Dear Friends,

          If there are any among you who make it a habit to read these newsletters, you have probably wondered why this one has not been updated for so long.  The answer is very simple, but also very distressing for me to write about, which is the reason for the long pause.  We had a devastating fire here at the ranch on December 16th 2007.

          You can imagine that such an occurrence shook the ranch to its very roots. First of all, we are grateful that, if it had to happen, it happened when it did, which was at 11 pm on a Sunday night, after the last guests left that afternoon, and we had closed for four days for our pre Christmas clean up.  Luckily, it was a still night - only three days before we had had some very strong winds, which reached speeds of up to 30 mph.  I can imagine only too well what would have happened if we’d had those same winds on the night of the fire – we would likely have burned down all the buildings as well as the hay barn and the horses, to say nothing of the country east of the headquarters. 

          So we have to be grateful.  The next thing we have to be grateful for is that the fire burned only the Cook Shack building, i.e. the kitchen, bar, dining room and sitting room.  The adjoining building, the Buffalo Room, which contains the game room, the television room and library, escaped, as did the Gift Shop.

          They escaped due to the valiant and wonderful efforts of four members of the staff (Adam, Ed, BJ and Punk) who live close by on the ranch. Luckily, early on, the fire ignited the gas heater, and the resultant explosions woke them up. They fought the fire with two hoses and low water pressure for some 45 minutes, until the fire department arrived. 

          I heard about the fire from Jen, who phoned me at 11 pm.  I was just getting ready for bed. The phone rang and her distraught voice wailed, “Are you coming, are you coming??? The Cook Shack is on fire!” I think that as long as I live I will never forget that phone call – the exact time of it, her voice, and the dreadful certainty that this was the end.  I threw on some clothes and rushed over. As my house is beyond the mountain, I didn’t see the fire from home, but as soon as I turned the corner into Grapevine Canyon I could see that evil red glow and I knew that there was no saving any of it.  The fire was so huge that the highway patrolman who came out from Willcox, some 45 miles away, told me he could see the glow from Interstate 10. 

          It was, without a doubt, one of the worst moments of my life. As a child I lived in a bunker through the Russian front at the end of World War II, and 18 months later through the carnage of the Indian Civil War.  This was every bit as bad – maybe worse, because as an adult one is less hopeful and more conscious of destruction.

          We had to sit and watch the smoking and, at times flaming, ruins for three whole weeks, while the insurance company tried their best to prove that it was arson, and, probably, that I set it.  That would be difficult to imagine, as it turned out we were woefully underinsured and the rebuilding cost a great deal more than they, reluctantly, slowly, and grumblingly, eventually forked over.  So we sat and watched it smoke and stink for three weeks – then we cleaned up, engaged an architect, and a builder, and commenced re-building..

          But now, I can tell you, it will be a far superior building to the one that burned down.   In the intervening years the local County has become very particular, and as a result, this building is built like a fort, with all kinds of new modern conveniences that my husband, Gerry, who was born before the Depression, would abhor.  I can just hear him saying, “A ranch!!!  This is ranch, durn it, not some citified hotel!!”   But, even though it has some great improvements, I think the new building is still pretty ranchy – and you only have to see the set of hoof prints leading down the roofed entrance way to the dining room door to know that this is a place where the horse is king!

          The staff has been wonderful throughout this whole difficult time.  To maximize efficiency, everyone’s shifts were changed to Mondays through Fridays, which, I am sure, necessitated some re-arrangements of people’s private lives, as we have all lived by our staggered shifts for years.  The kitchen probably went through the most difficult time, as the only building we could cook and eat in was the Buffalo Game Room, which quickly acquired the look of an army camp.  As the walls are rough-out wood, I didn’t want them to get greasy from the cooking, so the cooks were exiled to a “Cook Tent”, a large Army tent erected outside the back door. A double laundry sink was installed out there as well, with a hot water heater and a water disposal line hooked up, to the happiness of some local bushes.  We bought a freezer and a couple of refrigerators, some shelving, covered the pool table with a piece of wood, so turning it into a serving table, and settled in for the siege.  The place acquired the look of a refugee camp.  In spite of all these difficulties, the cooks managed to serve up tasty, nourishing meals three times a day, and never once lost their tempers – an achievement to be congratulated on – and they never grumbled!  Likewise, the rest of the staff found themselves doing jobs they had not exactly signed up for – the whole office staff, the housekeepers and the cooks joined the wranglers and maintenance staff with the massive and dirty clean up of the burnt out wreckage, and, as once the builders moved in, the wranglers were looking for work, we upgraded, painted, cleaned up and generally spruced up the rest of the place, so when we re-open, everything will be as new.  Again – not exactly the job they signed up for – but never a complaint!!  And now everyone can hardly wait to re-open – we all miss the excitement of having guests, many of whom have, over the years, become good friends. 

          And so, we will re-open, on June 1st.  If there are among you people who had tried, in vain, to make a reservation during the spring months and could not, now you know why, and I hope you will come and visit us in the second half of the year.  If you are among the many who did have reservations, and for whom our office staff, with hours of telephoning and e-mailing, found other guest ranches so as not to ruin your vacation, we hope you enjoyed yourselves at the other place, but that you will give us another chance, come see the new Grapevine, and let me apologize to you again, this time in person.

          Of course, among the lost things were many irreplaceable items, such as the scrapbooks with 25 years of photos, letters and cards from people from all over the world and many old family photographs.  It seems that every day we remember something else that was there which will be missed.  I truly mourn some of the old pictures, and in particular a collection of photos, old bills and cancelled checks from the days of the Tombstone Land and Cattle Company which ranched in this valley in the 1880’s, and which closed up shop in 1893, when the owner noted, in a letter to a partner in California, that “there is no money to be made in the cattle business”.  True then, and true today – but I am sad to have lost those papers!  They were given to us by a close friend who ranched nearby, and who found them in an old, crumbling building in ghost town Pearce.  I believe the rest of the collection went to the Arizona Historical Society

          I find it difficult to believe that this is only April, the month during which we generally have so many guests, so much activity, so much fun and laughter – but June is approaching fast, and we are kept pretty busy with figuring out exactly what all we need to replace before we open.  I correlated everyone’s lists this afternoon – it comes to three typed pages in double columns.  A lot of stuff to get, and we will be busy.

          So take care, think of us scurrying around getting ready for June 1st, and do come and visit us – the horses, after six months off, are fat and sassy, the staff is anxious for the normal hustle and bustle to resume, and I am looking forward to seeing friends, old and new.

                        Eve and the rest of us at Grapevine.

