It took me about 10 minutes to put together this quick 30 second (30 second vids are free, longer vids require a paid account) as a test. Turned out pretty good, IMO.

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

So yesterday after my oldest boy got home from school around 3:15 we quickly packed up and headed up the Mirror Lake Highway. With thoughts of my uncle and our conversation as we left the trailhead, my son and I turned off the trail withing a couple of minutes to walk a lesser traveled ridge and find a place to sit down, in an area just a stones throw from the highway but an area I accidentally found and thought it might be a good spot.

We saw some tracks down low in spots I wasn’t thinking we’d see some and along the ridge in obvious crossover points between the aspens and timber we didn’t see any. It sure gave me pause for thought. The snow was falling lightly and my 11 year old was getting ready to find a spot to sit when I saw a big pine tree on a bare ridge/point and said that we’d circle around to that point and sit down for the rest of the evening.

We crossed a few tracks which was encouraging as we made our way to the point. As we came up to this big old pine tree, sitting all stoic on the rounded ridge, I told my boy to walk further on a bit and see if there wasn’t a better place to sit as there were no rocks here. As he walked off I ranged the area – 278 yards to the clearing where we had come from, 156 to the timber cross canyon, 74 to the bottom of the draw.

Just then I saw antlers moving through the exact opening I just ranged in the bottoms and a nice little buck walked through and turned to come up the hill towards me. I motioned for my son to hold up as he was just 20 yards from me making his way back to the tree and surely would be seen from below if the deer lifted its head. I had told my son we’d take any buck with 3 or better on one side so when I saw this guy had a little 4 on one side and deep fork 2 point on the other I held steady, waited for him to present a good shot and just like that the hunt was over.

This is where he landed, and the far tree on the left is where I was standing. I hit him while he was next to the small snow covered pine trees and as he was walking up the hill.

It started to snow a bit more as we pulled the buck back into the bottoms of ravine, made quick work of quartering him up and stacked him in the new Blacks Creek pack I recently picked up (the Featherlight Barbarian). It handled the load very well, in fact better than other packs I’ve hauled with, as we hiked down what turned out to be a perfect trail along side the dried up creek bottom back to where we had deviated from the main trail. By 8:15 we were back at home to a disbelieving wife/mom who couldn’t figure out how we got up there, got a buck so fast and got back home. I just told her we didn’t go “way back” to find the buck.

I was sitting on the bench in our mud-room getting my shoes on to head to work. Next to me was a stack of mail with the picture she’s holding of Uncle Sam.

Anna: Daddy, who is that?

Me: It’s Uncle Sam

Anna: He looks mean. What does he want?

Me: He wants to take my money

Anna: All of it?

Me: Yep, as much as he can get.

Anna: (after some thought and reflection, and said with a serious look) Daddy, that’s not nice, not at all

Me: (trying hard not to laugh) No baby, that’s not nice at all is it?

Sometimes these precious moments need to be recorded.

This campout was the Klondike Derby with winter camping in snow caves that the scouts had built the previous week. I arrived at the camp after work on Friday night and once the evening activities including dinner were done I found the cave that McKinley and I would share. Upon entering the cave to find an uneven floor, stalactites on the ceiling and about 18″ of headroom we commenced to sculpt the cave.

McKinley kept insisting it was fine, but I knew better. About an hour later we moved into our cave, complete with a shelf for gear, enough headroom that I could sit up without becoming claustrophobic, and enough space that both of us fit with ease. McKinley knew that I had a Mountain House Blueberry Cheesecake in my pack and a Jet Boil.

CLICK ON THE IMAGES TO SEE THEM FULL SIZE

As we got settled into our bags, with my ultra bright Coast H7 headlamp making it as bright as noon, McKinley asked if he could read. Of course I said yes. So while he dove into a book, I boiled up a little water and made dessert. When it was ready, with some music from my iPhone playing, we downed some awesome Blueberry Cheesecake. He turned to me and said, “Dad, I’m pretty sure that the other kids aren’t having as good of a time as I am. I’m pretty lucky to have my dad here.”

