July In Idaho

I don't ever remember another July in Idaho when the honeysuckle has bloomed in my back yard. They are usually in bloom in early June....

I have a four foot tall tomato with at least twenty buds on it.....but it has yet to set on ONE tomato......I've had salad from my yard...lettuce, dandelion, and other wild things.

Gary's corn is about six inches tall.. To say the least it is not doing well. Strange year in Idaho. I haven't been swimming yet.

I like the lakes when they are cold. Soon they will be to warm to cool me while I swim. I have broke out the old Exercycle bike. I have my cardio glyde. I've been working at them . Getting old is not for the faint heart. Being so fat is probably why I have not been in the lake....Even at sixty I'm vain..."Vanity thy name is OLD woman." I don't REALLY think that is the way that quote went. It is close enough!....

Jacob,paid us a visit with his second Daddy, last night. He tells me ."he is lucky cause he has two daddies. Most little boys only get ONE."

The child put five miles on the exercise bike. Dug a bike that belongs to Stephen or Axston. It was deep inside the shed.he really and to work for it. He rode it all over the place as fast as it's little tires would carry him.....

He also went to the park where He hung from the bars and ran over under around and through the play ground equipment while we watched it became at once, Tom Sawyers island...Treasure islands walkway...and a ship to ply the deep waters of Northi Idaho!!! He did calesthenics, he climbed the "childs mountain1"He hung from rungs and fell on his head!. He tires me out just watching him. He rode my cardioglyde machine too....He pulls the handle all the way down so it touches his forehead! In that position the back of the machine goes way up.....It's like a "do it yourself"teeter totter!......He is quite a guy, our Jacob.

I am told the elder children are going to camp this week. This means I had to go get Stephen a pair of shoes to wear to camp. He had nothing but flip flops. You know the kind we used to call thongs. His mother was going on about his shoes being left at camp on a recent camping trip with the family. I was amazed she let him go. Ace was "to grounded" to go. cause he got bad grades in school.....expletive deleted....
Camping with Grandpa and his Uncles was pretty important..I think there was much more to this than we will ever know...

At any rate his shoes, she was so upset over were found. They had holes in the soles...poor kid. I guess if you have nothing a bit of something is better than none at all. I don't understand her thoughts....but TJ was going to buy him a new pair..I bought him a couple pairs to wear now and will get him a nice pair for his birthday....in case he leaves them at church camp....Which is all together likely with this little guy. He is a normal six year old..Shoes are not a priority.

He sure liked catching crawdads with Uncle....The first thing Jacob did was pick one up wrong and it grabbed him! He was not as thrilled with Crawdad fishing as Stephen! Auntie took them rock climbing....wading and picking wild berries...they roasted wieners and marshmallows...they sang camp fire songs. There was no stress and loads of laughter....

As an aside,Stephen's other Grandmother was at the public pool in St. Maries and yelled clear across the water, at her foster daughter....Eve....what are you doing out here without your thongs..you get in that room and get your thongs on RIGHT NOW.....needless to say she garnered much attention at the public pool in St. Maries. Her daughter who is in her early teens, was not exactly thrilled! I doubt any man there was thinking of shoes.....

I remember in the fifties when those dumb things came out. They were so uncomfortable with the big chunk of rubber that came up between your big toes....They were all the rage!.....Now Thongs appear to me to be just as uncomfortable.....even if it is not your toes that is rubbed upon............

It should be time for the deep purple huckleberry to appear in our forests. Most people are not aware that the huckleberry you see is probably on a bush that is up to a hundred years old. The Native Americans used to burn off the hillside so the bush would grow less leaves and more berries...the Asians were killing off the plants by hacking the tops off the plants while they were in bloom and shipping them back to Asia to be used in flower arrangements. I hope they have made that practice illegal. I used to get mad at people who broke off the plant and took them into camp; berries and all ,to be picked in front of the camp fire.

I don't really know if either practice really hurt the plant. In light of the Native American practice of burning the bushes down every few years it probably did them little harm. Huckleberries are a natural antioxidant and are reputed to lower one's blood sugar if one is diabetic. I love the smell of the syrup and the pie cooking. I'm not to wild about the flavour.

Mom makes a wonderful huckleberry pie...The smell of them cooking will always be one of my fondest memories......Huckleberries have never been domesticated so they will grow in peoples gardens...Perhaps there are just a few things and secrets that don't belong to man......