Gerry and I had never intended to have a guest ranch - it happened the way most of life happens, by chance and quite unplanned.
     In the early eighties Grapevine was a remote canyon at the end of 7 miles of dirt road, a part of the Searle Ranch belonging to Gerry’s brother Ron and his wife Marilyn, who mostly used it as a horse pasture where they turned out horses who needed a rest from ranching.
    The front gate opened onto a winding narrow road which trailed its way through a grassy meadow, up a slight incline, round several bends, crossed a wash and ended at a comical little house which looked like a mushroom sitting all alone in a clearing. The house had been built some 30 years earlier by an artist, who had intended it as a vacation get-away, planning eventually to live there full time. His wife’s illness forced him to sell it to Ron, whose cattle ranch surrounded it. Why he built the house the way he did was always a mystery to us - possibly he had intended to add to it, but in its present incarnation it was certainly sadly lacking.
     It was a little, square looking two story building, with one large room downstairs, divided into a sitting area and a kitchen area separated by a dinette counter; a staircase led upstairs to two small rooms and the tiniest of bathrooms, and in front, on top of what was the sitting room below, was a large deck, whose only raison d’etre was a sweeping view of the valley, with the majestic Chiricahua Mountains towering on the horizon 40 miles to the east.
About 20 ft to the south of the house was another one room building, which the artist had built as his studio, and which the ranch had been utilizing as a tack room. Beyond that was a small corral.
      Ron and Marilyn had, from time to time, rented the house to various people, and one of these had whimsically constructed a small pond with a rock garden and a water fall in front of the house. The same man had, with great enthusiasm and less talent, built a yard fence which consisted of brick pillars with wooden rails in between. Unfortunately, his knowledge of masonry was scant, and by the time we moved in, the cement was crumbling and whole sections of the brick had moved off center, so it presented a somewhat derelict appearance.
      The space between the two buildings was overgrown by range grass, and the fenced off backyard consisted of more grass with a sprinkling of majestic old oak trees and stands of mesquite and manzanita bushes.
     In spite of human efforts to improve it, Grapevine had remained enchanting. To the south of the house, a wide meadow covered with wildflowers ran slightly uphill towards the mountainside, and the road, which more or less ended at the house, continued as a narrow trail up the canyon to the back fence.
     I remember, the first time I saw Grapevine, standing there in the silence of the mountains, hearing only the slight rustle of the wind in the trees and the gurgling of the creek in the gorge below, and thinking, this must be what Heaven is like.
     We bought the place, moved in, and, because we both immensely enjoy building, enthusiastically began adding to the house. We built a large country kitchen, as well as a porch and a car port, and converted the original kitchen into a dining room. The area between the house and the studio was cemented, forming a split level patio, which we roofed with a trellis, making a shady ramada. The little studio, with the addition of a bathroom, became a guest house for visiting friends.
     It was fun .... and then, all too soon, it was over. We sat and looked at each other and said: “Now what?” We were both too young to retire; we had just bailed out of a cattle operation, and, as this was the early eighties, and cattle prices were at historic lows with interest rates around 18%, the idea of returning into the cattle business didn’t appeal. Besides that, we didn’t have enough land - Grapevine at that time was just 80 acres, and in Arizona it takes an average of 60 acres per cow for year round grazing.
    We considered what to do. I had ideas - lots of them, but the trouble was that Gerry, a died-in-the-wool cowboy and rancher, thought everything was fine as long as it was a cow.
    “How about raising llamas?” I ventured, having just read about the lucrative market for these useful animals.
    “What? Llamas? What an idea! NO!” said Gerry.
    “What about rabbits?”
    “Not only no, but HELL no!”
     What about sheep, goats, worms..... No, no, no. We were at a standstill.
     About this time Marilyn, visiting one day, said: “You should run a sort of guide service and take Tucson people riding in this country - they must get so tired of riding in the washes, and it’s so beautiful here.”
     Well, maybe - a good way to fill in the time while we decide what we really want to do, we said to each other. We set about putting up some posters, made a few phone calls, and it appeared that people were interested.
     There was one snag that worried me a little. People coming to ride, hauling their horses in horse trailers, wouldn’t be bringing kitchens - so, how would they eat? We were 7 miles from nowhere. We talked about this for a while, I quite vehemently, because cooking’s not my thing. But help was at hand.
    We had a friend called Ginger, who was not only a great cook, but also a gifted story teller. She could tell jokes better than any professional comedian, and what’s more, she could tell them one after another and almost without pausing. It now appeared that she needed part time work and would be more than willing to take on the job of weekend cook for the riders.
Great! We booked a few rides, people came with their horses, we took them riding, Ginger grilled huge, succulent steaks, every one of them cooked to order over a mesquite fire - and things appeared to be on a roll.......
    Until one day, when I received two telephone calls. One was from a man who introduced himself as being from the Forest Service. He said he had seen one of our posters advertising a ride in the National Forest part of the Dragoon Mountains, and, if that was so, we needed an Outfitter’s Permit. It was no big deal, he said, just come into the office and fill out papers and pay the fee and you will be official outfitters.
     The second call was from a lady who identified herself as being from the Cochise County Health Service. “You’re cooking for these people”, she stated accusingly, although she evidently already knew the answer. I admitted that yes, we did cook for them.
    “So you’re really a restaurant....” she said. I was a little flattered. A restaurant?! Really? A little bashfully, I admitted that yes, it could be said that we were a restaurant.
    "Well, then”, she said triumphantly, “you need a Health Food License!”
A Health Food License! The thought had never even occurred to us. What was it, anyway?
     “Aah, so give us one”, I said, “how much is it?” I thought, really, these people! Probably cost us $10 and for nothing!
     “Well”, said Officialdom at the other end of the phone, ”it’s not quite that simple”, and went on to enlighten me as to the wondrous ways of government.
      It now appeared that whereas we could cook in our kitchen and feed the meals prepared therein to ourselves, our aged parents and our infant children, and not only survive, but thrive, nevertheless, the moment we charged someone a single penny for the food prepared in the same kitchen, they would immediately succumb to many horrid diseases like salmonella, typhoid, cholera, hepatitis - and, for all I knew, housemaid’s knee as well.
    “So, what do we have to do?” I asked faintly, already knowing it wasn’t going to be simple.
    It wasn’t. We needed, it appeared, not only money for a license, but first, major improvements in the form of a separate kitchen, with either a commercial, sanitizing dishwasher (cost $2,000 and up) - or four sinks.
    “Four sinks?   Why four?”
It turned out that while anywhere else in the world, three are sufficient, Cochise County desired four. One for washing hands, one for washing dishes, one for rinsing dishes and one for sanitizing dishes.
     “And one more thing”, said the Voice, “you also need to have public toilets, a men’s and a ladies’. And they need to have those seats with the front cut out. I’ll be by to inspect when you call and say you’re ready”, and hung up.
     I reeled away from the telephone. Separate kitchen! Toilets! And what seats with the front cut out? and why? I might add that the answer to the last question still evades me, after many years and many queries addressed to people who should know, but don’t.
     I told Gerry, and we decided that this was a bit much, and that perhaps we should shelve the idea of trail rides and take up something simpler and more financially rewarding like goat herding - preferably somewhere far away from the Cochise County Health Service, like Mongolia.
     Then one fateful morning I drove to the post office, and stopped by the notice board advertising local events and sales. As I scanned the ‘For Sale’ notices, I suddenly came to one that said: ”10x20 ft. building for sale, $400”.
    $400! That didn’t seem too much! And apparently it was movable. So why not buy it, move it to Grapevine, install 4 sinks and shut up these tiresome people. I ran the idea by Gerry, and he thought we should go and see it.
    It was about 40 miles from Grapevine, but we found it easily. It was not much more than a large crate, 10x20 ft., as advertised, built of wood, with a flat roof, like the top of a box. Gerry thought it would work. Ah - but there was a snag. We had to get it home.
     We hired a man with a flatbed trailer and a boom truck. With only minor mishaps the building was hoisted on the trailer and inched its way up the narrow road to our canyon.
    Before we had got it settled in place, Gerry said: “We can’t put it just on the ground like that, the floor will rot out. We’ll have to build some sort of foundation for it, out of railroad ties, and while we’re at it, I think we should pour a slab out front, make a terrace, so people can sit out there and eat their meals.... and we can have dances and....actually”, he went on, “we should also roof it, so that people are out of the sun in the summer.” It was early April, and the high desert sun was beginning to burn.
    We built the foundation for the shed, poured a deck and put wooden railings around its edge, and roofed it.
     Of course, the famous washrooms with their holey seats had to be installed as well, and so, with one thing and another, by the time we had finished, it resembled a government project - the cost had escalated somewhat.
It was no longer $400 - it was $14,000.  

Footnote: Today, over twenty odd years later, Grapevine is a successful guest ranch, visited by many people from all over the world. We're happy that returning guests, some after ten years or more, find that although there have been inevitable changes, yet Grapevine retains its feeling of peace and seclusion.

Copyright Eve K. Searle 1998

17 January 2007

Dear Friends,

        I hope your Christmas and New Year celebrations were happy ones, and that all your wishes come true in 2008!

        So now let me tell you about my new rescue horse family.  They arrived in Tucson from Canada just before Christmas, and as it is now almost a month, they are nearly out of their quarantine period.  This will come as good news to our little group of retired horses, plus the two donkey ladies, Miss Katie and Miss Sarah, all of whom have been relegated from the freedom of the barnyard to the lower corrals, where they spend the day munching hay, lazing in the sun and wondering why they can’t be on the loose again, terrorizing the neighborhood. 

