Mother Nature's Baaacckkk!

Lordy, lordy.  Winter hasn't arrived yet but it sure feels like it.  The wind has started again - up to 52 mph sez the weather folks.  Tomorrow night it's supposed to drop to 22 degrees.  When Phoebe and I went for our walk, her ears were blown straight back and I could hardly stay upright. 

The wind started last night and hasn't let up yet.  No wonder there's so few trees here - how the ones that are here stay put is a puzzle.   Perhaps their roots go down to China.  All through the night the wind galed and the vents rattled.  It's sure good to be "snug as a bug in a rug",  I'll say.  The dessert tonight was one of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen.  I guess all this blowing clears the air, and there's nothing to block the vistas here. 

Little Quigley went to a home!  We have a new young pharmacist here on a loan repayment.  She just arrived a couple of months ago, her husband is being deployed overseas somewhere and she wants, and needs, a companion.  Match made in Heaven.  I do wonder a bit...my other neighbor and I were taking the dogs for a walk in the wind and willows and we invited her..."too cold" she says.  Hmmmm, this is October 26th.....

Meanwhile we now have rescue mission #5.  By "we" I mean my neighbor, Johari, and I.  I rather sucked her into this volunteer mission and she's been great.  Anyway, we thought this new pup might be of the litter that two of the others we found came from...but now I wonder.  Kind of wondering if she might be pregnant...  She showed up at the house behind me where Max the white fluffy dog, a Great Pyr, lives.  Max seemed to be watching out for her.  Maybe he's the papa...  We asked the neighbors and, no, wasn't their dog. 

I got worried when I didn't see the new pup greeting us last night or this morning so I asked my neighbor and partner in crime to see if she could round her up, feed her and put her in my garage.  Johari is not currently working, another advantage for me with her as a partner.  I was worried the dog killer, I mean catcher, would get her.  Anyway, now we have her - she was on her own for 4-5 days and she's looking a little too "plump" for the typical starving res dog. 

The plan, I think, is to call the two shelters in Sioux Falls and transport her this week-end.  Unless we luck out and find her a home...but being pregnant, if she is, might make this more challenging.  Well, we do what we can.

Don't have her picture yet, it's hard to get pictures when the gales are blowing everyone off their feet. 

Well, this is all for now.  Gotta love this terrain - everyone should have a stint in South Dakota - it's so hard to describe but it's beautiful and wild, particularly when Mother Nature is ranting and raving!

Signing off from...the little house on the res.

Rescue Mission Number Four

Four you ask?  What happened to one, two and three??? 

OK, so I’m behind in my blog postings…  So I’ll start with #4, and most recent.

By way of background, you may remember I’ve mentioned the “wild dogs” on the reservation.  These are ownerless dogs, some of whom may be injured, unfriendly because of being on their own for some time, or recently on their own.  In fairness to my reservation friends, rumor has it some of these dogs are brought out here and left; others I am sure are left when owners have lost their housing, had to move, or otherwise could not/would not care for them.

Enter this animal lover onto reservation land…

October 10^th two boys were biking down our street with this feisty little black dog running along with them.  I didn’t think much about it but a little later they were back, this time with two dogs in tow, the black and now a tan – both mangy, matted messes.  The boys stopped to talk and I asked about the black one.  Our postal worker had told me about a small black dog that seemed to be on its own, and very fast (which she was/is).  They were going to check around and see if someone claimed her, if not get her to me.  I was pretty sure this was the same little dog – maybe 4-5 pounds, likely a shih tzu from the looks of her.

The tan one, a little bigger, I had seen a couple weeks before at the store.  He was skittish and wouldn’t come although I tossed some treats out for him.  He disappeared into the cornfield and the first I saw of him again was this day.

The boys put the black one in my crate and she stayed around the first time I let her out.  I always feed them which usually secures that they will stay around if they’re homeless.  And she, and he, stayed.  The boys came back, and we put her back in the crate so she wouldn’t follow when they left.  This time when I let her out, she took off, with the little tan one in hot pursuit.

I didn’t see them until a couple of hours later when the little tan one was back.  He stayed right at my house, went with us for our evening walk, played with all the neighborhood dogs and slept on my porch all night.  He was so dirty and stinky I could hardly stand to be near him.  Here he is in his “glory”:

Please excuse the lousy photography...one of these days I'm getting a new camera...meanwhile the cell phone has to do.  Yes, I know, the shadow is the camera's fault...

The next day was Columbus Day – one of the cool things about working for the government, I get banker days!   My neighbor helped me entice him into the crate, we loaded it into my car and I drove him to the vet (windows cracked open) for a stay and flea bath, haircut, bath, shots.  A few days later he was picked up, “naked” but clean.  Here’s “Sir Quigley” as I dubbed him.

They said Quigley was a Lhasa Apso, 13.5 pounds, one year old.  Quigley seems to like being a house dog just fine.  He and Phoebe chase each other in the house, unless they are fighting over food.  He has one of those tiny tennis balls and loves to chase it along with other toys.  He finds the cats quite fun to chase as well.  He has some trouble knowing about outside as the toilet, hence his make-shift “belly band” for in the house.  We are working on that.  He doesn’t like sleeping in the kitchen at night and definitely would like to join Phoebe and I in the bed – ha!  Not going to happen, Sir Quigley.

It is my hope that Quigley finds a good “forever home”.  He’s definitely a little lover dog and will fit right in.

Stay tuned for more “Rescue Missions”…this is all for now from “the little house on the res…”

Combo shopping

I was downtown Pierre the other week.  Downtown Pierre is a real metropolis…it’s a block long.  On both sides!!!

There I have found a cute little coffee shop, as in cappuccino coffee, called Pier 347.  No, there’s no pier…and it’s a couple blocks from the river, so maybe that counts.  On my treks “to town” to do my shopping, for groceries, and get my nails done (of course…there’s only so much roughing it I’m willing to do), I usually stop in for food, drink and some reading.

