Monday Memoir, April 17, 1965

 The first seven  months of 1965 were not generally too happy.  I had a growing sense things were winding down or at least going in much the wrong direction as far as the family/life and the family enterprise went. I could really do nothing to change or even divert a mere degree or two from the path to perdition that I started to visualize. Some days were "okay"; a very few were memorable and good, fun or  happy but they were far outnumbered by the opposite kind.  Truly if it were not for my somewhat tenuous link to Dusty, I am not sure what I might have done. I held to that like the knot at the end of my rope.

April 17, 1965 Sat

 Got up rather early and did my home chores. Gulped down a hasty breakfast and drove out to do the pasture work. The river was really running high. I guess the snow is going off fast up in the high country. We were back before 9:00. I cleaned the back porch and restacked the wood to make the shower available. Then I saddled Prez and brought up the steeds. I watered the fillies and Charlie Mike went up for mail. I got nothing and it nearly broke me. Oh Dusty!!  The Mayottes came and they talked on and on. They’re going to breed their mare to Leo--that is $200 that we drastically need anyway. They’re really quite nice. I put up the stock after they left, did my chores and loafed all afternoon. Cleaned my closet and that’s the only useful thing I did. I sorrowed over all the pretty clothes I have that I haven’t worn since I got out of school. If only Dusty could see me in some of my prettiest dresses. If only! We did the evening chores, ate and I read. Charlie Mike went to bed early, leaving the Easter Bunny detail to Mom and me. Now it’s late and I am lonely and tired and must go off to bed for another time.

Work, there was always work. A zillion jobs and tasks that needed to be done even aside from the daily routine of feed, water, exercise, check and doctor the animals and repair shaky facilities which were constantly failing or falling apart in a Murphy's Law paradigm. 

I guess the river was not too high to ride out, but at this stage, Mom and I drove out many mornings to take care of the pasture work. Spring was coming in fits and starts- rather like 2023 and many other times- and that meant getting more of the firewood out since it would not be needed constantly, making the shower on the back porch accessible, and trying to clean up the ubiquitous litter from wood, feed, mud tracked in etc.  

The Mayottes were a family in Prescott. Dad had met one of the parents --I'm not sure which or in what capacity--but the person worked at the Whipple VA Hospital and Dad was there a lot.  Anyway, they had horses including a small Appaloosa mare they wanted to get a colt from. They came to see the stallions and arrange for the mare's visit. They ended breeding her to Chief, I think, though I said Leo here.

I was such a compulsive re-arranger and organizer. It is like the old Roman saying about reorganizing to create an illusion of progress! I could be occupied for several hours to sort, maybe discard or make plans for any of my several hobbies or collections. My room had no closet but Dad had built me one and I made use of it. I did have a  lot of clothes and since I was now sewing I kept adding to the many hung on the bar. They saw little wear these days. Now and then I would get 'dressed up' to go on a non-work  trip, maybe to church with Evelyn or for some minor special event. Normally I lived in Levis and either my self-made shirts or heavier flannel ones in cold weather.

It was obviously Easter Eve. Charlie Mike and I had far outgrown the belief and pleasure in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and such but Alex was still a small kid, six years old that spring. I was not going to deny the baby of the family his pleasure in a celebration so I colored eggs and put together a little basket for him. I suppose Mom worked on that a bit as well but I was often the main Holiday Maker at this time.  Otherwise they might not have been observed at all! Who else was going to "waste" the time, energy and a little money on such frivolity? Part of that practice was my eldest daughter thing in operation. I felt obligated because at one time I had benefited from these occasions.

A few odd photos. This is Alex, in about 1962  on the back porch. The seat came out of the old Jeep we had many years prior. The photo is too dark to show much but it was always stacked with "stuff". Like there are feedbags hanging in the upper right corner.  Next one is earlier and that is Charlie Mike and not Alex since I was ten then. It was about  my birthday in 1953, a picnic on the 'claims' up on Mingus. The last is Freckles or "Candy Lady" the Mayotte's mare.