Chikala

        To my relief, the newcomers are getting along well. When they arrived, the only feed they knew was hay, and they had to be introduced to the pleasures of alfalfa pellets and oats, which they now devour with great fervor and attention. To my amazement, none of them would touch the “apple love” horse treats which my horses and my goats would kill for. The big guy, Chikala, at two and a half years, is already some 17 hands, probably weighs around 1400 lbs, and he has turned out to be a love, no other word for it. When he hears our voices, he comes rushing up to the fence of his corral, ready to smooch and snuffle around us – and this even without the bribery of goodies!   His loving on you can be dangerous, though – his head alone weighs as much as a washtub, and when he slung it around the other day, I thought he’d break my neck. For a horse that wasn’t even halter broke when he arrived, we can already lead him around the corral, pick up all his feet,  and apply medication to his hind leg, which he had injured at some time and re-injured on this trip down, so it had a nasty, infected scab when he arrived.  All gone now – a bit of a scab is still there, and there will always be a scar, but it doesn’t bother him any and he looks stout enough to carry three riders.  The two babies we named Alberta and Yukon – for obvious reasons, shortened to Bertie and Yukie.  Both are almost to the point of being haltered and led around - and high time too, as their feet, particularly those of Yukie and Chikala, are in great need of a professional trim.  Such a pity to see such potentially good horses so wasted and, but for the good offices of United Pegasus, the rescue society, taken to slaughter.  Incidentally, in case you wonder why I called him Chikala – that was the name that Chief Crazy Horse of the Sioux called his war pony, evidently a loud colored pinto, also very big.  The chief had a sense of humor – the word means “small”.

Eve & Carrie

        And still on my rescue mission, I almost had another dog to take care of. My niece, Caroline, was staying with me for a week, and she and I, and another friend, Ferne, an ex-employee of Grapevine, went to visit a Buddhist settlement in the Burro Mountains of New Mexico, right on the Arizona border.  I had been there once before and found the place spectacularly beautiful, high mountainous country, reached by many miles on a two lane highway, then a 20 miles trip on a dirt road, and another several miles on a road that can best be described as a trail, fording a couple of creeks and maneuvering narrow switchbacks. I had wanted Carrie to see the place, and so we drove to Safford, met Ferne, and in her four wheel drive SUV – as I didn’t think my four wheel drive big truck would make the turns – we negotiated the 20 miles of dirt road, and came to the cattle guard and the fence with a sign that said “New Mexico”.  

        We got out of the car to take photos of us by the sign, and, while we were standing there, another truck came up from a road below us, turned the corner fast and careened up the hill in the direction from which we had come.  And as we looked at him wheeling around that corner, suddenly we saw a little dog, a Dachshund, a miniature Dachshund at that, tearing lickety split up the road after that truck.  He’d obviously fallen off the truck, which had two other dogs on the bed, and no tail gate.  Ferne jumped into the road and started waving her arms madly in the vain hope that the driver would see her in the rear vision mirror and stop.  Vain hope, indeed – the truck kept going, and the little dog, with an incredible speed for one with such short little legs, disappeared in its dust up the hill. 

Eve with Dachshund

        We were pretty sure that the driver  wouldn’t stop – for all we knew, he had thrown the little dog out the truck in the first place! And we were also sure that the dog wouldn’t long survive the coyotes, bears, mountain lions and other unfriendly and hungry residents of the mountains.  So we jumped in the car and after them all.  A good half mile later all we could see of the truck was its dust disappearing over the next two hills – and no dog.

        Maybe they had stopped and picked him up?  Maybe… we decided to go a bit further … turned a corner, and there he was, tearing up the hill as fast as his little legs would carry him.  Ferne stopped the car and I opened the back door.  The little dog stopped and looked up.  I said “Hey – come on in!!” and to my amazement, he took a step closer. I bent down, picked him up and into the car with him.   By this time, of course, his owners were long, long gone.

        What to do with him?  I could just see my dog Tuffy’s face if I were to come back with yet another rescue!  In her view it was already bad enough that I had adopted dog Zena, with whom she unwillingly shares the house and my affection, and I knew that a third dog would not be too welcome.  Then, too, I wondered what would I do with him?  He was delightful, a little brown Dachsie, with a cute little face and those crooked little legs that had traveled so far and worked so hard, all in vain.  But a little dog like that on a ranch is not too good an idea – keep him in a fenced in yard? A prisoner? Take a chance and turn him loose?  That would hardly do.  I pondered what to do, as Ferne turned the car and we crossed that fateful cattle guard again and launched ourselves on the track towards the Buddhist settlement.

At the temple

        The lady in the kitchen there agreed to put him on the porch until we had walked around and shown Carrie the various buildings, and we began our walk up the hill towards the one that houses the prayer wheels – a steep climb.  We’d got up about a third of the way when a familiar truck wheeled up by the kitchen door and a man got out and shouted up at us “Did you see a little weenie dog?” 

        They took him home, of course, and I was glad to see that this time they didn’t put him on the bed of the truck, but inside the cab.  I hope the little dog was happy to be with his family – and I was quite relieved that I didn’t have to face Tuffy with an unwelcome surprise!

        And, still with Carrie, and only due to her visit, I discovered another lovely place in this valley, where I have lived for 35 years!  The Willcox Playa, which is a mostly dry lake, the remnant of a long vanished inland sea, is host to thousands of sandhill cranes, who fly in here to spend the winter – the original snowbirds, I guess!   The place to view them is not too far from Grapevine, but then I learned from Robin in our office, that there is a much lovelier viewing place near McNeal, some 40 miles south of us.  So off we went, on a cold and windy day, to see the sandhill cranes.  Now I should tell you that I am not a birder – I am too nearsighted to be able to identify birds unless they’re right under my nose, where they seldom want to be, so an authority I’m not. But sandhill cranes? I wanted to see them.

        We drove the required umpteen miles of dirt road and arrived at the lake.   It was a cold and windy day, and, as we were not there at the right time, all we got to know of the cranes was to hear their squawking – and see a couple of small flocks. But the place was lovely and we did see an incredible series of rainbows – and we learned that the right time to see the cranes is around 4 pm, when they fly in for the evening, returning from their foraging trips.  So – when you come, and if you come between the end of October and the end of March, I will take you there – generally it’s not cold and windy, and the place alone is well worth the visit!  Of course, you know that in Arizona we get excited over any body of water – if you come from Illinois, or Wisconsin, you’ll probably pass.  I well remember a guest in the past who, on learning that our lake is some 3-4 acres when full, said musingly that HIS lake was 100 acres.   In Wisconsin. Good for him!

        So on this slightly sour note I’ll end, wishing you a pleasant winter and hope to see you here at Grapevine some time in ’08!!

                        Eve and the rest of us at Grapevine.

---

21 December 2007

Dear Friends,

            So Christmas approaches faster that one would like, and we’re trying to get everything done that should be done by the end of the year – hopeless task!

            One of the jobs awaiting us is the painting of the Faraway Lodge.  We had decided to make the Arizona Room, a wasted space of some 600 sq. ft., into a corporate meeting room, and much fun was had by all discussing, arguing, choosing carpets and wall colors, and finally the thing is about to be done. That is to say, it is done for all but the carpets and windows treatment, and this to be completed on January 3rd. 

            There is, of course, as in all apples, a worm in this apple, too – and that is that the outside remodeling resulted in the building now being about three varying shades of brown, none of them even near to what we call Grapevine Green, that mottled, uncertain shade of greenish brown that comes nearest to the color of the oak tree bark, thus, hopefully, hiding the buildings among the trees.  So, next job for maintenance, and, for all I know, the rest of us as well, is the painting of this humungous building so it finally becomes one pleasing, homogenous color.  And then we’re done – and you are all welcome to come, when visiting us, to view this masterpiece.  Preferably, of course, come with your corporate group and enjoy the meeting room to its fullest!  So far we haven’t come up with a name for it – something like the Pow Wow Room comes to mind…. not too enthusiastically – but something along those lines would be nice.  Ideas, anyone??

My new rescue horse soon to be part of the Grapevine family.

            Last time I asked for ideas, it was to name my new rescue horse, who is a pinto of large white and dark brown splotches, and whom I am about to pick up tomorrow or the next day. I received a suggestion from a dear friend in the UK, who is an ardent student of the Apache nation and language.   The Apache word for “horse” is so totally unpronounceable that he came up with another one, “Chikala”, which  we can pronounce, but would never remember.  Apparently it’s a name that Chief Crazy Horse gave his horse, and in Sioux it means “Small”.  Fitting, as this horse of mine looks to be, at age three, about 16 hands already.  My friend tells me that Crazy Horse’s horse was huge too – the chief had a sense of humor.

