Life on the Ranch

I'm back!
I've missed you. And I've missed this.
Maybe a little explanation is in order . . .
For six years, I've been plagued by headaches. And, sadly, sitting and working on the computer compounded them terribly.
My solution? Spend less and less time before the screen. It didn't eliminate the wretched, blinding headaches, but it did reduce them somewhat.
Enter a friend.
And a bottle of magic pills.
Now you have to know that, by this time, skepticism was my middle name.
I had tried every pain-relieving drug I could find.
I dutifully opened the bottle and swallowed what would probably be the next in a long line of nexts.
Imagine my surprise. The first one . . . worked!
And the next day, the second. Then, the third. And so on.
Headache free for three weeks now, I am cautiously optimistic.
And very, very excited!
And very, very happy to be back on my blog . . . typing madly.
So today, I'll start where I started ten years ago. With my very first blog post/introduction to me.
I love you all! Thank you for standing by me!
Diane

The new barn

My big brother and me.
I'm the one in the dress...

I was privileged to grow up on one of the last of the large old ranches in Southern Alberta. Situated halfway between the towns of Milk River and Del Bonita, it covered two-and-a-half townships, close to 92 square miles. 

Our closest neighbour was over nine miles away. 

A little far to drop by to borrow a cup of sugar, but close enough to help in the case of a real emergency, which was not uncommon on the large spread we ran, and with the number of people involved in the daily workings.
The ranch buildings themselves were nestled snugly in a bend of the South Fork of the Milk River. 

Towering cliffs surrounded us. Cliffs which were home, at times, to a pair of blue herons, and at all others, to marmots, badgers, porcupines, and a very prolific flock of mud swallows. 

We learned to swim in that river. 

We tobogganed down the gentler slopes of those cliffs. 

We built dams and caught frogs and snakes. 

I even trapped a full-grown jackrabbit – almost.
It was an unusual life, as I have now come to know. 

At the time, it was normal. 

We thought everyone lived like we did. Far from any outside influences. Relying on each other. Immersed in the needs of the family and the ranch. 

For a child growing up, it was peace itself.

The Ranch

P.S. Most of the buildings are gone now, burned in the terrible grass fires of 2012. But they remain solid and real in my memories.