Where I've Been...

I wish I could say I haven't been blogging because life has been wildly exciting and there just hasn't been time. Unfortunately, a sudden influx of excitement into my life isn't the reason behind my lack of blogging. Well, unless you count the excitement of new books, in which case there has been excitement aplenty. Spoiler alert: this one's all about books.

Back in February, the Scottsbluff Public Library started a new women's book club called, "Not Your Mother's Book Club." One of the librarians that I know invited me to join, saying that we would be reading newer and edgier books, and that the first book selected was really entertaining. For anyone who's known me even a little while, it shouldn't be a surprise that I jumped at the chance to read new books and discuss them with other folks. And for those of you who haven't known me long, just browse back in this blog to the post about my apartment and count the bookshelves. So I showed up for the first meeting, the books were passed out, and we talked about what we wanted from the book club.

The first book was "Bonk: The Curious Science of Sex and Coupling" by Mary Roach. It. Was. Hysterical. I don't remember the last time I laughed that much while reading a book, let alone a non-fiction book, unless it was Mary Roach's "Packing For Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void". "Bonk" looks at the history of sex research and the history of the physiological study of sex, much of the research having been conducted by, you guessed it, men. There have been some pretty crazy experiments conducted through the study of sex, not only in humans, but also in other animals. I know it doesn't exactly sound that way, but I would consider everything I read in "Bonk" to be PG-13 at the highest, and definitely fine for high schoolers and some middle schoolers to read, depending on maturity level.

If you're looking for highly entertaining and factual scientific non-fiction, look no further than Mary Roach. Both books were full of interesting facts, fun stories, and hilarious footnotes the showcased Roach's wry sense of humor. I tell you this, more kids would stay interested in science if Mary Roach oversaw the writing of science text books. Or if teachers just passed out her books instead of the textbooks. If this was what the book club offered, I couldn't wait for the next book in the queue.

March's book was "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" by Stephen Chbosky, which has recently gained new fame with the release of the movie adaptation last year. Although very different from "Bonk", I still really enjoyed "Perks". It's the coming-of-age story of Charlie, a fifteen-year-old in his first year of high school. The story is written as a series of letters that Charlie is writing to someone, although we never learn who that person is. In the first letter, Charlies explains that one of his close friends in 8th grade has committed suicide, and that this has changed his (Charlie's) look on life.

One of Charlie's classes is shop, in which he meets Patrick, a senior. Through Patrick, Charlie meets Sam, Patrick's step-sister, and these two become Charlie's friends and introduce him to their group of friends. Charlie's favorite class is English, and his teacher takes a special interest in him, assigning him books to read and write reports on outside of class. Some of the books Charlie reads were "Catcher in the Rye", "To Kill a Mockingbird", "A Separate Peace", "Peter Pan", and "Hamlet". While my high school experience was very different from Charlie's, I thoroughly enjoyed this book.

April brought us "Little Bee" by Chris Cleave, published in the UK as "The Other Hand". "Little Bee" is the story of Little Bee, a young Nigerian woman who is seeking asylum on British soil, and a British magazine editor, Sarah, who lives with her husband Andrew and son Charlie (aka Batman). Little Bee met both Sarah and Andrew in Nigeria and the circumstances of this meeting are revealed throughout the story. The book alternates telling the story from Little Bee's point of view and Sarah's point of view. Little Bee's story begins with her release from the immigration detention center in England while Sarah's begins a few days later with her husband's funeral.

I'm not a fan of book reviews that tell you "we can't give you details about this book because it will spoil the book for you", and here I go writing one of those. However, with the way Cleave has constructed his narration, you really can't describe what happens in the novel without giving everything away. Suffice to say that this novel made me angry, made me cry, made me think very hard, made me want to stop reading, and made me want the book to never end. Once again, an excellent selection.

Our current book is "Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West" by Gregory Maguire. I'm guessing some of you have probably read this book, or read others of Maguire's books. I first read "Wicked" close to ten years ago, and remembered it as a good read, although nothing really stuck with me. That was the mindset with which I started reading this month's book. And now, almost 300 pages in, I find myself reading this story in a completely different light. At it's core this book examines how someone becomes wicked, and whether they start off that way, or gradually become that way.

