Wanderings through life, landscapes, and occasional loopiness. So pull up a log and have a bit of a sit-down ’round the virtual campfire.

Tales From The Holler

Greetings, mis amigas y amigos. Been a couple of crazy weeks. The snow has decided to relent and give us a couple of days of sun. It’s currently abut 35 degrees F today and I’m wearing shorts. Funny, how we adjust to climates. Here’s a piccie of the holler, in case you wondered where I am for the next 4 months.


Nice, yes? So I must regale you with a couple of tales from the holler. There I was, working away in editorial at High Country News and we kept hearing this noise. This high-pitched whine, like what you hear in the waiting room at a dentist’s office. Not the kid in the seat next to you. No, that whine from the back. The sound the drill makes in your half-numb mouth. THAT noise. So finally, one of the editors says: “what the hell IS that?” And we all look out the window at the market next door and sure enough, out back they’ve got a big ol’ frozen elk in the bed of a pick-up and they’re sawing it all up for generalized consumption. And that elk’s legs were all stickin’ straight up in the air and they were goin’ to TOWN on that thing.

Mmm. Elksicles. The market next door sells organic and game meats, and I’ll tell you what, I have had the best chicken-fried elk there EVER. Maybe anywhere. Here in the holler, “meat market” has a whole ‘nother meaning.

And yet another tale from the holler. There’s one movie house in town and it alternates between art flicks, regular flicks, and live music. There is a HELL of a music scene here. At any rate, if you take your own bowl for popcorn, you get 50 cents off. Well, my roomie and I not only do that, but we take our own glasses for beer. Yes, you can drink beer in this theater. And they’ll charge you 50 cents less. Of course, since this IS the holler, we drink our beer out of Ball mason jars. For you urban folks who might not know what that is:


Here’s a tip. Take the lid off before you fill it. I’m just sayin’. And put the lid back on if you don’t finish your beer. You can drink it later. Yep.

I gotta tell you, though, that this town is a wonderful mix of ol’ skool ranchin’ types, hippies, musicians, artists, and people who just don’t fit elsewhere. I’ve been in more small towns than I care to count and this is the first time I’ve come to a small town and felt like I was automatically part of the milieu. I can’t really explain it. People here just kind of accept whomever stops by. And anywhere there are more than, say, 5 people in a place, here it’s a party. I’m still trying to figure out how to describe this place and when I do, I’ll let you know.

All right, friends. Off to drink a bit more coffee and seek meaning in tea leaves.

Share the love and send some good ju-ju to the southern states that got hit by those heinous storms last week.


Tales From The Holler

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