It seems that last week the honeymoon period here on the range had a not so smooth crash landing. My spirit broke daily from having to walk into work at a steakhouse, and Josh’s spirit desperately choked from this dusty barn that can’t quite seem to make sense yet as a shop. And these overwhelming feelings of heaviness in the brain continually reminded us that: We Need A Yurt. Stat. Winter looms, the mornings already falling below forty degrees; the frost predicting flowers that have bloomed six weeks before frost for decades and decades last week began showing their yellow blossoms. Lovely.

And then we had the opportunity to attend a conference within the Wyoming state line called Living and Working on the Land. We drove four hours over a remote and beautiful highway, eyes peeled looking for bighorn sheep (to no avail), reaching a delicious evening of acoustic music, local food, and our very own hotel room. The two days that followed were full of amazing speakers, wonderful local farmers and ranchers, and great time spent thinking that perhaps this ranching project of ours might have some validity to it after all. You know, it can be real exhausting to think to yourself hour after hour, day after oppressing day, that you are an anomaly, a being of extraordinary strangeness that will just not ever fit into this wild and rustic west. But we met others who’s eyes shine when you say the words, “diversity!”, “sustainability!”, and “rotational grazing!”. And now the real challenge comes with finding a way to remember that we are not alone, we are not being unreasonable dreamers, and that we just might be able to be successful with ranching while simultaneously bringing greater health to this soil and all who subsist on it.

We met Joel Salatin, leader of all things unconventional and diverse in farming. All ears perched as the audience took in his every authentic word, spoken with the unapologetic intensity of a robed and animated preacher. Who knew in this contemporary day and age it would take a farmer to stand up and speak the truth to the connections of health, food, government, politics, family, and land values. One of our favorite topics addressed by Joel was about how new ideas and growth come from disturbance. He speaks of not only how disturbance of the soil brings new growth (thus the importance of grazing animals on the land), but how allowing our false economy to crumble, thus using human capabilities to exercise and design a higher level of ecology. Innovation will arise. Joel’s Polyface Farm in Virginia works to improve the soil while providing food to a great number of people in his local community, all while teaching and employing a substantial number of well-compensated young people; young people who will take this knowledge and exponentially touch cities and rural lands alike. And as Joel said at the conference, “We are all more similar than we are different. We all eat.”

We also were fortunate enough to have an engaging conversation with rancher and writer Diane Peavey. On an evening trip to Table Mountain Vineyards Winery, we waited in the buffet line for locally produced burgers on a stick (for real) with Diane and heard some of her amazing stories about her sheep ranch in Idaho. She listened to our bit of bitchy banter about the struggles involved when two young people leave a yuppy university town and end up in a western town with the state’s severest reputation, all while not having a very good plan for how soon and very soon a yurt will be built. She thought it was hilarious and hopeful, repeatedly saying that the best marketing any of us at the conference could possibily do is to tell our stories. Tell your stories. And ah, if there’s one thing this Wyoming family has, it’s stories. And if we can only hold on to our wacky sense of humor, oh the stories we can tell of this beginning, slightly ungraceful and definitely uncomfortable, period of learning to walk despite the badger holes at our feet and battering wind at our backs.

Rodeos. Everywhere, every town, every nook and cranny of this state. There are cowboy boots and broncing four-legged critters bursting around dusty rings with Wrangler ads plastered on the sides throughout the summer, sometimes every night in some towns. Needless to say, there is a culture about this place that mimics the old rodeo ways. The people who are from this western world tend to have stories that revolve around working with animals, be it rodeos or hunting, cow handling or predator control.

We started the weekend in Cody, a town bustling with visitors that want to experience the wide open, rough and tough land of Wyoming. Every night of the week July-August there is a rodeo in Cody that is packed with onlookers. We ended up camping for a night in the Bear Tooth Mountains over the border in Montana and didn’t make it back for the rodeo in time. So I have yet to attend a Wyoming rodeo, despite having passed through a dozen towns hosting the festivity. Perhaps this next week during Carbon County’s summer rodeo?

