Hey Dude, part 3

I just got in from my evening stroll (thanks again Fitbit) and the fireworks have already begun in our neighborhood. Because why just celebrate Independence Day when you can celebrate Independence WEEK? You know what might quiet things down a bit? Requiring celebrants to answer a few basic questions before they can ignite their explosives. Let's pass that law. Tell me the significance of Lexington and Concord and I will let you light this Blackjack. Or maybe have them recite a few lines from "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere"? That should quiet things down.

I think this will probably be the final installment of the Dude Ranch series. Then I think I might blog about last year's vacation since I never did. Very postmodern of me to play fast and loose with linear time.

Minutes after we arrived at the ranch, I was unloading the car, the kids had run off to explore, and I heard a shriek from Harper. All I could distinguish was, "HUDSON!" Of course I immediately thought there had been some sort of stampede, or maybe a rattlesnake, or, best case scenario, a scorpion. In fact, she had spotted Hudson's favorite bird, which we had, until that moment, only seen in books: the scarlet tanager. We had several other sightings throughout the week, and Hudson was well pleased. There were also hummingbirds swarming around a mimosa tree just off the porch of the main lodge, and several barn swallow nests full of babies in full view of the rocking chairs. Their flying lessons were a joy to watch. One afternoon, I noticed a fledgling had gotten itself entangled in a horsehair in its nest (note to barn swallow mommies: just because a particular material is ubiquitous, does not make it safe for nest building). The parents tried in vain to peck the poor baby loose, but had given up. It was flapping and dangling from the mud nest, and I decided to intervene. Thanks to Hudson's Swiss Army knife, I was able to snip it free. It was a spectacular moment for the husband, Hudson, and me when that tiny creature, who seemed to be nearly dead, flew from my palm, freed.

A few more pictures to wrap things up. As you can see, my mom and I look absolutely nothing alike:

 Hudson had a tiny blue beetle on his fist. Also Grandfather Pate next to him.

 Our cowboy Chris asked me if I had ever heard of The Red Hat Society. I assured him I am a few years away from official membership.

 This was the breakfast trail ride. Biscuits, gravy, and a lovely view.

 We stopped at the Alamo on the way home and the kids celebrated the heroes of the Alamo by going in the gift shop and buying stuffed horses that resembled their favorites from the ranch. Actually, Helena bought an owl and named her Ruthie after her favorite horse.

Hey Dude, part 2

Random thought for the day: I was thinking about Ireland yesterday and wondered, "The land of ire! But WHY?" I am sure I could google that and find out why such a lovely land was deemed full of ire.

Other random thought for the day: I tried to go out and finish my 10,000 steps just now after I got the kids in bed, and I ran into one of my neighbors who was walking his pit bull. Our neighbors across the street just moved with their enormous Rottweiler, but we still have another Rottweiler, another pit bull, a very grumpy rescue Shar-Pei, and 2 gigantic American Bulldogs, just on our rather short street. That is A LOT of Potential Aggression. I think should the zombie apocalypse come, the zombies might give us a pass. Especially because of Sasha the Chihuahua, who would slay the zombies with her piercing YAP.

At the dude ranch there were four incredibly gentle and helpful labs named Pearl, Sancho, Bravo and I can't remember the fourth one. They would trot off with us on hikes, generally bound through meadows in an entertaining fashion, bathe in the creeks and watering troughs, and never once did they try to steal food off the table or sneak into our cabin. The kids loved them.

Every night after dinner there was some sort of entertainment. My favorite was this guy, Clayton Fifer, a retired teacher who told stories about the Buffalo Soldiers and the native American tribes who once lived in Texas. He was a fount of information and he would also break into song at regular intervals, something I generally admire in a performer. Plus he had real buffalo robes for the kids to try on.

They also loved climbing this sprawling oak tree and spent hours up there visiting with the cousins. Any time I couldn't find them, they were either in the tree or watching the horses. Twice the cowboys let them help feed the horses at the end of the day and the kids were just thrilled. Farm chores are so much more fun than unloading the dishwasher or picking up the Legos at the end of the day.

Hey Dude, part 1

Lots of catching up to do. The school year went by in such a blur, and I can't even account for all of those hours I was planning to be productive while the kids were otherwise engaged. Wouldn't it be awesome if I had written the Next Great American Novel? Nope. Harper Lee has a new novel coming out though, so probably I am just waiting so I don't have to compete with that.

My parents did an incredibly wonderful and generous thing and took us on vacation last week. We went to a dude ranch near Bandera, Texas, and had such a very fine time. I picked the place based on online reviews, and was a touch apprehensive when we drove up and everything was Exceedingly RUSTIC. It turned out that everyone and everything there was so Exceedingly Wonderful, that the rustic became charming and perfect within a couple of hours. The kids fell in love with the horses and the cowboys and the ranch dogs (the total opposite of Sasha they were) and the goats and donkeys and the creek and the barn swallows and fireflies. I fell in love with the lack of phone service or wi-fi, and also that 3 times a day, a bell would ring alerting us that someone other than me had prepared a meal for us to eat. Here are some pictures:

 

Let's make this a series, shall we?