Category Archives: Low Places

Woke up Monday morning to the news that two fugitives were holed up somewhere around Big Twig.  They were on the run and had abandoned their car and headed into the hills.  At around Noon, word was that they might be heading South on the Boulder Road.  That’s a mile from the ranch.

My husband, to be mild, is not an alarmist.  I’ve never seen him “jumpy” unless somebody comes up to him from behind.  He is one of the most laid back dudes I’ve ever met.  So when I saw him lock the door, I was a bit surprised.

“I don’t want to be alone here when you go out to feed (the cattle bales of hay),” I mewed.

With that he went into the other room and came back with the Colt.

“You can pull back on the trigger and it will fire.  But it will be hard to pull.  So you can also cock the gun and then pull the trigger, ” he said as he laid the gun on my desk.

I just stared at him. Continue reading →

Daphne had been laying awake at break of dawn because Mr. Robin Redbreast had started his infernal tweeting even earlier.  She remembered listening to the rattling of the garbage trucks in New York City as they made their way down Columbus Avenue early in the morning when she had lived there many years ago.  She had gotten used to them and they rarely woke her up.  But Mr. Harbinger of Spring, was another story.  She had to resort to ear plugs to get a good night sleep.  She fell asleep wondering if the robin felt any ill will toward her or whether anthropomorphizing was ever a good idea.

But anyway it was time to get up and don her bathing suit, slip on a bathrobe and sandals, grab her beach towel and head to the 6AM water aerobics class in town. As she drove up to the city park, other women were getting out of their cars, also in long bathrobes, waddling their way up to the door of the tiny pool house like a gaggle of geese.

There were already a bevy of bathing beauties in the teeny pool. And soon the  class of nineteen ladies would fill it three quarters full.  As always, the usual gabfest was going on as they pumped their styrofoam dumbbells and did the Water Jog.  (The gabfest was what really attracted Daphne to the class as it was a great source of information on all kinds of news.)  The first topic was last night’s Jeopardy category of “The Simpsons” (way too hard unless you were a Simpsons’ fan or a crossword puzzle enthusiast) to the joy of eating hot dogs.

Daphne found the hot dog discussion particularly interesting.  These tough rural and ranch gals wanted little to do with sausages that they had not made themselves, normally from the elk they had shot in hunting season.  When Daphne had moved to Little Twig twenty years ago, she was surprised that her rancher husband ate every kind of meat except hot dogs and veal because he “knew too much about how they are made” to be comfortable with devouring those delicacies.  And these women too wanted no part of mystery meat.  Oddly enough, three of us had hot dogs yesterday for lunch.

Earleen said that she hadn’t had a hot dog in two years, but suddenly found herself buying and scarfing one down yesterday.  Gail said that sometimes a hot dog is the best thing on a hot day like yesterday.

The water aerobics instructor, Sharon, yelled out (and she had to yell over the din of the class’s chattering hot dog talk), “OK, let’s switch to the Bicycle!”

As Daphne started to bicycle sideways and swirling her dumbbells, she said, “I bought some organic hot dogs at the Community Coop” and ate one yesterday too.”

Gail snorted, “Organic?  A Hot Dog?”

Daphne said, “OK, it just says it doesn’t have anything too obnoxious in them and the cows are grass-fed.”

Gail said, “I’ll stick to my elk.  We put up 500 pounds last fall.”

“That’s a lot of sausage,” Earleen replied.

“Yup”.

Sharon yelled out, “Lawn Chair!” and the women started laying out flat and then tucking their tummies in.

Suddenly one of the Ospreys that live in the park swooped over the gals.  She was carrying a twig in her mouth.

“Look, they’re building a new nest on that telephone pole,” said Becky.

Earleen looked perplexed, “What’s wrong with the old nest on the other pole over there?”

“I heard that they lost their eggs in the hail storm last week,”Gail replied sadly.

“Yes, and then a bald eagle decided to take it for himself,” Sharon said indignantly.

“Well, that’s just mean,” Earleen retorted.

For once, the pool was quiet and all that could be heard was the swish, swish, swish of mermaids and their dumbbells.

Daphne quietly paddled in the opposite direction and wondered if her robin also “was just mean”.  “No”, she thought, “he just can’t help himself.  It was going to be a beautiful day in Big Sky Country and he just had to sing about it.”  And yes, what a warm and uncomplicated way to start the day.  Paddling around with big- hearted gals and determined ospreys.