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| Our Covered Wagon |
A peaceful night was pleasantly (Almost) interrupted by the squawking of the glorious peacocks that roam the Hooley farm. It's mating season, so the plumes are spread, the bragging is constant, and the posturing resembles a presidential race. We left about ten-thirty after touring Sarah's new "small house" (Dot Cottage), watching the new woman in Gary's life perform (The Dynah Lift), and ogling over Andy's latest welding feat. We finally just had to leave, and we followed Gary's suggestion to take old highway thirty toward Ontario. We're now in a little town called Vale, which claims to be literally ON the Oregon Trail. The town has twenty-eight fabulous murals, each highlighting a different aspect of pioneer life. Since Judy and I are modern day pioneers, traveling as we do in our silver covered wagon pulled by at least three hundred horses, and we've embraced the vision of the early immigrants we feel a kinship toward these travelers. Before we left, I did manage to win all of the squawking peacocks in the morning game. Now that we've crossed the border, we'll be playing for all of the Granola Eaters in Oregon tomorrow. I'll stop babbling here to let the pictures speak, but as we wandered around the town of Vale, it was easy for us to remember that life is good, especially today.
Sunrise out our window at the Holley farm.
One state to go to complete this year's loop.
Art shot of the day: The Reel Table
Westward HO!
The New Arrivals
Johnathan Keeney-Restless Pioneer
The Crossing
Men, Mules, and Merchandise
Playing at the Nat
The Branding
Patriots on Parade (1)
Patriots on Parade (2)
The Escort
The Hot Springs
First Set of Shoes
September Morning
Walking the Planks
Basque Sheepherder
Japanese-American Contributions
Vaqueros
Industrious Chinese
Hot Rod of Yesterday
Death on the Trail
Waiting for Sagebrush Annie
The Diggin's
The Trappers
Added Horsepower
Journaling
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