fields as well.

And a few scattered farmsteads along the way.

Oh. There she is. Her name is Lily She is a "rescued" dog and a real sweetie. She had adopted to farm life very well and guards the property zealously.

Lily follows Mrs. T in hopes that dinner is in the offing!

Good girl, Lily see ya later....

Pot Of Gold

Long trips on the freeway can become tiresome but somehow I felt this one looked good....

A New Hat

"Well you see Norm, it's like this . . . A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the
slowest buffalo; and when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest
ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the
herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps
improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way,
the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we
know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks
the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of
beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more
efficient machine. And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few
beers.'

And so in search of being smarter, we (center left to right, Mary, Mrs. T and cousin Joe) pilgrimaged to Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. There we toured the fount of my favorite lager. That would be Leinenkugels Honey Weisse. A few days later Baron and I prepare to head out for our morning hike. You might notice me wearing my new "Leinies" hat from Chippewa Falls.....

The Black Hills

I didn’t much care for the Black Hills of South Dakota at first. That was in the
mid-fifties when I first traveled and camped there with my parents. The Bad
Lands were bad, hot and dusty. Wall Drug, famous throughout the land, as a
tourist Mecca was just that. Crowded and chintzy. There were junky stores
everywhere. And later gambling at Deadwood was not my thing.
For years my
brothers and later sons and I zipped on by the Hills on our way to the fabled
fly fishing streams of southwestern Montana. No time for traffic jams and
tourist traps for us.
And then one
Easter vacation in the new century, with a new camper in hand, we, the empty
nesters, decided a short trip to the Black Hills would be a just in order. It
was a late Easter that year and the weather in Minnesota was mild and sunny.
Highs in the mid fifties. We weren’t tenting anymore and the new camper had a
furnace. We imagined the crowds wouldn’t be to bad. Heck, I might even try some
trout fishing.
We made camping reservations at a place named Custer Mountain Campground. Naturally, it
was a mile or two from Custer, South Dakota on the southern edge of the Black
Hills. When we arrived the temperature was a balmy 75 degrees. Even more
surprising the campground with 60 sites, 4 camper cabins and 5 new luxury
cabins had only one other camper.
The owner
informed us we were " a little early in the season." After discussing
things to do, we took his recommendation to drive the Custer State Park
"loop road." We did the next day. In July and
August the road might have hundreds cars checking out the beautiful vistas and
wildlife. On this first occasion though it was magical. For hours we had it all
to ourselves. There was wildlife everywhere. I fell in love right then and
there. The owner
informed us we were " a little early in the season Since then we have made
it a habit to visit the fabled Black Hills at least once a year. The joys of
retirement living now make it possible for us to pick either spring or fall.
The magic never goes away. A couple of years back our son and grandson came up
from Colorado to join us for a week of camping. This summer again on the way to
Montana we stopped in the Hills for a few days with our friends Gary and Rosie
and drove through Custer State Park. It was as beautiful as ever…..

Sunrise Sunset

Is this the little
girl I carried,
Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember
growing older,
When did they?
When did she get to
be a beauty,
When did he grow to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday
when they were small?
Sunrise, sunset , Sunrise,sunset,
Swiftly flow the days.
Seedlings turn
overnight to sunflowers,
Blossoming even as we gaze.
Sunrise, sunset, Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years,
One season following another,
Laiden with happiness and tears.

Wildflowers of the Prairie and the Mountain West

Okay folks. Lets cut to the chase. Mrs. T took these pictures and I can't identify them all but some are from Hayden Prairie in Iowa and the rest are from the Rocky Mountain West. Next time we head towards the setting sun, I'll get myself a book on Rocky Mountain wildflowers and try to name a few....

Flying D Ranch

Having spent the morning climbing the rather precipitous trail up along Swan Creek we all opted for an afternoon ride. The plan was to look for buffalo. Apparently the gang hadn't had there fill when we stopped in South Dakota's Custer state park. I had the solution, a first ever visit for Gary and Rosie to Ted Turner's Flying D Ranch south of Bozeman With
approximately two million acres of personal and ranch land, Ted Turner is the
second largest individual landholder in North America. Turner lands are
innovatively managed and work to partner economic viability with ecological
sustainability. All Turner ranches operate as working businesses, relying on
bison and outfitting as principal enterprises. The Flying D
is an 113,613-acre ranch. A nine mile public road crosses the ranch on the way to a National Forest Campground and trout stream. Naturally I'd been there before. Take a look at a few thousand buffalo.......

In the middle of increasing development pressures in the Gallatin
Valley and Big Sky, the Flying D remains protected open space by virtue of a
conservation easement donated to the Nature Conservancy in 1989.