I had a certificate I wanted to get framed, and thought perhaps there would be a frame place somewhere downtown.  Nope.  But there was a scrapbook store, so I thought I’d ask there.  Nope.  But there is a framing store across the street I was told – inside the bookstore.  Of course…  So now there is not only the pharmacy/coffee shop/dry cleaner-pick-up store; but also the bookstore/frame shop next to Pier 347 which isn’t on a pier.  Sometimes it does feel like I’m in Oz.

Toto's Red Slippers

OK, Toto didn’t wear the slippers, Dorothy did.  And she wore them in Oz, by way of Kansas, not by way of South Dakota.  And Toto was tan, not white, and a boy, not a girl, as in Phoebe the Westie.  And Dorothy was a young girl, not a less-than-young woman…  But aside from all this, it’s a perfect analogy.

In South Dakota there are bunches of these stickers that grow in the grasses.  And they are killer stickers, I will say.  They even hurt to try to touch to pull out.  And they are definitely worse here on the res…which is basically country.  No manicured lawns, no sidewalks.  So not only does Phoebe not appreciate the rough streets we walk on, but she definitely doesn’t like the stickers…nor do I for that matter.   She tries sometimes to get them out and ends up with them embedded in her mustache…

After nearly six months of this, the light bulb finally went off – why not get her some boots?   She used to wear them in Madison, WI, to ward off the sub-zero temperatures and the salt they use to melt the snow – a real paw irritant.  But they were little balloon like boots that she hardly felt…

I got on-line and started a search.  Whatdya know – I guess a lot of hunting dogs actually wear boots too!  So here’s Phoebe in her little red, and silver, boots:

She was pretty hysterical at first, trying to hold all four feet off the ground at once.  But she seems to like them now and is no longer afraid to go in the grass when we walk to the post office, or to go on our regular walks.  Problem solved! 

The winds are starting to return now that it’s cooling off again.  And on the rare occasions the winds blew in the summer, they were of no help.  It’s like blowing the heat from a fire at you when it’s 100 degrees out.   Can hardly wait for these winds to be blowing in the dead of winter…

Sun, Sunflowers and Pow-wows

As summer meanders its way through South Dakota, the heat blasts down at ever higher temperatures.  And the winds have, of course, died down so there is nothing to cool us off.  Although as hot as it has been, it would likely be an unwelcome blast of hot air.  This last week-end was the Crow Creek (Fort Thompson) pow-wow and it was 100 degrees every day.

I now know that a local pow-wow is like a big Native American festival.  There are food stands – Indian tacos, fried bread, walking tacos, regular tacos, smoothies, and on and on.  Locally it is held in the permanent outside pow-wow area about a block from my house.  There was a parade with people on horseback, one I saw on burroback, cars with people in, on and all around them.  Of course, there’s the dancing, drumming and singing.  Women, men and little children in beautiful Native clothing – the style of dress depends on the dance they do – grass, chicken and some others that I don’t recall.  How they could wear all their garb with the temperatures I’ll never know.  Where there’s a will, there’s a way I guess.

There are prayers of thankfulness, honoring of ancestors as well as those who have served in the Armed services.  Multiple tents were pitched alongside some RVs as people settled in for the week-end festivities.  I spent only a brief time there given the 100 degree heat although there were babies, young and old all there to partake who seemed oblivious to the sweltering temperatures.

It seems clear to me that the writer of our national anthem was in the plains during August.  Truly there are amber waves of grain in the multitude of fields in South Dakota.

Recent weeks the sunflowers have come into bloom, fields and fields of them.  What a beautiful sight as their merry little faces follow the sun.  Although someone said they feed cattle with them, I prefer to think they are growing those wonderful seeds we all snack on and add to salads.

I shall try to catch up soon with the rescue missions I’ve been doing here on the res – we’ve rescued four dogs in the past few weeks.  But for now, this is it from the little house on the res….

Amber waves of grain...

I neglected to describe the changing scenery along the river.  From the early spring of silvery sage green, the hills now are mostly "amber waves of grain" - although I don't think it's grain, but grass, but amber waves of grass hardly sounds right.  The beautiful rolling hills range of pale yellow to bright butterscotch.

The cattle seem to be in clumps together, safety in numbers?  Yesterday with the high temperatures over 100 many a cow or steer were seen buried up to their necks in the water pooled in their pasture.  Can't say I blame them - who said cows were dumb?

The streets and grasses in my neighborhood are blooming with little white flowers making my back yard look like I had spent time creating it rather than Mother Nature at work.

Decided to cook today - news flash!  Blueberry scones with lemon curd.  Curd is made and awaiting the scones for later in the day.  Phoebe liked licking the spoon.    I decided my retirement career should be a B&B on a lake in northern Wisconsin or Door County.  I love to cook but not ALL the time and like meeting people.   Sounds loverly anyway.

That's it again from...lil house on the res...

It's the little things....

Yesterday was 102!  Later in the day there was some wind but it didn’t help – the breeze was as hot as the temperature.  This morning I awoke to discover a light rain had fallen, cooler temperatures and no need for the AC.  It’s the little things….

Phoebe and I enjoyed my cappuccino and “our” English muffin on the front porch.  A Monarch butterfly landed next to me and sat for me to appreciate its beauty for several minutes.  There are many butterflies out here, along with dragonflies and then the less desirable bug critters.  And crickets – the evening songs are sometimes deafening.   While we luxuriated in our front yard, the Sunday church bells began.  Amazing Grace came through at its best while we communed with nature.   Sundays are particularly peaceful here as there’s little traffic and all is quiet.  Not that it’s a booming metropolis during the week, but the clinic and other businesses, such as there are, are closed on week-ends.  Of course, the casino is always open.   

