Tumbleweed

A plant that breaks off near the ground in autumn and is blown about by the wind

any plant that breaks away from its roots in autumn and is

driven by the wind

        ... as a light rolling mass...

That would be me.

HjB

 notes: Webster’s New World Dictionary

A little poof dust

"I want to do something fun this weekend." I told the girls at work. Yes-sir-ree. Some Thing Fun. But what?
 

Well, the hon has been trying to coerce me to stay on pavement until we get the second ride rolling. But, I was unsupervised on Friday, so I wore the boys out with errands and headed out.

I guess the plan had been rolling around in my mind for a month or two. I just kept squishing it down but, alas the dam broke and here I go. The road was good. There were a few spots I felt like I should pick up my speed because of the corduroy.

Weather was on the way, and so at the moment, it was all shades of purple and blue and gray and, Erie still. Calm and the light just right so you know, weather is a coming.

Moisture is on the way. And none too soon. The desert is so dry that even one crack open on the window made for a poof dust vacuum. Ahem, half the desert is on and in my car now. There's no alternative to the truth on this story, once I pick up my man.

I scooted out to the turn off with a few memories bouncing around in my brain and the radio playing background. Once the boys fell asleep I had to flip a bitch at the T&G RR bed, and head back through Tonopah and to my original destination about 20 minutes behind schedule. Goldfield.

Such a sweet quiet moment. Such sweet poof dust in my review mirror.

With the kids asleep it was one of those commutes to enjoy. "Life is a Highway" was playing on the radio and I was thinking about how its funny how this wild Nevadan girl can keep a theme song. And how, no matter what I do with my life there is always 300 miles a week involved. When your life is a highway it can get pretty boring behind the wheel. But, I wasn't bored. I was feeling great. Aw, Nevada.

In Goldfield, I picked up my man but missed a comment about the car. I just knew the Efen poof dust was going to give me away. What is, is. So I scooted over to the passenger seat and put my fingers to my lips and motioned toward the sleeping kids.... Never mind the radio is blaring country radio...

He must have been in a good mood because he never said a word, until we were leaving Goldfield behind and I spit it out. "I'm surprised you didn't say anything about the poof dust."

"Well, I was trying not to."

"Well, I had this hair brained idea. I didn't do it though."I rubbed the poof dust off my camera lens with my shirt and silently kicked myself for telling on myself. Honesty is the best policy right? I'm not sure on this. I knew it is only a matter of time before we dance this dance.

"Ahem. I have a sore throat." I said after he didn't ask any questions. It's as starved for moisture as the desert. So, I go back to listening to the radio and enjoying the scenery. The light on the desert before a weather movement is almost always gorgeous. Because there was hardly any wind I imagine the storm that comes in, won't be ferocious.

We are just about to the Alkali turn off, where my hair brained idea would have brought me out to the highway when he ffinally he puts it all together and asks, "Did you come over on the dirt road? Is that why you were late?"

"No. I only went as far as the railroad bed, and there wasn't any tracks on the turn off. And I am not really too sure about what ALL-WHEEL-DRIVE means. And then I thought I might get into trouble in the sand. And then trouble with you over getting myself into trouble. So I turned around."

"ALL-wheel drive means ALL-wheels-on-pavement, in this car." He answered.

"Next vehicle we buy will have four wheel drive." I shoot back. "And a stick shift." But, I can tell he isn't really upset and that this little dance we do over my tumble dance, ideas that almost always get me into the poof dust. 

And, I'm a little happier now, because although it was but a short trip to the T&G RR bed; It was enough.

Really. A little poof dust never hurt anything. Especially me.

And, I was pretty sure moisture was on the way.

Perfect.

Loves, HjB

Naked Stick Bush Dancing

As I write this it has been 13 days since my last blogy blog for the Dancing Tumbleweed. I have been dancing in the never nevers, far as a person can be from internet or cell phone service. I missed two wild Wednesdays, and trust me both were more wild than any I’ve had since I began celebrating them here. And, I still don’t have a plan as to how I will link up and actually post this, but I have to write now, while my household is at peace with what we have done.

 

If you want to see a naked stick bush dance, you should see me dancing now. In the shadow of Bunker hill at my grandparents place in Kingston, with a brand new life on our horizon, there is no fear in me. I am home. I am where I need to be. The rest of the clan can only thrive. And somehow, I just know it.

 

When I named the Dancing Tumblweed blog I remember saying I dance across this great state about as graceful as any naked stick bush could. You should see me dancing now. You should see the song in my heart and the light in my eyes. It is so obvious that even I am taken aback, when I study my own reflection.

 

So, what happened was this. I was on my way Tonopah for a good old fashioned range. Then, I spent a wonderful week with the boys, in and out of Tonopah, and across the Big Smoky Valley to Kingston; up to Groves lake, etc. It was as carefree a week I have had for as long as I can remember. It was wonderful and peaceful and I was crazy happy. Every call home to my man, he could hear that old Happy Heidi on the line. I even went as far to tell him, “I’m not so ready to come home just yet. I AM at home, here, and right now.”