Elphaba, the future Wicked Witch of the West, is born an outcast: a green-skinned child in a world of flesh tones. As a teenager she attends a boarding school in Shiz, one of the larger cities, where she is roomates with Galinda, who becomes Glinda the Good Witch of the North. The two become friends over their first year, and gather a motley crew of friends, girls from their school and boys from a nearby school. This is laid against the backdrop of Animal rights* being taken away by the Wizard, who is not the kindly man of Baum's book, and a high stakes political game in which these girls have become unwitting players. While you all probably know how the story will eventually end (yes, Elphaba still will die), the route this version takes is winding and enthralling.

*Animal rights as opposed to animal rights. For C.S. Lewis fans out there, think of it as the distinction between talking animals and non-talking animals. Animals can talk, teach, hold jobs, etc...at least until the Wizard takes their rights away.

We have our books selected for the next five months or so, although I don't remember which titles are listed except the last month when we're reading Art Spiegelman's "Maus". The last time I took part in any type of book club, aside from reading works by C.S. Lewis with a group from All Saints Church in Peterborough, NH was the Junior Great Books group I was a part of in elementary school. I don't remember what we read in that group, but I'd wager that the books I'm reading now are probably more interesting and better written. While I'd recommend any and all of the books I've read thus far, I suggest instead you wander down to your local library and check them out because as LeVar Burton says, "You don't have to take my word for it."

A Weekend in Ft. Collins

One of my goals for this year is to take advantage of the all these places which I live near: Ft. Collins, Denver, Rocky Mountain National Park, the Black Hills, the Snowy Range, Medicine Bow...I could go on, but you get the idea. I mean, I've lived out here for almost two years, and I STILL haven't been to Rocky Mountain National Park

Fiesta! So festive! So colorful!

                                             
My first stop of the list was Ft. Collins. Why? Well, Ft. Collins is just over two hours away, it has both indoor and outdoor attractions (always important when planning travels in the western mountains in January), and I have a co-worker at our Ft. Collins office who has graciously offered her spare bedroom to me. Some of you probably already know this, but I find staying in hotels by myself to be rather depressing and lonely. Hostels now, hostels are a different story. Hotels though? Not my cup of tea, even if I do get to watch cable t.v.

I had MLK Jr. Day off from work, and decided that would be a good weekend to head down to the front range. Sunday morning I packed my overnight bag, and headed off to explore. I've been to Ft. Collins a few times prior to this trip, mostly for work-related purposes, and I'd not spent much time exploring what old town has to offer. After finding a place to park, I wandered the streets looking in shop windows, reading restaurant menus posted in doors, and absorbed the feel of a bustling city downtown.

            Old Town Ft. Collins has a great bike-vibe. Bicycles that is, although I'm sure motorcycles are welcomed too.

Coffee-Beer-Bike Bar: What more can you want in life?

First stop was Savory Spice Store. I'm a bit of a sucker for spice stores, and also I was running low of some of the herbs and spices that I use regularly. While the grocery store here in Scottsbluff does, in fact, have a bulk spice section, I've only ever seen 3 people using the bulk spices. Which leads me to question the freshness of said spices. I also picked up a few new mixes to try, including a delicious-sounding mole spice mix, and some vanilla beans to try my hand at homemade vanilla extract.

Next up was a stop for coffee at one of the local coffee shops in old town. There were some beautiful prints on the walls that were for sale, but as they were located over the register, it was difficult to take surreptitious photos of them. You'll just have to visit and see them for yourself.                             

Those lampshades are actually paper.

As often happens at coffee shops, I was sucked into the time vortex, and hadn't seen much else of old town on Sunday. Except to buy a ham and cheese croissant from this charming little corner bakery. I don't remember the name of this place, so you can just look for Tintin instead, and follow him to a tasty, freshly-baked treat!
                                 

Quick! The pain au chocolate ran this way!

 Monday morning my co-worker Angela and I headed back to old town to continue exploring, indulge in some window shopping, and enjoy the beautiful weather. First up: a kitchen store. I could spend hours exploring in these places. So many fun things to see and play with. The only thing better is a good bookstore.                                     

