Pat & Sharon O'Toole

Cow mural in Rio

As promised, I am blogging you from Brazil. I traveled to Rio de Janeiro last week. More than thirty years ago, my sister, Charlotte, married a Brazilian. They were both on the rodeo team at Colorado State University. They moved to a remote area in the state of Sao Paulo to manage a corporate ranch.

Years went by, they moved to Rio, and eventually divorced. She was by then, through and through, a Brasileira. She would visit us yearly, but always returned to her home, her business and her son.

Last winter, I was on my way to Elko for the Gathering when I received a call from my nephew that Charlotte was in the hospital. Luckily, I had a valid Brazilian visa, so I called my son who met us in Vernal, Utah with some summer clothes and my passport. I traveled the next day to Brazil, and stayed for two weeks. (My father--84 then--, his 83-year-old cousin, my husband and son went on to Elko for the festivities,) My sister was gravely ill, but recovered. I returned home to twenty below weather—the only person in my community with mosquito bites and sunburn under my Carharts!

Charlotte planned with great excitement her summer trip to visit us, looking forward to the new baby, her 40th high school reunion, and the wedding. She entered the hospital (seizures) the day Seamus was born, July 3rd.

The trip to Brazil entailed first a journey to Los Angeles, home of the Brazilian consulate. Due to increased red tape after 9/11, it now takes about two weeks to get a visa. After numerous phone calls and armed with a letter from the doctor, her friend Lexie and I descended on the consulate. By then they knew my voice, and I think gave us the visas just to get us out of their hair. “It’s the crazies from Wyoming again! Get them out of here!”

In the Beverly Hills neighborhood where the consulate is located, we learned two things. Nobody has heard of the La Brea tar pits (which we visited) and it is possible to run into Paris Hilton. Really.

Now we are here, and I don’t know what to say about that. Charlotte’s condition worsens by the day. My fantasy of her rising from her sick bed at the sound of my voice has not come true. The visiting hours are so limited that Lexie and I have a lot of “down time.”

Tree carvings at the Jardim Botanico

Yesterday we decided to visit the Jardim Botanico, which were started by the Emperor Dom João VI of Portugal in 1808. The crowds were thin, due to the pouring rain, but as Lexie and I assured each other, “At least it’s warm rain!” We really liked the orchid collection. A high point (for me) was the bamboo trees with names carved into them. On the Savery Stock Driveway, where we will be trailing sheep in the next few days, is the “Sheepherders’ Hall of Fame,” with its carved aspen trees. I did not see artwork comparable to that created by these oft isolated men, but there were lots of tamer romantic entries.

The locks at the Jardim Botanico

We head home on Saturday, much to the relief of my family, who have been left with my work, as well as theirs. Part of my heart will remain here, with my sister.

Sharon risking her life, Brazil

Posted by Sharon O'Toole at 2:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ewe and lamb near Little Red Park, Routt National Forest, Colorado
First snow, September 17, 2006
Photo by Pat O'Toole

We have had our first snowfall. Pat and I went yesterday to move a sheepcamp to Silver City Creek for Pepe, who has been in the high country in a tent for most of the summer. When he's in the pack camp, we take his groceries, salt and dog food in and his trash out by pack mule. It is almost time to bring the sheep and the cows off the forest (October 1st, generally) so we are staging for the fall trail.

Rainbow gate at Silver City Creek
Photo by Sharon O'Toole

Pepe's camp, Silver City Creek
photo by Sharon O'Toole

When we pulled into Pepe's usual camping spot on Silver City Creek, we found two things. The Rainbow Family had camped at this site, necessitating extensive trail restoration and reseeding. The Forest Service had built a fence across our traditional camp site, in order to remind the public not to use this area until the 50 miles or so of new paths and trails had healed up. We also found about six inches of snow, which should help a lot toward the regrowth of the plants in the spring. This is an early wet snow and will be off in a few days.