Monday Memoir, April 10, 1965

 It appears that Easter was on April 18 in 1965, a very late occurrence of the holiday.  This Saturday  began rainy but did clear off. I would say thank heaven for small favors at that. Actually a pretty big favor. We paid for clearing with some rough wind but it did help things dry out. I can hardly stress too much how miserable rain and mud made all the work. And that spring seemed to be a very soggy one.

April 10. 1965   Sat

 It was raining hard when I woke up and I feared it would never stop, but it did. Just while we did the chores, half the sky cleared and a terrible wind came up. I mean it was fierce. We had a time with the hay. At the pasture we slopped around in the mud. Got home rather late. I walked up for mail. I got nothing. Nuts. That ruined my day or nearly. We talked when I got back for ages and didn’t do the midday chores until 2:30. All too soon the day was shot that way. Charlie Mike is now encouraging me to mark Dusty off and find a new guy. Well, I don’t think I will, on second thought. Not until he tells me we are through. Just because he doesn’t write does not mean much, does it? The evening chores weren’t too bad. It’s wonderful what a little wind and sun will do to the mud. It vanishes.  I just wish real genuine spring would come. The old ditcher train pulled out today. Now the tracks will look empty again. Boy, I feel lonesome. I wish I knew where and how Dusty is and why he hasn’t written. I played cards and finished my book outline tonight. I’ve got to start accomplishing more somehow or other. I waste time and I think that is almost the worst sin.   It’s late now though and I must get me off to bed. I am awfully tired and feel rather sick really.

After managing with the changing weather, I first got no mail and then wasted hours on "talks" which were fruitless and pointless about 95% of the time. It really chafed me to sit idle and listen to stuff that did not encourage or enlighten me one whit and then still have to do so many hours of work with half or more of the available time already gone.  I rarely dared to just get up and walk out--all hell would have broken loose, I imagine.

Of course I did complain to Charlie Mike a bit about the fact Dusty had not written.  There was no one else I could even mention it to. Under those circumstances his advice was probably sound but I did not want to follow it. My complaints were just frustration and wanting so much to have the lift and hope that a new letter would bring me. So I tried to rationalize around or past that, and generally I managed.

The 'ditcher" I mentioned was a special work train that carried a crane and a type of power shovel machine to clear washed out areas, get landslides off the tracks etc. The crew would have been small, one or two to operate the machines and maybe a helper for each operator. We did not get acquainted with them that I recall.

What book outline was I referring to?  Possibly Cindy or a compilation of my planned training articles which I thought could be combined as chapters of a book. The whole time between high school and college I still worked on my long-term goal to become a 'real', that is a published author. That being one of those almost impossible things, it did take much longer than I had hoped or wished.

Many evenings I would be tired and discouraged, disgusted and perhaps given some other indoor tasks that I was almost ordered to work on. Sometimes in rebellion or depression I would just play records, shuffle papers around or play solitaire. And then get mad at myself for not doing any of the projects I really cared about. Depression was so insidious and hard to fathom and deal with.

I was now nearing three years since my perceived "life sentence" had begun. There was no end in sight, either. I might hope, wish or dream but reality was about as solid as an adobe wall. Much of the time I truly felt as if it was going to go on for the next fifty years.  Why did I not just run away? Why did I not ...why did I not do so many things. A mixture of  a misplaced sense of duty and responsibility and a total lack of confidence or faith that I could do other things and survive. Even that  the world I had known would not end with a catastrophic bomb-type disaster with destruction and damage avalanching  upon my head.  It is often sad to look back and know it was not nearly as inevitable and iron-bound as it seemed. If I had been born male or second instead of eldest, how different life might have been. Yet I never wanted to be male and certainly would not have transitioned if that were possible then. I already really had many of the down sides of that gender, and none of the privileges!

