The Front Porch

I was sleeping as sound as a baby when suddenly, at about three o’clock in the morning, I was awaken by a barking dog.  My big dog, Buttons, lives in the back yard and has a very distinguished and deep “Woof” that will sound different at times, depending on what he is barking at.  When a stranger comes, he barks a loud and distinctive, “WOOOF…WOOF…WOF.” But when friends come to visit, he barks a happy, “WO…WO…WO…WO.”  When the local skunk visits and eats the dog food, Buttons sits nearby (while the skunk ignores him) and his woof is high-pitched, as if he was crying as a child would, “He’s eating my foot!!  Stop him!!!  Get away, you pig!!!”

But the dog I heard in the night was different.  It sounded just like a little Yorkie dog was sitting on my front porch barking to come in!  Such a tiny little sound coming from a tiny dog!  Way out here where I live so far from everyone, how could a little dog end up on my front porch?  So I got up, went to the front door and flipped on the porch light. 

I saw my big cat, Alex, sitting next to his food bowl (full of crunchy tidbits) with his nose nearly touching the long pointed nose of a full grown fox.  The porch light never bothered either one of the adversaries.  Next to the fox, on the cushion of a lawn chair, lay three more of my cats, languidly lifting their heads to discover why the light was turned on.  Meanwhile, the fox continued to yip-yip-yip!  The cats lazily surveyed the area, and then closed their eyes again, stretching a bit to be more comfy. 

Alex glanced around and yawned widely, before he turned back to the sharp nose of the fox.  Meanwhile there was only one thing on that little fox’s mind – the food bowl!  He continued to bark his little Yorkie bark while Alex ignored him and never budged from his spot.  

I made a noise at the window and, with one look at me, the fox disappeared.  Alex yawned again and walked away from the bowl, before laying down for a nap.

As I continued to survey my front porch, I decided that the fox wasn’t a new visitor to the food bowl, because my cats seemed to completely accept him as a family member.  It reminded me of their reaction to the skunks, who not only visited the back yard dog bowl, but made a regular sojourn to the front porch food bowl as well, with the cats cautiously moving away from the pointy little tails.

I’ve been told that foxes and coyotes kill cats and small dogs.  Since I live so far out in the country, I’ve seen many wild animals and wondered if that accounted for a few of my missing cats. But I had to see, to believe, a big tom cat bully a big fox!

Wild animals are simply hungry and since my food bowls sit on their territory, they believe I put it there for them.  So we must share.  I don’t begrudge their presence around my home and delight whenever I catch a glimpse of one of the beautiful creatures.  If only some of my distant neighbors and other ignorant people felt the same way. When they see a wild animal, they almost salivate to get their hands on a gun to kill it.

All my baby skunks (who grew big on dog food) have disappeared and the calls of the coyotes are more distant as traps for their furs push them away (believe it or not!  Who wears coyote furs?).  One of the saddest things I ever saw was on a bitter, cold winter day, early one morning, a coyote was crossing the field behind my house.  He had traveled far for a drink of water and was returning, limping along as best he could on three legs, having lost a leg to a trap.

I missed some sleep last night but I’m grateful for the creatures, wild and tame, who surround my home and make my life richer for having crossed their paths with mine.  I pray they are safe and sound wherever they abide.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Favorite Authors

One of my favorite authors is a man named James A. Michener.  He wrote an amazing number of wonderful books before his death.  Some were made into movies and enjoyed by millions.  I especially loved his concept of a story and his ability to make history so fascinating.  His method was to pick a spot on Earth and begin at the literal beginning for that area and write the story of the inhabitants until modern times.  One of the most interesting of his novels was one that took place in Colorado (Centennial).  He began with a family of dinosaurs who lived in that spot and moved through time until the present; the Native American Indians who lived there, the pioneer settlers, the modern cities.  Each time period was filled with a family, an individual, or a dynasty and their story was told.  Incredible story-telling!  Well worth your time and unmatched by any other.  Try reading Texas, Mexico, The Source (a favorite), Iberia, Centennial and all the rest that he wrote.  You will have trouble picking out your number one.  It is a good read in January when the days are long and you are inside more.

An author I have loved for many years is Mary Stewart.  My favorite of her books is Thornyhold.  Great escapism and enjoyable story telling! 

Another favorite is The Count of Monte Cristo; good revenge, moral awakening and satisfying story.

Something I found by accident and no longer in print (order from used bookstore) is a book by Mary Luke called The Nonsuch Lure.  I re-read it at least once every few years.  So fun to participate in that fascinating story!

I have many favorites and this is only a short list of books that are like old friends to me, sharing many moments of my life and helping me to sort out the many mysteries of reality.  There is nothing like a really good story written in a book!

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Ghost Towns; one of my favorites!

Bannack, Montana

            On July 28^th 1862, John White and William Eades were the first to discover gold along the banks of Grasshopper Creek, originally named Willard’s Creek by Lewis and Clark.  Thus began the gold strike that established the town of Bannock in western Montana.

            Bannock grew into a large city and actually vied for the title of State Capital of Montana.  The most interesting aspect of this town is its survival.  Although completely uninhabited, it still stands in all its glory, many buildings partially restored or repaired.  Because it is owned and operated and protected by the state, there are no commercial entities allowed.  For a truly ‘ghost town’ experience, this one has all the stars.

            We have visited this town each year and never tire of the pioneer atmosphere or legends associated with each building.  In a booklet provided at the visitor center, there are stories taken from old letters and diaries that are written by actual residents who helped to establish from bare roots the wonder and enchantment of this famous old ghost town.  As you move from building to building, you are able to understand and experience the history and incidentals associated with each.  In July, the town fills up with actors, vendors, and musicians for their Bannock Days Celebration; very much worth your time!

