The Baboon Congress, Weather

Upbeat Up North

36 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Clyde of Mankato.

For our second of two anniversary parties—two is excessive, I know, but you have to go where the crowds are—we drove up to Two Harbors, which proved to be a mostly foggy weekend on The Lake. Strangers we encountered, such as store clerks, made comment or even apologized about the weather. Not one friend said a word. Locals know and accept the beauty of The Lake in all her clothing.

Sandy and I like Superior in her dark and diaphanous gowns. We were in a fine mood ourselves from the party, which the weather only enhanced.

Do you take your mood from the weather?

History, The Baboon Congress

File Under T for Treasure

43 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Anna.

My father was a saver of paper and a filer of almost anything that could fit into a manila folder: tax documents, old report cards, receipts for car repairs, meeting minutes for committees that may have disbanded by the time the paper was in a file. I shudder a bit at how much paper I might find when it come times to clean out the house – though the task will be made somewhat easier knowing that each sheet will be in a properly labeled folder and filed alphabetically. Among all of these papers and files, my mother recently found a file that was, I’m sure, labeled “Vacations.” In it there was treasure: handwritten and typed letters from the owners of Castle Creek Camp in South Dakota.

lingerlong

Castle Creek was a former gold mining camp, nestled in the Black Hills outside of Hill City. The “unmodern” cabins (as one letter describes) rented for as little as $7 per day or $40 for the week, linens and dishes included, running water in or nearby the cabins, “modern” shower facilities were separate and there were outhouses for, well, outhousing. At least some of the cabins may well have been original to the place when it was a mining camp and they came with names like “Linger Long” (our cabin of choice) and “Tumble Inn.” The eponymous Castle Creek meandered through the camp and one letter shares that, “panning for gold is a lot of fun and we even find some once in a while” (shoes recommended as there are sharp rocks in the creek).

castlecreek (1)

Our family vacationed at Castle Creek for several summers, going back each year to Linger Long. Along with the creek, where gold might be found, treasure could be had when you heard the whistle of the 1880 Train. Part of the train’s track ran along the far edge of the camp. When the train whistle blew, any kids in camp learned to stop what they were doing and run to the tracks and wait: the man in the caboose kept Tootsie Rolls with him and would throw them out to us by the fistful. A handful of Tootsie Rolls went nicely with an ice cold Orange Crush procured for a nickel from the pop machine that lived by the owner’s house. The machine was one of those red, rounded corner affairs that held a single row of glass bottles behind a tall slim door: open the door, put in your nickel to unlock the options and pull on the neck to free the bright orange, sweet goodness of a Crush.

goldie2

The other attraction, at least for me, was the resident donkey, Goldie. She had run of the place and roamed more freely than even the owner’s family dog. Goldie would come visit me in the mornings and eat sugar cubes out of my hand while I sat on the porch railing at our cabin. Since I wasn’t quite big enough to keep up with my brother and the owner’s two boys (nor did I have much in common with them – a red, white and blue guitar “just like Buck Owens” was not really a draw for me), Goldie was my friend at Castle Creek; my gentle, big eared companion. I looked forward to seeing her each summer as much as my brother looked forward to adventures with the boys.

Remember that 1880 Train? It did one other thing. It ran into Goldie. The last year we went to Castle Creek we found out that Goldie had been killed, run into by the train, while she was trying to get her foal off the tracks. I befriended the foal as well, but she wasn’t quite Goldie – in it for the sugar, not the companionship. Castle Creek wasn’t quite the same for me without Goldie. The Orange Crush was still cold, the Tootsie Rolls still flew out of the caboose, but I didn’t have Goldie. She was my real treasure at the mining camp. Treasure remembered and rediscovered again with a map provided in a letter saved by my father.

What treasure would you mark with a map?

The Baboon Congress

Sanctuary

43 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Sherrilee.

My child is an animal lover. When we came home from China I was a little worried about her reaction to the two big dogs I had at the time. Didn’t need to worry about that. In fact, it was my Irish Setter who seemed to think that my bringing home an infant wasn’t the best thing I’d ever done.

From an early age, we did lots of activities that involved animals. We became zoo members at the new zoo, visited Como as well. She’s petted snakes at the Science Museum and sting rays at the State Fair. Vacations usually have animal components as well. Zoos in St. Louis, Indianapolis, Colorado Springs, Chicago. Grant’s Farm, Wilderness Walk, Fawn Doe Rosa, International Wolf Center – if there are animals there, she wants to go.