I was the one that felt lucky.

With living in a rural town there are certainly some allowances and things that happen here that you just shrug (or shake your head), smile and say, “Only in Kamas.” This is about one of those things.

This past summer we inherited some chickens and so began the saga of raising…er, putting up with chickens. First came the chicken coup, which took me a couple of months to complete in all that spare time I’ve got. After all, I couldn’t build just anything simple, it had to be complex. Sheesh.

Our little chicks grew up and became two nice white chickens, a hen and a rooster named Scooter (hen) and Pecky (rooster). Finally Scooter started to lay eggs which we enjoyed gathering up and eating. We even lost a few to Annapurna throwing them down when to her surprise her brother “caught” her picking them up from the coup.

Then one day I came home from work to find that the typical molting of feathers was an abundance of feathers. As I approached the door my neighbor Doug called out as he headed in my direction. The details were fuzzy but it included hunting dogs on the loose, big ruckus, feathers, dead chicken, guy pulling up in his truck, dogs in back, dead chicken on top and then speeding off. Hmmm…ok, so we were down to 1.

Fortunately the hen had survived and the owner of the dogs came back later that night to break the news to me. He promised to replace it and I asked if he would give us a hen vs. a new rooster to which he agreed. Better that than a call to the animal control officer.

Over time the new chicken never materialized and Scooter became more lonely, stopped laying eggs and started to wander. One Sunday as we left for church Scooter was doing her thing but when we returned she was nowhere to be found. To this day she has never turned up. Chicken-napped? Perhaps. Gone looking for love? Likely.

So we were out of the chicken business…for about 4 hours until a knock at the door produced our replacement chicken, a black and white hen that had some tail feathers missing but otherwise looked quite pretty. The kids named it Rocky. Our friends who have 30 or so chickens gave us a rooster named Spot so that Rocky would have a friend and mate so we were back in the chicken business with a pair.

It soon became evident that chickens and Kendall don’t have the same schedules. Kendall works late, Chickens like to talk to other chickens very early and with a few flocks in the neighborhood (after all, this is Kamas) it’s a chicken chorus. Then one day, Rocky our hen, cock-a-doodle-dooed?!? In reality, our hen was a rooster. No wonder Rocky wasn’t laying any eggs. So what to do with 2 roosters? We were encouraged to put them down and cook them for dinner. I’m too busy was a good excuse.

Then one day another dog, this time a husky, grabbed Spot and then there was one. The kids shed tears, feathers were spread about in the snow, evidence of a struggle and the fate of Spot.

Another few weeks passed with winter storms and frigid nights and Rocky grew more lonely and vocal, to the point of annoyance. But then it happened, a chicken miracle – Spot showed up, gimping and looking as dirty and dejected as a street bum. This was the turning point, the beginning of the end. Rocky, was likely ecstatic, but in his excitement became extremely protective and started to chase off anyone that would come near and peck them. What was once a skiddish chicken had become quite aggressive and bold.

After a couple of weeks of care, it was evident that Spot wouldn’t get better so when animal control came by to get a stray cat from our neighbor, we had them take Spot away. Then Rocky flipped out. He would cock-a-doodle-doo all day and all night as if calling for his long lost buddy Spot. He started chasing cars, yes, chasing cars and worse yet, chasing passing pedestrians, often kids or moms out for walks. Staring people down became his past time and preying on the unsuspecting ankles of those walking by.

It was then that the news came of 9-1-1 calls about an aggressive chicken, our very own Rocky, chasing and harassing people, even bike riders. The local police officer, who happens to live across the street, said that he had more calls about our chicken than anything else after which he said “Only in Kamas”. The writing was on the wall – Rocky’s days were numbered.

So farewell Rocky, your time has come. Even as I type I’m preparing for the end, but not with a hatchet as you might suspect. With the upcoming Turkey season and my recent adoption of hunting with a bow, I figured I could practice my skill and help the neighborhood and town return to the peaceful pace of life by shooting Rocky with my bow.

