When in Rome

I’ve never actually been to Rome, so I couldn’t say if I would do as the Romans do. But I am living in Wyoming and finding I don’t fit in. What’s more, I don’t really want to. I’ve found that a lot of things that are the norm here are things that are just not who I am.

Where to start? I don’t own a single pair of jeans though I’ve worn them in the past. But when I lost weight, I gave my last pair away and haven’t been inclined to find a replacement. I do own cowboy boots because I needed new boots our first winter here and we were still in the honeymoon stage of a completely different locale. Now I only wear them when the snow is deep enough that I need to wear boots.

I recently looked over my long term sewing list, and it includes three dresses. One is red wool crepe and one is brown silk taffeta. The third is remaking a floral silk crepe de chine nursing dress that I made in 2005 but that was always a little baggy (photo here). There is no place in town that I can wear any of them without being overdressed. I’ll wear them anyhow.

I could not care less about rodeo. I have no desire to learn to ride a horse, although I won’t mind if someone takes me for a ride in a horse-drawn buggy. We own a dog but I’m not a dog person (not Wyoming specific, but our town has a crazy number of dogs). I have no interest in outdoor sports and I’m tired of seeing hunting or fishing as standard decor in public places.

I am not writing this in a “woe is me” frame of mind. Rather I’m reminding myself that who I am doesn’t mix with where I am. So be it: I like being me too much to change just because of my zip code!

In the dark

I know I’m supposed to pay attention to the fact that it’s light earlier in the morning now that the clocks have changed again. That’s a good thing, I know, but for me it’s always outweighed by the earlier sunset. My morning routine keeps me on my toes such that I seldom look out the window before the sun is up anyhow, but it’s hard not to notice when the sun is gone before supper is on the table. Now it will be pitch black by the time we leave for Scouts or Vespers. . .and pitch black in Wyoming usually means cold, too.

Speaking of cold and Wyoming, winter arrived this weekend in the form of our first snow accumulation. I know this was actually a very late first snow for our area, but I’m still not used to winter starting before Thanksgiving. Saturday I did my best to ignore the weather outside, and concentrated on the pot of homemade applesauce simmering on my stove. . .I reminded myself it is still autumn somewhere.

Rock, water, tree

I’ve come to the conclusion that there are three types of people, at least where landscape is concerned. Read on and tell me if I missed anyone. . .

I guess I have known for sometime that there are people who are happiest with mountains in sight. I can understand that. There really is nothing like a mountain. For the sake of honesty I don’t mind looking at them, but I’d be just as happy without them.

It turns out I married a water person. I thought a lake was just a really big puddle, but at least to a Minnesotan it is not. I wonder if there are two kinds of water people: big water and moving water. Either way, lots of water makes this non-swimmer nervous!

I did not realize how strongly I feel about trees until I moved to Wyoming. I took trees for granted–Iowa had fewer than Indiana but there were still plenty of trees and other growing green things. Technically, Wyoming does have trees. But they are either short and scrubby or tall and scrawny: they look about as permanent as a tumbleweed. You cannot climb them nor find much shade beneath them, there are no tree-lined streets where the two sides nearly meet in a canopy overhead, and they do not put on brilliant displays of color in October.

As an adult, I have not been much of an outdoor person and moving here has only made it worse. When I am inside I do not have to look at rocks and dirt. To paraphrase my friend Gina, who says that she can breathe better without trees. . .well, I find I definitely breathe easier whenever we head far enough east for tree rows and woodlands.

Remains of yesterday

Yesterday, my little boys picked flowers for me.

Today, I awoke to snow.

I’m not sure I will ever get used to this. . .

April showers

May flowers is an optimistic thought in Wyoming, but it has been raining here lately. And I am happy–except for the muddy shoes and paw prints, of course! I’ve always rather liked rainy days and it is so dry here that I just soak up the rain we do get. What I miss most, though, are the rainy nights. . .it mostly rains in springtime and the temperatures drop enough that overnight showers are likely as not to be snow. Snow seldom involves thunder or lightening, and it never patters on the roof and windows, more’s the pity! You never even realize it’s falling until you wake up and look out the window and sigh.

Meanwhile it’s been a busy week, especially for the little boys. The Think System doesn’t work very well for blogging, so now it is Saturday and all my “thought posts” are being merged into one actual post.

Silly Boy lost his first tooth Monday morning, just before I got home from my trip to Indiana. I tried to tell him that he wasn’t old enough to start losing teeth. He didn’t listen.

Bouncy Boy (with help from Dad and license plates from Papaw) finished his first-ever Pinewood Derby car just in time for the race Friday night.

On your mark. . .get set. . .

