Beauty in ordinary objects can be easily overlooked. You can’t see subtleties from a galloping horse; you have to take up the reins and slow your soul down.
When I was a wee lassie, I thought it completely normal that each day would begin with a trip to the local dump. I spent much of my early childhood in my Grampa’s shadow and nearly every day, weather permitting, we went to the dump on a scavenger hunt. He and Gramma grew up in the homestead era and then spent much of their adult life just trying to get by. Gramma waited 5 long years for her true love to come home from WWI. They began their life together scratching out a living as ranchers. Before they were wed, Grampa told her that he could afford either a new Hamley saddle or a wedding ring, but not both. My Gramma, then his young, auburn haired bride was ranch savvy and she chose the saddle! As young adults, they faced very tough times…the Great Depression, The Dirty 30s, and WWII. As a result, they became members of what is now referred to as ‘The Greatest Generation’. They were people who enjoyed life even in the midst of doing without most, if not all, of life’s luxuries.
By the time I was old enough to hang out with my Grandfather (1960s), he was well into retirement. He was very active though and loved building and fixing things. That is where the city dump came in…
Autumn in the western states, specifically on cattle ranches involves what is commonly referred to as ‘Fallwork’ – one word. Ranching, like all agriculture, revolves around the seasons. For ranchers on the northern plains, autumn is less about colorful leaves and more about golden grass. The prairie is busy getting ready to close up shop for the coming winter and the rancher has a long list of chores to do in preparation for the changing out of seasons.