Pot Shots

Woody had a list of chores that kept very him busy for the entire week of our visit to SIL's ranch.

He hammered and hefted. He sawed and drilled. He groomed and clipped. He mended and repaired.
And, one by one Woody checked off the chores on his list.

SIL worked right along side of her big brother. It was a good thing to see as she has been ill most of this year. But now that she is healthier, she got right to work. Me?  I still stayed out of the way.


The chores went smoothly enough and we only
had to make a couple of trips into town to
get more supplies. I did notice the glee in Woody's eye as we turned into the hardware parking lot.

Towards the end of our stay at the ranch, the Woodster wanted to paint the deer stile he built a couple of years ago.

What we are calling a deer stile is a pass through of sorts in the barbed wire fence. The idea is to prevent people on ATVs riding on SIL's property and destroying the environment, yet at the same time allowing horse back riders, hikers, and deer or other wildlife access to the property. There is no proof that any person or animal has actually used the stile yet, but the opportunity is there.

Anyway, like most other things on a ranch, the stile requires periodic maintenance. It needed painting.


SIL has 80 acres, which includes a little river bed canyon. Her property goes from her main cabin across a meadow to the canyon, across the canyon, and continues for about 15 yards on the other side of the canyon depending on the zig or zag of the property line in relation to the canyon's edge. On the other side of SIL's property line is an abandoned house (complete with loads of trash which the owner threw onto SIL's property before he was sent to prison for reasons unknown) and space cleared for a new house next door to that. SIL's property was fenced when she bought it, but some of the fencing is gone, cut, or weather beaten away. Anyone with access to the neighboring properties is able to walk to the edge of the canyon fairly easily.

SIL is on the far side of the river bed canyon. The deer stile is at the
bottom of the canyon.

So, one morning Woody grabbed some paint and a few brushes. He and I hiked from SIL's quonset hut barn down into the canyon. After a little bit of prep, Woody was soon painting the stile. I was along to take a few photos.









It was a truly beautiful day and fairly quiet  except for occasional traffic on the nearby highway. I wore a white cotton shirt and beige pants along with a very large sunhat as the temps were quite warm. I had already sunburned my scalp once. I took a few photos and enjoyed the morning. The smell of the sage was absolutely intoxicating.

Woody was busily painting and I had a good time snapping a few photos.  The quiet of the morning was suddenly shattered by the sound of gun shots coming from the far side of the canyon. Bang BANG! Bang BANG!

We briefly thought about hunters trespassing on SIL's property, but figured it was someone shooting at targets on the neighboring property. Besides, we were well within SIL's property with No Trespassing and No Hunting signs clearly posted.



I am a naive city slicker. Let me emphasize NAIVE.  I don't really know when hunting season begins or ends. I thought it might be coming up as signs in town welcomed hunters.  It never occurred to me that the season might have started already. Woody continued painting and I was happily snapping away when WHIZ....thud!  A bullet had come screaming across the canyon, landing about 20 yards (or less) from me! Oh my God!!  Woody hollered at the shooter and the shooting first changed direction and then stopped altogether. I was shaking a bit and hid myself deeper in the bushes.  The Woodster kept right on painting. Woody was mostly camouflaged in his browns, while my white shirt stuck out like a white flag, sore thumb, or the hind end of a white tailed deer.

The hunter had to have been standing about where SIL was standing in the above photo. I immediately scanned the canyon top with my binos, but didn't see a thing.  The hunter had to have seen me. That thought sent shivers down my spine. Did the hunter think I was a deer? Was I an idiot for being in white and beige in order to combat the heat? Or, was the hunter the idiot? Or was he perhaps sending a warning our way because he didn't like the No Trespassing and No Hunting signs??  I didn't like any of the options.

Woody often tells me that any adventure that doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Hah! I am a So Cal city girl. I don't do heat or snow and I especially don't do gun shots. I didn't exactly turn into a quivering mass of jelly, but it will be a cold day before I venture down there again. No.....wait.....I don't do snow!

Back at the Ranch

My Sister-In-Law (SIL) has a ranch in Colorado where we go periodically to help with fix-it jobs. Or, rather, Woody goes to help. My job is to stay out of the way. As soon as we arrive at the ranch, the Woodster springs into ranch hand mode. He gleefully straps on his tool belt and unloads piles of tools all the while hoping that there is something he has forgotten which will require a trip to the local hardware store.

