"THE PINES"

This is The Pines.  It was sunny and clear the day I took this picture.  We spent the long weekend at The Pines.  It was not always sunny and clear. 

Ma  and Pa Carlson live at the Pines with their small girls, Rosie and Miss America.  Pa is a rancher and chases cows and rides horses.  Ma cooks and takes care of the little ones.  They all live in a cabin, nestled in the woods, thus the name, The Pines.  They love living at The Pines, however they are not particularly fond of the darkness at night, bats and mice.  In that order, I might add.  

We spent the weekend at The Pines because the boys had some "gathering" to do, and we had Monday off, due to it being "Native American Day."  For those of you living "East River," that would be Columbus Day. . . go figure, huh?

We gathered at The Pines on Friday evening, then headed to bed early, as the boys and little Rosie had to rise at five a.m. to get to work.  The morning started out drizzly and a bit nippy, but the crew headed down the road.  About eight a.m., a call came to Ma.  Little Rosie was wet and cold and wanted no part of the gathering.  So Ma, Miss America, and I headed down the trail in old "duke."  We found Rosie wet and a little worse-for-the-wear, and loaded her into the warm vehicle.  Ma had to ride the horse to the neighbor's house, but that is a whole different story in itself!

Pa, the Senator, and Patrick, along with a bunch of other ranchers and their "hands," continued on the trail, in the chilly, constant rain. 




"Gathering"

 



Heading toward the White River



Crossing the White River





"The Boys"
 (That's my little boy, third from the left.  The Senator is in the yellow slicker.  That's Pa Carlson third from the right. )



Almost the End of the Trail



"My Carol" served the boys her homemade chili and apple crisp when they were finished with their work.  Then the boys made their way back down to The Pines. 

The road was wet and wild.  You see, this land gets just plain "gummy" when it rains.  Gummy is not good.  It is slick.  It is slimey.  It is like glue.  It is not fun. It is not fair. 



Gum. Mud. Boots.



Because of the "gum," we ended up at staying at The Pines until Monday afternoon.  We were stranded.  It was like a good ol' fashioned snowstorm, without the snow.  We were saved by a dozen eggs, a pound of butter, three zucchini the size of small pigs, a freezer full of cow, a couple of bags of chips and one big, round hunk of fresh mozzarella cheese.  Ma Carlson and I got pretty creative with the goods on hand.




Ma Carlson and I headed up the Badlands with the girls late Sunday afternoon. This is a view of the cabin, nestled in the pines.  It's down there somewhere, trust me.

 

By late afternoon on Sunday, the sun started to peak out.  Pa Carlson had to go do some ranch work.  The Senator and Patrick decided to stay back to site-in Patrick's new 22 Henry rifle.  I want to be sure to emphasize it is a "Henry" rifle.   To  some of you out there, that means something.  To me it means nothing.  I just know Patrick loves it.  That means something to me.  Ma Carlson and I headed up the Badlands with the little girls and sat a spell. 

We were able to head down the road by mid-morning on Monday.  Ma and the small girls needed a ride into town, so I took them in "the duke."  The Senator and Patrick loaded the horses in the trailer and headed out first.  They were going to stop along the way to maybe take in some "shootin." 

I arrived home before they did, and when they got home quite a while later, they told me they shot a small bird, but missed a turkey.

I asked, "What kind of small bird?"

They both replied, "A small bird.  We don't know what kind." 

Hmmmmm. . . Sounds like we'll be heading to the library for a "Birds of the Badlands" book this week. 

All I know is Patrick got to shoot "Henry." 

 AND I'm still trying to figure out how he missed the BIG turkey and got the small bird?

On to the Vikings vs. the Jets.  This is serious stuff at our house.

From the range, peace,

Kathleen

The Handy Girl