Why yes, that is, in fact, a bright pink stand mixer!

There really is a KitchenAid to go with the color scheme of every kitchen.

The colors!

So many colors!

     

There were other, equally lovely dish sets, on display as well, but between the rainbow palette and the buttery sun streaming through the windows, the Fiesta dishes were begging to have their photos taken. Friends of mine here in Scottsbluff have these dishes, and quite wisely, in my opinion, have a bowl, plate, cup, and saucer of eight different colors. Because really, how could you choose just one color?

After some more wandering, we ended up at Beau Jo's pizza for lunch. Beau Jo's is a fixture along the front range and into the mountains, and their pizzas are delicious and well-deserve their reputation. I've eaten there a few times now, and haven't been disappointed. Go if you're ever along the front range and craving pizza. Better yet, go and tell me you're in town so I can drive down and meet you for pizza. And perhaps after we'll go tour one of the many breweries that call Ft. Collins home...

After lunch we browsed through a little alleyway bookstore that we happened across, and I was quite excited to discover this little hole-in-the-wall store sold Theo Chocolate! My brother John introduced the family to Theo Chocolate while he was still living and going to school in Seattle. A Seattle-based chocolate factory, Theo creates some remarkable bars such as Chai Tea, Coconut Curry, and my personal favorite, Fig, Fennel, and Almond. Sadly John has moved to D.C., so I can no longer go to Theo's when I visit him...

Our last stop was a local artists gallery tucked away down a side street in the pedestrian area. This little store reminded me very much of Hannah Grimes Marketplace in Keene, NH, except that this shop is staffed by the artists themselves. As much as I really wanted to bring these clocks home, I ended up with a simple clay spoon rest featuring a contentedly sleeping cat.

Repurposed electronics clocks designed by a local artist.

A good use for those old floppy disks...

After that we headed back to Angela's so I could collect my things and hit the road so as to not arrive home too late. Good thing it's not too long of a drive because there are still many things to explore in Ft. Collins, and in the surrounding mountains when the weather warms up! And I will leave with a photo of my furry companion for the weekend, Prairie.

This is Prairie Dog. C'mon, you know you chuckled at that one.

Pavlov the Wonder Cat

He's featured at random points in my blog thus far, and I thought the time had come to give Pavlov the Wonder Cat his own blog post. Pavlov entered my life in June of 2008 when I found him while biking along a rural road near Killeen, Texas where I was living and working at the time. Pavlov, along with his brother Hobart and his sister Khurrie, were all hanging out in and under an eastern red cedar tree, having been dumped there by someone. They were all about two months old, as near as the local vet could guess, and they all came home with me and, consequently, back to Tulsa a few days later when I headed home for a visit. The other two were adopted by co-workers of my mom's, and are still happily living in their adopted homes. Pav stayed with us, and then my parents when I moved to New Hampshire for graduate school.

Since May of 2010, however, he has been living with me, first in New Hampshire, and now in Nebraska. While most of the time Pav is a model kitty, sleeping long hours, snuggling in the bed, killing any intruding millers moths or house flies, and watching squirrels from the kitchen window, he occasionally gets into mischief. His latest favorite brand of mischief is chewing the straps off of camisoles and sports bras and then hiding the removed straps...somewhere...in my apartment. I've long known that he eats yarn, but that nearly always comes back up or out the other end. The straps have vanished without a trace, which leads me to suspect they are merely being hidden somewhere, probably inside the box spring on my bed.

With that introduction, I give you some of the Nebraska adventures of Pavlov the Wonder Cat.

Whaaat? Empty boxes belong to me, yes?

You should always replace your bike helmet before it grows this much fuzz...

What do you mean "Downton Abbey" takes precedence over entertaining me?

A note about these next two photos. Pavlov has a rather disgusting habit that I first learned about while still living in New Hampshire: he LOVES to dig used Kleenex out of the trash can, chase them around, and chew on them. However he doesn't shred Kleenex in the box or toilet paper, so I suppose I should be thankful.

Hold on. I know I stashed that Kleenex inside the shoe somewhere.

Must. Destroy. Kleenex.