We know that Pepe is up even higher, bringing the sheep across the mountain to lower country. He must have at least a foot of snow on Farwell Mountain. Both Pepe and the sheep are resourceful and acclimated, so we have faith that they will emerge healthy and fat. (We always tease Pepe because he gains about 20 pounds in the summertime).

I am planning on leaving later today for Brazil, to visit my very ill sister. She has lived there since 1972. It is her home, but is a very long ways from our home. If I can connect with a computer, I will send an update from there.

Cows and Calves in Upper Smiley
photo by Pat O'Toole

Posted by Sharon O'Toole at 4:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Here's the links to Range Magazine and the High Country News.

These two fine publications offer a spectrum of views on issues facing the West. The Fall issue of Range features a story on our ranching operation and the energy boom in the West, "The Big Boom," and an article I wrote, titled "Horse Slaughter." To update, the bill banning horse slaughter passed the House on September 7th, but no action has been proposed in the Senate.

The High Country News link will take you to that publication. Unfortunately, access there is not free. I have had two recent essays in Writers on the Range, one called "Whither Wamsutter" about the impact of energy development on one of Wyoming's small towns, and one on the Rainbow Family, which also appeared as an article, "There was no green in this Rainbow Gathering" in the August 7th issue.

I have had time to figure this out because, Hallalujah, it is raining!

Posted by Sharon O'Toole at 3:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Kevin, home from the Army; Pat ;& Chris, the groom
photo by Todd Skalberg

It has been one of those summers. Sometimes I think it went by in a flash. It does seem like I was just watching the leaves unfurl that palest of pale greens which washes us for a week before sliding into the deep greens of summer. Yet when I think back to the spring and early summer work—gathering and branding the calves, trailing and trailing and trailing until the ewes and lambs were settled on the lambing grounds, organizing the docking crew—then spending hours and days docking the newborn lambs, it seems a lifetime ago. Was it only two and a half months past that we were following the cows and calves, the ewes and lambs, to their forest permits, everyone happy to find fresh feed with the anticipation of months to go?

Major life events happened this summer. My first grandson, Seamus, was born. My second-born, beautiful Bridget, was wed on a lovely September day to her sweetheart Chris. My sister, Charlotte, my only surviving sibling, lies in a coma in a Rio de Janeiro hospital as my family and I try to keep watch from afar. It jumbles together.

Fall is here, well and truly. We struggled to keep flowers alive all summer, in preparation for the wedding. My mother’s green thumb did not come down to me, nor to my daughter Meghan either. For a while my best plan for the yard was to resurrect my long-dead, but truly gifted gardener, Aunt Helen. It seemed more likely than trying to grow something myself. The night before the wedding brought the season’s first frost, and me running around like a crazy woman covering things with sheets. Never mind that I might need them for the steadily arriving wedding guests. The flowers, and me, were saved by the ministrations of my sister-in-law, Lynne, who came with plants, skill and a good eye.

Today, following an over the mountains trip to Laramie, we had snow on Battle Pass, our nearest reach to the Continental Divide, and the boundary of one of our grazing permits. We delivered a horse and his dog to my son at the University of Wyoming, and brought back two purebred rams we had purchased at the Wyoming Ram Sale. My vital 90-year-old mother-in-law was a good sport about climbing into the one ton pickup to make the trip. She always carries tales of Wyoming ranch life when she returns to her home in Florida. She came for the wedding, but we are trying to keep her around until most of the hurricanes have passed.

We are facing a ton of fall work, without much of our good crew. My son has returned to his studies, after taking last semester off. We are glad to see him in school, but miss the good help. Our nephew Kevin worked for us for much of the last year, leaving last spring. With a master’s degree in hand, he opted to work on the ranch, then joined the Army. My hopes that he would become a translator were dashed when he opted for Ranger training. He said that boot camp was really nothing after almost a year with us! His unexpected appearance at Bridget’s wedding was a treat for us all.

In the next two weeks, Pat has been invited to address a Congressional committee about produced water, a “by-product” of the ubiquitous coalbed methane wells which are coming soon to a rural community near us. I may depart for Brazil to see my sister. And we are poised to trail everyone off the forest and seek fall feed in this drought.

