July 4th: Part One- It's All Downhill from Here

Part One
When I was growing up in Boxford, Massachusetts, Dad had a buddy named Bud Littlefield. He was a wonderful actor- (as in stage), and- at that time, he was a building contractor of great artistry. He knew how to design a house in correct proportion, design correct to the style and period, with the correct scale. He knew how to put the little finishing touches on a place that educated eyes knew to value.

He helped me construct a major addition to my first house in West Newbury, Massachusetts- a small 1790's gem "in the rough". He would come at the crack of dawn on Mondays and explain to me what needed to be done. He kept a watchful eye on me for the first few minutes, then left me to do it. It was a pretty powerful gift he gave me- the trust that I could "get 'er done", back in the day when a "girl" didn't do that sort of guy stuff.

All the photos that went with that building project are now- "up in smoke." All I have are the memories. Yet- his kindness and trust that I could do the job will always be with me.

Bud used to like to come to my parents' house for morning coffee. In those days in Boxford, there was no such thing as a locked door. He would simply walk in the kitchen- often covered with plaster dust, mud (cement) or other evidence of "the job" he was working. My Mom would pour him coffee, and he would then talk in a knowledgeable way for- at least an hour- on whatever was the topic of the moment. At this time of year he would squint, look out the window and- in a sorrowful voice remark,

"Ay-yuh-sigh... Was drivin' past the pond on Gawhgetown road s'mah-nin'. Swump maples ah tuhnin'... ayuh! s'afteh the 4wth- 'xpect it's all downhill from he-yuh!"

Now Bud could speak the King's English with the best, but- he'd spent a deal of time in Maine, and could copp a "Bert & I" accent better than anyone else I ever met!

This past weekend, with no such thoughts, I looked forward to a luxurious 3-day 4th, with sugarplum ideas dancing in my brain, for a holiday that I naively thought to put in motion. What does the song say? "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans..."




So it was that- on Saturday, I found myself traveling- first South to Pine Ridge, and then on to Scottsbluff, NE.

On the way I picked up Nancy and 'Lizzie, and off we went to Pine Ridge. We arrived in time for lunch, and JhonDuane graciously fed us. Soon after we were back on the road. I was grateful that Jhon offered to drive, as it freed me up to appreciate the land before me that I had never seen.

It was a gloriously sunny day- in the high 80's, and a perfect "weather breeder" as they say in New England. As we sped South, Jhon pointed out a system that was forming- and remarked it had every potential for the spawn of severe weather. To my eyes- it was as beautiful as anything I have ever seen!

We marveled at it's continued expansion as we continued on our way. I was reminded how the sky out here is often written into books and movies as a major character. I do see why.

Once we arrived in Scottsbluff, we put our attention to our journey's purpose. While there, a tornado did in fact touch down, thankfully, not close to the hospital- though the sky looked strange indeed.

We started back North. The day had significantly changed, but nonetheless beautiful! As the storm advanced on its tyrannous path, we followed in respectful distance. The photos tell the story:













































The Old Rugged Cross.








Back in South Dakota, in Pine Ridge.



































That Warrior's territory.






Another fiery South Dakota sunset.

















The end of a long, long day.

Memorial Day Weekend

In New England, Memorial Day is called Decoration Day. We would go to graves of relatives and veterans, to honor them by leaving small tokens of flowers or flags, maybe saying a prayer.

First, we would go to the parade with our children. After that, we'd go and clean and decorate Aunt Grace and Uncle Charlie's grave site, in the next town. Then we would go back home and have a picnic barbecue.

However no one I know here in South Dakota cares to do such things. This leaves me with a 3-day weekend to fill with something else that is meaningful. I had some vague idea of going to the hills and wandering around- nothing more. But when my friend Nancy called before I was even out of bed, wanting to know what I was going to do, and could she go too ...decisions had to be made!

I was at Nancy's house by 9 AM and we were on our way.

We first headed out to Harney Peak. The name of this peak is objectionable in the extreme. General Harney was responsible for the slaughter of many innocent Lakota in the 1800's. This particular peak, is most sacred(Wakan) in the Black Hills, and recognized as "The Center of All That Is" by the Lakota. They call it Hinhan Kaga Paha.

"Genl. Harney having concluded to attack them in the morning and sent for most of his officers obtained their opinions and unfolded his plans...It soon became evident that we were not going to come up with the enemy, and Genl. Harney was very apprehensive he would escape especially so from the first thrust...In order to gain time and to learn something of the desperation of these Indians, Genl. H. sent the Interpreter Campbell forward to propose a talk upon which the Chief Little Thunder came out to meet him and said he would come in if the troops were halted so as not to approach nearer his people...Little Thunder said he did not want to fight and he was afraid to talk with so many soldiers..."