Pictures--I never took any of the mud and mess, the river running high and the myriad difficulties that happened under those conditions. They would not be very interesting anyway! So I will dig around and see if I can find anything else.Ah ha--burros are cute, especially the little ones so here for some odd eye candy are three babies. The first one I think was Little Pete. He was sold back in September 1964 with several others. Next is Jennyfur and probably Jennyfur Junior or "JJ" and last is Charlie Mike and me with Lila's new baby, Robin, born about the time of this memory. They really served little purpose to our  'business' (I can barely use that word in this context! ) but we generally had quite a few. 

Monday Memoir April 3, 1965

It seems that 1965 was not a good weather spring. Maybe not quite to the extent this year has been with really serious floods but just so many ugly miserable days! Trying to do even the most basic necesary work was a real ordeal. 

 April 3, 1965 Sat

Gee whiz, will this rain never end? Got up and fed on a damp morning, another damp morning. Before Mom could drive us out it was raining so we had to feed in the rain. We came home and I hurriedly  changed to run over to Cottonwood. We bought some stamps,  got gas and a few things at Ball’s. No mail for me today. I was keenly disappointed. Maybe I made Dusty mad by saying I couldn’t go out with him. We did the midday home chores and Charlie Mike and I tinkered with the bikes during a lull. Came in to eat lunch just as it started raining about 1:00. It rained all afternoon steadily. I fretted, wondered where someone was. Finally got out out all my old writing ideas etc to read. Reading about Richard Edwards, Curly, Blondie etc. made me nearly feel ill. It kind of shook me for awhile but Dusty isn’t  quite that stripe of tiger--or skunk. If only--that’s all I can say. Dad, Charlie Mike and I drove out in the rain to feed. The road was pretty bad. It wasn’t cold, at least. I wrote to Tee and Mary this evening  while listening to my three “mood music” records. Now I don’t know what I’ll do if it is still bad tomorrow. It is raining steadily now and has been for quite some time.  If only it doesn’t snow… Maybe we’ll have a flood. Oh well, it can’t rain forever. To bed and to dream. I think Dusty would like that book. I’ll have to let him read it (that western I read yesterday). Must run. I’m cold. Wish someone was here or I was there.

I am, not sure why I changed to go to Cottonwood unless I was sopping wet. That was very likely. Normally the regular work clothes were good enough to go run an errand or two. Ball's was the super market that had once been one of Selna's stores.No mail on a day that was already rather glum. Just more of the same. Charlie Mike was trying to keep two bikes working and that was not easy. We respoked many damaged wheels and patched tires--at least bike tires were easier to patch and refill than truck tires! Often times only one would be operational though, despite our best efforts. 

As hard as it was to do the full day's normal work on good days, it was worse in some ways when I could not get out and be active. It was boring and a risky opportunity for "talks" to get started. I guess that did not happen this time. So I found busy-work of sorts and read old journals and other stuff I had written including partial stories and probably thought about both Cindy and my training articles. 

I felt very stupid remembering some of my ill-concieved crushes and flirtations. None of them had ended well at all and I was embarrassed to have been that foolish and run some real risks.  I was sure  Dusty was not the same kind of guy most of them had been. He had been very open and honest with me. The fact he was still legally married though separated and living apart while trying to figure out how to resolve the sitution with his son did disturb me though. He later told me he had started to get a legal separation and finally did so some months later, the first real step to change his life. .

Tee and Mary were some of my pen pals. I am sure I mentioned Tee before. She lived in Chalmette , Louisiana and they had Quarter Horses. I have little recollection of Mary (Corley? that may have been her name).  I had several later friends named Mary and they are hard now to differentiate! I was a bit bored with writing letters really, but there were several I continued with for awhile--all girls now as I had jettisoned the guys, one by one, so only Dusty remained. He was not an avid reader but would try a western once in awhile if I recommended it. He really did not have a lot of time to spend on it.

It was now too mild for a fire but the house got cold on those gray days and by bedtime the best place to be was under the covers. If I had owned a personal radio or a small light to read by it would have been pleasant!  But of course I did not have either, so it was just day dream in the dark or fall asleep and really dream. 

