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.