|The farmyard from the south|
Mike and I traveled to Gilbert yesterday morning (Friday, Oct. 31). I had noticed a blurb in Thursday’s Lewiston Tribune that someone had driven off the Gilbert Grade at Milepost 46. We looked for the exact spot but didn’t find it.
Once at the farmhouse, we unpacked and I washed and hung a load of clothes. A dull morning turned into a sunny, warm afternoon. (Even so, those few hours of warm sunshine weren’t enough to dry the clothes.)
|Plank's pitch from behind the house|
After lunch, the dogs begged for a hunt. (Yes, they did.) Mike was happy to appease them. I went along, pleased for the opportunity to hike someplace that didn’t involve Plank’s Pitch. And – I carried the camera and took many pictures.
We have at least one covey of chukars here this year to the delight of the hunter. The dogs found it for him and he got a double at the canyon rim. While he was busy with that, a small doe and two fawn pranced past me as I waited above. I wasn’t ready with my camera – no photo.
Autumn can be gloriously beautiful, as it is on the Clearwater River right now, but it’s drab at Gilbert. The stubble fields have lost their luster and what deciduous trees and bushes we have don’t give us those glowing autumn colors. Even the maple tree in the yard is not especially colorful, going from green to yellow to brown. The summer / autumn fruits are past now. It’s easy to see how someone living here year-round and facing a cold winter would find this time of year depressing.
Mike and I had our traditional Halloween celebration. I made lentil chili and substituted a sweet potato pie for pumpkin. I managed to carry our deteriorating jack-o-lantern from town. I would have left it here had I realized we would return for Halloween. I leaned it against a pillar on the front porch, lit a candle inside it, and took a picture for Nick and Hallie.
Whatever our decorations, there was apparently no one to see it except us. We had no Halloween visitors unless you count the owl down at the pond. Its hoots were a nice, eerie touch.
In the evening Mike got a deer, and now that’s over and we’re both relieved. As I write he has gone to town to take the meat to a processing plant.