Speaking of crickets, last week-end when I went to Pierre, their relation, grasshoppers, were so thick you had to watch where you walked.  Some were fried on the sidewalks, others jumping around you.  Oddly, this wasn’t so when I returned home to Ft. T.  Of course, most of them were smooshed on the front of my car.

One of the little things I found was Simple Green – a grease cutter (they told me it’s great for the grill racks) which does a good job of removing the multitude of bugs my car has been wearing since summer set in.  Call me compulsive, but wearing bugs on my beautiful convertible is just not tolerable.

Another of these little things is the recent discovery of another dry cleaning pick up point right by the high school where I work two days a week, when school is in that is.  This point is “Mac’s Corner” which is just what you might imagine…a tiny little “everything” store with a few gas pumps.  Even tinier than the store in “downtown” Ft. T!  And it even has a little counter with chairs for newspaper reading and eating – the only food is the premade-prewrapped options you’d find in a convenience store, but it does have a microwave if you want to heat something.  It is also on my route to Pierre, so this was a great find.  Of course pick up is only once a week, so it still can take as much as two weeks depending on when you drop off your clothes.  But in my adjustment to life on the res…that goes without saying.

Speaking of culture shock, Phoebe, my Westie, went to her new groomer for the first time.  Now I didn’t have really high expectations since I figured they rarely, maybe even never, get call to groom a Westie…but poor Phoebe.  She had nicked toes, was “naked” and most embarrassed.  Well, at least it’s summer so if she has to be short, it’s a good time for that.  Hopefully I can guide our groomer over the next couple of grooms so we can get to a better place before winter settles in.

I will say it’s lovely not to be in and out of a car like we usually are in the cities.   My car rarely leaves the garage but usually only once a week when I drive in to Pierre for shopping for the week.  The rest of the time, I walk – to work, to the post office, to the little store.  Of course, when winter and cold comes that will change, as the freezing winds and ice will have Phoebe and I driving to the post office, fair weather walkers that we are.  Excepting her walks for the “necessaries”.

After much frustration, and lots of help from my IT neighbor, my blog has a new look.  It was the only way to resolve the problem that was occurring (i.e. no type except the title was showing up).   When these techie gliches occur, I get very upset and assume it is me and my lack of techie skills.  Almost inevitably my problem is a challenge for the experts and I am vindicated, but this seems never to roll over in my confidence, or lack there of, for the next frustrating event.  Anyway, this is why you see a new look to my blog.

In a couple of weeks my friend from Madison is arriving and we’re trekking out to the Black Hills, monument and Badlands.  I eagerly await experiencing this part of my new state.

For now, this is the update from…my little house on the res….

But women don't sweat...

Well, this one is for the “bucket list” although it wasn’t on mine, I must admit.   Not that I'd ever really thought about it before heading out to live on a reservation.  

One of my new coworkers is a delightful Native American woman named Leanne who is an alcohol and drug counselor.  She has enthusiastically welcomed me into her world which included her invitation a couple weeks ago for me to attend a small “sweat” at her home.  We sat at my home while she answered my many questions about it.  I probably won’t have this all correct, so don’t go quoting me without making caveats, please. 

Sweats are an Indian religious phenomenon, one where prayers are said.  There may be other things that happen at a sweat, but this one that was the focus.  First a sweat is built – hers is in her yard and surrounded on three sides by a wooden fence.  She explained the sweat is made from hickory branches, then covered with blankets.  It looks a little like an igloo…

(Please forgive photography skills...I must enroll in photography 101!  But for now, please bear with me...)

Seven rocks are selected and placed at the bottom of a pit, a fire is built which heats up the rocks to “high” (my word, not theirs).  Someone elects to remain outside to assist with bringing the rocks in and closing and opening the door.

I was a little anxious about all this, ok, a lot, but I really wanted to understand more about the people I serve so I swallowed my rising fear and crawled in behind Leanne.  Inside there was a nice carpet around another earthen pit.  Leanne’s daughter and her boyfriend crawled in next.  As we sat we each tucked a stalk of dried sage behind our ears, not sure why this is.  But I did as they did.  First Leanne sprinkled some dried sage into the pit.  Next, her grandson then brought each rock in on a pitchfork and the rocks were gently rolled into the pit.  As each one was added, Michelle, Leanne’s daughter, sprinkled a little sage onto each rock.  Soon we were ready and Duanne (grandson) closed the door.  It was black.  Very black.

Did I mention I am somewhat claustrophobic?  I found that out when I needed to have an MRI.

Can you see what’s coming???

Anyway, Leanne explained as we went along and prayers were shared and some lovely Indian prayer songs were sung.  Leanne has a lovely voice.  I was in awe at the same time as I was starting to cook, it is called a sweat after all, and my anxiety was starting to rise.   Leanne had also told me if I needed to leave or have the door opened, I could say “all my relatives”.  Being the stubborn individual that I can sometimes, well oftentimes, be, I was working hard not to wuss out and use my escape option.  

Somewhere in this process small amounts of cold water were added to the rocks to create a steam, like in a sauna.  Have I said that sauna’s aren’t my favorite either?  Actually, being hot and sweaty are both not favorites.  Which may be why I am a fan of winter, crazy as most folks think this is.

After what seemed like forever since I was really working on not wussing out, it was time for the door to open.  Thank you Lord…

Indians have more than four directions, I think it might be seven, but heaven and earth are also considered directions.  The door opening represents opening to one of the directions.  To me it represented heaven…

A ladle of water was passed, to each person in turn, to drink out of and sprinkle over your face, arms and any other hot spot you wanted cooling.  Since this was apparently a break, I finally let my wussing get the best of me and asked if I could sit near the door, so everyone moved around to accommodate me.  Thank you Lord again.  

