My grandfather used to bring his cattle up here to graze, in the hills south of Twin Falls, Idaho.
My grandfather used to bring his cattle up here to graze, in the hills south of Twin Falls, Idaho. He loved to camp with his horse and dogs, and look down this draw into the distance.
Almost 30 years ago I came up here with my family to spread his ashes. This weekend, we came again with the ashes of my grandmother and my beloved aunt/older sister, Jennifer.
My Grandma Lou and Grandpa Dick were forces of nature. When my grandma finally needed the full-time care of a nursing home, she used to complain that she had so many visitors she couldn’t get a good nap in. Even in her last days she was hosting family and listening to the lost souls who had found her.
When my mom was a girl, a terrible brush fire caught my grandpa and his herd in the South Hills. All he had was a loaded water truck, so he gathered the cows and calves together and circled them all night, spraying the grass around them as the fire passed, leaving a circle of green in a field of ash.
My grandma waited all night at the edge of the blackened grass, catching fleeing steers and shuttling them back to the ranch, wondering if Dick was still alive. In the morning, they saw him drive down out of the hills, his herd plodding along behind.
I feel the presence of these two people in my life every day. I remember the quiet force of my grandfather’s spirit, like a steel rod planted in the earth, and my grandmother’s bright, generous warmth — and wildness! — and I try to carry a little of them into the world.
