Weaning Day

This team of horses, mother and son, are 23 and 18 years old and have never been separated. Serious separation issues, actually dangerous. I’ve never seen anything like this.

Well it’s weaning day and I will be dealing with a screaming mare looking for baby for a few days. I just hope she doesn’t hang her self in a fence, she’s not my pony.

I will do a follow up in a month or so after the drama.

Endings

The lid was sealed on another generation of the McDonald family with the passing of my wonderful Aunt Peggy McDonald Collins.

Brother and Sister McDonald

Further more my mobility passed as well, drastically changed anyway. I was given a wheelchair. I never in my wildest dreams thought this day would ever come, but it’s my new reality. I’ve been in denial, fighting my way through declining mobility with canes, walking sticks and walkers. Apparently only fooling myself, someone who cared enough noticed and brought a wheelchair.

My new Reality

The Cow Turn Tree Stands For Another Year

As we work our way up the mountain, through the remaining snow, mud and a small lake sized pot hole. A left turn sends the Jeep down alongside the fence that has suffered another winter of fallen trees, leading to the cabin.

Improved pond at the cabin

We didn’t stop, to much run off. Didn’t bother me as my mission was getting to the top of the ranch to check on the cow turn tree.

The tree stands for another year

Is Spring Really Here

1957 Dodge

Spring officially arrived a little over an hour ago. Hopefully all the snow leaves in an orderly fashion this year. I’m just ready for it to leave.

I actually left the house today and drove to town, it’s been a while, still remember how. I took a picture of this old timer, I imagine he’s seen a winter or two like I have. After all we are the same age.

Alone at the Cemetery

The handout at the funeral, in Butte, stated internment at 3 p.m. Friday in Philipsburg, according to my attendee sister. I didn’t make it to the actual service, I live in Philipsburg and decided the grave side committal was doable for this MSer.

Friday afternoon I got cleaned up, dressed like I was going snowmobiling, climbed on the 4 wheeler and headed through town to the cemetery. I can’t walk and figured if I rode the Grizzly I could get close enough to hear the service. Yes I admit I’m a hick, who the hell rides a 4 wheeler to a burial in the middle of January in Montana. Pick me.

I was all alone other than the 5 or 6 mule deer. It was peaceful with a beautiful view of our ranch.

Apparently the burial was postponed, the grave was dug on the wrong plot. Only in Philipsburg.