Pav loves to hang out and sleep in my kitchen window whenever it is open. This winter the weather has been up and down enough that the windows have actually been open from time to time, which makes him just about the happiest kitty cat ever. 

This sunbeam and I are BFFs.

 

Keeping watch over next-door's backyard and the back alley.

This is one of two glass-fronted lawyer bookcases in which I keep some of my yarn stash. The top door broke last fall, and I haven't gotten it repaired yet. The fleece blanket is to keep Pavlov from pawing at the glass and out of the yarn. Clearly it's only working on some fronts. Also the bookshelves are now next to the heating vent, so it stays delightfully warm in this little corner.

Yarn and fabric scraps make the most comfortable bed ever. Mom is so thoughtful to leave these in a nice, warm, dark spot for me to curl up on.

And, lastly, a series that I have titled: Just how fresh are your organic Colorado peaches?*

Mmmm...peaches.

Move over peach.

"Om, nom, nom, nom."

These are my peaches. Eat at the risk of losing your hand. Or your face.

*While my peaches were definitely fuzzy, none of them had eyes or teeth, and all were delightfully juicy and delicious.

Twas in the moon of wintertime when all the birds had fled.

Although December has arrived, the wintery weather has only flickered in and out of existence. Today I look out of my window onto golden grasses, barren trees, and a slate-gray sky while listening to the wind whine and roar around the building and sing through the window a/c unit. As I type, the setting sun breaks through the clouds along the horizon, casting brilliant feelers across the landscape and turning the branch tips into golden light. To all appearances it should be bitterly cold outside. However, the thermometer is sitting in the mid-60's. There's snow and colder temperatures in the forecast though, beginning tonight. And we need the moisture badly.

It's dark much of the time now, and I'm thankful for the windows in my new office that allow me to partake in the few hours of sunshine that we have each day. By the time I leave work at 4:30, the reds, pinks, and oranges of the setting sun are coloring the western sky and throwing the Monument into stark, silhouetted relief. Few places, aside from ocean horizons, can equal the glory of twilight horizons on the plains: that 360 degrees of gathering darkness or growing light, of days' end or beginning. This horizon also makes the high plains an excellent place for stargazing...out here you can actually watch the march of the constellations across the sky.

Late November sunrise at the Wildcat Hills.

Mornings are generally less clouded than the evenings, and this leads to excellent views of the setting full moon tinged pink by the rising sun. The cold morning air holds a crisp clarity that isn't found during the warmer mornings of summer and early fall. While not so cold that the inside of your nose freezes and your breath is snatched by the wind, mornings this time of year bring you immediately awake with their chill. This year, on every frosty morning, I'm thankful for my parking spot under the carport which allows my windshield to be ice-free every day.

Sunrise and moonset.

Full moon in the west, pale skies to the east.

"There's a pale sky in the east, all the stars are in the west. Oh and here's to all the dreamers, may our open hearts find rest. 'Cause the wing and the wheel are gonna carry us along, and we'll have memories for company, long after the songs are sung." Nanci Griffith, "The Wing and the Wheel"

The squash live next door. So far their vampiric tendencies appear to have remained dormant, but this could simply because no wombats have come wandering through. Given their size, roughly equal to a 6-month-old, I haven't yet tempted fate by testing the garden boundaries. While it's true that vampire squash don't have teeth, these specimens are sufficiently large to knock me over and do some serious damage. It's what happens when you leave them in the field past their harvest date. Something in them turns, and then you'd best leave them alone until decomposition has gained the upper hand.* 

"I've said it before-wombats aren't much good at melancholy. And there's something absurdly cheering about being attacked by a vampire squash. I mean, you gotta laugh." Digger, Chapter 3, Volume 2.

This year for Halloween I decided to try my hand at being really creative with my jack-o-lanterns. However, I ended up leaving the carving until Halloween afternoon, so really only had time for one creative carving before the trick-or-treaters turned out. My other jack-o-lantern was a plain old face, but I must say I was impressed with how my owl-o-lantern turned out. So impressed, in fact, that I kept it in my kitchen for the following week and a bit. At that point, right after I'd returned from a conference in Nebraska City, I realized that my owl had grown a beautiful 2 inch high, fuzzy gray mold colony. Currently both pumpkin and colony are living in my friend Dan's compost pile, where I hear they are befriending the neighboring worms.

