Sorry I’m Late

“I’m sorry I’m late!  There were sheep on the road!”

I’ve used this excuse a few times while trying to get to city appointments on time and it always manages to make me and the person (or professional) waiting for me laugh.  Though this state of mine is being shook awake by an huge population influx at the moment, groaning with growing pains, shuddering beneath the thundering speed-enhancement that comes with multitudes of transplanted Californians…I like to think the heart of our rural spaces remains unchanged.

On the way to the post office yesterday, the shepherds were moving sheep across the river and up the road.  It’s a thrill to see them working with their dogs and horses at this age old business of flock tending.  I love the sight of the woolies moving as one across the sage, grabbing rogue bites of weeds and plant matter as they move, tramping the road flat, murmuring and bleating as they flow into empty space.  They’re down from the high country now which means winter is on the way and I’ll testify to the fact.  Idaho summer begins and ends with the yellow of balsam root and sunflowers as well as the bleat of sheep on the range.

Throwback to July

Last winter I was emailing with my girlfriend, Christina, the one who used to manage a backcountry ranch on the Main Salmon River here in Idaho, we were talking about cut flower farming.  Christina and Wes were planning on making the move to a new management position on a different backcountry ranch on the South Fork of the Salmon River — the South Fork Ranch, also known as the Hettinger Ranch — and she had made up her mind to start a cut flower farm there.  I was delighted to hear of her plans since I’ve been thinking of putting part of our own farm to cut flowers.  I ventured down to the ranch in late July to see her progress and it was nothing short of a miracle.  I mean, I was entirely inspired!  She’s doing it!  She’s successfully growing flowers and hauling them in to market twice a week in McCall.

In case you’re confused by what the term backcountry ranch means, allow me to define the term for you.  The South Fork Ranch is located in a backcountry location on the South Fork of the Salmon River.  It is historic.  It is not a newfangled ranch.  It’s been there for years and years since it was originally pioneered during the gold rush era in Idaho.  It is at the end of a long, bumpy, winding forest service road.  It is a working ranch.  It has an airstrip.  It grows hay, horses, mules and now flowers…as well as food for Christina and Wes to consume year round.  It’s beautiful.  I mean, it’s the brightest jewel in the crown of Idaho backcountry ranches and no place does backcountry ranching like Idaho.  This ranch puts hydro-power back into the grid and is pretty much self-sufficient.  I love it there.  Christina and Wes are living my alternate dream life.

Christina cuts her flowers twice a week and hauls them into McCall to the farmer’s market.  She also supplies flowers for local events in McCall (of which there are many during the summer season).  She’s doing it.  She dreamed a dream and now she’s living it.  My hero!!!  So often I find myself paving the way for others when it comes to realizing dreams and actualizing them.  This is one of the first times in a long, long time that someone has inspired me, deeply, in a direction I want to go with my life and work.  I’m so thankful I’ve been able to witness her success.  I’m lucky to have her paving the way for me.  She’s been so courageous and tenacious with this dream of hers.  I’m proud of her.

Here’s to forty more years of flower farming, dear woman!  Thank you for helping to make this world a more beautiful place.

 

Summer Snapshots

…I owe us all a couple of real posts and I have plenty of thoughts and stories to share so here’s hoping I can use some of my time for blogging this week!  I hope you are all well.

XX


My kind of high.

https://www.thenoisyplume.com/blog/2018/06/24/13968/

Two weeks ago I was in New Mexico with a shoot crew making photographs at Ghost Ranch and around Abiquiu and Georgia O’Keefe was everywhere.  I missed my horses even though the crew had me running a horse through the Rio Grande for them and galloping around in the sage on horseback along the rim of the gorge outside of Taos at sunset.  I came home and discovered the bands of mustangs that have existed all this time on the wild public lands that sweep between the farm and Nevada (and beyond).  I have moved into comfortable silence with my wild horses, watching from near-far as they move through their territory, I yearn to know them better and I will, with time.  I have pressed my hands to the faces of my own horses, felt their sun warmed velvet on my calloused fingertips and the smooth bone that runs beneath their hot breath and wide set eyes.  I did all that and I saw all those things and I lived my life with my own lovely steeds and out popped rings featuring horse skulls: An ode to Georgia (I dislike her flowers but I adore her skulls), a whispered prayer for the wild ones I have come to know as my own, and a love letter pressed in sterling for the two I ride and cherish.

It seems all my world is horses now…I can’t remember the time when it wasn’t.

https://www.thenoisyplume.com/blog/2018/06/01/13912/