Photos? The bottom is one which  just popped up on FB this evening and I was like whoa! Well, that was a familiar view--but without the black smoke. So today and above it, about 50 some years earlier. Same general site. And first is Charlie Mike with one of his (our) bikes. This was obviously in the summer but one of those we'd repaired and we had used. It was a girl's bike and he later swapped it for a boy's bike. I would never  have ridden in a skirt anyway so did not want it.

Memoir Monday, Mar 27, 1965

The more things stayed the same, even as they changed in little increments from one day to another. March was winding down then as it is now and I was anxious for spring and warm weather to arrive. Looking back, I realize this present year of a damp chilly spring is not that unusual. Climate has changed some but the cycles still go on.

Mar 27, 1965 Sat

Got up right at 7:00 and fed. Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out and did the pasture chores. We left for our look-see about 9:00. Got over to Humboldt and found the place okay and then had to wait for the salesman. We found a dozen pop bottles for our time anyway. The place is disappointing as they always are. Oh, I guess it would be okay in a necessity  but I can’t see stretching and giving so much up and having to sacrifice twenty years just to get that. The range is awfully abused and we saw very few cattle.  Nope, that’s not it as far as I am concerned. I’d really like to be on 66, myself, or near the ATSF somewhere if we’re to stay in Arizona. But I’m not willing to crawl like a whipped pup and accept some turkey of a “ranch.” Ruth sent us $1000 so now we can pay the Fee mortgage interest if we must. Maybe we can stall a bit though. Something is going to happen. I’m more sure than ever now. It may be good or bad but things are going to change. Wish I had heard from Dusty today but maybe next week. Have to get used to him being slow now; better late than never. We either win or lose soon and I really don’t care very much. Just so this ends.

The endless 'ranch hunt' went on, basically through the summer of 1966 when the dominoes began to tip and then started to fall. That still took a year to reach the final collapse but it was coming. The pending disturbance was one I could feel. I really recall very little about this place, the most recent to be considered. It seems the house was small and not in the best repair and as I observed here, the range was not in good shape. I think it had been dry the prior fall and winter despite the spring's tendency to be stormy and chilly and of course it was not yet warm enough for things to begin turning green.

The northern cross-state highway was properly I-40 by then but still seemd like "Route 66" to many of the old timers, of which I was almost one myself, by now nearly a twenty-year resident of Arizona. Of course the highway really meant the paralleling Santa Fe  transcontinental main line which was a critical feature in my world at that point. There were more branch and connecting lines then but those tracks were very important to me. 

Finances were the usual mess. The folks had taken a mortgage on at least part of the twenty acres down the valley and  a payment was probably due. As so often happened, Dad whined to his siblings and they reluctantly coughed up. To this day I am ashamed and grieved that my parents, two people with college degrees and supposedly above average capabilities and opportunites, fell into this appalling state of extreme poverty. Rather than try to actively work their way out of that hole, they just kept digging it deeper and then seemed to expect they deserved to be 'bailed out' because of course none of this dreadful situation was their fault! In retrospect I am still furious.  Ruth was my dad's next older sister and was working as a teacher in a big high chool in Sacramento at that time. She may have been some kind of principal or dean; I do not know. Anyway, none  of Dad's siblings were "rich," even Uncle Dan who had a successful medical practice then.

I knew I was living my present life on "borrowed time" to some degree--we all were--and that  major change was inevitable. Somehow I still had vague hopes it would be positive. Perhaps all could have been redeemed for a short while yet but that was certainly far beyond my ability to accomplish, however much I might wish to do so. The intensifying stress and continuous intrafamily drama was corrosive and hard on the nerves. It was eroding me in a dozen ways.

In the last letter or two I had received, Dusty had spoken a bit about the difficulties he'd been having and the struggle with bad weather and many other delays and detours that impeded the progress of his gang on the work they were assigned in Flagstaff. I finally realized though he might think of me often, finding the time and energy to write a letter was challenging. That eased my mind  a bit and I tried to cultivate more patience and not become doubtful and feel abandoned when I did not hear from him every couple of weeks. How useful it would have been to have a mobile phone and be able to reach out with a few keystrokes to communicate. Such things did not yet exist and of course I would not have had one in any case. We are so spoiled today!