Soon it was time for the door to close again.  There was a small crack which I found comforting, but Michelle spotted it and told Duane to fix it…but his fixing wasn’t too perfect and there was a little, tiny crack of light I could see…Thank you Lord some more…

This time we each said thanks for any and all things we wanted to give thanks about.  Me too.  More water and more steam, more singing and then the door was opened again – halleluiah.  

I will say being next to the door and focusing on the little crack of light did help and I was now merely anxious instead of warding off panic.  More water all around and then the door was closed again.  More thanks all around, more singing and the door was opened for the last time. 

Now this is the really great part!  I smoked a peace pipe!  Well, it’s not really a peace pipe, probably one of those things misunderstood by the white man or misrepresented in all the cowboy and Indian TV I watched as a girl.  The pipe smoke apparently represents releasing the prayers up to the Heaven, sending them upwards.  If I have this understood correctly…

The pipe is filled with red hickory chips and I was to go first, whether it was because I was a visitor or whether it was because I was sitting where I was, I don’t know.  A lighter was used and I had to puff and puff until the pipe hickory got red.   Then it was the next person’s turn to do several puffs and so on.  Not being a smoker I was bad at it and if I got too good at it I would start coughing.  But it was definitely one of the most unique experiences of my life. 

I guess sweats are a regular occurrence for the believers and followers of the Indian way.  Many are large and incorporate more rituals than what I experienced, but I have to say, for me, this may be a…one of a kind unique experience for this gal and her…little house on the res...

Temper tantrums...

I have decided South Dakota is like a perpetual two year old.  One minute she is smiling and all sunny and lovely, and the next she is storming, kicking, screaming, and wailing.  Then, as if awakened from a much needed nap, she shows her sunny side yet again.


Storms here, as I've indicated, are pretty spectacular.  So much so that my one cat, Harley the bully-scaredy-cat cat, takes cover when they occur.  Sometimes I feel I should join him, if I could find where he was hiding.


I think the storms are worse, perhaps, because I have no neighbors to speak of behind me.  My backyard faces west and most of the storms seem to blow in from that direction.  Since living here I have seen torrential rain that may have been an edge of a tornado, hail, heavy winds and of course rain.  As a result, though, the hills are beautiful and green now and the river, although beautiful, is cresting dangerously in some areas.


On another note, I deleted my blog on "But women don't sweat" and will try again another day.  I couldn't edit an already posted post for some reason.  So I copied, and pasted, deleted the original, and it just never could get posted correctly.  So I am throwing in the towel and will try again when my frustration level, and blood pressure, is significantly lower.


That's all for now from...little house on the res...

Home, home on the range...

I stand corrected!  Mea culpa, I should have checked my facts – Pierre’s population is just under 14,000 (according to Wikipedia), not 5000.  It is still, however, the second smallest capital in population.  

Now that I have taken responsibility for my error, I can go on.  Last week-end I trekked again to Pierre.  Along the way what did I see alongside the road – a real cowboy, perched atop his noble steed and herding several head of cattle.  I was so excited I had to control the car to prevent there being one less cowboy in the world!  You drive so fast out here (70 on these back highways, 80 on the Interstate), and the shoulders are rather slight, that it’s difficult to make quick decisions about pulling over for the photo moment.

In Pierre I found another grocery store that was really nice and actually had my fresh herbs!  More excitement - I can hardly contain myself.  Next, I had planned my trip for later in the afternoon so I could try out a steak place for an early dinner, earlier than I usually like but I like less driving an hour after a meal later in the evening.  

So after shopping, I stopped at the Cattleman’s Club Steakhouse.  Not fancy, but what would you expect for a cattleman anyway?  Sawdust on the floor and all that!  It faces what I later learned was a lake and not part of the river, could have fooled me.  Lake Sharpe.  This will be nice when it’s really warm as there’s a deck with what looks like outside dining to come later in the season.  The paper mats explain the original owner bought the property in 1974, for a whopping $3000 (!) and after a series of battles with the city, involving aid by congressmen, it finally opened in 1986!  Must say the steak was great, seasoned with some special seasonings.  My only complaint was no filet mignon, my favorite, although my neighbor says that their prime rib is superb, so that’s on my list for a return visit.

Speaking of restaurants – here’s a great story, as yet unconfirmed, but from my neighbor again, who is the other psychologist at work and a reliable resource.  He announced that he had gotten Chinese take out the other night - ????  He explained that you call ahead and someone makes it in their home, then you drive across the river about 10-15 minutes to pick it up.  Chinese take-out on the reservation?  Add to list...

On another note, small town living is interesting and full of surprises, many are good ones.  For example a couple of weeks ago I went into Chamberlain to have my car serviced.  Do you know that they throw in a car wash too?  Wow!!!  Of course, not knowing that, I had driven through a car wash on my way over, wouldn’t you know?  The reason I had just washed it was that I “murdered” my first pheasant on the way to town.   Animal lover that I am (excluding ticks) I felt terrible but it flew out right in front of me, and at 70 mph, there was nothing I could do.  I kind of think they don’t fly real well, not being a pheasant expert, but I generally see them walking, not flying, and I hear them in grasses/bushes around the house.

Did I mention before that here they carry out your groceries (in special carry out carts) and put them in the car for you?  Super!  Actually this seems to be true in Chamberlain, but not in Pierre.  Grocery carry out hasn’t existed in my home city for many, many years.  Not only is this a lovely luxury for those of us (me) who like spoiling, but it gives jobs to people around here as well. 

While in town I drove around a bit.  One more thing you don’t see in the cities I’ve lived in is trailers, I mean mobile homes, in residential neighborhoods – not allowed.  They can only be in mobile home parks.  But they must be allowed here as I found them to be intermingled among the houses.

I found a new restaurant as well, Michelle’s.  It’s right on the river and the owners bought the restaurant recently and moved here from Minnesota.  I had a food question and my waitress happened to mention she needed to ask her daughter, Jona, pronounced as my name!  Come all the way to small town South Dakota and meet a Johna!  I think I’ve only met about three in my life!  Too funny.  The food was good and my only complaint was lack of a deck being right on the river and all.  However when I verbalized my musings about a deck, they told me it was in the making – well, good minds think alike I guess.

