A truck, a tee, and a ticket

First the good news . . .

I made what I hope to be the first of several yearly treks back home to Glasgow. We grew up on such a lovely spot of Eden, and it's been 36 years since I have enjoyed the fall foliage that has made Autumn my favorite time of the year. My sisters Mari Vawn, Tana and her husband Dell joined me on this drive. We spent a very relaxing 6 days there enjoying the slow pace of a small town. Because it was Mother's turn to cook that week, she invited us each to fix a meal, plus Jerry's son Jason ;) and on the last night we were treated to dinner at Glasgow's finest restaurant, the Durham.

The Glasgow Scotties were playing a home game of football, so we thought "why not"? Glasgow's record was 0-4 playing Malta with a record of 4-0. The Scottie quarterback was a sophomore . . . need I say more? Well, I will. There was no pep band, no half-time entertainment, plenty of cheerleaders, but no cheering going on from the student body. Parents always add their two bits. The half time score was 33-0. When the winner of the raffle was announced, there was an exodus from the stadium, us included and we were a half hour late to start with. I suppose the only diehards left were parents and a girlfriend or two.

Jerry mentioned the senior graduating classes have dwindled over the years with the last one around 40 students. Ugh! We had some good times, didn't we?

I'm no photographer like Ruth is, but I couldn't let this opportunity go by without taking some pictures.

Art in nature -- Letter A


Just one of the beautiful views out our kitchen window.

Bailey's Back Acres. Many a time I have walked "down the trees" just to think or enjoy the beauty and solitude of nature. My father thought a ranch would be a great place to raise a family. He was right. So much freedom to wander and explore, too. Sometimes my friends and I would find a secret little place for our "club" meetings.

Part of our acres around our homestead is called "the Meadow". It is the furthermost point and very secluded making it a perfect place for all the deer that now inhabit it. Their graceful movements as they run and jump so effortlessly are such a joy to watch.

The "slough". During a spring thaw and flooding from the nearby Milk river, our slough will fill up, creating the "island" -- a raised piece of land filled with memories of branch and youth activities. Such a wonderful life!

Now the bad news . . .

This isn't the actual truck Tana and Dell drove from UT to MT for my brother, but very close. All you have to do is add some small Mexican tires and stop twice for about 5 quarts of oil. It drank up the gas 'cause it couldn't hardly run fast.

The Glad Game? Glad we didn't take the West Yellowstone route, glad we caravanned together, and glad we made it to Malta before the truckster decided to stop and take a siesta at 9:30 pm. Monte and a friend had to come back the next day with a flatbed to haul it home. That 90 mile stretch of road before Malta was long, deserted, and dark.

After Dell accepted an invitation from Jerry to try his hand at golfing, I decided to give it a whirl the next day. Jerry said Dell "was a natural" -- which he is. I am not. While Jerry rode in his golf cart, I walked. I could say it was for the exercise, but let's get serious. What's the point of hitting the ball, getting back in and driving a few yards, getting out . . . repeat -- yada, yada, yada. I was treated with kindness and patience and when my mother asked how I did, he said, "she's a natural". Hmmm . . . :)

Dell did continue his interest and spent much of his free time teeing off the hill our home sits on out into the straight field beyond. Then we would go looking for the balls. Even adults can make up their own fun. We decided when we have our family reunion here next year, we will pay the little kids to retrieve the balls -- just like an Easter egg hunt.

On our return trip I purchased a speeding ticket cruising into Lewistown. The nice, cute, southern-talkin' police officer made it a point to say this wasn't a speed trap. I was in a good mood, so I let him think I believed him, but by the time we were back on the street, he had stopped another car. The good news is in Montana you just pay on the spot -- $40 and hasta la vista.