If I had owned a modern phone I might have snapped photos of some of those "ranches" we visited but I did not have film to burn and it did not even occur to me. There was really little to take pictures of! So I will snatch a few odd shots out of my old files for visual 'tax' of sorts. These were all taken later, in 1966-67 when I was at NAU,  but I am sure it looked similar when B&B #6 was there.  The first is a truck much like theirs. The next two are part of a work train or outfit parked on a siding out in the main yard east of town. And the last is fairly wide angle view of the Flagstaff yard. Yard in terms of railroads can be a misleading term--there are no fences or neatly contained area like around a house! Instead there are a number of tracks connected with switches and some stubs or spurs where an oufit or 'bad order' equipment may be parked.

Memoir Monday, March 20, 1965

 The first half of 1965 seemed like a sequence of mostly dull, difficult  and often depressing days. Caught up in my Eldest Daughter mindset, I would fret about many things I felt needed to be fixed or made better but for the most part I could not accomplish that. I often felt  my parents were not stable, sane or rational and as badly as I often wanted to just vanish, I felt I had to do my best to take care of the animals and to some degree,  my two brothers since I was the eldest. Charlie Mike was 13 1/2 and would graduate from 8th grade in May. Alex was six and had started first grade the previous fall.  I'm sure Mom and Dad would vehemently deny it,  but I often believed we three were pretty much left to raise ourselves and as the oldest, about to turn 22, I perceived it was my duty to do as much for the boys as I could.

Mar 20, 1965, Sat

            I got up about the usual hour and did my morning chores. “They” had a row this morning about letters versus laundry. I hate those!! I rode Annie out to do the morning chores . All was okay. Up for mail. I didn’t dare to hope but I got a letter. Love is a horrible thing but I was so glad. Came home and watered everyone and helped Charlie Mike clean the corrals. Came up about 1:45 and helped Mom with the wash. We went out early to give worm medicine to the pasture stock. They all ate it perfectly, much to my surprise. I had envisioned a gruesome task indeed. We got done quite early and came in. I played more operetta records, drew some designs and got all cleaned up for a change. Viva. I started to reply to Dusty’s letter but it was too late so had to quit. Better take me off to bed pronto as it must be 11:00. A scandalous hour to be up, but it is Saturday. Dusty is not feeling well. He shouldn’t get the flu with his asthma. Wish I could be there to take care of him. He needs me, really.

The weather and how I felt notwithstanding, it was very rare that I did not get up and take care of the horses and mules we had in Clarkdale first thing in the morning. At times I also fixed some kind of breakfast and if it was cold, built up a fire in the wood stove in the living room. Weekdays I then went to the pasture, riding alone unless we were driving to haul hay or do some other extra job. Often Mom drove but I did most of the work. That was easier than if Dad drove --because he always saw things that needed to be taken care of right now and usually viewed them as evidence I had sluffed off and told me so in no uncertain terms.

Of course I looked forward to getting mail and while any letter was a treat, one from Dusty was special. For the time being, his outfit was at Flagstaff and they had a series of problems to include one of the material cars (an old wooden boxcar) catching fire--I am not sure the particulars but it was just next to his. I think they got it put out but most of the car was a total loss. While there, they tore down an old stock yard and built a new one and did a bunchof other bulding and repair work. The weather was mostly wet and cold with snow late into what should have been spring,. It wasn't as bad down in the Verde Valley but we did have more rain than usual. Puddles, mud, sloppy corrals and pens and slippery roads to the pasture... Made everything harder. 

We gave the better quality horses worm medicine at regular intervals. I am not sure now what parasites it was to prevent. It was a powder that we mixed with grain or sweet feed and water to make a kind of mush. Sometimes they seemed to gobble it down with no problems but at times one or  more would  be finicky and not want to eat it. That was always "my fault" or at least that's how it felt to me from the bawling out I got. This time it went well and I was vastly relieved. It was aways good to get done and come in early--I could then do a few more things that I needed or wanted to for myself or my other interests which was a treat.