Speaking of Chamberlain, do you remember, some of you anyway, the old Rexall drug stores?  Well, we actually have one!

And a barber shop – complete with pole!!!

Another fun small town fact…I had walked with the dog to the post office as we usually do at lunchtime given good enough weather.  Our postal worker, Mona, who is a dear asked if I thought I could carry my two boxes.  Well, they were quite large, so that would be a no.  I’ll come another day, I said, when I can bring the car.  Mona then said she was closing up for lunch, which they do here, and she could drop me, dog and boxes at my house.  You sure?  Uh huh, said Mona and we bundled everything into her car and she drove us home.  Now, imagine that! 

But before I sign off for this time, I must tell you about my adventures in becoming a South Dakotan.  It was time for me to get my driver’s license and plates.  This of course meant driving some distance, as I know you must becoming aware.  I journeyed to Chamberlain where the licensing is open only Tuesday mornings (!).  There were forms to fill out, which was clear, but lots of people sitting at different tables and I wasn’t sure what to do next.  Someone directed me that I should get in the line – what line, where?  Someone else said to just sit where I was – okay then.  Eventually I was called (“ma’am you’re next” since they of course didn't know my name) and got everything completed.  The plates for the car were downstairs to the Treasurer’s office but of course, I didn’t have some of the right paperwork. 

I wanted to get all this finished and work was light so I decided to go in to work late the next morning and drive back to Chamberlain early.  Unfortunately they did not tell me that, though I could get my license in Chamberlain, I actually reside in another county so I had to go somewhere else for that.  I was however able to register to vote in the "wrong county".  Anyway, this somewhere else I had to go to was Gann Valley, about 30 minutes north and east of Chamberlain.  Okaayyy.  I entered the town center into Matilda (my GPS) plus I had some cursory directions from the treasurer’s office.  I was, as is typical for SD, out in the country and middle of nowhere.   Did I see pheasants, more pheasants and more yet again.   And most exciting a buffalo ranch!

That little hand on the top picture is of "Flat Stanley" - I am currently working on a school project for my grandson so this picture is doing double duty.


After quite some drive, Matilda says “you’re here”.  Hmmmm, there seems to be grass on both sides of me and road ahead and behind.  I know they said you have to watch as the town's so small you blink and you’ll miss it, but unless this agency was a blade of grass, Matilda was confused (not unusual for her in SD here).  I drove a bit longer but more grass.  Got nervous, turned around and drove back to the little town near the Interstate (very little).  I bought a map and asked the sales clerk who was minimally helpful, which might be a bit generous of me.  Waving at the buffalo again, this time I clocked what it said the distance was, and my guess was I didn’t go far enough.  Anyway, there was an itty-bitty post office, a couple of other buildings and across the street the Court house.  There I was able to get my car registered at last, and I actually found home without mishap, making in the end a rather large circle from home to home again.


That's it again from...the little house on the res...

Visiting Beer

South Dakotans call their capitol Pierre, like beer, and not Pi-ere as in the French name.  My father grew up in these parts, in fact for several years he lived in Pierre, and he set me straight as a child.  So dear readers, it’s important that you get it right as well.  Anyway, a couple of weeks ago I decided to venture forth to my new state’s capitol, Pierre.

Pierre is a little less than an hour from here going 70 mph the whole way, which is why it’s less than an hour.  Other states it would likely be a 90 minute trip.  Not a gas station in site…or anything else, for that matter, the whole way there excepting many cows out grazing.  This is truly ranch land.

There’s a big wind farm north of here, perhaps twenty or more turbines.  One day I shall drive further north to see it.  But I cut off west before the farm.  Here in Ft. Thompson, and Chamberlain, we’re in the Missouri river area and the hills are rolling and beautiful.  As spring is unfolding it’s greener now with almost an iridescent cast from the grasses that are pale yellow mixed in among the typical green of grass.  

As you leave Ft. T it flattens out and reminds me of the desert out west, miles and miles of flat.  You aren’t following the river along the way, which is apparently why it’s so flat, as when you start approaching Pierre the river reappears as do the rolling hills.  

There are many houses built at the top of a knoll with decks surrounding or whole sides of windows – I imagine the views from these homes must be extraordinary.  That’s true in Chamberlain as well, it seems the locals prefer to build atop a hill for the vast views, rather than directly along the river.  Perhaps there are rules against building close to the river, I rather hope so as so much of our country’s beauty has been stolen due to homes and various buildings staking claim to the beauty, thus robbing the public.  Case in point – the California coastline, especially my former home, Malibu.  OK, off my soapbox....

I found the mall, small but what should I expect given that Pierre is the second smallest capitol in the U.S. (Vermont apparently is #1).  There are a little over 5000 people in Pierre.  That’s .025 the size of Madison!  And Madison isn’t a big city actually, at 200,000, imagine the number of zeros if I tried to calculate the percent of Chicago. 

In fact, did you know that South Dakota has less than a million in the whole state?!  Milwaukee and surround is bigger, population-wise, than the entire state!  As I was driving along the main road, I discovered a Walgreen’s, which was very exciting coming from Walgreen’s territory.  This was the first I had seen in South Dakota.  I rest assured now that I can get many of the products that I like. 

I managed to find the capitol, not hard in such a small town.  Again on the main road, I spotted what might be it to my right a few blocks off the road I was on.  I made a couple of turns and voila!  

It’s very pretty, as you can see, but Madison’s capitol is still at the top.  I’m told Madison has one of the prettiest capitol buildings in the U.S.  I think it looks like a small White House.  But Pierre’s has it’s own stateliness and elegance as I would think all capitol buildings would.  Across the street was a Memorial for veterans.