Sanctuary2

It didn’t surprise me three years ago when we visited colleges in Colorado that she wanted to visit the Wildlife Sanctuary outside of Denver. I’m not even sure how she KNEW there was such a place, but off we went one afternoon after a morning campus visit.

The Wildlife Sanctuary was started 1980 and is home to rescued “exotic” animals: tigers, bears, mountain lions, wolves, African lions and many others. Most of the animals were rescued from abusive situations and some of the animals started as “pets” that quickly became too large and too uncontrollable. It is an Sanctuary1amazing facility, run by staff who clearly care deeply about the plight of these animals. There is a mile long overhead walkway so that visitors can see into the various habitats as well as an education center with various videos playing that document some of the animal rescues and the ongoing mission of the place. We spent hours there, we’ve donated ever since and get their newsletter every quarter.

Sanctuary3

So it also didn’t surprise me that when we decided on Colorado again this year for vacation that Young Adult wanted to go BACK to the animal sanctuary. The sanctuary has grown a little but is still taking great care of the animals that have been fortunate enough to find a home there. Again we spent hours there.

Where do YOU find sanctuary?

The Baboon Congress

Congratulations, You’re a Winner!

95 Comments
Today’s guest post comes from Plain Jane.
OK, so I’m gullible, naive or plain old stupid, and I’m apparently not alone.

With some regularity I see Facebook friends “sharing” on FB a picture of Bill Gates holding up a note saying that says he’ll send $5,000.00 to everyone who “likes” this picture.  Really!  And where would he send it?

Another one is a little more nebulous as to where the money is going to come from.  It has some religious theme, praying hands, a lit candle,  or some other “spiritual” picture that promises that if you “share,” lots of money will soon come your way.

When I first arrived in Cheyenne, I remember seeing an advertisement from some coin dealer.  I don’t recall the exact wording, although that’s clearly where the deceit was lurking, but I understood the ad to promise me thousands of dollars if I owned a certain Indian head penny.  So I started collecting and paying attention to the pennies that came within reach, surely, sooner or later I’d stumble across one of these valuable coins.

I even recall, just to be on the safe side, taking every penny I owned to the local coin dealer to see if I might have something of value.  I remember being greatly disappointed when the coin dealer told me that what I had was exactly the face value of however many pennies I had brought in.  I began to appreciate the subtleties of the American language.

But, I still believed in luck.  For a while there, I sent in every Publishers Clearing House registration that came to the house.  You never know; although I knew the chances of winning were astronomical, I knew that if my name wasn’t in the hat, my chances weren’t slim, but nonexistent.  So I sent them in, and sometimes, for good measure, I’d buy a magazine, too.  Couldn’t hurt, could it?

That was years ago.  Imagine my surprise when last week I received a plain white, stamped envelope with a letter notifying me that I had won the tidy sum of $1,500,000.00 cash.  All I needed to do was call Mr. Richard Banks (don’t you love his name?), and give him my claim number.

I reread the letter, twice, just be be sure, but there was no mistake, I was finally a winner.  For some reason I didn’t think it odd that the envelope was plain with an extremely bad address label, and the letter itself was printed on cheap yellow paper.   No PCH van, or representative with flowers and a giant check.

I spent a few minutes pondering what I was going to do with my new-found wealth, and that was really fun.  I discovered that I don’t really need or want lots of money for my own use.  Rather, identifying the individuals and causes I’d support was a process that was both edifying and thought provoking.  I’m still thinking about it even though the letter from PCH was obviously an attempted scam.

What would you do if you suddenly came into a small fortunate of, say, $1,500,000.00?
Poems, The Baboon Congress

Century House

84 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Verily Sherrilee

My house is 100 years old this year. When I purchased it, it was a ways off from the big 1-0-0 and I didn’t think too much about the age, but now that we’re at the century mark, it occurs to me that this is a remarkable number. If the house were a person, a birthday card from Obama would be showing up this year.

I never learned any house-handy maintenance tricks when I was growing up. My mother was a great gardener and both my parents were terrific at remodeling rooms, steaming off wall paper and hanging new. But other than that, neither of them was all that handy. Of course we moved around A LOT when I was growing up so may we weren’t in a house long enough for anything to go wrong.

