Plot Twists and Relatives
In fiction, often the weather foreshadows a plot twist.
An author might use a brewing storm to foretell conflict coming soon or allow the reader to relax for a few pages with a sunny day at the beach.
So I had to wonder if the oppressive muggy heat weighing on me as I scurried to prepare the ranch for visiting family was some sort of predictor.
I tossed that thought out of my head to make room for the long list of preparations that I realized I wouldn’t finish.
My daughter, Abby, mowed the lawn, but I still hadn’t painted the house trim yet.
My mom helped clean the living room, but I hoped nobody wandered into the basement.
As their arrival time neared, my vision of hosting family from Louisiana and Tennessee morphed from Good Housekeeping to Backwoods Homesteading Magazine.
At least the cows were sorted and on new pasture and the sheep had been wormed on time.
By the time 10 of us sat under the shade canopy, the humidity had lifted, but the ice in the drinks cooler melted quickly as we caught up on our lives.
My mom used this visit as her personal deadline to compile and add context to a collection of my grandmother’s letters.
She gave a copy to each of us.
Nothing contributes to family unity more than having a common understanding of who our predecessors were and the experiences that molded them.
My cousins were about to have ranch experiences that would mold our relationships.
Mike and Brenda had visited the ranch about five years ago so they knew what to expect.
Brian and Kari had been here about 12 years ago – some aspects were still the same, but so much has changed.
The grass is short and crunchy now.
I can’t find the spongy mudhole where I buried the pickup as I showed them so much tall grass in 2013.
My alfalfa isn’t tall enough to cut for hay.
It’s so dry that the furnace-blast wind snips the brittle plants.
It’s been dry for so long that my reservoir is mostly a mudhole.
In north-central Montana, we all are hanging by our toenails wishing we had a better market for grasshoppers, with no stormy plot twist in sight.
Yet without a plot twist, my family enjoyed our time together.
An evening of cornhole was warm, but not too hot.
Brian turned out to be a cornhole ace. I had no idea or I would have asked to be on his team.
Still, my partner, Erik, and I lost by only six points so our competitive spirits could maintain a bit of dignity.
The sun burned our shoulders as we spread out across a quarter mile pasture to gently encourage yearlings to find the gate to new grass.
Our dignity took another hit when the yearlings reversed and came straight back at us.
A day later, they found the open gate and thought they escaped.
Unlike the yearlings, the lambs at the barn reminded us that we are loved – at least until we gave them hay and they forgot we were there.
On Saturday night, the air was clear and the wind was calm as Erik burned the stage down playing the blues for my Southern cousins.
The second-best way to create family unity is to share common experiences. Mike said he wouldn’t forget how Hank Williams sounded in Delta blues style.
As my cousins prepared to leave, I checked the weather forecast.
A plot twist was predicted.
The next morning, a steady drizzle coated the dusty, crunchy grass.
With that inch of rain, my toenails were refreshed and ready to hang on for a little longer.