For big dead animals. I drove up to Suce Creek this morning to run the dogs, and there were two guys standing looking into the bed of a pickup truck. Once of them was wearing camoflage, always a tip-off. So as the boys ran up the hill in search of grouse, I walked over and took a peek. “What’d you get?” I asked. “A moose,” the one guy said. “That’s not a moose!”I said looking at the big black dead animal, “The antlers are wrong.” It was a very beautiful, dark, almost black elk. He was nestled in the bed…
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So, when I was home in June for my cousin Jason’s wedding, my grandmother bestowed on me Mrs. Baggot’s Ring. Mrs. Baggot’s ring originally belonged to my great-great grandfather, Charles Ambrose Plamondon, who had a gear company in Chicago and who died, along with his wife Mary (they were celebrating their 37th wedding anniversary) on the Lusitania. Apparently, the story goes that Doctor Murphy, who invented a major gastrointestinal surgical procedure, and who I think was some sort of cousin, gave this ring to Charles Ambrose as a gift, probably sometime shortly before the turn of the 20th century. Then,…
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Yup. It’s snowing this morning. Not really sticking — but definitely snowing. The thermometer on the garage reads 33.8 degrees while the one under the plastic tents covering the tomatoes reads 41 degrees. And I have to go over to Billings today, so I’m not going to be able to do any garden salvage until tomorrow. Oh, the excitement of short season gardening!
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I took last week off — and while I didn’t go to Paris this year, tant pis, c’est trop cher, I must say, I highly reccommend the vacation-at-home. I slept late every day, often with both dogs snoring away in a big snuggly pile in my bed. I got some writing done, and got back on top of the memoir, which had been woefully neglected. I made a little progress on the Secret Life Change — a project that seems to be moving in a two steps forward one step back sort of fashion. And I got some real reading…