Owl-o-lantern

And, in keeping with the slowing down and turning inwards of winter, here is one last update from the garden. Overall I was very happy with how my garden turned out this year, and I definitely can't complain about the number of tomatoes that I harvested!

Jewel-toned tomato

The tomato plants still stand, although now they have the appearance of having melted across their cages. I may pull them up, but for now I quite like their looks.

As many places here in the prairie will attest, I too had volunteer sunflowers this year. Planted, no doubt, by birds or squirrels, these plants poked their heads up just after my corn and beans surfaced, and proceeded to grow and bloom much of the summer. Now they are left standing for the same reasons the tomatoes are left standing: I like the way they look. There's something quieting and contemplative about the drooping head of a sunflower flower on the other side of blooming.

Even the splendor of a sunflower fades away as winter approaches.

Picked clean by hungry birds

At some point soon I hope to have some photos of the happy, chubby little dark-eyed juncos that hang out around my office. As of now they are still eluding my camera. They're well worth the wait though. And, really, who can resist chubby little songbirds?

*I first learned about vampire squash in the webcomic "Digger", and was inspired to trace this myth back to its origins. This legend originated in the Balkan region of southeastern Europe, amongst the Roma people of the region. It is also found in the Gypsy lore of the region. All types of pumpkins (or winter squash) and watermelons, if left in the field through a full moon, will turn vampire, band together, and wreak havoc. However, due to the lack of teeth, they are not greatly feared, and are easily defeated by being plunged into a pot of boiling water.

Inaugural Monument Marathon

The Monument at sunrise.

Running a marathon was not something I'd given much thought to until I joined the runner's group in Keene during my last year there. Even then I was much more enthusiastic about running a half-marathon than I was about running a full marathon. 26.2 seemed, to me, to be an insurmountable distance.

Then, in May, I came across an announcement about an inaugural marathon and half-marathon slated to be held in Gering in October. A marathon that started and ended right in my own backyard? One that would require me to drive all of four miles across town, would let me sleep in my own bed the night before, and didn't have a high price tag? I started to give running a marathon some serious thought. Early registration ended on June 15th, and I made the decision to run the full marathon that day. I figured if all else failed I could drop down to the half on race day.

This is officially Landmark Country. Another gem that was in my swag bag.

Hoping to meet some other runners here in town that were close to my speed, I joined one of the training groups being put on by the high school cross-country coach. This plan didn't work out quite as I'd hoped though, mostly because weekend work events and August vacation prevented me from attending many of the Saturday long runs. Also, folks would chat a bit when everyone showed up at the beginning of the run, but at the end they all scattered instead of meeting up somewhere for coffee and rolls. Made me really, really miss Brewbaker's runs and post-run coffee and muffins.

Marathon training is hard. Marathon training when you're driving across an area the size of New Hampshire a couple times a week and often working 6 day weeks is really hard. Getting in my long runs proved to be the most difficult part unless I wanted to run them Sunday evenings before the start of another long week. And, generally speaking, I didn't. So I ended up running some of them split; Friday evenings and Saturday mornings. Turns out this method will only get you so far in marathon training, but it did give me a solid fitness base. The main thing I noticed was that I was tired all. the. time. Fortunately Pavlov the wonder cat never seemed to mind when I'd go to bed by 8pm every night.

Sleeping is what I do best. I am the king of sleeping.

Pavlov the Wonder Cat in his younger years.

About ten days before the marathon the weather took a turn towards winter. Within 24 hours we went from mid-70's to 20 degrees, and by the next day we had snow on the ground. That was when I started worrying about what the weather would be like on marathon day. Snow by itself wouldn't be so bad, but the chances of a snowstorm moving through without a strong north wind were pretty slim, and wind on this course would be unpleasant. Highly unpleasant. Those of you who know me well will already be familiar with my slight obsession with the NOAA weather website. During the week leading up to the marathon I become fully obsessed with that site. My friend Bill, who sings in the choir with me, was running the half, and he gave me some good pre-race and race-day advice for my first marathon: rest up, eat plenty of carbs, stay hydrated, and, most importantly, have fun on race-day.