After having a wonderful pedicure (!) (heaven) and a very bad manicure which managed to last a long time, which only partially offset the bad, I was hungry so set about to find lunch.  I stopped at Tom’s Diner for a burger.  It was, as one might hope, a classic diner and the burger was good as was the coffee with the exception that the coffee was in a paper cup.  One of my things, I like real cups for my coffee.   The other thing I’ve noted here as no one seems to have anything but yellow mustard.  I’m embarrassed to ask for Grey Poupon, and when I do I am often met with a quizzical look as in Grey Poupon???  It makes enjoying a hamburger or hot dog problematic for this foody snob.

Speaking of coffee cups, I must digress.  My cute little coffee house in Chamberlain?  Well, they have one (1) medium size "real" coffee cup.  The first time I visited I was able to have it, the second time, it was in use.  Ha, ha.  So I had a small that day - life in a small town.  City slickers must learn flexibility....

Back to Pierre.  Before heading home I made sure I had a full tank.  South Dakota is not a place to run out of gas; or if avoidable, have a breakdown.  I shall not travel that road in precarious winter situations, that’s for sure. 

Tonight they predict big winds…you mean all this wind so far has been little????  Apparently over 50 mph….well, I’m glad we’re tucked in for the night.  I’ll enjoy Mother Nature’s fury from my warm…little house on the res…

Mired in the Muck...

Whoa!  I’m in the present century at last!  TV!!!  With all the bizillions of channels, recording options…you know, television luxury.  I’m still learning this new system, but oh, is it nice to have TV again!

We’ve had a lot of rain over the past week.  The last few days it stopped – I tell you this before I tell you about my latest fiasco of country living.  I had to go to the high/middle schools yesterday.  Which is all dirt roads once you leave the highway…  Well, it looked ok as I drove my usual way to the building where we see kids.  As the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.  I wasn’t in my own car (thank heavens…) – we have a fleet of vehicles that we check out when we need to go somewhere.  Anyway, I was in the mini-van, and was driving on the side of the “road” (so to speak) to stay out of the ruts that looked bad.  You got it, it didn’t take me long before I was stuck!  Of course, I also didn’t have mud-walking shoes on, but I had to get out to go get help.  I walked through the muck, collecting oodles and gobs of goo on my shoes and trekked over to the high school main office.  It made their day, this ‘gringa’ having gotten stuck and I got plenty of razzing.  After they stopped grabbing their sides in laughter, they called maintenance to tow me out.  I was hoping I wouldn’t have to confess at work…only wouldn’t you know?  There was an emergency so while I was in the office waiting for rescue, my assistant called to have me come back.  Well, I’ll be there as soon as they get me out…

Actually I had just ordered some rain boots.  They have since arrived and will now accompany me whenever there is or has been rain…  More aptly named “mud boots”.  I will also drive the other way around – apparently part of the dirt roads have been sprinkled with rock, which keeps vehicles, and shoes, out of the muck.

We’ve had three days of emergencies, two for me and one for the other psychologist.  Trial by fire..   I’ve learned a lot.  I also learned from a super great police officer that my theory about attempted suicide as a criminal matter is what I thought at first, it’s a safety issue since there really is nowhere else for people to be safe.  Typically, that’s all it is and no criminal charges occur.  Not super comfy or nurturing, but safe.

That’s it today from…little house on the res!

Train Whistles...

When I first moved in, I was soothed by the train whistles as the trains passed through the area.  I began to notice, however, there sure seemed to be an awful lot of trains, and they seemed all around me, except for east.  When X and I took our tour, I mentioned all the trains.  He had a puzzled look and said “there aren’t any trains around here, the closest tracks would be Pierre” (one hour away).  This started some questioning to figure out what I was hearing.  As it turns out, it’s school buses!   Apparently here the kids don’t wait outside (in the cold…), but when the bus comes to their area it blares it’s horn for a considerably long time, and they do sound like a train whistle (to my defense).   Heaven help the people who may not have children and happen to live near where the bus stops…no sleeping in for them during the week…

Saturday of this week-end past Phoebe and I trekked into Chamberlain for her to meet her new vet.  She was all excited not knowing, of course, where she was headed.  Now Phoebe has two major neuroses:  heights and being on her back.  When we first arrived, I plunked Phoebe on the highest exam table I’d ever seen, or Phoebe either.  She shivered and shook like it was below zero.  Next, since our primary purpose was to examine some growth on her stomach, well, you guessed it, onto her back did she have to go.  She was a wreck.  After it was all over, and a diagnosis of a benign cyst, some discussion about tick and flea prevention…we prepared to leave. 

We had rain for about 24 hours so everything was wet, and muddy, very muddy.  The vet receptionist carried out our food and put it, as I requested, on the floor of the passenger seat.  She asked “do you have another dog?”  “No, why?”  “I hear one”.  Me too…sounding like the whimpering was under the hood (note I had just driven 25 minutes at high speed to town).  The receptionist went in to get the vet, while I took to calling to whatever was under there, which may not have been the brightest idea come to think of it, not knowing what it was.  I localized the sound as close to the passenger tire, but still couldn’t see anything.  I kept calling, and after a short while a tiny little nose appeared, then the upper third of a very wet, bedraggled, scared little black and white puppy.  By this time, the vet had come out with towel in hand.  The pup wasn’t going to come out further for a while, so the vet grasped the pup by the scruff, picked it up and wrapped it in the towel.  She wondered if I had brought it with me – don’t think so, my car’s been in the garage for days, etc.  Then she recalled someone calling the day before about an injured pup, and wondered if that someone had just come and left it at the vets.  Likely last night from the bedraggled look of it.  Well, at least they left it in the right place, but couldn’t they have created a box with cover or something?  Anyway, I hope it will be ok and find a good home.  It was hard to not adopt it myself, but if I start adopting every needy animal living here, I’ll have hundreds…