His car didn’t make it past the first round, but he had a good time and is already planning how to make next year’s car better.

Baby Boy’s big news this week involves tripping and getting a fat lip. I decided not to take a picture.

Spring

I know I’ve grumbled before, but I’m going to repeat myself: Spring in Wyoming is not really spring. At least, it’s nothing like the spring I know. Last year we didn’t even really have “spring” as winter hung around until June, and then woke up one day and it was summer. If you looked in the right places, there were some amazingly vivid wildflowers to admire–until they faded and withered away in the hot sun.

Be that as it may, there is one advantage to Wyoming being so dry and windy. I was able to dry my sheets on the line this weekend even though high temperatures were only in the 50s. Ahhhh. I love the smell of line dried sheets!

George was happy to see me hanging things on the line again because last summer I would often play fetch with him while I worked. Well, my silly puppy has gotten faster! I would kick his tennis ball across the yard, and he would chase it and return before I’d even gotten the next sheet hung. At least he was tired by night. . .

Colors

I like brown, I really do. . .but as with all things it’s better in moderation. And right now, Wyoming’s brown is too much with us. After a summer of little to no rain, there is brown everywhere I look. The grass is a pale wheat color; weeds are a reddish brown or just plain brown; the sagebrush is greenish brown. Where flowers dare to bloom–a single brave flower in a crack or a small cluster beside the road–they are yellow and only seen by those who look closely. Even the bare rocks and earth are shades of gray-brown and brown, with an occasional streak of terracotta to break the monotony. Where there are bushes and trees, the leaves are still blissfully green with an occasional spot of yellow. But they won’t stay on the branch long enough to turn the vivid autumn colors I love to see gently falling to the ground; an early snow will turn them brown and heavy winds will blow them away.

Thankfully the sky above is typically bright blue, but with each season we live here in Wyoming I become more aware of color affecting mood. Spring as I learned it is bursting with all shades of green and flowers of many colors: it was hard not to feel the rush of renewed life when it was visible in every color. Here, we see some greens and flowers but they do not appear until it is nearly summer; the months that I know as spring are largely a continuation of winter albeit with milder temperatures. And in my mind, autumn weather is as crisp as an orchard fresh apple with equally crisp colors appearing on all the trees. In many ways, it woke me up after the long lazy hot summer days. Here, summer ends abruptly when the world has been baked as brown and dry as dust and it is nearly time for snow.

Yet even when it feels my world is turned upside down, God is good. Moving here means Larry has one job, not three. Although life with a single breadwinner is seldom simple, having the head of our household at home on a daily basis is worth more than money can buy. It is frustrating that none of the kids’ original preferred activities are available locally, but at the same time that forced us at first to have an emptier calendar (a good thing in my book!) and then as time passed to try new-to-them activities. Wyoming is all about the outdoors, and I am not an outdoor person but am slowly learning new things to do and see and enjoy. The politics are conservative and the homeschool laws are reasonable. And it doesn’t hurt that we live in one of the friendliest small towns I’ve ever seen!

More field trips

While Katherine was here, we managed to try new ways to fix vegetables, eat chocolate, knit some socks (okay, a few rows anyhow), get more schoolwork done. . .and take two more field trips, touring two different state parks.

Climb ev’ry mountain! Bouncy Boy, Boy Genius, and Katherine’s ds#2 are waiting for Twirly Girl and Silly Boy to reach the top. She made it; he didn’t get any further and had to be helped back down.

While they were climbing and posing for high altitude pictures, Baby Boy amused the mommies (who had already climbed high enough ).

Back on level ground, we strolled around the boardwalk.

Finally, we stopped at the playground to let the little boys run off the rest of their steam. That’s Bouncy Boy on top of the buffalo and Silly Boy trying his mightiest to join him. . .Baby Boy was content to run in circles and sit under the buffalo.

The next day we left the little boys with Larry and headed to the lake.

The first order of business was finding a photo-worthy crawdad, and Drama Boy took that prize.

After a little wading and splashing around, they found a soft enough spot on the beach to build sand castles until it was time to go home for lunch (and more schoolwork).

You know you’re in WY when. . .

• Someone hangs out shingles on Main Street as both an attorney and a gunmaker.
• It’s warm enough by day to dry sheets on the line even though it’s still cold enough by night for winter blankets.
• There’s only one road that goes from here to there (and it may suddenly end in someone’s front yard).
• Snow happens (at the least) from October through May.
• A town’s altitude is usually higher than its population.
• Humidifiers are prominently displayed in stores, but dehumidifiers are nowhere to be found.

I’m sure natives of Wyoming could add to my list–if they aren’t too busy laughing at my thoroughly Midwestern observations, that is.

Wordless Wednesday