Sarvice Berries grow abundantly in my back yard. The Native American used them in pemmican. They pounded and pounded them till they were ground fine and mixed the juice berry and all into suet from venison and other dried meats, somehow,they made patties of it. I have researched and researched them. Still I can find little or nothing about them. I am waiting for them to ripen this year. I want to run them through my juicer and make Jelly from them . I think they are probably to seedy for Jam. I've never found a recipe for them. Most people don't know what they are. I like their tart taste. I've propagated them in my yard for years and years for their early flowers, which are much like the(Idaho state flower) Syringa or the "mock orange" flower that is so abundant in Idaho. They make lovely yard flowers...I also want to make some rose hip jam..I have spread the Cherokee rose seeds all over......they have such a wonderful fragrance....they were named such, for every tear that was held so close during the "trail of tears"..we shall see how much of this I get done.......

I seem to do a lot in the day time......but it seems like so little gets done....perhaps I am just by nature......"a piddler!"

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Just another day in Paradise!

I have been on Youtube again.I adore Youtube.If nothing else you can go listen to the music of childhood..No matter when your child hood happened to be!
I also like all the instructive clips. If you want to remember how to make a certain crochet stitch. It's probably there. If you want to remember how to make something your Mother cooked. Chances are it will be there!
With the gas prices on everyone's lips. The food prices are going up..Come ON! Not EVERY egg costs a dime more every time fuel costs go up!! Anyway! It had to be said.
I broke out the "bread machine." I never had any instructions to that thing!I also broke out the old cook books.I'm nearly sixty years old. I haven't used a cook book in a lot of years! I guess it was time. I didn't know I was a "depression" cook all my life. I got lazy when all the kids grew up!So I went to the old style this week. Four bucks for a loaf of bread was more than I could stand!
I went to the outlet store where I could shop for "bargain" canned goods. My salad, is not "up"

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I lie on my back in the green meadows of childhood!

Do you remember lying in the grass in your yard or in the meadow watching the clouds go by? Idaho sky is the brightest of blue in summer. I lived on a mountain top close to the clouds. The hay smelled so sweet, the vetch and elderberries are always in bloom in my memory!

The cotton ball clouds would float by, my imagination would give them shapes. Sometimes they would be castles high in the air..sometimes trees or animals.

In those high meadows I could be anything I wanted to be. I could out run "Superman!" I could out hide "The Shadow!" Even as a girl I could out shoot "Marshal Dillon!.." I had no "yen" to be the lovely "Miss Kitty!"

She worked in a bar, even though the good marshal cared for her and she was respected through out the town, she was still a "dance Hall girl!" As such she was not "Quality!"...He might have parked his horse out front all night.....and rented a room, but Ole' Mat Never married "Miss Kitty!"

Most of the Good ole' Radio Characters were MEN! No one wanted to emulate "Lois Lane" she was to stupid to stay out of trouble and to near sighted to see who it was hiding behind that pair of glasses!....

"Our Miss Brookes," Never got a date...Who was a girl to look up to? Even "Blondie" was married to a lazy bum who wouldn't get out of bed in the morning!

All in all, it is no wonder our generation became very independent....they went from those role Models to "Rosie the Riveter" who worked to support all the men at war. Our Mothers learned that trousers were comfortable....and they could do more than the laundry! They learned to be partners with their men instead of dependant..A lot of men resented it completely! A lot of men embraced it! Unfortunately my Father was NOT one of those!

Dad was a man who believed the best way to keep a wife was"barefoot and pregnant!" When he found he had a very independent daughter who wanted to do everything the boys could do....and DID! I don't know what he thought!

Be aware I never owned a pink ribbon for my hair. I never knew what a pair of "Mary Janes" were! I only got "hand me downs" from my BROTHER; I had no sisters!!!

I probably NEVER owned more than three dresses in my child hood! My socks were always half up and half down and I always had a scab or two on my knees! I could fist fight, ride a horse, and never owned a girls bike till I was 10...I abandoned it for a motor bike as soon as I got a license at 12!

Dad taught me to run a big cat.He taught me how Operate farm equipment with the boys. Mom taught me to crochet and sew and Grandma taught me to pray!

I taught myself to read. Without books I would have been lost in the world of "Spin and Marty!" And "Howdy Doody!" There was no place for me. I was to young for "The Nelson Family!" and to prudish for Elvis!

By the time I was a teen I lived with a transistor radio in my hand! It went with me where ever I went...I was unhappy as I could be, because I couldn't hear it over the roar of my trail bike!

If you have never rode a motor bike full bore into the south end of a bumble bee who was going north! You have Never had a face big as a basketball from his sting....A fat lip that would put a Ubangi to shame! You just haven't lived!

My older brothers were 12 and 13....one had a day light only license and one could drive at night. The two of them earned and bought a flat bed truck by logging in the woods around our hills. They did their own mechanic work, cut the short logs, hand loaded them and drove them to the mill! (Can you imagine your 12 or 13 year old doing this?)