            So the other morning I went for a fun horseback ride, and it was so bracing that this afternoon I was moved to sit at my desk and overhaul my personal bookkeeping.  Now this wouldn’t seem like too much of a chore except that I had, some years back, been stupid enough to get Quicken to do my personal accounts.  Quicken in its old incarnation was bad enough, but last year they were moved to load me up with an update, and this update is so confusing and so complicated that I finally gave up and decided to move my personal accounts over to QuickBooks. I have already used this at Grapevine before unloading the thankless bookkeeping job onto others – and still use for the cattle ranch accounts - so I thought it would be a snip.  

            Oho, oho – is anything to do with books ever a snip?  Some three hours later and with burning eye, I wonder if perhaps the old idea of an abacus might not be better. Suffice to say that I have transferred some figures over, but, lacking the most recent bank statement ( yes, indeed, why did I not wait for it to come, a good question, you may well ask)  my final figure is so wildly out of whack that I feel an abacus may be forthcoming soon.           

Rescued colts soon to be part of the family here at Grapevine Canyon Ranch.

            So tomorrow I am off pick up my rescue horses.  Actually, I was going to get only one, the three year old pinto mentioned above, but, as these horses, if unclaimed, go to slaughter, at the last minute I was seduced into taking also two weanling colts – how can you let something so young and innocent go to slaughter – disgusting. So they should be here in the next couple of days, and I do hope I won’t regret my action – none of them are halter broke, and I well remember one of our own babies whom we had to halter break at about 2-3 months – what a rodeo!  And these guys look to be about 6 months, so wish us luck!  But you see, by this action I hope to, when I die, go to horse heaven, which I am sure must be far superior to people heaven … and I hear they take dogs in there too….

            Talking of rescue equines, I may have mentioned Miss Sarah the donkey, who is now residing with us and doing well.  Miss Katie, the resident other donkey, has finally decided that  someone with such long ears is socially acceptable after all (Miss Katie has never looked in a mirror, you see, and so probably thinks she is a horse) and now they bop around the yard together, stealing the horses’ food and generally being long eared nuisances.  Sarah is slowly gentling down and letting us get nearer and nearer – of course, holding a horse goodie in one’s hand helps – and soon, I think, she will tolerate us.  Poor baby – she had been so ill treated by people it’s a wonder that she lets us within a mile of her.

            And we also have another new retiree  here - the horse Peanut, from the Grapevine string.  Peanut is such a character I always said that when the time came he would retire with me.  I am almost … not quite, but almost … regretting this. Along with the other retirees, he has the run of the yard during the day, and yesterday I came home to find that he had made himself at home on my patio, tipped over a flower pot, nibbled on some other plants, and totally demolished and ate up my trumpet vine, which I had been nurturing all summer, trying to persuade it to grow on a trellis along my patio wall. Alas, it is no more – I’m sure that even a tough plant like that one can’t recover from such rude, cavalier treatment.   So now I have to close the patio gate and Peanut stands there forlornly, head hanging over the wall, feverishly pondering how best to get in there and continue his depredations.

            And I thought I would end this with a photo which I am sure will entice you to come and visit – you don’t have to be crazy to live here, but it sure helps!!  

            And so, a happy Christmas to you all, with a safe and prosperous New Year to follow!

                                                                                    Eve and all of us at Grapevine.

---

27 November 2007

Dear Friends,

            Thanksgiving is behind us, with the most beautiful, warm weather we have had for many years.  I don’t know if that’s exactly cause for celebration, given all the worries about global warming, but viewed purely from the selfish viewpoint, these were great days – the guests were happy, the flowers in my garden were happy, and the only possibly disgruntled amongst us were the horses, who complained that they were still suffering with the flies.  Last night was our first frost, and then it was only a measly 32 deg.F.  

            Thinking about the global warming scare, there is a book I want to tell you about called “The World Without Us”, by  Alan Weisman.  It postulates a world from which all people (not animals, insects or anything else, just we) disappeared.  It doesn’t say how or why - we just did.  And then it looks into what happens to the mess we have left behind.  A very interesting, and incredibly well researched book which will make you realize what garbage we are leaving! And, sadly, some of it will outlive even the earth, which eventually will disappear in the inferno of the sun, with some of our atomic rubbish still buried in its depths.  It’s the kind of book which makes me want to pick up all the cigarette butts even at the airport, never mind the few on the ranch!  Read it – it is truly food for thought.

Miss Katie

            And, still on the topic of the general nastiness of some people, I must tell you about some of my rescue animals.  You may know already about my two rescue dogs, one of which was found wandering around the local town of Willcox and tied up by some well meaning person to our veterinarian’s fence – the good lady took her in, got her well and then found me.  The other dog was abandoned by her owners when they left the house they lived in, and left her to wander around, homeless and hungry, living off the desert for some six months, until she was rescued by the woman who eventually  gave her to me.  Now they both live with me, fat and sassy, Zenie in her own bed next to mine, and Tuffy often ON mine.   

Miss Sarah

            Now my latest rescue is a donkey.  Some of you may know already about my Miss Katie who was given to me by a friend, and who reigns supreme in the yard, making sure that none of us sleeps too late with her ungodly, early morning braying …. Good thing my house is a mile and a half away from the guest ranch, or I would have a guest revolution!  Now the same veterinarian told me of another donkey who had been found wandering around the desert, starving and thin, beaten bloody, with her halter, too small for her head, grown into her flesh so that it was grown into the bone!  I wish I could find the owner of this poor girl – I could take care of him!  The same lady vet took her in (named her Sarah) and kept her for three months until she was well enough to come to someone’s home – she came to mine.   Her name is now Miss Sarah, if you please, to accompany Miss Katie, and together they bray in unison in the early mornings, about an octave apart, so there is no mistaking as to who it is who needs breakfast first.   Miss Sarah is not too trusting of people as yet - and can you blame her! – and so she is in a pen, until we are sure we can walk up to her and halter her to get her back home.  When she is gentle enough for that, we will turn her out with Miss Katie, and together they can terrorize the neighborhood. The normal drill for Miss Katie and the three retired horses, Zona, Mora and Mooney,  is to be turned out onto the pasture  to graze all day, and return home at night.  This is in theory – in practice they hang around the barn yard, stealing hay through the fence from the other horses, bothering the dogs, and generally making a nuisance of themselves, until it’s time to return home to their own stall and a tasty dinner.   

"One never knows when the next meal may come....."

            But I am not stopping there.  I am sure that some of you may have heard of the Premarin horses in Canada?  The mares are kept pregnant, and their urine is collected to make the medication Premarin for menopausal women.   The foals are, unfortunately, a very disposable end product of this, and very often go to slaughter if no adopting person can be found.  There is an association called United Pegasus which tries to find homes for these babies, and I got in touch with them, and went on their web page to see what there was.  I looked at the horses in the slaughter bound section – and one stood out to me - a big, two year old gelding, a black and white pinto, with a trusting face and good conformation, whose time was unning out.  He is coming to me on the December truck, and I will let you know how we get on together.  He is gelded, thankfully, but not broken in, so I guess I am in for a surprise – hopefully it will be a good one.  He looks very big – the Premarin mares are generally draft  Percherons, and the stallions are Quarter horses.  This one has good Quarter horse conformation, but sure looks big – do I need this in my latter years?? Perhaps I can teach him to kneel.  Anyway, I will let you know when he comes, and show you a picture. In the meantime, those of you out there who are horse lovers, do spare a thought for the poor Premarin foals – look to see if you can find some of them a good home!  United Pegasus have a web page (www.unitedpegasus.com) with all information.

            Otherwise the news is that we had got ourselves in gear ranch-wise and converted one of the casitas into a deluxe accommodation, complete with beautiful new lodge pole furniture, brand new carpets, revamped bathroom and a hot tub out on the deck, facing the privacy of Grapevine Canyon.  It’s the place to go for a honeymoon, an anniversary, or just to treat yourself – the first occupants of the place were return guests, who came, stayed, returned, stayed again and returned only 10 days later to stay once more for Thanksgiving!   I almost feel that we should name the place after them!

