All-You-Can-Eat Crab at the Oxbow

You know it has been a truly amazing dinner when you have to wipe butter off your glasses before you can drive home.

TW

Valentine's Vagabonds

I have never much cared for valentines day. I always felt like the only people who profit from valentines day (other than the card, choco, and jewelry companies) are ladies who have attached themselves to clods too unromantic to do anything special the rest of the year. Besides, when you are single it stinks intensely having a whole day set aside to remind you of what you're missing. My lovely wife is of another opinion, however, so I have mellowed somewhat, especially this year. Any excuse to celebrate and give gifts can't be entirely bad, and at worst today is as good as any other.

All that said, we had an almost-perfect day today. Around mid-morning we got in my trusty blue 4-wheel-drive steed to do some exploring. Before pulling out of the driveway, I presented Sarah with her valentine present: A "Lander Nordic Skiing" tshirt. We are expecting a youngster in June, and Sarah has been a bit saddened about all the things pregnancy has taken away: Things like intense outdoor activity, ability to sleep comfortably, all that sort of thing. This shirt served as a reminder of better times to come.

Then we hit the trail. We had set aside this day to explore several roads which we had been meaning to check out for a long time. After a brief trip down Hidden Valley Road (yes, there are several Ranches there, in case you're wondering), we spent most of the day exploring the west shore of Boysen Reservoir, one of the bigger lakes in Wyoming which is completely surrounded by sagebrush desert and mountain ranges. Truly fascinating country, especially in winter when the lake is frozen solid and the fellow visitors are minimal.

Once we got as far as we could go on the roads, we got down to the business of relaxation, with a couple nice walks on the frozen beach, scrambling about in the blissfully rattlesnake-free rock formations, some snuggling and a nap in the back of the truck (do not attempt this in Wyoming Winter without the proper equipment and training), and lots of staring in awe at the lake and the mountains.

Having had our fill of the lake, we headed off toward our next planned destination, a tiny ranching town nearby called Pavillion, where there was rumored to be a good burgers-and-steaks restaurant. Avoiding the easy highway route, we found ourselves barreling west down Sand Mesa Road, a dirt track through some beautiful ranching country which is swarming with wildlife--big muley bucks, antelope, and thousands upon thousands of ducks and geese. All with the Owl Creek Mountains towering on the right hand, and the Wind River Range on the left.

There are worse ways to drive to dinner.

We finally got to the chosen restaurant and were surprised to be asked if we had a reservation. It is Valentine's day, of course, but this is a town of 150 people, for crying out loud! Having been found lacking, we were nicely seated at the bar, only to find that the normal burgers and steaks menu had been replaced with a "Special Valentines Menu" of lobster tails, prime rib, and lots of stuff we couldn't pronounce. Cheapest thing on the menu was $25; most things were over $30. Well, our experience has been that usually restaurants that charge that much really shouldn't.

So, we got back on the road, and soon found ourselves at the Midvale Bar and Grill. Midvale is a town on the maps only--in real life it's a loose collection of farm houses without so much as a Mormon Church. But they do have a bar and grill, and generally these little middle-of-nowhere places really put on the chow; if they didn't, they wouldn't stay around long since they rely on local business. Here we found the menu (and the prices) more to our taste: A good ribeye, potato, beans, grilled bread, and a good salad. Since cigarette smoke really sets off asthma, the friendly patrons directed us through the bar into the non-smoking dining room, which--get this--we had all to ourselves.

Now, how many valentines days do you get to eat steak with your sweetie, in a dining room all to yourselves, without so much as making a reservation or even knowing where you are going?

You can have the fancy chocolates and flowers and all that stuff. Those things are all well and good, but if that's all there is, it wears thin pretty fast. Spending some time just enjoying the world with the person you love--that's what romance is all about in my book.

Sorry for the long post. Just couldn't decide what to leave out.
Good night--
Tom

January Fly Fishing

My dad blessed me with a new fly rod for Christmas, and I just couldn't wait until summer to try it out. So this past Saturday saw me embarking on the first fly fishing trip of 09 down at Wind River Canyon, a fabled tail water where legend has it that three to five pound rainbows and browns are there to be taken.

The canyon was beautiful under a light dusting of snow as I bundled up in multiple layers, bag-lady style, complete with fingerless rag wool gloves, and hit the river.

I had never flyfished in the winter before, and I have to say it has its pros and cons. Most of the positives involved things that were missing: there was nobody else on the river except a couple of bait fishermen a quartermile downstream who were gone by the time I geared up. Also, not a rattlesnake in sight. No bugs, either, except for a few hardy midges scooting along on the surface of the river.

Cons? Well, it was cold. Really cold. I can put up with a good bit of cold, but when the guides on my rod started clogging up with ice, it's hard to cast. Hard to navigate, too, with the steep banks frozen and dusted with snow. I did manage to stay out of the river, though, which brings me to another disadvantage to winter fly fishing: If I do this much, I am going to have to invest in a pair of waders. The Wind is a fair sized river by Wyoming standards, and most of the good holes are out of reach from the bank, but it's just to chilly to get in the water this time of year.

The result? Nothing. Skunked. Whatever the legendary five pound rainbows and browns of the Wind River were hungry for, it was not clumsily presented green wooly buggers or bead head hare's ears.

But I'll be back.

Maybe after it warms up a bit.

My sphere of influence grows...

CDBaby, the company which sells my CD's online (and a whopping dozen of them I've sold on line so far!), informed me yesterday that someone in Hawaii had ordered my latest offering. I am intensely curious who in Honolulu would know I exist, let alone pay good money for a CD. Unfortunately, the individual in question chose to remain anonymous, so my curiosity remains unsatisfied.

No matter. My CD's are now halfway across the Pacific. My goal of world domination seems just a little closer.

*

Sunday Morning

It is 8 a.m., and as usual I have already been up a couple hours. Sarah will wake up soon, but for now she is still sleeping, exhausted from building that little body. The chickens are doing whetever it is chickens do out in the yard; a big, smelly dog snores worshipfully at my feet; the sun is bright; there is frost on the lawn and ice on the pond.

I like to get up early. Once the critters are fed, they tend to quiet down, leaving me a few moments to sip my tea and do my thinking in peace. Just for a moment every morning--usually as I'm headed out to feed los pollos estupidos--the first rays of sun light up the peaks while the valley is still dark. I have seen it dozens of times, but it never fails to catch my eye. No matter how rushed I may be, it never fails to make me stop and whisper thanks to the God who made the world so beautiful.

And it never occurs to me to grab the camera until it's over. Just as well. Some sights just don't translate to film.

Tiny Things, Enormous Things

According to the latest census data, there are 783,051 Wilsons in the United States. If all goes as planned, around the end of next June there will be 783,052.





(pause to let that sink in just a bit)







We had a bit of a medical scare yesterday. The doctor had reason to believe something was seriously wrong, and had Sarah go in for some emergency tests. Everything was just fine, and although it was a tough afternoon, it turned out to be a blessing: they took an ultrasound, several months before they normally would, and we got to see what is happening in there. The little critter looks sort of like a little oblong light gray blob right now, smaller than a jellybean. But here’s the thing: on the edge of that blob, there was a tiny little white fluttering movement. The beating of a heart.

I’ve seen a lot of amazing things in my life, but that little tiny beating heart about takes the cake. How can something so commonplace be so miraculous? I know this happens thousands of times everyday, and it has happened to some of you numerous times. It’s just that it has never happened to us; it has never happened to this child.

783,052? No. Just one. Just this tiny one...

Is this supposed to be sad...

...or comforting?