When Dad signed for the ole' lumber truck he did two things....He enabled the boys to get their logs to the mill, and he created the scourge of our hill! As mechanics they were no great shakes! The road was narrow, curvy and gravel! They were young and used both sides to keep that old truck loaded and on all fours! To be going up that road when they were coming down was to take your life into your hands! Sometimes that truck had brakes....Other times they just brought her off the mountain in low gear on compression....It had some REAL grades too! I think that was about the time Grandma started teaching me how to pray!

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I'm getting lonely here!

You never link, you never write! I don't know if any one else is enjoying what I write or if I am writing just for me!....If I'm writing for me.....I won't worry about spell check!!!

There once was a cabin way up high in the Idaho Mountains...This cabin was surrounded by Douglas fir, spruce, and pine. "Every day living," was not as it is now. There were no computers, there was little TV. We took our baths in a wash tub in the kitchen, the water was heated on top of the wood stove in that kitchen. There was no electricity in the house.Laundry was done with a Maytag wringer washer in the front yard....

I think they all leaked, oil. This one was hooked to a motor and the agitator went round and round till it was shut off. The water that filled it was not hooked to a tap as ours is today but was filled with buckets of hot hot water.

"Blue Cheer" was the favorite laundry detergent At our house, when she bought laundry detergent instead of making her own. Most times she just shaved a half cup or so off a bar of lye soap that was also made in the yard. No one wanted the fumes from soap making in the house. Fumes from Lye soap can be quite caustic when it is made in a closed area. Back then all the fat from cooking, rendering and any other waste oil from the kitchen was saved for soap making....It was best to use before it went rancid....so soap was made about once a week if the housewife was a good steward of her home. Lye was made by pouring water through wood ashes usually from her kitchen cook stove...There by getting the ash bin cleaned the same time the waste oil from the kitchen was used up!

"Blue Cheer," when it came on the market had little gifts inside for the "discerning" home maker. There might be a pretty glass, a cup, saucer, or a dish towel stashed deep in the recesses of the box of soap. It was like the prize in the bottom of Cracker Jacks....for home makers.

In that era when gas was about 30 cents a gallon and every service station vied for your business, they too, gave away glasses, cups, saucers etc. They also washed your windows, checked your oil, and made sure your tires were properly inflated all while pumping your gas for you! In Oregon it was still not legal for a car owner to pump their own gas, last time I visited there. I have to admit that has been several years ago. It was charming and very nice to have someone else do the pumping! I liked it! Though I am not sure I would LET someone else check my oil, or the liquid in my battery! I'm not a trusting soul! I like to see for myself just what is keeping my old car on the road! I know what it is......IT is my GARY!...

Because it was not every house that had TV reception, or even batteries for the radio; all the time ,it was a wise child who learned to read aloud at an early age. It was hard to churn butter, or knead bread while turning the pages of a book. The reader in the family kept the others entertained and was every bit as important as the kid who dried the dishes,or helped change cloth diapers on the little one. It was possible to hold a baby while reading aloud if you sat at the table to do so. That was an important job also and freed Moms from being the only parent ! It was however impossible to change a dirty diaper while reading the big print in "Grit Magazine!".....Who ever was reading was spared that duty...It was never the "reader"who changed those nasty cloth diapers and washed them out in the bucket! The younger a child learned to read the less important they were in the scheme of running a clean and well organized House hold! I learned to read at about 4. I can't say I read big books. I read what ever I could to keep out from under foot. It also kept me from being the one who was wielding the dish cloth or pealing potato for diner. I was no prodigy, I was lazy! I liked to read. I didn't like to peal potato or do dishes!

The chore I was best suited for was dusting. I could get all the low places near the floor that were hard for Aunts, Mothers, and Grandmothers to get to. I could also see the dust. I was short enough to be level with most of it!

The boys in our home kept the wood cut in summer, and chopped in winter. They kept wood for Grandparents, Aunts, and Mom! We thought we were pretty special cause Mom had a part of the boys bunk house to hang cloths to dry. That meant they had to cut, chop, and fetch wood for the stove in that building also. It wasn't a big building but if they wanted to have clean dry laundry the fire had to be stoked when ever she was washing. In winter it had to be stoked all night long to keep them warm, it was not big, it was not insulated either!

The cows had to be milked summer and winter! The milk buckets had to be kept clean as did the jars. Mom, liked to sit ours in a big pot of boiling water so the gallon pickle jars she stored milk in were sterile. The milk kept better that way. In winter she kept it in a big cupboard outside. I think it was double walled, between the walls was filled with saw dust so the milk was cold but not frozen, in summer it was kept in an old fashioned ice box. We never lacked for milk and Mom sold the extra for more "Blue Cheer!".....