The "good" general murdered many innocent people in retaliation for the "Battle of the Mormon Cow". It is a sacrilege that this wakan spot is named for a man who murdered so many innocents. I often refer to it as Epahaska ("that white peak there"), and so I will refer to it, here.

Sylvan Lake was crawling with people, so we continued on down to The Needles, also known as The Nest. The day was unfolding in exquisite beauty.



Custer Park was the most busy that I have ever seen it. We decided to continue on to Cascade Springs, in the Southern Hills. Armed with a picnic lunch, and finally away from the crowds, we had a blissful hour of quiet. Though here, too there were other visitors, the demeanor of all was one of quiet respect, and we were left in peace.



It was nice to see that our small friend, Tsusweca was already here to greet us.


The springs are peaceful and lovely at any time of year, but in the Spring, the beauty is just overwhelming, and has new marvels every time I visit.

Beauty is all around us...what more is there to say!













































Did I mention how beautiful was the sky?

(Do you see the face in the cloud?)







The streams issuing from the spring are lined with watercress, which is now everywhere in bloom!

Our chicken picnic consumed, and one last longing look at the spring's luscious serpentine splendor, and we were on our way.

Through the village of Hot Springs, we traveled North, back towards the Black Hills... it was now late afternoon.









At this time of year the plains are resplendent. Regarding the world of 4-footed's, buffalo calving is upon us. One never knows if any buffalo will be seen.

We were lucky... there were plenty- posing for the cameras... one suspects it to be part of the Homeland Recovery effort, as normally aggressive bulls loll amongst the crazy wasichu, who spare no effort, (or peril to life and limb) to photograph- at ridiculously close-range, large animals that could snort at them and kill them.

No, that would NOT be me, I took this from the safety of my car between me and the bull... also, this photo has been heavily cropped... the original had the bull as a small dot in the middle of the photo! lol!

These two budds were having a whole lot of fun in a wallow just to the right of the photo.









This mom and her babe are just returning to the herd.











































Blue-eyed grass























Campion





















Fringed Gromwell




















Larkspur








































Lonely Lily






















Sand Lily





















Shooting Star





















Wild Iris (Flag)




















Mountain Bluebell













...er-uhh, well, ok! This is not a flower, it is a um, mushroom, or whatever they call these things, that one can eat. It's called a puffball, and I have had them pointed out plenty of times in the New England.

Yes, I have eaten them, when someone knowledgeable picks and cooks 'em... but- no, I am not going to trust myself to know what I am doing with 'em! lol!


The last stop of the day was the Elk Pasture, and then on to the large pasture to the North of the Fire Tower...




After this the sun was setting, and it was time to call it a day. It was enough for the day, considering that, with such beautiful memories- what more could we want?

How I Spent My 4th of July Weekend: part III

After dinner we drove to town and parked. Lizelda parted ways with us then, as her ride was elsewhere.

The fireworks were to start at dusk, so we found a good parking place in which to sit (which would also give us a decent getaway afterwards!) and settled in our new chairs (thank you Nancy for making me go!) to wait for the spectacle ...
and we waited...
...and we waited
...and we WAITED!

it got cold!!! lol!


Finally, at 10 PM they started!















































...and––


It was a great day, a fun night, and we even got out of the parking lot in 5 minutes!!! Yay!

How I Spent My 4th of July Weekend: Part II

On Saturday, July 4th, after our earlier cavorting in the waves above the ground, we made plans to travel beneath the surface of it!

Our destination (Nancy, 'Lizbeth, Lizelda and me) was Wind Cave. We traveled through Custer State Park (please people!!! find another name for this beautiful place!) It was a stormy day, (had quite a rainstorm to drive through on our way to the cave) but we were in high spirits nevertheless. The inhabitants of this place were in high spirits, too, as you can see from the photo.

A sacred site to the Lakota, their ancestors emerged from this place in ancient days, following their relative Tatanka through the door and to the surface on what is now their ancestral lands.



The cave itself is pleasantly cool. It was the first time for me to be in a cave, and I wondered how I would feel. I was fine, but the oddest feeling of incredible weight bearing down on my head! Though I took many photos, it was too dark to get good pics with my cell phone. Here is the best of the bunch.

Hundreds of miles of cave are contained within a 1 mile square, with approximately 5 new miles discovered by volunteers every year.

We were underground for about 1.25 hours, and at the deepest point we were 22 feet underground.
Upon leaving the cave we came upon a huge herd of buffalo, who kindly posed for a spontaneous photo opp! We traveled back north to my place for grilled buffalo burghers (did I just say- buffalo? sorry guys!) and chips.