Rock Ledge Ranch

Well, we had Linda, Carole's supervisor, here to talk to Mom and Grandma about things. Lark and I sat in on it. I can't really say they really arrived at much of a decision, but it was informative. After Linda left Diane came for therapy, and I pulled weeds out of the rock path in the shade until they finished. Philip called me on the cell during this to say that if Jenna (Steve Boonzaijer's wife), who was coming to buy an iPod from him, didn't bring some baked goods along the deal was off. She appeared a little after noon with three bags of goodies, now a little depleted. She was so determined to get a new iPod, which she needs to keep her feet going when she jogs, that she had the check all written out when she got here. I do like her. 

Started doing pushups and sit-ups yesterday. I'm at a pathetically small number of reps, but my abs hurt. *moans* Starting out with five at a time.....ooooooww......This is ridiculous.....

Once everyone was cleared out, and the chores were out of the way, Mom and I headed out. We were going to Rock Ledge Ranch. They used to be called White House Ranch, but then they found out there's lovely stone under the white stucco on the namesake, so they stripped the stucco, restored the stone, and changed the name--"on account there're no white houses anymore." Well, this explains why I couldn't find their website a couple of months ago--I was googling the wrong name. Anyway, we got in free this time, on a lucky chance. You see, they're--someone's--in the process of putting up this really big, fancy white tent over in the meadow by the blacksmith's shop. It's not historically accurate--downright anachronistic, one might say--so they aren't charging people to get in while it's up. One really does wonder who came up with that. Well, we were happy, anyway.

We started out with the livestock. They have five horses, two of which are new. They're a matched pair of big black Shires, half-siblings, named Victoria and Winston. Victoria wasn't terribly interested, but Winston was happy to talk to me, if a little mischievous. The others--Percherons?--ignored me. I rather think Victoria's the only mare on the place--we saw three other horses, the two big drafts and a light roan, and they were all geldings. Interesting. The sheep were all conked in the shade, looking rather depressed. They were shorn June 6, as the opening event for the season, and some of them came out the worse from a comparison to Doug's shearing. They also have a peacock there, a lonely fellow who utters the most obnoxious shriek from time to time.

From the barnyard we went into the ranch house, for a tour of the place. A young man who seemed to be a fellow cold-sufferer gave us the tour of the downstairs, and for upstairs we had a self-possessed little girl of perhaps twelve to explain to us about bone toothbrushes and rope-spring beds. She was pretty good. 

We wandered from the ranch house to the Orchard House, built by General Palmer for his sister-in-law. The housemaid took us over the house, pointing out status symbols such as wall-to-wall carpeting as enhanced by built-in sideboards and the like. I think she was just a bit nervous to be doing the job of the housekeeper or the cook, but she did a good job. I liked her, anyway. She did have trouble remembering what the back porch was called--the likely word occurred to Mom as we were leaving. "Do you think it was terrace?" Maybe. We went from there to the blacksmith's shop, where a young man was just finishing up a demonstration as we arrived. He started on a hook next, first hammering the end into a point and curling it, then twisting the length. Finally he hammered the other end into a spike and bent it at a right angle, to drive into a wall. He handed the finished product to the group with us, then, finding upon inquiry that Mom and I weren't with the others, he gave me one he'd made earlier. Thank you!

After the blacksmith we walked back along the road past the Orchard House to stop at the Coach-house, where a lady was working on beading a deerskin shirt in the Indian style. She herself was dark, with a very aquiline nose. We looked at the various exhibits, mainly to do with gold mining and the general settlement of the area, until she asked us if we lived in the area. I explained that I was staying with my grandmother, who lived in Colorado Springs, and added that I was with my mum. We chatted a little, and then I asked about employment versus volunteering. She told me that they have both volunteers and employees, and you can volunteer until you're sixteen, at which point you can get a job there. As we were leaving, she added, "We need more people." Well, sure, but I need to be able drive first. Again.

From there, trying to find the path to the parking lots, we followed the path to the Galloway Homestead. It's a little log cabin, chinked with adobe clay, but the feature that immediately captured our attention was the lovely little Jersey cow. She was adorable--and surprisingly soft! More like a kid than a goat, really. She wasn't very big, either. I wonder if they plan to breed her; she wasn't in milk, but I don't think it was because she was too young. Maybe someone's cull was the perfect display cow. I don't know. I talked to her for a few minutes, and then we moved on, past a little girl washing wool, to the cabin. There were various textile-crafts in stasis there, from someone's crocheting to a rag rug on a loom. The lady there pointed out the finished one on the floor, which presented a very irregular appearance, due, she told us, to the children's always taking the warp off the nails on the frame that keep in straight. Well, good luck with this one.

We managed to find the right path from there to the parking lots. We encountered a pair of girls with bikes in sight of our goal. One looked familiar, and as we drew even I realized who it was. "Elle Reese?" It was, rather unsure of who I was, so I promptly identified myself as Philip's sister from church. We chatted for a bit, discussing the ranch--she said the tent might be for the Art Festival--and then we went off in opposite directions.

Mom had some errands to run, and we dropped into Claussen Books while she was trying to get to the jeweler's. They had Charity Girl, which a) I already own a perfectly good copy of and b) don't like much, on the outside racks. I was a bit mad. Sigh. Mom was happy, though, because she found a bunch of Landmark books, which she's collecting, she says, for her grandchildren. Okay. The jeweler's, next to Safeway, took six links, as requested, out of Grandma's medical assistance bracelet, and after doing some shopping for dinner at Safeway we went home.

I called Sid to see if she could go shopping with me while Mom takes Grandma to the doctor. Granddaughters coming over cancelled that plan, but she had a story to tell me: This morning, she let the cat out pretty early, left the door open for her, and went back to bed. She woke up again about seven to the feeling of a warm mass on her bed: furry, tentative, little tail wagging. At this point, telling Doug about it, he said, "Oh bleep." Actually, what I told him was that there was a dog in her bed, so maybe it wasn't that hard to guess. I was getting a slight sinking feeling myself at that part, though. It was the "little tail" bit, I think. Maddy has a pretty long tail for her size, after all. Sid thought it was pretty funny. 

Well, after making it all the way through the ranch without sneezing once, I am back to groping for Kleenex with watering eyes half-shut. One advantage to a small house: Kleenex boxes at all the strategic points still does not necessarily add up to that many Kleenex boxes.