I am trying to figure out how to set up links. So you'll know (in the meantime) the Fall issue of Range magazine has an article by Tim Findley featuring our ranching operation, and an article I wrote about the horse slaughter issue. I also have an article in a recent High Country News regarding our experience with the Rainbow Family. The newest issue has a letter criticizing my essay, so at least people are reading it. I hope you take a look at these at www.rangemagazine.com and www.hcn.org until I get the links up! And another season is here!

Pat & Sharon, all dressed up!
Photo by Pat Russell

Americans dancing
Photo by Pat Russell

Posted by Sharon O'Toole at 5:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Chris, Bridget and family, in front of the horse barn
photo by Todd Skalberg

Well, we did it! On September 2nd, our youngest daughter Bridget married Chris Abel in a ceremony held at our ranch, in the same spot where Pat and I wed in 1975, and our daughter Meghan and her husband Brian were married in 2002. We were blessed with a truly lovely day, and the love and good wishes of many friends, relatives, in-laws and out-laws.

This explains why this blog has been silent for awhile. We are now in the “wedding recovery” mode. Just yesterday, I picked up a plastic wine glass from the lawn. I think the puppies had carried it off! We have shifted from major painting, fencing, etc. into our full fall work load of moving livestock about, talking to calf and lamb buyers, counting the bales in the haystack, and praying for rain.

One of the very nicest gifts Bridget and Chris received was from an old family friend (not that she’s that old—just that we’ve been friends for a long time!). I want to share Karen Billings Buchanan’s poem with you. She grew up with my sister, was one of my Mom’s 4-H sewing girls, served as local postmaster for a number of years, and knows our family well. Her husband, Mike, is the head of the wild horse program at the Wyoming Honor Farm, and is also a great friend.

The Battle Creek Beauties
By Karen Billings Buchanan

The Salisbury Ranch is known far and wide—
Its cattle, its horses, sheep and hay raised with pride,
Of all things produced though, one can contend
The Salisbury women are the best—no end.

At the base of Squaw Mountain where aspen trees grow
Battle Creek runs into Little Snake River’s flow,
Where Battle Mountain, in its cool early dawn,
Holds its Indian history and its first ranch matron.

Anna Marie, now she’s a mystery to me,
Sweet on Albert, she waited patiently
At Woodstock till he made his big dollar
Then off for Snake River with a whoop and a holler.

A son George, married Emma, a sweet young thing
From the John Terrill family—they had such a fling.
She was “Gram” to me and admired so much,
She made you feel welcome with only a touch.

Her son George married Laura, full of generous love,
The Queen of 4-H, looks down from above,
So many hours she spent with we girls,
Seam rippers and cookies, soft hugs and blond curls.

Charlotte, cute little “Stubby”, my childhood friend,
On JoJo and Black Beauty, we rode the ranch end to end,
I think of her often in our mid age today
And look for her visits when she comes back this way.

Sharon, lil sis, matured with great talent,
Abundant energy, it became quite evident
She would put the ranch into the 21st Century
And raise three children, today one ready to marry.

Cousin Sherry, pretty Sherry, with such a great smile,
Destined for Canada, she traveled the long mile.
She knows that no matter how far you roam
To the Ladder Ranch, she can always come home.

Meghan, dear sis, and mom of Siobhan,
She’ll work on the ranch from dusk to dawn.
Somewhat like Sharon, somewhat like Pat—
A “Salisbury” woman knows where she’s at.

Bridget and Chris, if your hearts so desire,
A daughter would soon come
Then I would need not inquire
She’s a Salisbury woman and filled with fire.

A quote from Churchill I could easily tweak—
“Good people like good horses have good mothers,”
Then I’d be happy to speak
Of another beauty of Battle Creek.

ONE FAMILY ONE DREAM

September 2nd, 2006

Posted by Sharon O'Toole at 6:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)