            The other revamp concerns our Faraway Lodge.  This consists of three accommodations - two suites, casita size and one single room, cabin size.  The building also has a long screened-in porch and a huge, 600 sq.ft. Arizona Room – read "big screened-in porch" for that.  It occurred to us that a big porch is a bit unnecessary – fun to use in the summer, but a total wash out in the winter – and even in the summer, when you can ride, hike, birdwatch and swim, do you really want to sit on your porch?  So we decided to turn it into a meeting room for corporate meeting planners.  The idea was given to us by a gentleman from Sweden who does just that all over the world – and he is very enthusiastic about its potential.  We have had many corporate meetings here already over the years, but the meetings were always held in the Buffalo Room, which is, in its normal incarnation, a game room, with pool table, ping pong table, card tables, bar – and so turning it into a meeting room necessitates a minor temporary revamp.  Now we won’t have to do that – there will be a meeting room, complete with the requisite whiteboards and other gimmicks, all ready for imparting knowledge to eager participants.  It’s almost done – when it’s complete, we’ll post photos.  But I’ll tell you what - there never seems to be a lack of things to spend money on, in the guest ranch business!

            In October we had our fall round up, shipped off the calves and got a good price for them – and this year we found an unusual use for the cull cows.  Instead of sending these poor girls who didn’t get themselves pregnant, off to market and an unpleasant future, we kept them to use in team penning, now offered every Saturday, and also in a new program called Cow Camp.

            Cow Camp is truly a fun new thing.  It is the brainchild of cowboy Barn Boss Adam, who thought it would be a good idea to teach people how to handle cows.  First of all, it ought to be fun for them now, he reasoned, and then, should they want to come and sign up to help us at round-up time, it will be all the better, as they will know so much more about it.

            We held the first one already, and it was a great success.  The participants were a wonderful family from North Carolina, who had been looking for a family vacation – and did they have fun! The first day was spent in the corral, learning how to rope, ride and handle the horses; next day they spent in the corrals with the cattle, getting the idea of working them, of driving them, where to be when, and where not to be – in short, cow psychology.   The day after that they drove the cattle across the ranch into another set of corrals.  There they spent the rest of that day sorting, penning, roping. After a good steak dinner, they slept under the stars, disdaining the big tent provided.  Next morning, after a cowboy breakfast, and some more roping and sorting, they drove the cows back to the home corrals.   They became good hands with the cattle, and the surprise was the baby of the family - the only girl - who turned out to have an excellent seat, a good hand for handling horses (and had not ridden much at all prior to coming here) and a great gift for … wait for it!  Roping!  In a couple of days she mastered the art of swinging that loop and catching what she aimed at, without fail, to the amazement of Adam and Butch, who accompanied the drive.  They made it home for the big Thanksgiving meal and left a couple of days later, and we sure miss them!  They were a great beginning to what will be, I believe, a popular new program.

            So I think this about wraps it up – I hope you had as good a Thanksgiving as we did, and I wish you the best of Christmas seasons, lots of good things under the tree, and a wonderful and safe New Year!    

---

15 October 2007

Dear Friends,

And how time passes – summer is over, the tall green grass in the pastures has turned that fabulous shade of silvery yellow, and it’s time for the October round up – this Monday, in fact.

We had a lovely, green summer.  After many dry seasons,  this year it rained and rained.  Of course, by that I mean that it  rained about every three days, for about an hour or so – but for us and the desert, that’s princely indeed.  Almost overnight the grass grew to the legendary stirrup height that we keep reading about in the books about the old days, and the cattle, lying down, replete and fat, were almost invisible in the grass, with only the tips of their ears sticking out.   How lovely if this spelled the end of the drought and we could look forward to good winter rains as well, and with more summers like this one!  I am reminded of an ancient Hebrew farmers’ prayer that reads “Oh Lord, heed not the prayers of those about to set out on a journey…” Indeed!

And, because of the rains, some long-unseen little creatures are beginning to appear in the desert.  The first of these were tiny little baby toads, about as big as a dollar coin and entirely lovable.  Not only lovable, but also rather invasive, and to this day I can’t figure out how they get into the house, past the door which is either closed, or with a latched screen door.  However they do it, there they are – a couple of weeks ago, a pair of them were bopping around my library floor, doing their best to get among the books, and then just the other day, again two – perhaps they  travel in pairs? – were flopping around on the living room floor, just inside the front door.  I was able to pick them up each time and carry them outside, where they went their way rejoicing.  And not long ago dog Tuffy had a barking fit, trying to dig behind one of my flower pots.  I looked, and lo and behold, there was a large green frog, looking suspiciously like the Leopard Frog, which happens to be a species that the Forest Service is all hot and bothered about, trying to promote ranchers’ participation in saving it from extinction.   To this end they had earnestly tried to induce me to make the pond behind the house (which we fancifully call the Lake) a Leopard Frog habitat.   I would go for that, and had almost signed up for the program, until I found out that to this end other life in the pond has to be killed off, so the Leopard Frog spawn isn’t gobbled up by something else lawfully residing there.  Now at this I drew the line – after all, we had ourselves introduced several species of aquatic life into the lake, as well as myriads of mosquito fish, and to think that we should now turn treacherous and kill them off, seemed a bit much.  So we declined the offer – and look!  Not only is the Leopard Frog not so rare that a special lake has to be dedicated to it with its rightful denizens murdered, but it is actually not rare to the point that it has the time and space to migrate to my garden and hide behind my flower pots.  I picked it up and put it behind the wall where it hopefully set up housekeeping to make more Leopard Frogs.

And those of you who take the time to read our web page and its ramblings, I hope you have discovered our Specials page.  Jen, who is our new marketing guru, has decreed that what we need is some special programs that will make your stay here more exciting, and to this end we have introduced quite a few fun things.  I think that the most interesting is Cow Camp, whereby you actually learn to handle cattle, to gather them, drive them across country into a set of corrals, learn a bit of roping and sorting, and then drive them back to their home pasture.  The trick isn’t in the moving of the cows from one place to another as much as learning how to do it – aye, there’s the rub!!  Cattle have a different way of reasoning, and a different way of reacting, and it’s interesting to learn how to do it, where to be in order to be effective, when to move and when to stay still – all things which are needed if you are going to be useful in any cattle round up.

Then we have introduced Horse Games, a type of gymkhana, where you carry out games on horseback – fun in itself, but invaluable in learning more control and better handling of your horse.  Very frustrating at times, too – there you are winning, and suddenly your horse says “Sorry, but I don’t feel like doing this one!” and bummer! You lose!

There are others too – a more sedate program is our weekly history chat, where I assemble those interested in the Video Room, and tell them the fascinating story of our Sulphur Springs Valley, from the early Dragoons Culture people to the Apaches, the Mexicans, the Civil War,  the ranchers and the miners of this land.   People enjoy it, as it’s always more interesting to have the background of the country you ride through – this area is so rich in history that it is a pity not to know it.  There are other programs, but best you poke through the web page and discover them for yourself!!

And the other exciting thing is that we have totally gutted and revamped the Chaparral casita.  We had some plumbing problems in it, which meant we had to tear out some of the bathroom, so it seemed a good time to take the bull by the horns, spend about fifteen thousand dollars and ramp it up to a deluxe casita, with special furniture, new window treatment, new bathroom, and a hot tub on the back porch, where you can sit, relax, gaze at the stars and enjoy the tranquility of Grapevine Canyon.

So I hope you will come and visit us, enjoy the new programs and indulge yourself in your private hot tub under the stars!

And, as it took me so long to write this, here it is Monday already, and I’m off to saddle my horse and go chase cows!!

All best,

---

8 September 2007

Dear Friends,

You are no doubt a bit sick of my gloating letters talking about the rain we've had, but if you had watched trees die, and had taken good cattle to the sale because you had no feed, you would be as excited as we are this summer. It has rained steadily, a bit here and a bit there - nothing, of course, like the rain you are probably used to! - but nevertheless we amassed a respectable 9 inches or so over the summer, and the grass is the legendary stirrup height - see attached photo!! The upper tanks are full and overflowing water into the Lake, which once again almost, I say almost, deserves the name of Lake. (I well remember a guest here from Illinois once, who, on learning that we called this tank the Lake, looked a bit amused. On my asking why, he shared the information that he, too, had a lake in Illinois. On my inquiry as to the size of his lake, he said nonchalantly, Oh, about 100 acres. Ah well - I guess that compared to Lake Erie that's not big, either.)