After that adventure, I shopped for groceries and then went to try out the little coffee shop on Main Street that I had seen.  As I arrived some fellow was out  front cooking something on a grill.  “What’re ya doin’?” sez I.  Grilling flatbreads, every Saturday between 11:30 and 1:30.  Cool, and they looked good too, will have to put that on my return list.  Anyway, I went in and ordered my cappuccino (of course) and a blueberry scone.  I spent some time chatting with the lady behind the counter, mother of the owner and told her I was new in these them parts...   We got to talking about my buffalo burger and she told me in hunting season they have prime rib of buffalo!  And they inject butter and jalapenos into it before cooking.  Yum – so when’s hunting season???  Oh, October to January or something like that – well, I’ll come try it.  They also grill steaks on Friday and Saturday nights when they stay open until 9PM.  Guess I’ll do another return visit. I plunked down to enjoy my scone too– lots of big, plump blueberries and she warmed it all up for me too.  While I was relaxing there, the griller-guy brought me some buttered bread thing:  “try it”.  Turned out it was bread swirled with cheese and jalapeno and butter – good!  Ah, small town life!  Back in Madison it’s quite customary to be an unknown, not so here…shall have to keep my nose clean, as they used to say.

With the rain I was worried I couldn’t line dry my sheets again.  I tell you – that is heaven!!!  Many of you probably have never had line-dried sheets, and if you ever have the chance to do it, you must.  They are crisp, almost like they’re ironed, and do they smell good!!!!!  Ahhh, it’s the little things in life!

BTW, dear readers, I learned this week-end that some of you have been nicely making notes that I didn’t know to find.  Well, now I know and will be better about watching for them now.  I even have a very kind reader from around these parts!  I have no idea how she found me – but thank you too for all your tips!

Most of my unpacking is now done in the main part of the house, although there’s lots to do in the basement, but I can take time for that.  Just have some pictures to get up yet!  Hooray!  And TV on Tuesday – wow!  I’ll really be modern!

Well, Mother Nature is now starting to kick up a storm, looks like – the wind is blowing and it’s nice to be tucked in all warm and nice.  And that’s it again from…little house on the reservation!

Two mornings ago, as Phoebe and I were on our “constitutional”, what to our wondering eyes did we see but two beautiful white tailed deer prancing about 40 yards in front of us, then to cross the road and bounded into the trees on the other side.  As I watched their beautiful tails hopping through the trees, I felt close to nature.  Phoebe was oblivious, but perhaps that was good, I can just imagine her on the chase, with me on the chase behind her.

Later that same day, I headed out to the high school, which is 29 miles, by the way, for the first time on my own.  Darting out in front of me was a pheasant, he (or she) looked like the Road Runner – tail up as it “ran” on it’s two feet across the road.  I almost had my dinner – missed him...  Oh well, I know I’d not be into defeathering a bird. 

I’m told there are some buffalo on a ranch on the way to the schools, but so far they have eluded me, sending out their brethren cows in their stead.  I’m sure I will see them eventually.

Speaking of buffalo, on Monday I trekked into town, the 2500 people town, where I stopped at the dry-cleaner-pick-up-drop-off-café-pharmacy store.  I decided to eat at the café since it was dinner time – it was very clean and rather quaint.  No wine…whine, whine.  I wanted to try the buffalo burger, which I did.  I can’t say I would need to have one again, it’s very lean, hence no fat, hence better for you, thus not my favorite.  It was good though, but I would generally prefer the higher caloric cow version, which I’m sure buffalo may be quite appreciative of.

New culture shocks came in the form of tics attaching themselves onto Phoebe’s fur – so far I’ve been able to capture them before they buried in.  Yuck.  Now I know we had tics in Wisconsin, but given that we were in the center of city, with sidewalks and very manicured lawns everywhere, we just never ran into them.  I’ve also been told fleas are a problem.  Great.

I tried to take some pictures of some of the river homes, but being the “talented” photographer that I am, my finger was on the lens so I will have to try again.  Here’s one, the Missouri river in Chamberlain.

This next one cracked me up.  I’d never seen a flower pot tree before, so I had to take a picture of it.

I learned recently that not all reservation schools have dorms, apparently many of the kids here come from afar, some even from other states.  The parents apply, I guess, and send their kids when openings occur.

I also learned that here attempting suicide is against the (tribal) law.  I try to keep my preconceived notions back as much as I can, since I’m really ignorant of the ways of reservation life.  I know there are no psychiatric hospitals, and I guess if it’s jail or a completed suicide, then jail seems a much better option.

Tomorrow we’re having a good-bye lunch potluck for X who, as I mentioned, is going to another reservation to be the CEO.  I wasn’t told until today, being so new I wasn’t in the loop.  Great!  There just aren’t a lot of food options out here unless I drive the 40 minutes round trip to town.  Well, so much looking up some great recipe in Bon Appetit, even if I drove to town I wouldn’t find the ingredients for fancy-schmancy recipes like Bon Appetit.  Casting my usual perfectionism aside, I’ll have to see what I can do.  It will be food anyway.

It’s turned warm again today, very pleasant without a sweater or coat this afternoon.  And that’s it for this time from Little House on the Reservation…

Did I tell you that I have a clothesline????  Wow!  I haven’t had one of those since my days in El Paso, which is a long, long time ago, my youngest was two!  Now, my eagerness of this “new” but really “old” strategy of drying clothes is my recollection of how wonderful it is to dry sheets on the line.  And how great it feels and smells that night when you crawl into fresh air-sun dried sheets.  So this morning I was happily hanging my sheets out on my line – talk about Laura Engels!

The other day Phoebe and I were on one of our walks when across the road from where we were, I heard a bunch of squawking and suddenly two pheasants flew out of the trees where they had apparently been doing pheasant-type stuff.  They were beautiful if not awkward looking in their moment of distress. 