We also grew a garden in our back yard. This was not so hard to keep up with. We all had our own rows that we best keep clear of weeds and make sure it was watered. I liked onions cause they were easy to tell apart from the weeds! We would have had a much easier time with our garden if we didn't live in an "open herd" area.

A lot of the farmers didn't keep their cattle fenced. We were expected to keep our garden fenced to keep the cattle out!

One of the neighbors had a bull, I can still remember that mean old bull looking in the window at us. He seemed to be waiting for us to walk the mile or so to the bus. We couldn't walk the short way, Grandpa's still was on that route. We had to walk the "Hill" road.....Grandpa assured us the swamp was full of cotton Mouth snakes and there might have been a gator or two in that swamp, also. Then there were the "dart" snakes!....

The only thing to impede our progress on the "hill road" was the occasional bear, cougar, coyote, herds of Deer, elk and the occasional bull come over the hill from Hidden Valley! That was one big bull too. The neighbor bought it to improve his heard and paid some unreasonable price for it. I think it was all of three thousand dollars of one stupid bull that liked to chase small children! He was a Hereford bull! He was big, He was brutish, and belying his size he was quick on his feet! All autumn that year he chased us down the drive and down the hill . We went at a dead run past our Uncles house, past our Grand parents house, Past some cousins home and another cousins to the bus stop! We weren't even safe there unless the cousins who lived closest to the bus stop came out with a kettle and pounded it with a big spoon to keep the bull at bay!

We had no phone, so Dad would catch that bull up and drag it over to the next valley to it's owner. That man's cattle spent most of the year either eating our garden or scaring us kids out of at least one years growth! Dad got tired of catching it UP, and hauling it over the hill. Dad was not known for his patience. One night we saw him catch that old mean bull. Dad was even scared of him. It made about the third time that week we cowboy'd that bull over the hill and onto his own range. Dad was cursin' a blue streak! I saw him go out with the weapon. I thought for sure there was going to be a range war. We heard the echo down threw the draw when the bull bawled long and loud!....

Dad came back in, to put away his weapon! The bull was still standing up. He was still tied to the army surplus 4x4, we used to get around. He was walking kind of funny. That was the last time we saw him......The neighbor said there was something dire happened to him....cause when he got home from his last run he was no longer a bull.....there wasn't much call for expensive steers on our hill....He was a big one.....I bet he made a lot of ground meat.....he was to tough and stringy for anything but hamburger!

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Family memories

pictured is a one room school that still stands in Southern Idaho....a little town named Squirrrel...it is a good example of how they looked.....though this one is on the prairie.....and the "little house" is gone!...Ours was in the high mountains, I'm pushin' 60 and I barely remember it!

Living in one area generation after generation after generation has a it's down side.No one seems to remember the good things that were done.The people who fed others during the depression era, even if they couldn't buy their own children shoes, and the town cop who became the mayor for years and years are forgotten in lieu of the poor fella' who has a drug problem or drinks to much or the scandal about the cousin who shot his wife!..

These things people remember! The bad things the odd things that were done, are foremost in peoples minds! If they can remember something bad about the "good guy" it is even better!!!

I remember once an In law of my Dad's cousins.WE have lots of cousins of cousins in this family.That in law made the remark that an Aunt was raising her own tribe out in our little area! The truth is she was Cherokee born and bred. Her children were on the Dawes report.WE didn't know that. What we did know was the Aunt raised our Grandfather from birth, she took in every kid who needed a mother. She taught those who needed teaching and she rarely went to town! She instilled pride. She taught children how to preserve food and find wild things to eat when they would have had nothing! Note I still don't mention her name,because I imagine there are a few who do not know they have such a rich heritage! To say that they were Native was not a proud thing in that era!In fact to bring it up in public would have got our backsides warmed in a most uncomfortable way!

Grandfather lived his life out on that hill. He worked as a logger and kept to himself. He had his own things he did, one of which was to tell us tall tales. For years we wondered why he maintained there were "hoop snakes" in our swamp. A hoop snake is a curious thing. It goes about with it's tale in it's mouth like a child playing hoops in another time another era. It don't slither like other snakes instead it rolls along the forest floor! These snakes often hit things like trees and people in their "tire like" rolling around. They have no concept of direction and they are very brittle....when they collide with something solid they automatically strike out and poison what ever they have hit!!! Alternately they can fly apart and each bit becomes a DART that is poisonous to what ever it hits...(If you believe that I have some sea front property on our mountain to sell yah!)