All this time, I was often worried about Dusty. He did have asthma which could be severe and with the harsh weather, and I felt sure not eating or sleeping as he should, he got colds and such as often as I did and I was very troubled about that.  He worried about me too and wished he could be closer to help me out. It was a bit ironic I guess; we both were having a rugged time of things but were unable to do much to make anything easier for each other. I guess it helped to know someone did care. I do not remember whether the equinox was on the 20th or 21st that year but I was surely hoping that real spring would arrive soon and with it an end to the rain, less wind and warmer temperatures! 

I will try to find a few photos. This was not a time when we took many. I don't have a lot of shots of Alex. but here is one, maybe a year or so earlier. The boys were both always thin; well, I was too, and to this day Charlie Mike hates short pants and never wears them.  I don't recall that the grown up Alex cared.  Next is both boys, a little better dressed since they were going to school I am sure. And last, Alex and me with one of the donkey foals.  I think this was Robin, the offspring of a jenny named Lila. Baby donkeys are so cute!

Memoir Monday, Mar 13, 1965

 Another one of those kind of wheel-spinning days. There were so  many of them  and I was almost chronically disgusted and depressed though there were bright spots here and there. 

Mar 13, 1965 Sat

            I stayed in bed late again but not too. Got up at 8:00 and made biscuits for breakfast. They were big fat ones and everyone liked them. We drove out together to do the chores. Drove up for mail--nothing!! Dusty, how could you? I was counting on you. Should’ve known better. I did the midday chores--a Plymouth station wagon passed, honked twice. Was it? I don’t think it was Moonspinner…  We ate lunch and talked--endlessly. Oh, I could just scream, throw dishes on the floor and pitch hissy fits  At 2:30 we finally went to get hay. I saw Maureen in Cottonwood. Don’t know what she’s up to lately. Got thirteen bales of alfalfa with some grass, real heavy. We all drove out again. Fed the herd up on the hillside this time. Got the home chores done with the aid of some small Indian girls. They are cute, sharp little creatures  I think I really want to have a boarding school, camp, foster home or some sort of deal like that. We listened to records all evening. Mom felt bad so I did the dishes. Supper was not much. I drew a luxurious 4,000 sq ft house and began another explanatory letter to Dusty. He’s got to fit in some way. He could. Oh, I wish.  If we don’t do something by summer I’m not sure what I’ll do but I really can’t stay here forever. None of us can. Where are you tonight, Dusty? Were you down here today?  I must check the coffee can tomorrow I guess. I’ve got to see him soon and give him the story etc.

"Talks" were the bane of my existence. Normally it was a) a conflict that Mom and Dad were having  and often got pretty unpleasant b) a 'lecture' or bawling out that Charlie Mike and I got for failing to do something we were supposed to or failing to do it 'right' in one way or another or c) debating some wild-ass plan that deep down I knew was utterly futile and useless but at times would briefly awaken a small spark of hope and an effort to believe it might work out. The problem was, the talks were always belabored to death and repeated a dozen times until I felt we were ridimg a dead horse that was beaten to a mush. The main speaker was always Dad and he was a total master of overkill and followed a complete refusal to listen to much of anything in opposition or doubt.  

I am vague on who the little girls were, We did have some neighbors who had moved into the vacant or semi-abandoned  lower  Clarkdale houses from the small shacks and huts up Bitter Creek toward the cement plant, an area that apparently belonged to the local Yavapai Apache tribe. Eventally they regained lots of property in the Verde Valley. The children seemed to be interested in horses and at times would be eager to help me--often more of a problem than a real aid but they tried and were not obnoxiou kids.  When kids were good, I really enjoyed working with and trying to teach them some and did entertain  notions of making this part of a future career.