First up on the ranch hand's agenda was to re-locate boundary markers on SIL's property that had been placed by a surveyor a few years ago but were now covered up by knee high prairie grasses and brush.

Ah! A treasure hunt. So, with a gps in one hand, a plat map in the other, surveyor's tape tucked in a pocket, and a camera around his neck, Woody was off.  SIL kept up with him while I trailed behind.

"A little to the right.....the marker should be....."
"Found it!"
Amazingly enough, Woody, SIL, and I found all the boundary markers right where they were supposed to be. Yeehaw!

So, Woody duly flagged the markers, took numerous
photos and gps-ed each one so that next time
they will be much easier to find. Because, as we all know, there WILL be a next time.

But, my ranch hand's work has just begun and his
locating boundary markers was only the beginning.

SIL has an 80 acre ranch which includes a couple of cabins and a quonset hut.

Woody did maintenance work all around the property. He hung address signs, mended fences, did some mouse proofing, patched holes, cut back brush, hammered, sawed, and performed numerous other tasks.







But, it was when he went to paint a deer stile that the trouble began. But, that's a story for next time.

Tourist Traps

I LOVE tourist traps. In fact, Woody and I have books and apps about roadside attractions. Some traps we read about, others we happen on. The one pictured here is like an old friend in the desert. To be on our personal trap list, there are certain qualifications that must be met. There either needs to be an attraction to see and experience or an eats or treats speciality offered. In addition there should be wild signs trying to get us to pull off the road. Most traps have a souvenir/gift store attached. Dateland may not qualify as a tourist trap to many people, but we get trapped every time we pass by. The date shakes are fabulous and have become a tradition with us.

As we travel out and about, we have seen traps come an go over the years, especially some of the older ones. I am always sad to see one go as I view them as a part of Americana. These are little businesses whose owners are usually trying to eke out a living by snagging us off the road and encouraging us to spend a little time and a few dollars at their establishments. Many times I am happy to oblige. 

However, that said I am now to the age and stage where I am trying to rid myself of possessions as hard as it is. I touch and look at all the souvenirs. I buy a mug here and cheap jewelry there. I feel extremely guilty not spending more than the few dollars I do. I so want these businesses to survive. But, I have hundreds of charms (which I truly love and continue to collect if they're available), plenty of mugs (which I no longer have room for), a pile of patches (which I have no idea what to do with but I like anyway), and enough jewelry to last me a lifetime.  I no longer collect 'dust catchers' ~ pretty things to put out on display that I have to continually dust. And, I have gifted my friends until they have asked me to stop. Sometimes I feel so guilty about not buying anything that rather than stopping at the traps, we drive on by. So, I spend travel time thinking of ways that these little businesses can trap new or returning customers...specifically Woody & I. 

I haven't come up with a great idea yet, but I keep thinking and cogitating on it. Most of my ideas revolve around a passport of some sort similar to the National Parks Passport. I could collect a stamp, patch, and a charm from each stop. Cute idea, but not really a money maker for the trap. 

The dinosaurs in this photo are from a defunct trap on Route 66/I-40. Woody and I toured it in the early 90s. Although it's gone, the wonderful dinosaurs remain along the interstate beckoning travelers to stop and spend. We'd love to.

Road Pictures

As Bob Hope and Bing Crosby warbled while riding on a camel schlepping along the dunes,

"We're off on the Road to Morocco,

Instead of the Tunnel of Love....."

That song almost always goes through my mind as we head out on yet another adventure.  Recently, the Woodster and I took a road trip to Colorado. Our final destination was my sister in law's ranch.

As the road from San Diego to Colorado is a long and windy one, I like to keep myself occupied by taking road pictures with my camera as we drive along listening to an audiobook. Whizzing along at 60 mph to get from point A to point B with few turnouts for photo opportunities could be frustrating. 

But to me, road pictures are a lot fun. I never know what I'm going to get. Blurs, reflections, colors, shapes, and bug splats make for good road pictures in my mind. It keeps me entertained as we head down the road.

Our trip to Colorado is endlessly fascinating as the landscape changed so frequently. If I don't like what I'm seeing at the moment, I don't need to worry as it all changes soon enough.

We travel to Colorado frequently. 

Oddly enough, more often than not we are dodging a storm. This fall trip was no exception. The weather was very changeable and we narrowly missed the first traces of snow of the season. But, stormy weather means interesting skies.

As I said, I just love road pictures.....even if we don't get to meet Dorothy Lamour.