There was a one room school house on the hill. There seemed to be one of those about every 12 miles apart in Idaho. I don't know why 12 miles. Some have said that was about the distance a wagon traveled in a day...some have said it was a good distance for any kid to walk to school, if they really wanted an education they could have their pick of one room schools on the side of the mountain that was closest to them!

Dad's generation was about the last class in the one room school as they consolidated a school district in town in the thirties...My Aunt's husband became head of the school district! (If you think about it you will see that was probably one of the reason's she rarely left the mountain! She was a beautiful giving woman who kept to herself that no one should see her and guess her heritage! It is quite sad, from my point of view! She had such heart and such pride in her children and their accomplishments yet no where is it written that she was Cherokee! I will not write her name out of respect for that wish to remain Grandma! Her Grandchildren still live here in our small world! I doubt many of them know just who she actually was....To Dad she was Grandmother, and Indian princess!. Even though the Cherokee had no Indian princess, We did!

Dad's father banned us from the confines of the "swamp." He didn't ban us by rule or punishment. He banned us with FEAR! All things considered it was kind of a mean thing to do. It meant we had to walk an extra half mile to the school bus. If we could have walked through the swamp to the bus stop it was much shorter. The problem was, we would have walked past his still! We wouldn't have known about this but the one room school became a family meeting place. Grandfather volunteered to start the fire one winters eve, cause he was going to the still any way! He must have "got to" tasting his fixin's cause when the family arrived at the school for the family party the fire was not started. Grandpa was in his forties and very very strong! No one worried about him for quite some time! They got the fire going and warmed those who came to the party. The family band took it's place behind the pot luck table and tuned their instruments. One of the ladies went to the outhouse..Where they found Grandpa passed out on one of the two seats in the house.....He had on his red long johns so there was no fear of her seeing anything really embarrassing.....though showing off one's" trap door,longies" was not acceptable. He must have been there quite a while. His "stagged off" logger pants were frozen to the floor! He had fallen into the swamp up to his pockets....so his lower extremities were quite cold....He had enough white lightening in him so all they had to do was thaw him out!.........Hill Style Antifreeze!.....Memories are made of this! Presumably the band played on! A good time was had by all! The "Squeezin's" fed many families on out hills during the lean years. When your children are hungry you do what you gotta' do!

There is a story about all the brothers getting into the still! They were drinking and fighting....which was normal for them! The argument was all about "just how much power a 12 gauge shot gun had at which range!" One cousin maintained it would not shoot through a "card board" box at twenty feet. The cousins aligned them selves either for or against. Soon they were "liquored up" enough to test the theory.....Four of them climbed into a big ole box......they paced off the "feet" and one cousin took careful aim with the 12 guage....BOOM!!!!......Good thing they opted to turn their backs to the shooter......cause Grandma was pickin' buck out of their backsides with a pair of tweezers the rest of the night........I will take their word for it.....A 12 gauge will shoot through a card board box at twenty paces!!!

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Next Stop Viet Nam!

The Gracious Lady of Bellingrath Gardens"As the economic depression of the 1930's worsened, friends quietly kept Mrs. Bessie Bellingrath aware of families in need. She would appear, checkbook in hand, begging for an azalea, camellia or whatever bloom she saw in the family yard. She would convince the stunned homeowner that Bellingrath Gardens had been unable to locate one and then offer hundreds of dollars in an era when $25 a week was a comfortable income. She told a flower shop owner that her crocheted afghans were the most handsome she had seen and offered her $100 each for a dozen, knowing the money would put the woman's niece in college, which it did. After her sudden death in 1943, the Catholic Bishop called Mr. Bellingrath and asked permission for a group of nuns to say a prayer as a way of thanks for all she had done for them. As the couple was Presbyterian, this surprised Mr. Bellingrath, who asked, "How?" She had been sending flowers to the Catholic Providence Infirmary every week. The staff had been instructed to place flowers in any one's room who did not have flowers sent by family or friends. Her tombstone bears this inscription from her husband: 'I shall always think of you wandering through a lovely garden, like that which you fashioned with your own hands, where flowers never fade and no cold wind of sorrow blights our hopes and plans....And on your face, the peace of one whose whole life through, walked with God.' " -- Bellingrath Gardens

That said....and I don't know where the quote originated...so can not give credit as due...I would like to have known this woman. I wonder if her soul shined with an inner light.....I know a few people like that who's souls shine. I can see them from a long ways off....And I love them from the moment I meet them! Mom is one of those people...

I so missed spring this year! It is not here as yet! My prized Lilacs have not bloomed! The bushes are barely growing leaves. If I think about it hard enough I can bring the fragrance into my memory. I can see the deep purple blooms in my mind! I can see Mom's peonies and her prized roses on a summer day in the sixties. In my memory the grass is always green the lilacs are all in bloom and the yard is filled with young people.

