All Things Green and Muddy

Happy Spring!  It's trying very, very hard to be, anyway.  Just like deciding when to take off your snow tires, gambling on when to put away the winter boots and long underwear is something of a crap shoot.  There may be two inches of snow on the ground for the drive to work, only to end up 60 degrees and sunny by the end of the day.  Between the tempestuous mood swings and working in a sauna (also known as a greenhouse), I've learned to dress in layers.  Lots and lots of layers.

The warm, moist environment of the greenhouse may be enough to cause humans to wilt but all things green are loving it.  The peas are getting taller every day, and we've already harvested savory spinach, leafy lettuce, succulent baby kale, spicy arugula, and crisp radishes.  Next week we may even plant some things outside.  Yes, I get excited about simple things like this.  But it's pretty good going to work with my dogs, listening to sand hill cranes and water fowl across the fields, and getting my hands dirty with green growing goodness.

When I'm not playing in the dirt I've started running again.  We celebrated St. Patrick's Day up in Bozeman, me running a 10k in a teeny tiny track suit, and Carl drinking beer with the dogs.  Behind every athlete there is a stellar support team.

 The trails around here are slowly emerging from the snow and ice, leaving behind plenty of muck.  The other things emerging are bears.  Really big bears.  Thankfully Carl reminded me to bring along bear spray on my first trail run of the season, and I'm so glad that he did.

 The dogs have been enjoying the warmer weather, as well.  Mojo is growing nearly as fast as the peas and her new favorite thing is sitting on anyone that will hold still for her.

In other news, I had a birthday.  The big three-oh, three whole decades on this earth.  Despite the gray hairs and stories, I still can't believe I've been around that long.  To celebrate, I added to my collection of tattoos.  This design is based on a compass from a journal written by my great-grandpa in, about a sailing trip he took in 1937 from Seattle up to Vancouver Island, retracing one of Captain Cook's voyages.  The tattoo artist cleaned it up and added a bit of his own style before applying it to my upper back.  Afterwards Carl took me out to a delicious dinner to forget about the pain and celebrate another revolution around the sun.  It's been a fantastic trip, and I can't wait to see what comes next.

Being Mojo the Wonder-pup

It's pretty tough being a dog around here.  Between walks down the road to play with the neighbor dogs, snow drifts to romp in, and new smells to explore, there's hardly any time for chewing bones, barking at the wildlife, or relaxing in front of the fire.  There's simply not enough time in the day.

Last weekend we took the pups up Bear Trap Canyon, following the Madison River.  It was Mojo's first actual hike, and there were plenty of opportunities for training as it seemed like half of Bozeman was out there with us.  It's one of the few trails free of snow at this time of the year, and on nice days it sees plenty of use.  Over the course of the 7 miles Mojo went from barking and leaping up on folks, to sitting quietly by our side as they passed, to hiking past on her own with a tail wag and quick sniff.  Her good behavior may have been related to her exhaustion by the end.

At the trailhead

The aftermath on the ride home

Spring is arriving in fits and bursts here in southwest Montana - you have to take advantage of the nice weather between the blizzards while you can.

Soaking up some vitamin D on the porch

 Being half Border Collie, Mojo is pretty darn smart.  Sometimes, though, not so much.  See below.

"Uh, Dad, I'm stuck.  You should stop laughing and taking pictures and get me out!"

Bear Creek Triathlon

With a morning full of chores behind us and a couple inches of new snow on the ground, we decided to take the dogs up the road for a little romp in the woods.  We opted for the cross country skis and were planning on heading up the canyon on the usual trail, when Carl suggested we try striking out across the bordering ranch land (with our neighbor's permission, of course).  Sure, why not?  We're always up for an adventure.

The thing was, no one had been that direction since it began snowing except for the deer and moose.  Luna tried breaking trail but she tended to wander, so Carl took over.  We learned that skinny little classic nordic skis are not the appropriate tools for travelling through waist-deep snow.

Carl breaking trail with the mutts hot on his heels.

Snow puppy

 It took us a ridiculously long time to cover about a quarter mile, so we decided to turn around when we reached a small slope.  For some reason, Carl thought trying some downhill on skinny little skis would be a really good time.  I think it was mostly for his own amusement.

Sphinx Mountain trying to break out of the clouds in the background,

Dropping in!

Shredding the gnar!

And....disaster.  Good thing Luna the avalanche dog was there to save me.

 After digging myself out (which took almost as long as the hike in), we skied back to the truck, thus completing the first leg of the triathlon.  On our return home we realized we'd left a gate open.  Since it was just a short jaunt and we already had a trail established, we opted to switch out skis for snowshoes.  Halfway back up the road Carl spied a car headed in the opposite direction and, gentleman that he is, he tried to get to the side so they could get by.  Unfortunately, the spot he chose was a sugary, snowy morass that swallowed the truck tires whole.  We were good and stuck, and no amount of rocking was going to get us free.  Leaving him to start digging, I jogged a mile back down the road to the neighbor's house to borrow a truck and a tow strap.  But just as we were ready to drive to the rescue, here came Carl and the truck, free as you please.  Apparently all that digging worked.  Thus ended the second leg of our triathlon.

And the third part?  When we made it back up the road, strapped on the snowshoes, and closed that gosh darn gate.

How do you keep a puppy warm?  Stuff her in a small child's fleece, courtesy of the local thrift store.  She's tough enough that she doesn't care about looking like a weenie.