Speaking of Phoebe, she is more and more converting to a country dog.  Her paws seem less tenderfoot, or should I say tenderpaws, and she has even ventured into the longer grass!!!  I have trusted more and more to let her be off leash when we walk.  I do carry her leash in case a situation comes up that I need to corral her.  One day I caught her rolling in the grass like a real dog instead of the city slicker she has always been. 

Yesterday the man who recruited me and was to be my boss, I will call him X, but now will be moving over to a nearby reservation to be their CEO, took me on a tour of the area.  We drove out to the high school/middle school, many, many miles away from the little town of Ft. T.  Of course, miles of nothing but fields and rolling hills.  And guess what?!  They have dorms at the high school and some parents have their kids stay at the school – unfortunately that’s not always a good thing but, well, how different is this?

We then drove another bizillion miles to the farthest housing area that is part of the reservation area we serve.  On the way we saw two antelope!!!!  As we got close to the living area, there were more and more true country dogs out playing in the fields or following us in the van.  It is so isolated, I asked how they get food.  I was told some have cars and drive to Pierre, the rest are brought food by some governmental agency or process.  In order for these folks to come to the clinic (we are a mental health, alcohol and drug, and a medical clinic combined) they have three (I think three) people whose job it is to drive out to the various places where people live to bring them to the clinic, or to take out medications if they need them.  Now remember the outermost living area is a bizillion miles away.

Most of what we saw speaks loudly of the poverty of these folks and was pronounced.  I was told the school was minimal and the alternative school less than that.  Surely it would be hard to be a teacher willing to come here – the housing they provide teachers was not much better than Native housing.  Very old, dilapidated trailers.  I feel very fortunate that my little house is, by comparison, a luxury home.  I think most of us, me included, do not do enough for the unfortunates in our own country, rather than sending help to international tragedies, when we have so many such tragedies in our own backyard.  Pardon my soapbox, I’ll get off now.

Speaking of my luxury home, of which you have heard me complaining about my lack of self-cleaning stove, dishwasher, etc., X told me that he and his wife replaced their stove, frig, and got a portable dishwasher while they were living here.  After adopting two darling little Native American boys, then three and four, they moved into town so the boys wouldn’t have to have long bus rides to school.  When they moved, the local place where they bought these items came and picked them up, sold them on consignment, and they lost very little money.  Hmmmm, a new stove, frig and possibly dishwasher may be in my future!

Today Phoebe and I are heading again to Mitchell, I have some things to return to Menards so can’t go to Pierre this week-end.  When in Mitchell last week-end I took my car to a carwash there that has a dog wash too.  Well, Phoebe is one dirty little dog and rather than white, she is more and more Toto colored.  So she will endure the indignity of a bath and I will get my shopping done.

That’s it for now, stay tuned for another segment of Little House on the Reservation.

Here's Little House on the Reservation, with Phoebe enjoying her new front yard.  Below is the view out my kitchen window, aka my back yard.

Mother Nature is wrecking near havoc as I write.  There seems to be a lot of wind here, and today it was such that I didn’t think Phoebs and I could walk to the Post Office, a mere block, so we drove.  Sacrilege.  But I love Mother Nature when she acts up, particularly if I am home, snug as the proverbial bug, and not needing to go out in her various wild states.  I’m not sure if wind farms harness the energy for other areas of the country, but if they do, the Native Americans here should really look into that as a great business venture.   Walking tonight I felt like Dorothy with Toto, actually Phoebe looks like Toto except for color.  If I see a munchkin, I’d best pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming.

One thing I’ve seen here that reminds me of years ago is people, sometimes a whole bed full, riding in the back of pick-up trucks.   I think city slickers think it’s too unsafe, in fact, the slickers don’t usually even let their dogs ride in the back for fear of retribution by PETA group.  But seeing it takes me back to earlier times.  I also don’t see helmets with bikers, probably part of the same difference between country and city life.

One thing that seems sad to me is the amount of trash along the roadside.  True, I'm from a very "green", recycling city.  That said, I didn’t notice litter on the Interstate, so it may be particular to where I am living, not having been to other parts of South Dakota as yet.  The space is so vast here, perhaps people think it doesn’t matter as it’s such a small drop in the landscape here. 

Last week-end, I drove into Mitchell, a town of about 15,000 people and a little over an hour from here.  That's the nearest Menards...  On the way I saw a house on fire; a rather large two story house with fire truck out trying to control the damage.  Speaking of fire trucks, I think I got a look at our local fire department.  There were about four pick up-like trucks, with flashing lights on the top of the cab and complete with fire equipment looking stuff in the bed.  Ha, ha!  Sure seemed funny to this foreigner.  But all the cars, well, all four or so of them, had pulled over to allow them full use of the road.

I will say people are very friendly here.  Today I had a message from the phone/Internet lady I signed on with, checking in with me to see how everything was and to please call (!) when I have time.  When I’ve needed to call the tech support, the help guys were clearly from good old U.S. of A. (!)(again), unlike many of the outsourced tech support folks back in the city.  Nothing against foreigners, but when you’re already pulling your hair out with some tech problem and you end up with someone in a foreign country whose English is heavily accented and you struggle to understand not only the solution to the problem, but their heavy accents as well, that’s not exactly a time I feel as patient or charitable as I might otherwise be inclined.  Nope, definitely not charitable at those times.  

Living here in government housing reminds me of one of my favorite movies:  October Sky.  A movie of coal miners living in a small coal town, where the whistle would blow and you’d see all the workers heading to, or fro, work, lunch buckets in hand.  This morning was like that as I headed out my door, only to see my neighbors all similarly heading out too, thermos in hand.   Not that there isn’t coffee at work, but to be honest, I may need to look for a thermos for work as well, if you can get my gist.

Well, over and out for now from the windy land of Little House on the Reservation.