Her Mother; My Grandmother,was blind totally completely in the darkness blind! Glaucoma took her sight when she was about fifty! She once told me that if she had to lose one sense she was glad it was her sight and not her hearing. She said that blindness could be a handicap, but deafness isolated it's victims. At least she could "see" things with her fingers and smell them! At the time I didn't know what she was talking about. I could think of nothing worse than losing my eyes, to never be able to see a colt cavorting in a field or a calf suckling at it's mother's udder in a green meadow or a wild flower,was a thought from hell" as far as my mind could concieve...

Then there was the incident with the skunk.I shall tell this from memory so names will be changed to protect the Gent!....Because I don't think I know any one named Wes,any more I shall call my friend ,Wes!

It was the Viet Nam era; so many of our friends were going away to war. The draft was on. My sister in law was pregnant, her name was Al, and they decided she was a man....they drafted her. Because of her delicate condition they decided she was not eligible for the Draft,after all. Wes,was not so lucky! He was NOT pregnant, or female, he was;however, Drafted!

Wes,was like so many, of the young men of that age group. He was a regular in my front yard and probably slept as often at our house as he did at his own. Mother had four sons of her own and never knew how many young men she would find in her home when she wakened in the morning. They were like bees to honey, Mom's living room and our big yard was the honey comb.

Ours was the place where young people flocked when they had problems at home. There was always an understanding ear or an non -judgmental place to relax and hang out. Mom loved people and they love her! To this day her house is where one will find those who are in need of special love or friendship. She is always willing to hold out a hand to a person in need. She had out her shingle with her "forever-offer of love" that seems to be her specialty! If you offer love, people will come to claim it...If you offer they will come!

Wes,was like all the rest who were headed for war. He was normal, that means he was frightened. He just KNEW he was Viet Nam bound! We were frightened for him. He had been a part of our lives since he was in his early teens. We didn't know what it would be like to NOT have Wes as a part of our house hold. He was as much my brother as the son's Mother brought into the world! In some ways he was closer than at least one! Far closer than most of my male cousins, who were either much older than I or much younger! We never noticed he was around very much, until he was going away!

Wes,decided he was going to catch us a pet skunk to remember him by. I don't know what made him decide that a skunk would be the best way to remember HIM. At any rate he was pretty drunk at the time!

They were stopped along side the road and he bailed out of that car down the hill and through the brush! There were no roads where that Mama skunk was going and he didn't care if there was. He was going to grab one of her babies and make a mad dash back to the car before she figured out he'd been there. Mother skunk was doing everything in her power to avoid such a thing happening to one of her babes...She was dodging through the underbrush. Occasionally she would stop to stomp her feet and raise her tail in a highly symbolic warning to KEEP away from her babies! He was to drunk on alcohol or adrenaline to pay much mind to her warnings. The cheering throng at the car went into Gales of laughter and yelled for him to," watch it! "Mama was not taking his attack lightly! She was armed and ready.

"She can't get me!" He yelled back!

Did you know that a skunk's armament is not blue or purple, or any other color when she lets lose? Nope! It is not colored like in the comic books. It is a pure solid moisture laden gas that sticks to anything it comes into contact with. ANYTHING including leather shoes, watch bands, and custom made western shirts......OH! it also sticks to the young men who are wearing those articles!..

Just as he yelled his fateful words....She proved him wrong! It was apparent to all those in attendance that she could indeed"GET HIM."They made him ride back to our little town on the fender of their new car.He suffered the indignity of being "skunked" and paraded clear through town at his aromatic height on the fender of a Dodge! You remember the days of baby moon hubcaps,Chrome wheels,and loud mufflers....It was a sure attention getter....they had to keep their windows up to haul him on the fender! It was noticeable to all who saw him....just what he had gotten himself into!

I think the bachelor buttons in the fields drooped as he went by. I know the dandelions in the yard hung their heads in shame and derision over his fragrance! To say he had a "high" odor was to make light of an odor that would melt aluminum siding! The filings in your teeth were in danger of a"melt down"if he got within ten feet of you. The first thing he did was jump off the fender of the car and give Mom a big hug!

Grandma was in the dining room sitting quietly. She said she could hear and smell the"Traveling circus "coming down the street;from a long ways off. She was used to the sounds of the "mufflers" on my brothers cars. She knew by that sound who it was. She knew by the smell what was causing it. She just was not sure WHAT was going on till she heard the whooping,hooting,and laughing began to issue forth from the front yard. The whole neighborhood turned out to see why Wes was brought to town on the fender of the car, instead of in the back seat as he had left!It should have been apparent to them ALL.