We left Cody and headed over the Big Horn Mountains, chugging our little Honda up and around the 1,000′s of feet of elevation, eventually heading through the town of Sheridan and on east to the small town of Arvada. We were meeting a couple of skilled ranch workers at the Arvada bar to follow them in to a really beautiful and large ranch, Powder River Horses. The Arvada bar is one of a few places in the town- where the paved road ends and the dirt roads to the working ranches of the town seem to begin. Walking into the (fairly gritty) bar, cowboy hats strewn around on the strong faces of the locals sitting at the circular bar, cans of domestics in hand, we were faced with trophy heads of antelope, deer, etc. and some tried and true cowboys.

After following Rich and Sarah out to the ranch, they introduced us to some amazing people and beautiful horses. Rich, a former rodeo rider, hopped on a couple of horses and demonstrated how the horses did with ropes, rifles, and directions. It was inspiring to learn about the horses and their history, to talk with the people on the ranch about the work they do and the integrity of their working ranch. The ranch family works organically, raising long-horn cattle, weed eating goats and geese, and naturally maintained grasses. They focus on breeding quarter horses that are genetically sound, strong, and brilliantly colored. The horses originate from the Hollywood Gold and the Hancock lines, both strong western horses that handle the rugged miles of the west and know how to tightly turn and move cows. The experience of meeting these ranchers only made us more anxious for horses on the ranch and excited for the potential in focusing in on the proven strength in these historical breeds of horses.

The horses we saw really were beautiful and brilliant in color and form. But we were so engaged in the experience that we didn’t manage to take one picture- not one of the people, the horses, the cows, the geese, the grass… so instead the pictures below are the horses that were here at Meadow Ranch most recently, the horses that were broken by the family here, ridden to work cows, and sold after there was no one here to ride them. They are missed dearly… below are pics of Trof, Frosty, Sassy, Missy, & Principessa.

Well, we did it. 1,399 miles later, we arrived at Meadow Ranch, Lander Route, Rawlins, WY from Ann Arbor, MI after a stop over to pick up six heifers in Charlotte, MI.

The journey was like a giant checklist of “if’s”, of inquisitive adventurers wondering if they would make it past the next level. Without a wink of sleep for me, Josh and I left at 5:30am for Charlotte. Pat and Larry, the farmers we bought the cows from, rounded the girls into one place and we loaded them into the trailer. We were on the road with them one hour later. Check!

We arrived in Omaha, no pullovers and with no more excitement than travelers pointing and wondering what these long haired beasts were, just 15 hours after we started at 7:30pm. My folks met us at the spot we were securely leaving the cows in the trailer, took a bunch of pictures, and shook their heads in what I’m choosing to think was excitement rather than baffling bemusement. Check!

After a great nights rest, Josh, Diego and I met the cows early, made sure they were fed and watered, and hit the great wide western scene. Things changed pretty quickly as we pulled that trailer along Interstate 80. The culture, the characters, the vehicles all started to take on an entirely new perspective. Agriculture  jumped out from every corner and byway. And here we were, hauling six amazing cows, with me finally submitting to a bandanna and muck boots on this last leg.

Wyoming’s Port of Entry accepted our paperwork, and after a brief gas fill in Laramie so we could hug Josh’s little sis, we were off on the final 90 miles. Yet another check on the list of unknowns! The truck had climbed up to 8,600 feet in elevation and was still smiling. Snow flurries were landing around the eyes of the cows and they had never looked better. Diego awoke from her slumber and sniffed the clean Wyoming air. And Josh and I listened to music, finding the intense gravity of what was actually happening to be a bit much to actually talk about.