We have had an interesting summer guest wise, with lots and lots of people from the UK, most of them escaping their summer of too much rain! Why is it that you never get the perfect climate? Actually, I do remember a place like that.. In the early 70's, I lived in Mexico, in the state of Guerrero, in the town of Taxco, the so called silver capital. The reason it was so called is because at one time it had seemingly bottomless silver mines, now played out. However, it still remains the seat of Mexico's silversmith industry, with some fabulous silver items being crafted and sold. But apart from silver, Taxco also has two other interesting features - first of all, it is a colonial town, meaning that the houses are all in the old-world Mexican colonial style, and it is forbidden to build a modern house - hooray! As a result, the town remains charming, different, picturesque and altogether wonderful, with its houses scattered up and down steep mountainsides, so that many are built on several terraced, flower strewn levels. The other interesting feature is the climate. Taxco rejoices in spring time temperatures year round, and it never rains except when it should, in the rainy season. And then the day goes like this - morning, wall to wall blue sky - about 3 pm, clouds begin to build, at 4 comes a thunderstorm to end all thunderstorms and a steady downpour which seems to last all night. Next morning, clear blue sky...and this repeats for the length of the summer months. And almost overnight, the countryside erupts in grass and wildflowers. I had a horse who used to get totally lost in his field of daisies - only his ears would be sticking out of the riotous tangle of yellow heads. It was truly a lovely time. Anyway - that was a perfect climate.

But we can't complain. Because it rained this summer, we, too, have wildflowers, although not as many as last year, also a good-rain summer - but this year we have more grass, in fact, we have grass where I had never seen grass before. There is a trail we call the Canyon Trail, because it looks like the badlands around the Grand Canyon - all sand and windswept ridges. I made a trail there because I thought, there's no grass here and never will be, so we're not damaging any cattle feed, let's make a trail. Well, I rode it last weekend, and thankfully had a good trail horse who'd been there before, because there were parts of the trip where I wasn't sure where the trail was, there was so much grass. Exciting - and, until you have ranched or farmed, and depended on the vagaries of Mother Nature, you will not appreciate just how exciting.

And so to other news - we had a good summer with lots of visitors from the UK, as I said, and it's always so pleasant for me to hear English spoken the way I learned it first, as a child in a boarding school in India. I must say that there are dialects of it that I do have trouble with, e.g. some of the broader Scots or Yorkshire speak, and there are parts of the Irish brogue that leave me guessing, but overall, I think our guests have learned to enunciate, and make sure that we colonials understand them. It's truly amazing just how much we can all murder the English language. I remember when I first arrived in this country, my ex husband and I were looking for a ranch. In our travels we came to a place in Texas, called, by a great coincidence, Sulphur Springs Valley. I say coincidence, because this valley where I live now, is also called Sulphur Springs Valley - how wild is that! Anyway, the real estate agent picked us up at the airfield, and, as he was also a farmer, he greeted us thus: "Waa-a-a-l, aah done did m' plowin' " - he said. It took me about as long to decipher that as it took him to understand us, fresh from Australia via Mexico! I guess this all adds to the richness of the English language, children!

We are revamping our riding program some, and one of the items we have re-introduced is Horse Games, maybe known to some as Gymkhana. We had the first try- out last Sunday and I must say I had more fun than a barrelful of monkeys! Jo, our tech support gal, who has the same days off as I do, joined in as well, and I hadn't laughed so much in ages. I think the horses shared this view also, as they seemed to join in with gusto - one of the events called for riders to return to the starting point with some speed - as well as safety, and we did - what fun! My Comanche put his tail up and his head down and I could almost hear him give a horse laugh! We plan to do these every Sunday, just before the lunch cook-out. Riders who are lope checked can do it a bit faster, and walking riders can do it at a walk, with the teams consisting of some of each, so there are no undue advantages. So what better - laughing yourself silly on horseback, to the wafting aroma of hamburgers and hot dogs being cooked by somebody else in the shade of a clump of Arizona ash trees!

And, by the way, since I last wrote the above, we had the remnants of Hurricane whatever, the one that slammed into South America, and it brought us another 1.10 inches of rain!

Tomorrow we are doing our August cattle round up - yes, you heard right, August. This is the one we like to do towards the end of August, but last year we got into the middle of a horrendous thunder storm, and I said to myself, I don't want to do that again - riding with flashes of lightning overhead, and the roll of thunder in your ears is no fun at all, so we put it off to the first Monday of September, when the weather is generally more settled. So, wouldn't you know it, last Monday we found we were so shorthanded that it looked as if Danny would have to do the north end by himself, and Monique and I the south end plus the middle, and, as the pasture is 7 square miles, that didn't appeal to any of us. I guess we're not as tough as the old timers, and didn't feel like riding 8 hours, chasing cows that are up to their flanks in green grass and see no reason to be herded into a corral. So we put it off to this Sunday and I was glad that this is the one round up on which we don't take guests, as it really cannot be scheduled - rain, thunderstorms, and - this year - lack of cowboys - can cause delays, and that would sure make people mad, if they had come specially for it.

I remember one year, in November, when we did have a lot of guest riders, a truck strike was called at the last minute. The cattle buyer called us and said he wanted the cattle a week before the due date. Well, of course, we couldn't do it - people were coming for the roundup from as far as Europe, and there was no way we could move it ahead of time. When we told him, he said, OK, then I will send the trucks after the strike, on the 20th. So on the set date, we gathered the cows, separated the sale calves and put them in the corral, to feed them costly hay for some ten days or so. And wouldn't you know it, it rained, and some of them got the flu - and then, as if that wasn't bad enough, a mountain lion or some damn animal came by in the night, the cattle spooked and rushed the corral fence, some 6 ft. high, made of metal posts sunk into cement, with strong wire mesh between the posts. They trampled the fence down, killing five head in the process, and took off into the mountains. We had another big gather on our hands, plus five dead steers, plus loss of weight due to the flu and the stampede, and, if I could have got my hands on the union bosses who had decreed that strike, I would have sent them on their way following the dead cattle. A losing year, to be sure!

So - hopefully, tomorrow will go well. The steady rains this summer have resulted in lots of gopher holes in the soft soil, totally hidden by the tall grass, so I guess this is one gather that we'll try to do at a walk - not practical, but safe.

Take care, enjoy the last of summer, and come see us before all this green disappears - not often we see this land so lush!                                        

---

20 June 2007

Dear Friends,

        It does seem a long time since I’ve written, but with all the changes and monkeying around with the web page, I’ve hardly noticed how time has gone by.  Not that I am the one doing the monkeying, you understand …. Or perhaps to put it more correctly,  I am monkeying, and poor Ben, the web master, is fixing.  So far he is showing the patience of Job and I think the web page is looking good, wouldn't you agree?

        So what is new – well, last week it rained off and on all day, rained and thundered, and, while it is awfully early and it wasn’t the monsoon, but an offshoot from some very unusual tornado activity in New Mexico, the rain was nevertheless very welcome.  Of course, one immediately begins to suspect the motives of Mother Earth when that happens – “it’s raining, it’s too soon, does that mean it won’t rain in the summer” you ask yourself anxiously, and of course, it doesn’t make one bit of difference. As Gerry used to say, it will rain when it’s ready and there’s no point in worrying about it.  In fact, Danny tells me he read or heard somewhere that the Earth’s climate is changing in such a way that the south west deserts will become a sub-tropical zone in about 50 years or so.   Where the deserts will go, he didn’t say.  

        Anyway, it rained, and one of the results of the immediate green grass is that the horses, out on vacation, actually leave the corral and go out to graze.  They are gone day and night, and last Sunday, when wrangler Butch came with the new batch due to go out, and gathered the group that was due to return to work, he came up one short.

        It turned out to be Peanut, who happens to be one of my personal favorites.  A cheeky little horse, full of personality, with an excellent memory - he well remembers that I once gave him a treat at the hitch rail, and now he can never pass me without begging for more treats, and, of course, getting them!  If I happen to be out of reach of his prehensile lips, he fixes his stare on me so intently that I’m compelled to turn around, meet that pleading look, and – how can one resist! – dispense the required goodies.