"If you have any tomato juice that should take out that odor,"Grand mom Counseled!

We set up a wash tub on the big front porch of the big antebellum style house that was our home when we were teens. We filled it with cans of tomato juice, tomato sauce, detergent--(we had no way of knowing detergent would "Set" the odor!) While half the town assembled in the front yard to shout encouragement and make suggestions he sat in his under ware in that tomato juice while we all took turns pouring the mixture over his head and trying to wash the indelible odor out of his hair! You could just see him looking over the veranda at the crowd! His black hair was full of tomato colored soap lather and one could smell his pile of clothing from a long way off. The "brothers" put his clothing in a hole in the front yard and covered them with soil. It was suggested that we should erect a marker for them, cause they would never be worth much EVER again! Wes insisted he was GOING to wear those "duds" when he got on the plane to go to boot camp!

I don't know if the sudden exposure to skunk "juice" full in the face causes delusion or if it was the effects of alcohol....He was insistent! When he emerged from the "soapy soup" in the wash tub he was still not "datable!" You could take him out. You just couldn't get him a date smelling like that!

His clothes did not make it to the plane. When we dug them up for laundering they smelled pretty bad when they came off the line. Grand mom suggested we put them back in the ground till he got back from boot camp!

Wes went away to "boot"...He sneaked quietly into our house as soon as he got home. He thought he could sneak up on Grand mom and give her a hug "hello" without her noticing his presence....He no sooner walked into the room and Grand mom wrinkled her Nose. "WES!" she smiled! "I am so glad you are home!" WE never could get past her. I don't know how he thought he could sneak a slight skunk odor past her!...

By the way. We always believed the skunk saved him from going to Viet Nam. He was stationed in Europe! His odor would not have been an asset in the jungles of South East Asia.....His custom shirt lost it's smell. His shoes and watch band were never quite the same as the day before he ran through the bushes yelling....................."She can't GET ME!!!"

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Walking with Bear!

We had a couple houses above us on the hill that contained our cabin! One Home was another log home built by another Uncle, but leased to a family of MANY children. I don't even know which children were his and which were hers. Some were the Children of a Daughter who started having children way to young then mass produced them!!!! I was allowed to enjoy the novelty of playing with children who were not related to me. To do this I had to walk the obligatory quarter to half mile up a steep hill....

This is actually a Mountain in Idaho. There was very little of what we think of as flat ground! It was all UP or Down! There was no amble over the flats for us! We were a thousand feet from the prairie floor in the forest! From the top of our mountain we could see from Coeur d' Alene to Spokane on a clear night.....All Nine farm houses stood out clear on the prairie floor!...Where there is now a city of houses.....That is another story! For another Day....

This is remembered as a beautiful spring day! I recall the spring flowers blooming in wild profusion on our hillside....I remember the red clay mud on the roadside. Red Clay that caused the road to be slick as winter's ice when ever it rained! This is the kind of red clay that was prized for brick works and built many homes in North Idaho. There was a brick works in our hills. The Catholic church in one town was built of the red clay from our hill!

The squirrels chattered their warning as I walked along paying no heed to the dust motes kicked up by my worn out school shoes. The breezes blew through the trees. I was brought to a standing stop watching a Doe and he fawn cross the road in front of me! I could smell the pine pitch in the trees, the flowers everything smelled like spring! There was very little novelty in seeing wild game on our hill. It was nothing new to see a doe and fawn race across the road. I stopped to watch their progress up the game trail running toward our orchard high in a mountain meadow! They seemed more hurried than usual. I attributed it to way the wind was blowing and perhaps their catching my scent on the breeze.

Spring is a time of awakening in Idaho's hills. Every flower that has waited for springs warmth to waken it from winters slumber added it's perfume and it's pollen to the thin air of our mountain.Winds spoke to me, each small animal left it's signature track in the deep dust of the roadway! There was much to study and hold my attention written in the dust along the road. Some of the animals who left their track were not so small. I espied bear, deer, elk ,porcupine,cougar, Bob cat and skunk tracks in the same dust where I left my track as I walked along!

I knew from the size of the track the approximate size of each animal.There were black bears just awakening from their winter slumbers to find they were mothers! When they waken these aggressive animals are very protective of their young! They don't care for humans on foot any time! We are at the top of the food chain in many ways in the Idaho Mountains.

The Mother bear mostly craves privacy and safety to raise her babies. Our forest was the perfect cover for her! We were taught early NOT to leave any garbage outside to draw the bears to our house. The many children of the leased house were city kids! They had no idea that a hot dog could feed more than a small child in the middle of the night! They had wiener roasts and left the buns and food lying around till morning!