These were the Avett Brothers lyrics that just so happened to play as we made our way into Rawlins (partially copied at the bottom of this post)…

We pulled into the ranch at 7:30pm, just as twilight was descending. Josh’s dad was waiting for us to help with unloading into the corrals, and just as we unloaded, our closest neighbor (six miles away) was pulling in with a load of alfalfa/grass hay for the cows. With their help, we forked it into the feeding trough. The girls started munching and we headed in for dinner with Gramma. She still doesn’t know these cows have long hair and horns- that they aren’t Angus. Today will be interesting. She will be baffled and I’m sure have plenty of words about our naivete to those that stop in to the ranch.

Off to work on some decaying corrals! To check on the girls and let Diego chomp on some Wyoming grass. The to-do list is already growing in leaps and bounds. One thing is for certain- we will not be bored!

HEAD FULL OF DOUBTS, Avett Brothers

There’s a darkness upon me that’s flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what’s wrong and what’s right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I’m frightened by those that don’t see it

When nothing is owed or deserved or expected
And your life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected
If you’re loved by someone, you’re never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it

There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I’ll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out

The countdown for our first trek west has begun. The plan is to leave this coming Sunday with our first load- five heifers: Espresso, Estelle, Elaine, Eirwyn, and Echo.

We are working on having a gooseneck hitch installed on our truck, and then buying a used trailer tomorrow that will carry these lovely ladies! It might seem absurd to name your beef cattle, but the beauty of it is that each of these cows come from a long history of recorded sires and dams (papas and mamas). They are Scottish Highland cattle that are known to thrive in a variety of climates, including the harsh and windy climate of Wyoming. We’ll see how they like being up almost 7,000 feet in elevation!

The trip should be interesting. A normally 22 1/2 hour trip, but with five heifers and an excited cattle dog, it might just take a bit longer. We’ll make our usual stop over in Omaha, staying with my parents. I dream of parking a stock trailer full of cattle on their suburban Omaha street, long-haired beauties bawling and mooing at the passers-by. One of the last things my father said to me recently was, “I never dreamed I’d have a daughter grow up to be a rancher.” I guess some things you just can’t plan.

This trip (and this investment!) makes it all much more real. After Josh teaches one more spring class at the University of Michigan, we will pack up from this state and drive off with a trailer full of memories the end of June.

But first! An adventure! Five cows, one cattle dog, one couple, a 16′ trailer, a bunch of hay, and six states. All in a couple of days time. Here’s hoping for good weather, good vehicles, and a whole bunch of correct paperwork to travel along those interstates.

Memories of February last year are beginning to revisit like estranged family members. Our trip to California was absolutely, outrageously, surreptitously fantastic; too good to be true. We need to talk about why it is that everyone doesn’t just live in California, where food grows anywhere you look and the ocean laps over one entire side of its long boundaries; where mountains rise and avocados read your mind. And can you imagine awakening to glistening yellow mounds hanging from trees, perfect for brightening even the bleakest glass of drinking water? Lemons, beckoning you to stay true and healthy in the winter bleak.

Ah, Michigan, you have pawpaws and cross-country skiing, breweries and urban farming, rain and snow and summer-time sun, lakes a-plenty and trees galore. For this I love and do not leave. And when I do leave, it will be for the openness of land and comfort of family; the heritage in decaying buildings and the wearing seat of the saddle. The countdown begins.

Rebekah and I sped off to Colorado for a quick post-graduation trip. We drove through the Oklahoma pan handle, skimmed through the New Mexico Northeast corner, and headed on through to Buena Vista, a Colorado valley surrounded by massive heights of 14er mountains. We stayed at Liar’s Lodge, a bed and breakfast that faces Mt. Harvard and Mt. Yale. We had a little porch off of our room, our bed facing Sleeping Indian mountain.

The next day, after a scrumptious and somewhat ludicrous breakfast of orange almond french toast, we hiked with heavy lungs to the top of the sleeping indian.

Soon after the hike we headed north to Denver and went to a Rockies/ Cardinals game where we partook in Coors Light and rooted for the underdog.

Colorado was great, but a bit too short. Maybe next time we’ll try a longer stint in Spain. Or Greece.