Val’s mom Betty married her second husband, Val’s father Miles, in 1963. They spent their summers in northwestern Montana on the cattle ranch where Miles’ parents had lived since 1938. In 1967 (two years before Val was born) Betty wrote a letter to her younger sister Lois, describing her delight in summer life on the ranch. Val’s sister Sandy shared excerpts from this letter at the funeral last week, and Val asked me to share these lines with you. The way Sandy read the flowing paragraphs made it sound like a poem, so I’ve broken up the phrases at their commas to help you hear it that way too.
“Since I don’t go anywhere except to the grocery store and church, I can’t tell you about my exciting travels or about interesting people I’ve met, but I can tell you about
gopher hunting and “working” new little calves,
pulling stalled tractors,
hoeing my beautiful vegetable garden,
washing in my outdoor machine in the cool morning breezes,
the wonderful fragrance of the wild roses where I go to wash out the not too fragrant messy diapers,
the many wonderful books I’ve read,
the minutes of sitting in the outhouse with the door open while listening to the creek, hearing the birds sing and seeing the green foliage all at the same time,
along with the pleasant moments of watching a two year old son’s antics and hearing his smart remarks
and most of all having the wonderful peace and quiet that this ranch provides, as in opposition to the hurry-scurry of the people in small town life.
Of course, there are moments enhanced by a big beautiful red ripe watermelon (Miss John style),
a fresh from the oven rhubarb custard pie,
the freshness of the new garden lettuce,
the ride on Clipper to the back pasture to round up the cows and calves that have to be trucked to the lake,
the cleanness of a basement shower after a hot hoe down in the garden,
the hike to the meadow at dusk to see a doe awaiting the arrival of a new fawn and stuffing herself on prime hay,
the driving of the new John Deere tractor while Jerry and Miles load hay bales and put them in the barn,
the griping of Jerry who always claims he’s getting the raw end of the deal,
the cool soft breeze of these warm just right days,
the difficulty in going to bed when it’s still light out,
the unhurriedness about lying in bed until I care to get up in the morning,
the way my feet get filthy dirty in my sandals every day so that I have to wash them before I can get into my clean bed at night,
the taste of fresh strawberries from our front yard patch.
All of these things I enjoy so much that it makes me want to live forever.”
That’s how the ranch always makes me feel, too.
Love,
D
Deb (and Val),
This is beautiful. It reminded me of both of my grandmothers, my childhood in North Dakota, northern Minnesota, and Alaska. I never met Betty, yet I feel as if I knew her.
Thank you for posting this.
Much love and healing to both of you. You are in my thoughts and prayers.
Bear
Aw, that’s beautiful.
“these warm just right days”… What a picture if a life well lived
I love that I have to wash my feet before bed in the summer too. This letter is a gem. Thank you for sharing it.
What a beautiful glimpse into a hard but simple life. This letter… read at Betty’s funeral reminds me that our words can last beyond our physical life. It was beautiful. She passed that ability to affect people on to Val. Life changes when your path crosses with beautiful souls.