Summertime on the ranch lent itself to freedom from the everyday routine of school, feeding cows and in-house imprisonment from frigid weather. Late spring snowstorms brought much needed moisture to begin the new growth of grass in the meadow. The cows called this pasture home during the winter months. There, they were fed and doctored. Most often, under the cover of night, they birthed their babies. I couldn’t wait to wake up each morning to discover newly born calves laying in the field! In late spring, they were loaded onto trucks and shipped to “Snow-line,” the summertime mountain pasture where they became slick and fat and where that year’s calf crop grew strong and healthy. After a long winter of use, the meadow was left alone to rest and rejuvenate.
With its’ origin from Tabletop mountain, water from melted snow fed the small streams that eventually earmarked its way to both Talcott’s and The Big Ditch. We waited patiently for the white snow cap to melt off that distant mountain, signaling the start of swimming season in the icy, cold water.
Before sprinkler systems were rolled onto the ranch, flood irrigation was used to water the meadow. Setting the green tarp into the ditch, securing it with freshly shoveled dirt and rocks, the water was diverted to run across the newly sprouted buds. The fertilizer, courtesy of the cows seeped its way into the roots, giving the grass the rich nutrients needed to grow.
The brightly colored sleds we used to slide down Boken’s Hill in the winter were now used as boats on the newly formed sea on the meadow. Tied behind a pickup or a horse, we, in our dugouts, soon became adventurers likened to Lewis, Clark, and Sacajawea as we plowed through the shallow brown water, warmed by the hot summer sun. The rich history of the trio and their party in the Ruby Valley lent itself to endless adventures as a child. My cousins and I crossed the great Montana Divide, hunted elk, and traded pelts with local Indian tribes. All in a day’s work, we finally found our way to the great Pacific Ocean (the Big Ditch) and hooped and hollowed in our victory of conquering the west!
The hay grew taller each day as the Montana sun shined down, immersing the meadow with its light and warmth. As the days grew longer, we no longer were able to boat across the water. Flattening the grass meant less of a hay crop come August when it was cut and bailed. The cows depended on this meadow and the manna it provided to keep them fed during the harsh winter months. We became more conscience of staying on the path worn down by the wheels of Grandad’s old Chevy pickup truck as we trekked on foot across the field. As the grass grew taller, the tire tracks were more visible, making it easier to follow. Years of using the same route established the boundaries. By the end of the growing season, only by knowing where the path was, could you find it in the tall, swaying grass.
Our relationship with God is a lot like that road in the meadow. As daily struggles grow around us, entangling our thoughts and actions, God provides a clear path that leads to safety in Him through the Word of God. Just as the Montana sun shines down to give grass energy to absorb to grow, so also does the Son give us the power through the Holy Spirit to grow in the ways of the Lord. Partake in the fruit of the spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control, given through the power of Jesus Christ. Be the light on the hill for people to see the goodness of God and His ways. Direct them to the path of righteousness, walking beside and loving them every step of the way!
“The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day. “
Proverbs 4:18
Beaver slide in use in the meadow before modern bailing equipment was purchased.
Cows rounded up to be shipped to Snowline
Ranch horses in the early 1950’s
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