Many may think that something was lost with the advent of highways and property lines and barbed wire. That the Great American West, full of migrating tribes of people and herds of animals, swirling around the prairie like air currents, is gone forever.
But take heart! There is still a place where discouraging words are seldom heard. Where the deer and moose play in the street. Where the biting, incessant wind pushes cloud formations across the sky, so rarely is it cloudy all day. That place is Lazy Mountain.
Most recently, the buffalo roamed over to my parents' house.
They were quite orderly about it, and everyone stayed together.
Maybe to borrow a cup of sugar for some neighborly cake they were baking?
Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that these tatanka were bred in captivity and destined for the slaughter shed. So Dances with Wolves this is not.
But still, it was kind of fun.
Ooh, and speaking of ranges. After a year and a half of hotplate cuisine, I finally got a stove!