I do not recall what was bothering Mom besides the usual conflicts but I helped on supper and cleaned up afterwards. I really did not mind that as a rule.So much time had now passed since I finished school and so many wishful dreams and plans had fallen apart. I knew I had to leave eventually, preferably sooner than later, but still had no idea how I could support myself or what I ought to do. The overall situation was growing more desparate and hopeless as time went on and some kind of final disaster seemed inevitable. Indeed  it was, but at that point was still some time in the future.

I am not sure where the message can was at this point. Later I located it down at the end of the river road where my trail dropped off into the river bottom to go along the bank and then cut through a field over to the pasture. An old hollow stump was a good place for it but at this time, I am not sure. I never knew if Dusty had been in the area that day or not but I imagine the answer was no. I had now not seen him since mid January and it seemed a very long time, but I had weeks more to wait, the rest of March, all of April and almost all of May. 

A few photos, first two views from the west side, looking down at the river and across to the pasture which was below that ridge on the far side. The river road ended just below the gray area which was the tailings pond, irrigated to keep dust down. At the end of Tuzogoot is where the trail went down into those cottonwood trees along the river. .Next is Mom at about this time and then Dad with the 2nd Ford pickup; Charlie Mike was checking a tire or maybe airing it up.

.

Memoir Monday, March 6, 1965

March came in with fair weather it seems. But I was getting sick. I made it thru the day at least, but not in great shape. 

Mar 6, 1965 Sat

            Got up with a sore throat and a sick, shaky feeling but stumbled gallantly along. We did all the chores and got Cinder in.  The latter took a bit of doing and some time but it is on my shield or with it when I go mule catching. So I led him home on foot. Charlie Mike went up for mail. None for me. I watered everyone and then Dad and I worked on Cinder. Did the noon chores and ate lunch before going over to Patterson’s for a load of hay. We got an honest weighed ton of three wire alfalfa bales. Seventeen weighted 1970 pounds. That is the first honest ton of hay we have had in a coon’s age. The only way to buy hay is to weigh it. Soon it was chore time. I took my temperature, it was 99.6 but I rode Cinder out anyway. We were nearly done with the chores when a pickup and trailer drove up. They brought Jolly and Happy back. We unloaded them. Jolly was pretty banged up and hot so we had to walk her cool. I got awfully cold and shivery. She sure is lovely. I like her with a full mane. She is really a beauty. Happy is the same ugly duckling but a little heavier. They both seem to be in season now. Can’t figure why they did not breed them. I went to bed right after supper, feeling like I had really had it. Got tonsillitis I guess. Ugh. I hate to be sick.

I guess we did not have a saddle along  as we had driven to the pasture. I did not trust riding Cinder bareback although he was a good little mule so I walked him home. I am not sure now but guesstimate it was maybe 1.5 miles from the pasture to Clarkdale. I think we needed to work on his feet. He needed careful trimming and some modified shoes to keep him sound. Going back later that afternoon, I did ride  but we also apparently drove to haul some of the new hay, Patterson's Feed Store was not economical but they never sold mouldy or bad hay! 

It  had been a long time since we took the two young Quarter Horse mares to New Mexico back in September. Why they were returned six months later I am not sure and they had not been bred as they were supposed to be. Another deal that fell apart for obscure reasons--at least obscure to me. 

After a bit of a struggle of a day, I went to bed right after  supper. I'm not sure if I was better the next day or not. Colds, tonsillitis and virus bugs seemed to really seek me out during these months. Just part of the routine and ongoing troubles that hung around like a gray cloud. I guess I was a bit of a hypochondriac since I seemed to complain a lot about not feeling good. Well, that tended to be a family trait anyway!

A few pix--not too exciting! First is Happy Bars about this time. Her profile was a bit odd but she was not bad looking, just no beauty.  She was a buckskin. Next is Jolly Babe--she was gray and as sweet tempered as she was pretty. Finally the old cowboy girl and the pickup that saw so much use in those years--actually there were two and this was the second one. I was better dressed than usual, clearly going somewhere.