This was one of the things that was strictly forbidden at our house! One never left food out to draw the bears and small animals close to the house!

We had a Mama squirrel who lived in our attic with her babies...she would run down the logs to tease the cats. She could be so quiet that she could sneak past the ever vigilant cats to get pine nuts and other foods for she and her babies in broad daylight! She drove our cats wild! I watched her by the hour. This was about the limit of wild things Dad liked in the yard. The squirrels, chip monks and Mom's wild cat ;she hand fed occasionally were on the edge of our world and his patience! The rest were considered food! He was raised in those hills and knew how to feed his family without the local grocery! Cougars were Not welcome! Mom's Lynx was tolerated because they were rarely seen and he rather liked it. It was big enough to keep the larger pests like raccoons, skunk,and Porcupine away from the house and barns!

We actually lived off Mom's big garden,the orchard, wild craft berries, home raised meats and wild game from our fields and meadows. There were some rules Dad lived by....one of which was, you never took a game animal with young to small to survive without it's Mama.

You did not feed the animals to chum animals to you. That was not fair game! If an animal became a danger to your family or your farm beasts it was on it's way OUT....We had many cougars on our mountain! In most cases cougars and bears did not come around our house much.They were wise enough to stay away from the farm steads!
This was an "open herd" area and they had ample choice of farm animals that were not kept up by farmers who cared nothing about other peoples Gardens! I think in Dad's mind some of these cattle WERE fair game! I know the cougar and bear took them often and violently!

Once it got to the table, I was to young to tell what was beef and what was NOT! I also know that Dad rarely butchered his own beef or hogs! Our table was always laden with a variety of foods. We grew potato, and other vegetables,we picked wild mushroom, grape and elderberries. We flourished in our cabin in the hills.

As I walked I could hear the songs of wild birds....the wind whistle through the leaves and trees of our hill and the trains whistle from many many miles away. A trick of sound waves made it sound as though it was coming down the track near by. From the top of our hill it made a mournful whistle, a ghost train way below us.

We were taught never to run from a wild animal. If we came face to face with something wild and fierce we were instructed to freeze in our tracks and just stand very very still! No Problem. My legs wouldn't work any way!

I could hear something coming out of the wood in front of me. The doe and fawn made nearly the same noise when they ran through the old burn and brush that was our home. What ever this was; seemed to be good sized cause it was no respecter of real estate or forest floor! I knew better than to take to my heals and try to out run it before it got to the road! I stood with the farm house behind and below me. I thought perhaps it was another doe, we had many deer on our mountain. We also had a lot of cattle. One bull in particular was to be avoided..

I stood stark still to wait for what ever it was to arrive....I knew it was very very close! I knew I was afraid. Just as Mama bear and her baby stepped onto the road,at her full and menacing height it dawned on me that something chased that doe and fawn from the forest! NOW I KNEW what it was. I also knew it was a meat eater. I was young and tender!!! That didn't leave a lot of choices. It was a bear. She looked very big and very frightening to a small girl in pig tails. Her baby was cute. He was also cause for her to be more protective than normally she would be. We were schooled to NEVER EVER get between a Mama and her cub! I stood stark still and stared at her. She stood stark still within full reach of me. A tasty morsel of a child. She sniffed me up and down. This process brought her much closer than I was comfortable with! I only moved to shiver in my tracks!

When she was done sniffing me, she knew she had me thoroughly frightened. She shoved her baby ahead of her. I wanted to keep walking toward the neighbors. She let me know with a look and a growl I was to walk in the same direction she was taking. If I was going home alive I was going to join her on HER walk in HER direction! I KNEW who was BOSS! I turned around to retrace my steps toward our cabin in the woods! She carefully kept her cub on one side and me on the other. I did my best to lag behind her. She didn't care for that......When I got to far behind she turned and growled! I KNEW what she was telling me! "Keep up kid, or I'll eat you HERE!"

We walked a long way like that. Her cub was in the lead, she was in the middle and I inched along behind! I inched till she let me know With a growl which gave me a look at her big teeth,it was in my best interest to "KEEP UP!"

I had a problem, our house was down in a draw below us. There are trails, many trails from this road to our house below! Finally with a look of utter disdain she crossed in front of me and ambled onto the hill with her baby toward the meadow, orchard and the doe in the high hills above our home! I had been dismissed!!! I stood still to watch her disappear into the brush. THEN: I took the trail home. I needed a bath and a change of clothes! My brothers would Never let me live it down cause I wet my pants like that!...

In order to clear my "good name" I had to talk them into walking onto the upper road and examining the tracks we three made in the powdered dust that was the road to our friends home!

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