You guessed it, Only in Kamas.

So I find myself venturing into the Uintas solo and that suits me just fine. The time breaking trail gives me time to ponder and think, and generally appreciate my state in life – blessed, relatively fit, healthy…happy.

After making it to the top of this run (below left), I saw that a party of 4 were enjoying the skin track I put in so I dropped in for 1200′ of beauty pow and headed cross canyon for more solo ventures.

image left – the boulevard
image right – looking back at my track from across the canyon

But as I was skinning up the cross canyon lap, I wished that Cynthia was here to share the beauty and the clean crisp air so I hatched a plan. If she had fed Asti and if McKinley would watch his brothers and sisters I could make it back in time to grab her skis/skins and head up the Mirror Lake Highway to go for a quick ski tour before dark. I think she was surprised, and she definitely was stoked as we packed up things to head out. As we drove up the highway she kept saying how weird this was but how exciting. I was reminded of how much I love this red-headed girl of mine.

The skiing was simple, the landscape enjoyable and the company sublime.

Love birds:

With the cool weather comes a re-acquaintance with clothing we’ve not considered in months.  Annapurna came to my “office” a few minutes ago having been reintroduced to her green sweater and beanie combo that was a hand-me-down from Chloe our fabulous neighbor.

She insisted I take a break from the computer to come outside with her.  Fortunately there was a break in the storms.

In her anxiousness to go outside and having grown accustomed to walking around barefoot, the moment her bare feet came in contact with the moist cool deck she said “brrrr daddy” and bolted for cover.  I was able to snap a couple of pictures before she made it inside.

With Utah Lake in the distance, the warm colors in the sky, the fountains of the Temple grounds, and my lovely wife Cynthia, it made for a beautiful scene. If only I had the skill and camera to have truly captured it. *snap*

When the budget or convenience didn’t allow it I would happily go for a BOLLYCAO, a common inexpensive treat that kids ate in Spain, at least the south. For some reason I loved to eat a BOLLYCAO. If I were feeling down? A BOLLYCAO. If I needed to celebrate? A BOLLYCAO. Just for the heck of it? Yep, you guessed it, a BOLLYCAO.

You’re going to laugh, but it’s really nothing more than a hot dog bun with Nutella in it. Sometimes they’d come partially dipped, but mostly they were a plain old hot dog bun. But there was something about it that I enjoyed and for 50 cents I could and would most often eat them daily.

So when my neighbor went to Spain a little while back I asked her if she wouldn’t mind picking me up one at a tienda before she came home. To my excitement, she brought home a pile of them for me! She’s the best!

Cynthia wasn’t too impressed by them. As for myself, it was a heavenly walk down memory lane. And the kids? Just like Spaniards.

From the images above you’d get the impression that it was a hit. Well it was, for everyone except Annapurna. After retiring to the office and leaving her to enjoy her BOLLYCAO, moments later I caught her trying to stash the remains in her shoe, which she promptly dumped on the floor.

She wasted a perfectly good BOLLYCAO! Anyone going to Spain anytime soon?

We had a few firsts this weekend, particularly the planting of our first garden. It’s small and while we don’t have big ambitions for it just yet I hope more than anything that the kids realize the joy of planting, caring and then harvesting from a garden.

Even if just one item grows, I’m sure their excitement will be uncontainable. Just looking at the tiny lettuce seeds they were blown away that something so small could produce food. Definitely some life lesson applications to share once it does produce food (fingers crossed).

I also hope it doesn’t yield as many weeds as my parent’s garden did when I was growing up. Ah the angst of “pulling weeds” in that behemoth of a garden. I’m sure my sisters (the two older ones) will recall the joy that was pulling weeds.

We’ve got corn, two kinds of lettuce and watermelon. We’d hoped for more stuff but the space was limited. Perhaps that’s best for this first go around.

First drink from a garden hose on a hot summer day:

First time planting a garden (a small one):