Okay...somewhere, there are cables... It’s once again our week in Banff National Park. Our 29th year. We’ve spent the time hiking. (...

My Victim I had my driver's license. I was queen of the world! I have to admit, here, that most ranch and farm kids are driving fr...

YD. Not in a Time Out... Shopping With Toddlers. A condition frequently and affectionately known by its acronym of SWT is a one-way ti...

Admit it, they would fool anyone! First, a little insight into the 'Diane' thought process . . . But they look like peas! The...

August 27th is National Just Because Day, celebrated by doing something without rhyme or reason. Each participant has given another...

I gave my kids some marbles On a sunny, summer day, I showed them how to scratch a ring And taught them how to play. And for a while, t...

Husby is known for his hoard of treats. Maybe I should capitalize the word 'Hoard'. Because that would be more accurate. Some time a...

This post may or may not be described as 'icky'. Sorry. Yummy deliciousness. Not. Milk. That commodity touted as one o...

Mom, Chris and Jerry Mom was a gardener.  One of those . . . mmmajor gardeners.  I’m almost certain that her garden produced enoug...

The Stringam Wagon Train I suppose it will come as no surprise that I love horses. All horses. And therein hangs a tail. (Did you see ...

Hair is a renewable resource. Dyed. Cut. Whatever. Within a few weeks, whatever outrageous style had been conceived and achieved, is vast...

I'm cheating a little for this week's Poetry Monday. The topic is camping. And I'm reusing a poem I published a couple of y...

Old Ranch. The barnyard is out there. Near the  . . . ummm . . . barn. My very first ranch memory occurred when I was two.  I had m...

“Now this little gem is truly a diamond in the rough!” One thing I’ll say about our real estate agent, Mr. Gregory Gorman, he knows hi...