This is our sky…full of dirt and wind and wind and dirt and dirt and wind…oh, yes I said that.
Here is the Roubidoux just the other day
Here is the Roubidoux now and yesterday. I think all of Utah has come in on the 40 m.p.h. gusts we have been having.
But enough of that! I wanted to relay to you a story told to me by a long-time blog follower- Mr. John North.
Here is what he had to say:
Speaking of long ago— you are so good in relaying history of your area and your family too, I am going to start a bit of that myself. Not a blog, but just “personally” to you.
My maternal great Grampa,Charlie, an original settler west of the White Mud River in Saskatchewan ( early 1900’s) told the following story to my father when he was a relatively young man and around the time my dad married his wife, Grampa Charlie’s daughter.
He was a rancher and at the time of the story I am about to relate, he was a widower.
One day he was out inspecting his cattle. (The pastures in Sask. are measured in Sections, they were that large. My cousins still do that. ) He was an excellent horseman till nearly the age of 90 and sat tall in the saddle, dad would tell.
Well, it so happens that Charlie needed to dismount and walk nearer some of his cattle. So intent was he on looking after the Mums that he failed to notice that a big bull walked between he and his mount. (I wish I could remember his horse’s name, but I can’t.) He heard the bull sound off and turned around to see him pawing the prairie. He could do nothing to save himself, running was a waste of breath. So he locked eyes. The bull charged him.
Great Grampa Charlie was pretty fearless as the one tonner closed in. At the last second he sidestepped the big fella. But back in that time the bulls had their horns. As he rushed on by with Charlie doing some quick footwork, he swung his head and hooked Grampa, laying open his stomach.
There was a grievous wound, as you can imagine. Being far “out there”, there was no possibility of medical help.
He held himself together, and somehow made it to his horse who hadn’t drifted too far. He finally got up in the saddle and rode slowly back to his house. It was not easy and it was not a short ride. The distance is lost on me and I can’t ask my dad because he has passed on. But by and by he made it home and slid off. He got into the house and came out with a needle and thread. He then found an old plank which he laid on a flat area. Then he laid on the plank, tucking his innards back in. As best he could he stitched himself back together.
I know there are other details, now forever lost, but Dad said that he returned to the house, recuperated and went back to work. Not sure how long it took but he was up and doing and didn’t look back.
This happened while he was an older man, I forget what age, and he went on to live many more years. It all seems incredible, but he did what he had to do.
I guess it was episodes like that that made him the man that he was, Dad loved the ‘ol guy and the the feeling was mutual. He was strong and he was kindly. He had grit and he had cattle savvy. And it seems he was a “Doctor” as well.
What’s a little wind and dirt in the air compared to this?
At some point in this week the wind will leave and the dirt will settle down upon the land adding new soil to the old. The clouds will reappear and the sun will rise and set with outstanding colors. Just like Mr. North’s Grampa we really need to do whatever it takes to ‘get ‘er done’, then move on.
Thank you, Mr. North for sharing with all of us this feat of ‘just making it through the day’!
Than you, Dear Readers for sharing your photos of rainbows, and birds and fun stories. I’m always interested in what you send me. If you don’t mind I would love to share them with all of those who have subscribed to my blog. Life is full of wonder every where we live.