 

The next thing I know, it is time to turn and burn and rent a Uhaul, and put out some resumes (in good 'ol T-town).

 

Less than one week later the whole dang family, and our stuff, and our critters (minus the chickens) have been relocated to my grandmother’s house at Kingston. Here we are brand new life: Yee-Haw! I call myself the wild Nevadan for reasons like these.

 

Uhauls are expensive and so is gasoline, but the naked stick bush has not been hung up in one single fence, so far! I take it as a sign of what is to come for us. Our future may be uncertain but I do not feel uncertain. And, as intense as it all was, it was still like I was dancing to that old camp song “Home means Nevada. Home means the hills, home means the sage and the pine…” Or, was the song, "She'll be coming around the mountain when she comes..."

 

I guess I was anxious to range and have found myself ranging as free as any cow, as a deer, as the jackrabbit who hops out his hole for breakfast, and sniffs the sage for what the day will bring. If the naked stick bush has ever been graceful it was just now as I pulled off this latest, and our greatest, move.

 

 It is not just adrenaline, it is happiness and peace. I am happy to be here. I am happy to be home. I am most happy to have a new adventure at hand, and a brand new life to piece together. If I was bored before, I am not anymore.There is something to be said about being around the people who I love the most, and who move me to my greatness.

 

So, here’s a welcome home to me, the dancing tumbleweed has arrived in the valley. AND, here is to knowing there are not tumbleweed wishes in my pocket today, or here, only the power of what must happen and what must be for me to keep my spirit free.

 

In closing, it will be 7-10 days before the technician contacts me and we make plans to have our internet service restored. For now, I am reporting live from a wi-fi connection at the Club House Saloon in Tonopah....no drinks for me today. It is strictly business this job hunt...So, hang in there my friends. I shall blog as wildly as blog thoughts happen as soon as I can.

Thanks for reading!

HjB

Aug. 15, 2011

Picking Yellowy-purpley wildflowers

My suitcase is unpacked, but it is still on the floor in my bedroom. My man asked, "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Just leave it there, I'm going to fill it up. I'm not done going yet," I said.

He rolled his eyes and asks, "Where?"

"I don't know!" I answer. In my mind, I have three to five places in mind, but being that I have chores to do and some logistics to work out, I don't share this information. 

It is Sunday, I hope he just gets us out of the house, and off the ranch for the day. I was elbow deep in breakfast dishes when he tells me he will watch the boys, if my sister and I want to go play.

Really? Yes, really. Alright. So I dress and SPF 50 myself and the kids, give about a handful of orders, grab the camera, the Map Book, my sister and her car.

So the sis asks, "Where?" Good question. I am still in shock I think.

Welcome to Ruby Valley and the Ruby Mountains.

Generally speaking, Ruby Valley it is a pretty, farmy-ranchy very rural valley in Northern Nevada, in Elko County. It's one of those places you don't know about unless you have reason to visit it--or a spirit that begs to find out where that road goes.

I have wandered this way before but I see on the map book that there is a sulfer hot springs way out there. I ask WjB, if she's game to blow about 100 miles and possibly not get where we are going. She is fine with it, and tells me to let her know when its time to stop and take pictures.

Next to this old building is another, less old, community center. Behind both buildings I spy an outhouse.

Why are old outhouses as fun as old buildings?

Oh, wait.

There is a His AND Hers

Anyhow, we finally made it to the end of the pavement. And to the place in the map book that says I need to pay attention for the sulpher hot springs. Nestled in the fields, hills and corrals and bunches of trees that belonged to somebody, was some white dirt. It probably had a sulpher hot springs down there. We did not see the road right to it. Of course. So we just kept going.

Until we found

And, 

Some purply-yellow wild flowers.

The best part about wandering with my wild Nevadan sister is that when I said it was okay to turn back around, she answers, "Oh, lets' keep going."

I don't need a whole lot of encouragement.

 The urge to keep going is as infectious as a fungus.

She climbed until she had the thought, I better find a place to turn around before I have to back down this hill. (She told me.) Plus, we found another man's junk to check out.

And,

Purpley-yellow wild flowers to pick.

I do know that these flowers are called Lupin. They are a common wild flower in both the mountains and valleys of Nevada in spring. They can be purple or yellow or purply-yellow (or is it yellowey-purple?).

I'm a bit of a flower child. These, and the Indian Paintbrush blooms, have been ALL my heart wanted to see these past couple months.

So, this past Sunday it was not important to know: where I was going; what it is supposed to be called; or what it was once used for.

All that was important was to stop and admire the beauty of it, while we traveled to and from it, and remember to look behind it...

What a great Sunday drive down an old dirt road and once upon a drive past a Humboldt access sign. Hope you enjoyed the pictures,

HjB

June 6, 2011