100House3

So I’ve had to learn my own maintenance skills. Luckily I live near a GREAT hardware store with great staff who are very patient with my questions; they didn’t even laugh when it took me FOUR trips one weekend to finally finish the great woodwork mitering project before Baby came. These days the internet helps as well; I was able to figure out how to change the insides of my kitchen faucet by looking it up on YouTube! Among other things over the years I’ve 100House2replaced sash windows, changed out electrical switches, redone the baseboard woodwork, cemented a gap between the house and steps and, of course, put in many new toilet flush valves and flappers. It’s always something around an old house.

So this poem really resonated with me when I ran across it.

Handyman

The morning brought such a lashing rain

I decided I might as well stay inside

And tackle those jobs that had multiplied

Like an old man’s minor aches and pains.

I found a screw for the strikerplate,

Tightened the handle on the bathroom door,

Cleared the drain in the basement floor,

And straightened the hinge for the backyard gate.

Each task had been a nagging distraction,

An itch in the mind, a dangling thread;

Knocking a tiny brass brad on the head,

I felt an insane sense of satisfaction.

Then I heard a great crash in the yard.

The maple had fallen and smashed our car.

“Handyman” by Barton Sutter from Farewell to the Starlight in Whiskey. © BOA Editions, 2004.

Do you have a maintenance skill you’re proud of?

The Baboon Congress

Creative Caretakers Spiff Up Property

64 Comments

Today is the first day since I began my blogular sabbatical that Baboons have not offered a post to keep the conversation going.

And here we are in the second week of August.  More than two months without a gap.  Well done!

In case you were wondering, traffic on Trail Baboon has not suffered in my absence.  On the contrary, your self-selected topics have generated more conversation and higher numbers all around.

Below you can see Trail Baboon’s weekly statistics since early this year.  The rise on the right end of the screen represents your engagement with and response to Baboon-written posts.

Screenshot 2015-08-09 at 9.47.04 PM

A friend asked me last week how the blog sabbatical was going, and I explained it by noting that in South Africa, if you leave a window open, Baboons will come in and make themselves at home.

Real baboons also make a terrible mess.  But the evidence of the past eight weeks indicates that virtual baboons are much nicer, and will generally improve things when given the chance.

How are you at house-sitting ?  

The Baboon Congress

My Long Term Plan

106 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Sherrilee

I am not a big picture person. I appreciate that there are big picture people but I don’t aspire to be one of them. I like to do; I like to make lists and cross things off. Short range goals – sign me up. Long range goals – not so much.

LongTerm3

I live on a hill and I don’t like to cut the grass that much. In addition I’m not crazy about the idea of “lawn”, especially if it involves chemicals. So about 12 years ago I decided that I wanted less grass and more flowers, but my budget didn’t stretch too far at the nursery. So, even though it’s not what you would expect, I made a 15-year plan. It’s a pretty simple plan. Every year I add a little bit more, thin out a little bit more and move a little bit more. That’s the extent of the plan; I don’t have any layouts, spreadsheets or lists. Every spring I walk through Bachmans and Tangletown Gardens and pick out a few things. I often don’t even decide where any of these items will go until I get home. I’m particularly fond of lilies, irises and peonies, but I occasionally branch out. I bought 2 sedum from a guy selling plants off the back of his truck in Rogers; I got a pigsqueak after seeing it at a friend’s house.

LongTerm2

The front yard is farther along than the back – mostly because of dogs. They do a number on any landscaping. I eventually want a fountain (I have an artist friend who will be working on this with me) and a wooden lighthouse (about 4 feet high would be good). The fire pit and the wooden swing are in place already. I’m thinking a nice big deck as well, but I might have to fundraise for that!

LongTerm4

These days my yard is a riot of color every spring and summer and mowing takes about ¼ of the time it used to. When I pull up in my driveway or come around the corner from a walk I think “wow, whose great yard is that?” Then I happily think “it’s mine”. My long term plan is working out!

What’s one of your long-range goals?

The Baboon Congress, The Future

HOPE

65 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Clyde of Mankato 

“Remember, Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”

I suppose a few of you cannot identify that quote from Shawshank Redemption, a movie which portrays enduring hope as powerful, even when the only other option is despair, or maybe because the only other option is despair.