        Anyway, the idea that he was the one missing threw me into a frenzy – I had immediate visions of Peanut tangled up in the  fence, without water, dying of thirst, cut up and bleeding to death, snake bit and unable to walk, hit by lightning, dead – as you can see, I have a very fertile imagination when it comes to bad situations.    Butch and I decided to mount up and go look.  As he went for a bridle, he checked the list of horses written down on the tack room door and announced – “No, it’s not just Peanut, it’s Chief and Peanut, both of them!” T hat made us immediately feel better – one horse by himself, away from the herd, is usually bad news – two horses off together, probably means they are just being naughty about coming in.

        Anyway, we mounted up. Butch rode down the lane through the corral and out into the Horse Pasture, and I rode to the adjoining Bull Pasture, which has a series of high hills overlooking the Horse Pasture.  I hadn’t gone a quarter of a mile when I spied Chief, strolling down the side of the west fence – I couldn’t see Peanut yet, but after a bit I saw a flash of sorrel color among the bushes.  I called Butch and he veered off in that direction. And guess what!  As soon as they heard him coming, they legged it speedily up the hill towards the east fence and hid behind a tree.  Just like a couple of school kids – there they were, peering out, hoping they wouldn’t be seen.  And they say horses aren’t smart!  I could almost hear them talking and plotting.  I don’t think they saw Comanche and me, up on the hill, and if they had, they would not have grasped the magic of cell phones and instant human communication!  Anyway, today they’re back at Grapevine – and I slept well Sunday night!

        And we have a new addition to our program in the evenings – every Tuesday night I am happy to give a short talk on the history of our area, covering the early people called the Dragoons Culture, followed by the Apaches, the turbulent history of Chief Cochise, Tom Jeffords, and Geronimo – the big corporate ranches which ran up to a 100,000 head of cattle in our valley towards the end of the 1800’s, and the final story of the mining bonanza in towns like Tombstone, Pearce, Courtland and Gleeson.  The guests tell me they enjoy it, and I certainly enjoy sharing this rich heritage with them.

        Finally, as you may have noticed on the web page, we had been looking for some new staff – various people had to leave for various reasons, and we were really hard pressed through the busy time of the spring season, short staffed by about four people.  Naturally, Murphy’s Law says that immediately the low season hits and guest numbers are down (and so is the income), the required new staff appear as if by magic, ready for work.  But never mind – I am happy they are here, and season or no season, their arrival is well overdue. The kitchen had been short staffed for three long months, and the maintenance had been lacking a good mechanic for several years.  Luckily one came along, by name of Dan, a very skilled guy from Tucson, who has taken the various vehicles well in hand.  He keeps asking me how many vehicles are on the ranch, as if he is afraid of running out of work.  When I finally totted them all up and came up with the number eighteen, he seemed satisfied. Well he might be – some of them, like our venerable dump truck, came over with the Mayflower - it is held together with baling wire and dumb luck. But he says he can fix it, so more power to him.   Anyway, we seem to be up to speed as far as staff is concerned, and so all that is lacking now to make our world complete is more guests and RAIN!!

        So cross your fingers for us, do the rain dance, and come and visit us – the summer is a magic time here, especially if it’s rained – the wildflowers are out, the grass is tall, the cows are happy – what more can one ask!

        And if you can’t come and visit, then have a wonderful summer wherever you are, and stay in touch!!

                Eve

---

17 May 2007

Dear Friends,

            Summer is almost upon us, and even though during the winter months it rained hardly at all, there are some spring flowers beginning to dot the countryside – now we just have to hope for some good, drenching summer rains!  Living in the desert, everything revolves around water – either not enough, or too much – although lately there never seems to be enough of it. I do remember one year, quite some time back, when it had rained pretty frequently during the winter - and in the spring, lo and behold, water began to seep out of the mountains, turning the flat land to the east into a bog.  Horses would step down into wet holes and disappear up to their knees, the hay truck got stuck in it, and one horrible day the garbage truck actually turned over and spilled a good bit of its contents all over the road.   It took a big tractor plus a back-hoe to pull him upright, and we were picking up bits of glass and stuff off the road for months after. 

            Our spring so far has been very untypical, though – the temperatures, which by now are generally well into the 90’s, have remained in pleasant 70’s and 80’s, giving the lie to global warming – which I don’t doubt, but just don’t see here - anyway, not right now!  

            But, warm or not, our summer season is approaching, and with it the three months of the summer program.  For the months of June, July and August, we turn the clock back by one hour – breakfast is served around 7 to 7:30 am, the morning rides leave at 8, returning at 11, with the day ride returning at 3 pm.   The afternoons are spent around the pool, or sightseeing, and the afternoon ride becomes an evening ride, departing after an early dinner, and returning well after sunset, or, when the moon is full, by moonlight.  It’s a great way to see some fabulous sunset colors, those famous Arizona evenings when the sky turns about seven different hues, and the air is so still that the only thing you can hear is the clip clop of your horse’s hooves.  And then back to the patio for an after-ride drink and lots of tall tales!   Summers are truly a magical place here at Grapevine.

            And so what else is new?  We bought six new horses, who are at the moment in a month’s quarantine at the cattle ranch headquarters.  All they have to do is to eat and laze the days away, probably envied by the hard working Grapevine horses, who have had a busy season, and who likely can’t wait for the reinforcements to arrive!  

            On Monday we began the spring round-up, where the momma cows and babies are brought into the corrals for branding and inoculations.  It’s also bookkeeping time for the ranch, as we can get a rough idea of what the calf crop will be in the fall, and so how much money the cattle ranch will have to operate with during the following year; we also pick out our replacement heifers, thus ensuring a steady supply of future calves.   It’s always hot during the spring round up, and the dust, the bawling cows, the bleating calves, the sweaty ropers’ horses and the branding crew impatiently waiting for each new little one has become for me, over the years, a part of spring. And before some of you recoil in horror at the idea of branding baby calves, or branding any cattle, let me assure you that, from my observation of cattle over many years, it doesn’t hurt.  I base this on seeing many grown cows purchased at the sale being branded in the chute – if they’re used to being handled, they stand there, chewing their cud and don’t even flinch when the branding iron is applied.  Baby calves, not used to being handled, usually bawl and struggle, but I find it interesting that orphaned calves, raised on the bottle and so used to people, don’t struggle at all.  So – I conclude that it doesn’t hurt.  The reason, I believe, is that cattle have a hide over what you might call their skin, and the hide is not too well supplied with nerves – you only have to watch an old cow calmly climbing through an electric fence to believe that!  It’s different with horses, and I deplore the barbaric practice of branding them, unless it’s a freeze brand.

            In the past the branding was done by heating the irons over an open fire, and the idea of bending over those roaring flames, when the temperatures are in the 90’s anyway, made spring round up lose a lot of its charm, especially as I am the one doing the branding.  Nowadays, however, there are modern conveniences, such as an electric branding iron, which not only doesn’t have to be heated over a fire, but which also keeps a nice, steady temperature, making it much easier to get clear, easy to read brands.  The only drawback is that on a windy day, the iron tends to cool below the optimum temperature, and so the solution is to carry it around in  a bucket.  And hauling around a bucket with a hot iron in it, tethered to the electrical outlet by a long cord which tries to get in the way of the ropers’ horses and tangle up around the calves’ legs can get to be a bit tiring.  You always seem to be in the way of someone’s horse, or the jumping calf, or the enraged mother cow, and at the end of the day one gets to feel singularly unwanted.  By the time we got done with the branding yesterday, I felt as if I had been thoroughly mangled by some giant implement – I had forgotten how one’s body can protest this unseemly activity, done, after all, only once a year and then all at once, for some ten or so hours, under the hot sun.

