June 3, 2009

• Hound Creek, near Milligan country      A 'Telling'              (a name from Usula K. LaGuin: The Word Goddess)
   
      How about "A Telling?"  about whiskey and women and watermelon wine
  No, no;  that's  Old Dogs and Children, and Watermelon Wine         (Tom T. Hall  circa '69)

       But MY  'Telling'  is about The Apple Cider Summer of  '57 on the Hound Creek Ranch.(40 miles SW of Great Falls, Montana.  God's Country)

      The calves were all branded, the fences were fixed.  The hay was all bailed and brought in and stacked.
  Mom had gone South for the summer to get away from Dad for awhile and I didn't blame her.
  Dad and I finished up haying except for some wild grass hay for the horses, that I would finish off  later, and we moved the cattle up to summer pasture.  And more fencing.  Always plenty of that on nine thousand acres. So, I stayed for fencing and generally looking after things.  All by myself, I was.  Forty miles from town.  I felt - a  'Calling.'
     I hadn't started 'partying' or chasing around yet.  I believe I was 15 or 16.  The hormones were moaning and I had me a new old Gibson guitar. Can you see it coming?  Feel the excitement building up?  No? Well, consider;  I was all alone on the big ranch, I had my own saddle horse & rigg'in that I grew up with.  I had the ranch pickup to go to town on Saturday Night.  I had a guitar and could sing maybe a half dozen songs pretty fair; six more not so good.  And remember, my teenage hormones were doing strange things to my metabolism.  Oh! I didn't mention the twelve crab apple trees; or that I had rebuilt an old rusted cider mill.  That was just two big 7" wide by 6" diameter gears that turned and meshed in a steel frame, with a big 20" handle with a knob on it to turn the gears.  I had built a 2" x 4" frame to hold the gears-crusher assembly, and an old, but still usable slatted wooden bucket with tiny cracks between the vertical wooden slats to let the juice flow out when the big screw swung into place to squeeze the crushed apples.
     Hey!  Let me tell you that the ancient cider mill on it's new frame worked VERY GOOD!  We had four 20 gallon ancient crocks in the basement that were used in the late fall for curing hams and slabs of bacon, but they were empty - till I filled them up with the most delicious crab apple juice you can imagine.  An old sheep herder from a neighboring ranch had told me that it takes about 10 days for the main fermenting action to take place, urged into action by the Divine Yeast that conveniently comes on the skin of the apples.  When all this excitement had transpired, I THEN had the motivation to go to town - because I had some pretty potent and still delicious apple cider to show & tell with my friends; old friends and many NEW friends.  I was suddenly one popular young cowboy.  What was it 'ol Lucifer said?  "Gimme WINE (apple jack) WOMEN (young girls, but 'women' to me) and SONG (at least six servicable cowboy love songs) (on the requisite guitar.)  Maybe you remember that song ... ALL AMERICAN BOY
      "Well, gather 'round boys and I'll tell you a story 'bout how to become an All American Boy
       Buy you a guitar and put it in tune,  and  you'll be 'a'rock'in and a'roll'in soon.
          ( with them hot licks,  smooth moves and lotsa GIRLS! )
       Well, I practiced my guitar up on into the night,   my daddy's hair  was turning white
       'Cause he didn't like that rock and roll;  He said, "YOU CAN STAY, BOY, BUT THAT'S GOTTA GO!"
           ( loud noise, screaming kids, and trouble! )
    Uh, I'll remember the rest in a minute,  but you get the idea.  I'm talking STATUS! Yeah!  And the High School Rodeo was going on in Augusta, Montana, about then,  Well, you guessed it.  My horse and saddle and me didn't make it in the show; no saddle bronc or roping for cowboy fame.  I didn't need anymore fame.  I found me a cowgirl who also didn't ride in the barrel race, either, because four couples of us young'uns had to take ourselves up Cottonwood Canyon and worship Dionysus (god of wine & partying) to experience Divine Madness.  (Young cowboys don't have to be illiterate) because I needed to dispose of the AppleJack evidence and clean the big crocks before my Dad and Mom came home. 
      So - when I look now at my saddle I fondly recall when it didn't get used, but did come along in the back of the pickup to be handy just in case. It was and is a witness to those glorious halcyon days.
  
  

   

      Love is  like a burning ember,  and only memories remain 
        But through the ages,  I'll remember - Blue eyes crying in the rain        - Willie Nelson

      there is more to this story - for later

  • 2:53 am
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