The Trek: Wide Open Spaces
I have, on numerous occasions, professed my love of the ranch here.
It's still true. I still love the ranch. It was, in fact, stage 2 of the Great Western Trek (stage 1 involved a rapid-fire stop in Sioux Falls) and the beginning of a true vacation.
And it was awesome.
Wisconsin is a beautiful state, but what I miss the most -- and it took me months to place the feeling -- is wide open spaces.
And it was awesome.
Wisconsin is a beautiful state, but what I miss the most -- and it took me months to place the feeling -- is wide open spaces.
WIIIIIIIDE open spaces.
They're wonderful.
But it's not just the openness. There's a somewhat surreal quality, especially if you've spent most of your time in cities or heavily industrialized areas. There's a feeling of timelessness ... That there are things here more ancient than you can imagine. That there's ground that has never seen a human footstep. Animals that still wonder at these strange upright mammals.
That in one hundred years those places will still exist and those animals' ancestors will still wonder.
They're wonderful.
But it's not just the openness. There's a somewhat surreal quality, especially if you've spent most of your time in cities or heavily industrialized areas. There's a feeling of timelessness ... That there are things here more ancient than you can imagine. That there's ground that has never seen a human footstep. Animals that still wonder at these strange upright mammals.
That in one hundred years those places will still exist and those animals' ancestors will still wonder.
[Rule #2: If you open a gate, close it. Rule #1 is watch where you step. Rule #3 is watch where you sit, closely followed by question #1, which is "Why are you sitting?!"]
I have a lot more shots from the ranch, but for now I'll spare you. I'm sure there will be more.
I have a lot more shots from the ranch, but for now I'll spare you. I'm sure there will be more.
On my way to Rapid City, I stopped at this cemetery. Maybe it sounds a little strange, but I like cemeteries in general -- you can learn a lot about a group of people according to how they treat their deceased.
This cemetery, however, has some particular significance. In this random-seeming country cemetery, a few miles off into nothingness, I have lots of relatives, grands and greats from both sides of the family. Walking through here is both eerie and oddly comforting.
There are countless stories connected to the names I find here covering decades of the area's history. Generations of ranchers and their families, people who weathered the best and worst in the area. My mom's parents are here as well, fantastic people I remember only vaguely. They died young in comparison (only in their seventies) and the stories -- wow. My mom seems to take after them in a lot of ways.
One of my favorite stories involves a ranch hand (I think -- or was he a salesman?) that worked for my great grandparents. He caught a rattlesnake on his way to the place once and stored it in a large glass jar.
My grandmother -- then only a kid -- took the snake jar, found an identical jar and left it on the floor of his truck, tipped over and open.
He freaked out a bit.
Yeah, I think it's safe to say my mom takes after her. She's a fantastic cook, too, for which my grandmother was famous. Even my dad's old college buddy still talks about her cooking from time to time.
My granddad was a rancher to the core. He could look at a grain bin and tell you its volume and how much more it could store than what was already there. And he, too, was a bit rough around the edges -- just as he had to be to be married to my spitfire grandmother for 49 years.
The women on that side of the family are all pretty tough chicks. And the men are just as tough, with the necessary senses of humor. That's just the way it goes.
Anyway, after that stop I headed on into Rapid City. My days of "rest" were over and it was time for the nuttiness to begin.
This cemetery, however, has some particular significance. In this random-seeming country cemetery, a few miles off into nothingness, I have lots of relatives, grands and greats from both sides of the family. Walking through here is both eerie and oddly comforting.
There are countless stories connected to the names I find here covering decades of the area's history. Generations of ranchers and their families, people who weathered the best and worst in the area. My mom's parents are here as well, fantastic people I remember only vaguely. They died young in comparison (only in their seventies) and the stories -- wow. My mom seems to take after them in a lot of ways.
One of my favorite stories involves a ranch hand (I think -- or was he a salesman?) that worked for my great grandparents. He caught a rattlesnake on his way to the place once and stored it in a large glass jar.
My grandmother -- then only a kid -- took the snake jar, found an identical jar and left it on the floor of his truck, tipped over and open.
He freaked out a bit.
Yeah, I think it's safe to say my mom takes after her. She's a fantastic cook, too, for which my grandmother was famous. Even my dad's old college buddy still talks about her cooking from time to time.
My granddad was a rancher to the core. He could look at a grain bin and tell you its volume and how much more it could store than what was already there. And he, too, was a bit rough around the edges -- just as he had to be to be married to my spitfire grandmother for 49 years.
The women on that side of the family are all pretty tough chicks. And the men are just as tough, with the necessary senses of humor. That's just the way it goes.
Anyway, after that stop I headed on into Rapid City. My days of "rest" were over and it was time for the nuttiness to begin.
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