            I had planned to take my dog Tuffy with me on the round up this time, for the second time in her young life.  Tuffy is an Australian Shepherd, exceedingly eager to work and I have finally convinced her that “work” means doing it to my time table, and not hers.  I took her on the last round up in fall, and she did surprisingly well. Since then we have enrolled in dog school, where I take her to a lady who trains Corgis for competition herding.   It was comical to see what an eye opener that was for Tuff.  The first time there, Cindy took one of her Corgis to work her goats and we let Tuffy watch.  It was comical – she strained on her leash, leaned into the fence, eagerly following each movement of dog and goats, yipping with excitement, much as one would do at a football game when one’s team has scored.  When we took her into the pen, she was very willing, and has improved steadily over the weeks. Last Monday we finally let her work some young steers, which are more difficult, as their arena is much larger and they are faster than the little goats. By the end of the hour, Tuff was panting, her tongue was hanging out, and I think she was thinking that maybe being a couch dog might be better.  Those little pudgy feet must have done a hundred miles that hot day – but she hung in there, even towards the end, when she was clearly just dragging.  

            However, at the last minute I chickened out on taking her along – it’s a big country out there, and the idea of her doing her own round up with some hapless baby calf, out of my sight and out of reach of my whistle, made me reconsider, much to her fury.  She and the other dog, Zena, know that when I pick up my spurs, they’re in for a good time – so the look on their doggy faces when they hear the words “you stay at home!” is quite heart wrenching.

            Anyway, round up is over – the last of the replacement heifers have been put through the chute and ear tagged, the handful of last year’s late calves will be going to the sale this afternoon, and the happy mommas and their babies are slowly leaving the corral for the summer pasture.   When we let the cows out, they take off on the run,  and leave the babies behind – after all, they’d been on slim rations in the corral for a few days, and the idea of getting out there onto that green grass is irresistible – but throughout the day, they saunter back to the corral and pick up their babies, and by the evening the whole thing is over – little ones gone, all happy under some shady mesquite tree, while momma is out there flirting with the bulls, ready for next year’s baby.  And so the seasons go….. I can hardly believe that this is my 27th spring “works”.  Now just to pray for good summer rains, and seeing these same calves off to the sale in October!

            So on this happy note I’ll leave you, wishing you a pleasant summer!

                                                          Eve

---

10 March 2007

Dear Friends,

            So, after a long silence, here I am again, and, as you probably can see, on the new web page as well! 
            Our web master, John, decided to seek greener pastures, and by great good luck, an excellent new one was at hand, in the form of Ben, who was the Guest Services person at the ranch some time ago, and who had left to get married and live in Tucson.  So, what better – he knows and loves the ranch, he is close by, he can come to visit and get updated on new developments as often as he likes, and what's more, he is an awesome web designer, as I am sure you will agree.  At the same time, every new shoe pinches a bit at the beginning and we are finding little glitches here and there -  so I would like to ask you, if something does not work, don't just slam your fist down and mutter to yourself, but send us an e-mail, so Ben can fix it!
            And also, I feel as if I am waking up from a nasty long Rip Van Winkle sleep.  As some of you may know, I lost my husband, Gerry, in November, and the time between then and now has been somewhat in the shape of a nasty dream.  However, life goes on, and so must I.
            So I want to share with you an experience.   Gerry had had very bad arthritis for many years, and because of that we had purchased one of those hospital type beds which you can crank up and down, head up, feet up, whatever.  Because he was also chronically cold all the time, and heated the bedroom to some 81 degrees summer and winter, I began sleeping in another room.  After he died, I moved back into the bedroom, as the other room was somewhat inconvenient, and some time after, I began to experience bad pains in my leg – mostly the right one, the side of the most recent hip revision surgery.  I put it down to the surgery, although  X-rays showed everything was normal – but the pain continued.  For three months it steadily grew worse and worse – just horrible first thing in the morning, and then, as I began to walk, it grew a little better, and the more I walked, the better it got, yet never leaving altogether.  I put it down to various reasons, talked to a doctor about a possible blood clot (no. he said, the pain was in the wrong place), made an appointment with a specialist (naturally, three months in advance, so I haven't seen him yet) – and then began to fix up the house, something which had been overlooked in the long months of Gerry's illness.  When I got to the bedroom, I realized that I had hated that crank-up bed for a long, long time and that I would be best off without it.  It goes without saying that the mattress was as awful as the bed, so it went as well.  And I ordered a Posturepedic mattress.  I want to tell you, that is the most wonderful night's sleep one could ever have – it came, I slept on it for about three weeks, and .... last Monday, got out of bed, totally pain free.  It was so noticeable that I could hardly believe it.  Tuesday – same, Wednesday, same – and, believe it or not, that awful, debilitating pain is gone, gone!   All due to a mattress.  I can only assume that  Gerry didn't care because he kept constantly cranking the bed up and down, but as I don't like to do that, I twisted my body into such shapes that it eventually protested in the leg!  Anyway – if you don't have a good mattress and you hurt, I bet it's the mattress, so go get a new one – and secondly, I can really, really recommend a Posturepedic – they are the best!  Worth every penny, even if they do cost a bit more.
            And so what else is new – we have a very early spring, apparently.  As I heard only the other day, somewhere up in Vermont the wind chill temperature was 100 below, and here we have something approaching 75, with the birds building nests and the first butterflies out and about.   The other day I brushed one of my horses, Tequila, and I swear that one could have stuffed a mattress with the hair that came off that horse!   I guess the horses knew – as they always do, which is a mystery to me – that we were going to have a few exceptionally cold spells in January and early February, and haired up accordingly.  I always think it's so clever of Nature to provide all that hair for horses to shed in early spring, about the time that the birds are looking for carpeting for their new nests – a very thrifty way of housekeeping!
            Our new calves are coming by the bushel basket now, and I finally introduced my young horse, Scotty (see photo above), to cattle work.  I had always hesitated to do this, as he is somewhat  ungainly and uncooperative – clops along as if each step was going to cost him his life, and I have three others that just love cattle work and are a lot of  fun to take, so that Scotty is generally left for trail rides.  But, having four horses, I have found that, in the interest of fairness, the best way to ride them is alphabetically, and it came his turn on a day when we had to mop up Grapevine Canyon and get the last of the cows out of there.  So I took him.  He surprised me by two things – first of all, along on the trail, something spooked him and, instead of shying, he went straight up in the air, quite high, and then came straight down again in the same place, as if he were on a pogo stick.  I have never experienced such a maneuver on a horse and it quite took me by surprise – whoop, bump! – and then he continued walking sedately down the trail.   The second surprise was that I think he enjoyed the cows!   We had to climb up some hellacious hills in the Grapevine Canyon, and he worked his way up and down those sliding rocky ridges like a pro – and forgot all about his customary grumbling and complaining.  I was quite amazed and very pleased - so  maybe he'll make more than a pretty boy after all!  Of course, when we finally worked our way to the cattle tank to which the cows had hightailed it, he chose to pretend he had never seen a cow before in his life, and spooked so violently and suddenly that I thought we were both heading for the water - but I guess that's forgivable – he's but a child yet, after all!
            And now the cows are safely in the Noonan Canyon behind the house, having their babies.  We had particularly wanted to get them out of Grapevine, which is so rough and steep, before the calves came, so we wouldn't take the chance of  leaving a baby or two behind – the Noonan is much more hospitable and easier to gather – so with that done, Danny and I are breathing a bit more easily.
            Some of you may know that we had another TV reality show made here, this one by a German TV company, SpinTV, and Barn Boss Adam was accordingly invited to the premiere in Cologne, Germany.  That took place early February, and so once again off he went, the poor guy, into the cold.  The last TV show was made by a Norwegian television company and so the premiere was in Oslo, also in the winter, and Adam hates the cold with a purple passion.  However, he came back much impressed with the beauty of Cologne and with the antiquity of Europe – Cologne has quite a few remnants of  Roman Empire roads and ruins, and to someone to whom a building that's 100 years old is ancient, this seemed quite remarkable.
            And last, but by no means least, you will hear a new voice on the telephone should you be calling us.  The recently departed John wasn't only the web master, but he also worked in the office, and there his place has been taken by an ex-guest, who liked Grapevine so much she decided to come and stay. Her name is JoAnn, Jo for short, and, if Bonnie doesn't get the phone, it will be her voice you will be hearing when you call.  And, while Jo is not a web designer, she is nonetheless a very competent computer technician, to whom the mysteries of the wireless network and the server computer to whom the others back up their stuff at night, are as clear as daylight, and it's nice to have her here with all that knowledge - and such pleasant personality!
            So, with all this I will leave you, and promise it won't be so long next time!

            All best, Eve