Waiting

Back in Wyoming to the usual March medley of mud, melting ice, new dustings of snow.  All is chaos in the little cabin--too full of boxes and unsorted belongings, thronged with needy felines.
I'm perched in a corner of the computer lab at the local library, with J's laptop on my lap--which contrarily is not a comfortable way to write.
We have some serious business to attend to before leaving in a week.  There is also [groan] the storage shed and the old barn to sort.
I'll be coming into the library as I have time--I daresay I could spread myself out on a table in the main area and be a bit more comfortable to type and read.
It's getting dark and I'm driving the red truck, so want to get back promptly to the cabin.  Driving the truck is not an issue, but the big water tank is on the back and I'm one of those people who prefer looking behind me to judge a back-up space rather than relying on the side mirrors.
So, back through the mud to the place that is no longer home.
The new owners have painted my kitchen terra cotta and the wainscoating is no longer barn red, but greem.  The bathroom which J. labored to finish and paint is now a brilliant shade of pink. We know this because he went in yesterday to change a door lock and a switch plate.
Oh well, we shall be soon putting our own stamp on the Kentucky cottage.  Its just the getting there that seems a hurdle!

A Small Excursion

Snow and slush from the road froze into this odd starburst formation on the trucks' hubcaps.

J.'s photo
Sand hill cranes and geese. Note the height of the cranes.

Approaching the Wind River Canyon, the mountains lost in snow clouds.


There are a series of three closely spaced tunnels blasted through the rock.

Our destination was a large second hand shop in Thermopolis, Wyoming. Bernie the Cat minds the shop and is bored by the blandishments of customers. Bernie has polydactyl paws, a trait more often seen in cats from the New England area.

This rock chimney stands at the edge of a high rock wall. [There was no hint of blue in the sky--that coloration is the tint on the top of the windshield.]

The Wind River flows through the narrow canyon. Outside the town of Thermopolis the same waterway becomes the Big Horn River.

A railroad track runs along the lower edge of the rock face. The small dark rectangle is the entrance to a tunnel.

Sand hill cranes and Canadian geese forage in a corn field outside Riverton.

The cranes were involved in flapping territorial confrontations.

Canadian geese in the snow covered field.

J. has decided that we should rent the guest cabin as a source of income. It will likely be on short-term lease. It is a rustic cabin and small, but has a kitchenette, bath with shower, a porch that looks out on the pond. It seems that renting it with furniture in place will give us the best options. We combed the storage shed for extra pieces, picked through the high-priced junk in a local second hand barn, and then remembered the shop in Thermopolis where we picked up some decent items several years ago.

It hardly seemed the day for a journey, even the 65 or 70 miles involved. [Trips in the interior west are more often measured in the hours to get there on a good day than by acutal miles.] Morning dawned with dirty grey skies and softly falling snow. J. did some errands and then announced that we needed to be on our way.

The Wind River Canyon is an interesting 14 mile stretch of road on the route to Thermopolis. The highway plunges and swoops between massive rock walls following the curve of the river. On a blue sky day the views are inspiring and there is the chance of seeing big-horned sheep, deer or antelope. Small black ducks swim year round in the swift boulder-strewn waterway. Today on the higher places snow coated the blacktop and clumped icily against the windshield wipers. As we drove into lower levels the snow changed to sleet, rain, then back to sticky flakes and the landscape was a blur of dirty woolen mist.

We stopped for a less than memorable lunch on the edge of town. [Tea made with water barely hot, fried chicken that was cold in the middle!] Later in the day, apparently mulling this, J. announced that eating out isn't always a treat!

We pulled up in front of the second hand emporium, glad to find that it hasn't closed up shop as so many places have recently. I had almost forgotten the cat who rules over the establishment and has the run of the store and its back rooms. The street level has furniture, old sewing machines, crocks, salvaged sinks, an interesting hodge-podge. The lower level has a corner for books, racks of clothing, shelves of china, toasters, crockpots, kitchen oddments.

I spotted an oak end table and claimed it to replace the "shabby-not-so-chic" one in front of our dining room picture window. J. found a nice set of hoop-backed chairs for our dining table, a small base cabinet which he can fit with a top for the cabin, a small desk. Bernie the Cat followed us from one cluster of furniture to another, stalked across a china hutch, bounded down and sat with twitching tail beneath a table when I attempted to make friends. [As J. said, perhaps his personality isn't suited to being chatty with customers all day!]

Our selections made, J. began to load the items into the truck, while I scooted across the street to a quilt shop. I make a quick reconnoiter of the shop--which has recently changed owners--then settled to choose gifts for my co-workers who all have birthdays at the end of the month.

It was a sloggy trip home and when he backed down to the cabin to unload our finds, J. discovered that the slush of the road had spun and frozen into an icy starburst. Coming into our house we were greeted by the cats, with the reminder that it was past their tea time. They sniffed suspiciously at the wet chairs which J. set on the kitchen floor, swished their tails as we wiped off the snow and then turned on the electric kettle.

Darkness came early, snow swirls, silent and unstoppable. The pair of great-horned owls perched briefly in the big cottonwood before floating off through the gloaming, ready to begin their night's hunt. We huddle, caught in this too early winter. This weekend we shall have to sand and paint furniture, give the cabin a final cleaning. I don't relish sharing the dooryard with a stranger, but who knows--maybe he won't be too bad.

Hmmm--wondered where that photo had landed. I am NOT going to mess with removing it at this hour of the night. Given my computer skills the whole post would disappear!