Marilyn Halvorson

It is a glorious warm July day, perhaps made more spectacular by its rarity. After a winter mainly concentrated in one frigid month of February, we moved into a cool, moist spring. And moist it has stayed. June was rainy with over five inches falling. July has followed the same pattern with scarcely a day passing without rain arriving in varying degrees of magnitude. For the first time in years a little water has crept into my leaky basement but that is a small price to pay for what this weather has done for the pastures and hay crops. Now, of course, the question arises, will we be able to get the hay up in decent condition? That question will be answered in due time, Meanwhile, I soak in the beauty of the well-watered countryside. Even the most ordinary tree in the forest glows with health. Every leaf is sparking clean at a point in the year where often roadside plants begin to look dusty and shopworn. I’ve just come in from sitting in my yard looking at all the flowers and trees and listening to the soft sighing of the wind. I wish I could comment on the birdsong but right now it must be naptime as not a bird was singing. Two of them in adjacent trees were saying “Chip Chip Chip!” but it was not very entertaining when it went on indefinitely. I must look them up in the bird book. From the sound of them, they must be chipping sparrows. I could go on at greater length about what a great season it is but I want to go back outside. Suffice it to say, as some notable writer once opined, “God’s in His heaven and all’s right with the world.” P.S. My associates want credit for adding to the joys of my yard. Okay, guys. Jessie, the big, black rather goofy, dog contributed excitement by her enthusiastic, if fruitless, chases of passing bees and butterflies. Feline friends Powder and Tab made the world a better place just by hanging around, being cats.

I have always loved summer. Dreams of sunshine, green grass and leaves, and butterflies sustain me through our endless winters. However, things have been a bit different this year. Winter faithfully did its thing-with enthusiasm. Cold with lots of snow and very few Chinooks. By some time in April we were wondering if it would ever end. Normally, the cows would be free to roam several acres of woodland, depositing new calves under trees of their choice. But not this year. A calf deposited under any tree would immediately disappear under a couple of feet of snow. The cows were kept confined and straw-bedded in the big corral which contributed to a very successful calf crop. But what was going to happen when all that show melted? Surely all the streams would be flooding. But, suddenly, it seemed like all in one day, winter turned to summer and all the snow was gone. And where was the great run-off? There was none. Apparently, after last year’s hot, dry summer the soil just gulped the water down as fast as the snow melted. Actually, it was quite a dry spring-not that good for hay. Up until late July we were blessed with enough thundershowers to keep things growing. But then came the heat and the showers disappeared as we sweated through the 30 plus days while wanting to throttle the cheery people revelling in the summer sun. Mostly, the garden grew-if watered daily. The tomatoes on the south side of the house did reasonably well. They would have done even better if not rendered inaccessible for some time due to the three large wasp nests constructed in the eaves above them. In August, came the smoke. Day after day it hangs above and around us, a gift from our neighbors to the west as BC endures over 500 forest fires these days. Altogether, it hasn’t been a sterling summer so far but, to steal a line from an old country song, “We’re still a livin’ so everything’s all right.”

It seems such a short time ago that I was writing about the cold and muddy April. Shortly after that things changed! It has been the hottest, driest summer I can remember. The hay, well-watered in the spring, grew well and early and was all baled in great shape early in July. Usually we are trying desperately to get the job completed in late August. The pastures also grew wonderfully with the early moisture and the later heat. The cows are rolling in fat. The garden wasn’t so successful. The peas got off to a bad start with water lying on the ground until late May and the soil not working up nicely. The wet then turned to dry and watering was an almost-daily chore. In late July a hailstorm finished the peas and almost destroyed the beans. With all the watering the potatoes did quite well and by the time I had them all dug I wondered if I was trying to grow enough for the entire neighborhood. But the real success story was the apples. After a crop ruined by frost on the blossoms last year, the trees made up for it this year. Hundreds of apples! Sadly, almost everyone had a pockmark or two from the hail. However they were fine inside and I spent hours peeling, coring. Chopping and freezing them for pies. Some pies have been made and sampled and I can say that it was well worth the effort on the apples. Today, as I write this my world is a beautiful place. The leaves are mostly golden with a few red and orange highlights and they have lasted longer than they have in many years. We took a trip through Kananaskis this past week and the scenery was spectacular all the way. One of the joys of ranching-and being somewhat retired-is the ability to take a day off when you choose-unless, of course, the cows get out or some other unexpected event rears its head! Now, the wind is blowing hard so many of the leaves will be lost and snow is expected in the next day or two. That sounds like the end of perfect days. Oh well, we’ve had them this past week-and we seized them!

April 15: I’m sorry to admit my lack of culture but I really don’t know who penned the famous line: April is the cruelest month. Perhaps it was Shakespeare as he seemed to produce most of the most enduring quotes. Whoever said it hit the mark this year. I have never seen my usually-beautiful surroundings looking so awful. Last spring we were so dry it was scary. Then, in early July it started raining and kept it up for most of the rest of the summer. Although it played havoc with haying and harvesting, for the most part, we were still grateful. Drought and fire are formidable foes. We went into winter with ample groundwater and received a generous amount of snow. This was still fine. Then came April with almost daily snow or rain or rain and snow. The cows are calving and providing a dry bed for the babies is almost impossible. Water lies in every depression and falls steadily from above. Any areas where the cows are fed are quickly tramped into quagmires. The trails over which the four-wheel-drive tractor has been hauling hay have holes that would serve well as tank traps. When I look across the corrals, pastures, and trails I now truly imagine what conditions in the trenches in World War I must have been like. Nothing but mud, water, and muddy soup. April 16: It’s another day and right now the sun is shining. Immediately my spirits rise. In spite of the forecast for snow or rain every day next week, I am optimistic. The mud will dry up. The grass will grow. All will be well. Hope springs eternal.

April 15: I’m sorry to admit my lack of culture but I really don’t know who penned the famous line: April is the cruelest month. Perhaps it was Shakespeare as he seemed to produce most of the most enduring quotes. Whoever said it hit the mark this year. I have never seen my usually-beautiful surroundings looking so awful. Last spring we were so dry it was scary. Then, in early July it started raining and kept it up for most of the rest of the summer. Although it played havoc with haying and harvesting, for the most part, we were still grateful. Drought and fire are formidable foes. We went into winter with ample groundwater and received a generous amount of snow. This was still fine. Then came April with almost daily snow or rain or rain and snow. The cows are calving and providing a dry bed for the babies is almost impossible. Water lies in every depression and falls steadily from above. Any areas where the cows are fed are quickly tramped into quagmires. The trails over which the four-wheel-drive tractor has been hauling hay have holes that would serve well as tank traps. When I look across the corrals, pastures, and trails I can now truly imagine what conditions in the trenches in World War I must have been like. Nothing but mud, water, and muddy soup. April 16: It’s another day and right now the sun is shining. Immediately my spirits rise and despite the forecast of rain or snow every day next week I am optimistic. The mud will dry, the grass will grow, all will be well. Hope springs eternal!