            If you are looking for a new experience close to home, I would recommend a trip to Bannock.  You can pan for gold (and keep what you find!), join a tour with an interpreter, or just wander alone, absorbing the haunted atmosphere of past lives.  And when you leave, you may just see a crowd of people dressed in long gowns and cowboy gear, waving good-by.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Reunions

    

July is the month of family reunions.  Who, out there, isn’t involved in some form of get-together, whether it’s a giant gathering of all clan members or just a visit from those far away?  Many have looked forward to this for months and others have probably dreaded it a bit; lots of extra work, always eating too much and, of course, the expected and uninvited thread of tension that weaves its way around and through the mingling crowd: the members of the group who have never gotten along very well and only meet this one time each year.  We may pretend that it isn’t there, but it is - snaking its way through the gathering.

     This is the test of our roots – these moments of confrontations and how we handle them.  This is when the instincts and knowledge of our ancestors and their histories is most important. 

     Remember how great-great-great grandmother handled that burglar who invaded their campsite when they were pioneers?  She pulled out the gun given to her by a gambler passing through – payment for a meal – and aimed it at the thieves ordering them to leave.  She had never handled or owned a gun before and was a very gentle soul, but her children were there, her husband was away and she did what she had to in order to protect them.

     And how great-great grandmother hid the children in the large flour bin when the Indians came to her home, then cooked a meal for the natives before they left because they were so hungry.

     And during the depression, when great-grandpa took in a large family who were homeless, he quietly went into the field and began to plow an extra acre to plant more food.

     Strength, charity, tolerance, forbearance – some of the qualities passed down through the generations to you and me.

     So, this month, remember who you are and draw from those memories to bind the members of your family closer and cherish what you are; a person molded from the challenges and choices of those who lived before you – your ancestors.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Summer Camping

High summer seems to finally be here.  After waiting longer than usual, we have at last reached the lazy-hazy-crazy-dayz of summer. 

When I was a child my dad had a nice boat and so every weekend we were on a lake somewhere.  We traveled far and wide to enjoy every boating experience we could, once even going as far as Glacier National Park. 

I remember the hot sun, cooling breezes and the never ending nuisance of lots of bugs; also the smell of fresh air skimming across crisp clean mountain water; (sometimes not so pleasant if rotting fish dotted the shore).

As children, my sisters and I searched for shells, rocks, twisted driftwood and anything interesting we could find.  When our bodies had saturated the sun and wind and we felt as if we were part of the forest, we eventually rested beside the cool shade of pine trees or inside our tent if the bugs were too bothersome.  When we became dusty from hiking or exploring, we would jump into the nearest water hole to refresh and then explore the natural inhabitants – water beetles and sometimes, leaches.

My dad fished a lot and mom kept our camp clean and also cooked delicious meals, usually centered on the fish my dad caught.  We had no TV, radio, mp3, phones, PC games of any kind.  The only sounds to reach our ears were the chirping birds, buzzing bugs and the wind singing through the branches of the leaf covered trees. Occasionally we heard chipmunks chatter, woodpeckers rattle while they hammered the trees and the distant call of Eagles souring high above. Sometimes we heard the bellow of moose and once, in a remote mountain lake near Butte, Montana, we watched black bears walk the shoreline across the lake from our camp, making growling sounds as they moved.

And so, in the silence of the woods, we talked to each other…a lot!  We talked about everything…what we thought about…our various opinions of everything; sometimes we sang songs together.  We read books and played silly games with flashlights.  And we laughed a lot about everything until we wore ourselves out. 

After that, I knew what my sisters liked and disliked – I really knew them.  I knew their expressions and thoughts about everything.  And when we went home (so glad to take a bath and wash our hair!) I felt a strong tie with my family that was forever binding. We didn’t just exist together as relatives – we shared the task to help each other for as long as we lived because we knew how much we needed each other; a friend in the dark, a voice in the silence, a pal to navigate through the twisted paths of life.

The summer camping trips renewed us, reunited us, and brought us back together again.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Linda’s thoughts during a power outage:

     Sometimes we forget how black the night sky really is without the usual man made brilliant lights forever reflecting heavenward. 

     A flash of lightning during a fierce storm can easily take out the power and when dark clouds obscure the stars and moonlight, the inky blackness can overwhelm, especially if the matches usually left above the fireplace on the mantle are not to be found. And the flashlight that the grandkids played with was never returned to its designated place. 

     Not only is it dark but also quiet. The steady hum of electrical appliances is silenced and only the occasional sound of the storm can be heard (a possibly terrifying experience).

     At these times I comfort myself by remembering that humans existed without power for thousands of years and darkness at night was common for them.  (Of course, I’m sure they could see in the dark much better than I; primitive night vision or some such phenomenon.)

     With my cell phone in hand lighting my way, I finally find matches and a small candle, and become my kind of human once again, watching the comforting little flame spring to life.  And after a few hours when the power is restored and various illuminations throughout my house begin to glow - the refrigerator is humming while the water heater gently hisses - it feels almost like a miracle!  My gratitude knows no bounds!

     One thing is certain: in our advanced world: we have succeeded in keeping the darkness at bay, but only increased our fear of the unknown should we ever have to face it – without the light!

©2012 Linda Gatewood

A writers' beginning...

I have a grandson who is only 5 years old, but he loves to tell stories.  His stories are long, long and longer!  And he loves an audience who will listen intently.  It is my opinion that he is a future writer!  Is this how writers begin?  I know that in my case, I've always wanted to express feelings and opinions by writing.  And stories flow through my mind constantly, so it is natural to put the two together and write a story. That is the beginning of a wonderful endeavor that will bring gratitude into your heart forever.

©2012 Linda Gatewood