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Weather has changed in the last week.

T

Tap

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Feb 25, 2006
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anyplace you find me
We finally got a break from the snow and cold of last week.

A local landmark frosted in snow. Taken a few days ago before the thaw.

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Comin' a runnin' and feeling good.

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Soaking up the sun.

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This bunch was taking their time.

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She'll be comin' round the mountain.......

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These reminded me of Bev Doolittle prints. See any Indians???

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Thank you for the compliment Soapweed.

The butte has been called Flat Top, Haystack Butte (on the maps), but the locals call it Square Top. There are actually some deep draws, with timber in them, that make up the drainages off the butte. A local rancher let his pickup get away from him this winter, and it ended up standing on it's head in one of the draws. I think they salvaged his caker off the pickup, and that was about it. That is the story as I heard it anyway.
 
Tap said:
Thank you for the compliment Soapweed.

The butte has been called Flat Top, Haystack Butte (on the maps), but the locals call it Square Top. There are actually some deep draws, with timber in them, that make up the drainages off the butte. A local rancher let his pickup get away from him this winter, and it ended up standing on it's head in one of the draws. I think they salvaged his caker off the pickup, and that was about it. That is the story as I heard it anyway.
Click to expand...

This is from Spike Van Cleve's book Forty Years' Gatherings. It is in a chapter devoted to stories about Spike's dad, Paul Van Cleve, and this particular event took place in Paul's later years when he could no longer ride a horse.

"Somebody talked him into trying a Scout instead of a Jeep, but he didn't like it. He wasn't bothered with it for long, though, for he got mixed up setting the emergency brake while he was shutting the gate at the branding pens up on Otter Creek, and the new outfit went down to the bottom. The last sixty feet or so was straight off a cliff. About halfway down, the dogs popped out through the window like a couple of squeezed watermelon seeds, and the rigging sailed over the edge. Dad was walking home when I came down from salting, so I picked him up, and we drove up to have a look at the wreck.

"The Scout had cleared all the trees, must have lit on its nose and resembled a closed accordion. Pop sized it up, poked it with his cane a time or two, looked me right in the eye and remarked conversationally, "Tinny dang things, aren't they?" "

:? :wink: :-)
 
Great Landscape! I was thinking the same thing about Indians and cowboys trailing through your country. If those rocks could talk, I'm sure they're be some very fasinating stories...Thanks again for sharing.
 
Nice pictures! It's starting to get that spring smell with this warmer weather. A little melting snow and mud. If your cows are like ours we have routine when we feed. If we try to do it a couple of hours early we are almost wasting our time, they usually show up around the same time every day. Cattle look great. Thanks for sharing.
 
Soapweed said:
Tap said:
Thank you for the compliment Soapweed.

The butte has been called Flat Top, Haystack Butte (on the maps), but the locals call it Square Top. There are actually some deep draws, with timber in them, that make up the drainages off the butte. A local rancher let his pickup get away from him this winter, and it ended up standing on it's head in one of the draws. I think they salvaged his caker off the pickup, and that was about it. That is the story as I heard it anyway.
Click to expand...

This is from Spike Van Cleve's book Forty Years' Gatherings. It is in a chapter devoted to stories about Spike's dad, Paul Van Cleve, and this particular event took place in Paul's later years when he could no longer ride a horse.

"Somebody talked him into trying a Scout instead of a Jeep, but he didn't like it. He wasn't bothered with it for long, though, for he got mixed up setting the emergency brake while he was shutting the gate at the branding pens up on Otter Creek, and the new outfit went down to the bottom. The last sixty feet or so was straight off a cliff. About halfway down, the dogs popped out through the window like a couple of squeezed watermelon seeds, and the rigging sailed over the edge. Dad was walking home when I came down from salting, so I picked him up, and we drove up to have a look at the wreck.

"The Scout had cleared all the trees, must have lit on its nose and resembled a closed accordion. Pop sized it up, poked it with his cane a time or two, looked me right in the eye and remarked conversationally, "Tinny dang things, aren't they?" "

:? :wink: :-)
Click to expand...

I can see why you would like Spike Van Cleave, Soapweed. You share his "slaunchwise" sense of humor, as Spike put it. Those were great books.
 

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