 Friday the 12th I went by WNCC to pick up my race packet and swag bag. After wandering around for a bit feeling entirely out of place in this sea of incredibly fit-looking people, I slipped back out to my car and looked through my swag bag there. And promptly burst into laughter when I found the bag of dried pinto beans from the Kelley Bean Company, a locally-based dried bean corporation. They'd also included the "Official Kelley Bean Company, Inc. Cookbook". We know how to do race swag right here in Nebraska. After homemade pizza for dinner, I took myself off early to bed with my alarm set for 5am. Have I mentioned the delightful upside of running a race in your backyard with an 8am start-time?

Yup, that is, in fact, the Official Kelley Bean Co. Cookbook.

Saturday morning I woke up to the wind howling around my apartment. Oh joy. 6am found me dressed, contacts in, gear bag packed, and attempting to eat my breakfast. By 6:25 I'd arrived at Five Rocks Amphitheater in Gering, the start of the half-marathon, finish for both, and shuttle pickup for the marathon. As I stepped out of Kia, I was nearly knocked off my feet by a gust of wind, and then jumped a bit as I saw lightening flash across the southeastern sky, any following thunder completely masked by the wind. "Oh great, this is gonna be such fun," I thought as I headed to pick up my timing chip.

There was a beautiful sunrise in between lightening flashes and just before the downpour.

By the time our bus reached the Wildcat Hills Nature Center, the wind had slowed a bit, but rain was still threatening, and fifteen minutes before the start of the race the skies opened and the deluge began. After a summer and early fall of drought conditions, the ferocity of the rain was entirely unexpected. With yelps and squeals, we runners made our way down the path to the start line (aka the parking lot). One of the race organizers cajoled reluctant runners out into the rain with the promise that it wasn't raining at the bottom of the hill, 2 miles down the road. Then the national anthem was sung, the starting horn was sounded, and we took off, all 97 of us. It's kind of nice to not have a crowd at the starting line.

And we're off in a puddle of rain! (Thanks to Amanda for this photo)

I focused on not taking off down the hill, and soon fell into step with two other runners, one of whom was also running her first-ever marathon that day. Soon enough we had run out from under the rain clouds, and although the clouds remained for the rest of my race, we only hit heavy rain one other time, around mile 16. I ended up running nearly the entire race with a gentleman named Kenny, who lives in Rapid City, SD. This was his third marathon, and he provided great conversation and company.

I didn't start getting tired until mile 16 when we ran through Mitchell Pass, along the Oregon Trail route, were running directly into the wind, and were getting rained on once again. From then on I got progressively more tired, and transitioning from running to walking at aid stations became more and more difficult and painful. No one told me about that part...that stopping running hurts like hell, and then starting up again hurts just as bad. However, aside from that things went really well. The course through the badlands was spectacular in the understated manner of the western plains, aid stations were fully stocked with water, Gatorade, bananas, oranges, and cheerful volunteers who spent their Saturdays in the cold and rain, and I got Ibuprofen at mile 22 which made everything better.

My only complaint, really, was that the last 0.1 of the race was on small, loose, river rock. Yeah, those small, smooth, oval stones that shift under your feet. There were volunteers stationed there to give us warning, but pea gravel would have been much nicer to turn onto. And thankfully I didn't fall. I sprinted up that last bit, passing a few people, and crossed the finish line where I was given my medal, had my timing chip removed by a helpful volunteer who was sitting on the ground so I didn't have to bend over, and got a space blanket to block the wind.

Post-race photo at my car...those feet just ran 26.2 miles.

Official race photos (hopefully)The above link will hopefully take you to a few of my favorite official race photos. If not, you can just search for me under vinson95 or baker7vinson95 (Kenny's last name) and see photos.

Bib, shirt, and medal from my first marathon!

                                                 

Post-marathon just after arriving home. Still smiling!