I do not picture myself as a hopeful person, but, as I think about the last fifty years, I see I often acted in hope. Because they are both about living in the present while preparing for the future, teaching and pastoring are hopeful acts. As is marriage.

Fifty years ago today Sandy and I stood in a church in Minneapolis and made promises to each other. The church, a substitute for a different church undergoing renovations, is named Hope. Two months later we joined a church in Dinkytown also named Hope. The coincidence of two churches named Hope struck us then and do me now. Without tracing why, I declare that hope is a thread woven through our marriage, not that I am offering anyone advice, mind you.

Pix 1

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tunes without the words and never stops at all.” Emily Dickinson

Pix 2 (1)As I recall, I acknowledge with too simple a point of view, the two predominate political forces of 1965 were hope and hate. Many candidates and people who garnered public attention spoke openly with hate, and with its camouflaged cousin superiority. While I am more a moderate than a liberal, I too hoped we would put an end to hate as a political force, not by law so much as by a change in the hearts of a greater mass of common people.

So here we are in 2015. Need I identify to what we have returned? To which I answer with a voice from 1965, Martin Luther King, Jr. “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”

Ignoring the hate, where do you see hope?

The Baboon Congress, Travel

Last Child Syndrome

63 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Pluto.

We all know the story. First child gets all the brand new clothes, thousands of photos, scrapbooks. Second child gets a few new clothes, some photos. By the third child, it’s all stained hand-me-downs and no photos.

Well I’m the ninth child.

No new clothes and the only photos were from a distance, blurry.

Then it got worse.  At one point, some people who were desperate for attention make a big deal out of announcing that I’m actually a runt and a cousin, not the 9th child.

You’d think that this would be devastating but it’s turned out to be great for me.  I was suddenly the center of attention. Groups were formed to voice outrage over how I was being treated, t-shirts were printed. Somebody even started a Facebook page for me!

And now finally, after many years, lots and lots  of miles and a few snapshots, it turns out I’m not so insignificant after all.   In fact, I’m kind of fascinating.  Not just the baby of the family, I’m much much younger than all my relatives. They were forced to admit this when they got a clear look at my complexion – cool and moist without too much acne.

It’s not nice to gloat, but at this distance, who cares?   I’ve had my close up, and it turns out I look pretty good!

What rank do you hold in your familial Universe?  

 

 

The Baboon Congress

Managing the Menagerie Part II: Goat Trouble

60 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Cynthia in Mahtowa

January 19. Trouble Goat did it again…got his head stuck in the cattle panel fence…wouldn’t let me position it to get back out. So I got the hack saw and sawed off the tip of the troublesome horn. A bit bloody as I went too deep, but his head came out of that fence just fine and he went right to eating. Bleeding stopped quickly and maybe now he will be able to get his head out by himself…? But. he is a goat. And even though I call him “Buddy,” not “Trouble,” and even though there is nothing on the other side of the fence to eat, I suppose he will do it again.

Hardanger Fjord Norway Milking Goats Near Odde 1903 (from a Singley Keystone Stereoview)
Hardanger Fjord Norway Milking Goats Near Odde 1903 (from a Singley Keystone Stereoview)

 

February 21 The roof shed its winter load…in time for a new load. If you’re coming to visit me, bring a pick ax…or wear crampons.

April 5. Oh, and the barn pump is running water again…first time since February (or was it January). Hauling 8 gallons of water 2x a day for horses at an end. Now they say it might rain…and the melt…more water than I want to think about sloshing about barns and house.

May 17. Goats contained two days in a row…perhaps I did find the hole in the fence after all..

May 18. Smart goats…put them in the pasture, then they are in the yard. Put them in the pasture then they are in the yard. Third time they stopped a truck on the road and sweetly followed the young woman back to me. But they ain’t smart enough to not jump the fence in front of me so I know where they are escaping. Sagging fence fixed. aha!!!!

May 22. Trouble goat figured out he could jump out the barn window…Beretta did not follow. Barrier erected promptly, leaving a view for them to look out but not follow their yearning.

June 1. Trouble goat did a no-no yesterday, butted me on the pocket of my trousers that had eggs in it. Only one (egg) casualty. Oh, and a messy pocket.

Did you have a “Trouble” animal in your life?