Overall the entire experience taught me quite a bit about where I stand mentally and physically. I never hit the proverbial mental "wall" that is often talked about in marathons, and I would credit that in part to the mental training I learned while rowing in college. Physically I just hit a point where changing from running to walking was incredibly painful, but I never felt as though I was going to die. Actually, one of the first thoughts through my head after I crossed the finish line was, "This was fun, maybe I'll run this again next year." The Monument Marathon really can't be beat for organization, friendliness of volunteers, clean porta potties, or historical coolness. I mean, where else do you get to run along the Oregon Trail, the California Trail, the Mormon Trail, AND the Pony Express Route?

A nice surprise for me was learning that I placed third in my age division! And before any of you start thinking I'm really super fast, no, no I'm not. It was a small race. And all the fast women are in the age division above me.

Why yes, that is my name in the newspaper.

Third place in division: not too shabby for my first marathon.

So, if anyone's looking to run a delightful fall marathon or half-marathon next year, feel free to come join me! I'll show you all the sights and take you out for the best food in town (which rivals the food of big cities). They're thinking the last Saturday in September for 2013 as Denver Rock & Roll has moved into mid-October. That Saturday is also a Huskers bye week, which is the only way they'd get all their volunteers and traffic cops.   

Victoberfest!!

  

  

                                    

Parking for Victoberfest!

The Second Annual Victoberfest was held at Victory Hill Farm on the 14th of October. Victory Hill Farm is a dairy goat farm about five miles north of Scottsbluff run by Sarah Pena. The farm has dairy goats, some meat goats, horses, chickens, and pigs, although much of the farm's income comes from goat and sheep cheeses. Sarah makes and sells amazing chevre, feta, gouda, and cheddar from her goats' milk and ricotta and cheddar from sheep's milk. Sarah sells her cheeses and meat at the Scottsbluff Farmer's Market and directly from the farm.

The pigs were happy, well-fed little porkers, snuffling and snorting around their enclosure looking for spare food scraps. They are fed the leftover whey from the cheese-making process, doing their part to help reduce waste from the whole process. While not exactly cuddly with their bristly hair, who can resist those curly tails?

   

Happy whey-fed piggies 

                  

One of these things is not like the other...

Like all dairy animals, goats need to have kids in order to produce milk. Yes, baby goats are called kids, just like people. So small-scale dairy goat farms will have both mama goats and kids, as well as a few bucks that are kept apart from the ladies to control when pregnancies happen. The milking goats are the workers on the farm and are milked daily. Cheese is also made daily, or every other day depending on milk production.

Goat eyes are so cool.

         The giant spools are there to provide the goats something to climb on. Goats love to climb on things.

The dry goats are the baby goats that are not old enough to be milkers. These young goats are kept separate from the milkers, and were very excited to see all of the visitors to the farm. Having eaten all of the cottonwood leaves inside their enclosure, the little goatlings were politely begging cottonwood leaves from everyone on the outside of the fence. Seeing as cottonwood leaves aren't bad for the goatlings, I happily obliged their whims and collected leaves for them.             

   The goats here have all different types of ears. The elf-eared goats look as though their ears have been clipped, but they're just naturally small, delicate, and pointed.

                                                    

Elf-Ears!

And more elf-ears!

         

Swiss-type ears

More elf-ears!

I'm going to have elf-eared goats on my dairy farm.

 What celebration would be complete without pony rides? Especially with such beautiful little ponies? These little guys were tuckered out about halfway through the afternoon, and backup ponies were brought in. Unfortunately I was too tall to ride the ponies, so I just took photos.

How cute is he?

Pony wagon ride!

There was a chicken feed machine where you could put in a quarter and get a handful of chicken kibble for these lovely, laying ladies.

Elizabethan neck feathers

Communal dust bath

     

There are also a few horses that live on the farm and help with the haying and other farm chores. These beauties live between the milkers and the goatlings, and have learned well one of the hazards of living next door to goats: you lose your tail. All of the Victory Hill horses have short, sheared tails thanks to the nibbling goat neighbors.

Short tails are in fashion this season.

Fall colors have once again come to the high plains, albeit more muted this year due to the severe drought. Instead of the reds, yellow, and oranges of New England, western Nebraska has the golden browns and russets of prairie grasses and dried feed corn.