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Missed it by THAT much . . . okay, missed it by a mile.

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We live by a pumpkin patch and I love to look over our deck in the fall and see the sweeping fields of orange. I like it even more in November, when the cows are turned out to chow on some pumpkin pie.

With multi-tasking in mind, I thought I’d take my camera on my run this morning so I could post the perfect pastoral shot: Flatirons in the background, a few golden leaves still clinging to the cottonwoods, and the striking contrast of black cows and sunlit pumpkins.

One problem – going on a run with a bulky camera didn’t sound like my idea of a good time. My bright idea was to leave the camera at home and take my iPhone instead. That way I could still take the picture AND listen to my playlist. I have to have music loud enough to drown out my breathing when I run, or I freak myself out because it sounds like I’m dying.

I was a weensy bit worried about how the shot would turn out because I don’t have the fancy new iPhone with the cool zoom, but I didn’t let it stop me, since the cows are usually close to the fence. Off I went with Cappy the dog and a hat and gloves because it was a nippy 40 degrees.  I was clipping right along when out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of grey. There, headed right toward me was a coyote with a fat prairie dog in his mouth. I froze in my tracks, thinking what a cool shot it would make. Well, maybe not so cool for the prairie dog, but still. . .

I reined in Cappy, ripped off my gloves, and now the coyote was crossing the trail just twenty feet away. Wait! I sent him a telepathic message, because coyotes are tricky like that. I don’t want your prairie dog. Just a quick picture!

And you know what? He stopped RIGHT in the trail with that dead varmint hanging from his choppers and posed for me. I fiddled frantically with my iPhone, trying to get the heck out of my playlist and find the camera mode and then wait for it to load. When it finally did, Wily E. had lost patience and was trotting away to have his breakfast.

At least I still had the cows. When I finally reached my destination, I ran into another glitch. The cows were way out in the middle of the field, nowhere close to the fence and there I was with no zoom. I seriously considered crawling through the fence and marching out to the middle of that field so I could get the shot.

But I have bad cow karma. Besides eating them, when I was a kid on the ranch, our idea of a good time was making the mama cows so mad they’d chase us up trees. One time, a particularly enraged cow managed to get her front legs up into the base of the ginormous willow where we thought we were safe. Scared the vinegar out of us.

If I dared to take my dog and sneak up close enough to get a decent shot with my cell phone, with my luck one of those cows would be the great-great grandchild of the ones we’d terrorized back in the day and her DNA would tell her to mow me down.

So, epic fail on all accounts. I did, however, dig up one from last fall that I took from our deck with a real camera and not my relic of a cell phone with no zoom or cool features.

Guess what I’m asking Santa for this Christmas?

Bovine Brunch Club

On the Trail of Gettysburg Ghosts

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Back when I worked for Up with People, I spent a month in Gettysburg, PA.  I questioned this assignment, since Gettysburg is known as the most haunted city in America and I am known as the biggest chicken pot pie in America. In Gettysburg, it seemed like everyone either had a ghost in their house or knew someone who did. No big whoop. Even our sponsor, an influential business owner, talked about his daughter who used a Ouija board at Devil’s Den, the site of one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War. According to him, the ghost of a soldier “followed” her home and took up residency in his house. He and his wife sometimes saw him standing next to their bed at night. At this point in the conversation, my teeth had practically chattered right out of my mouth and I was wishing I’d been assigned to Des Moines.

Fortunately, I stayed in one of the few allegedly ghost-free homes in Gettysburg, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t drink anything after 7 pm, so I wouldn’t risk running into any wayward souls en route to the loo in the middle of the night. My inner six-year old came out at bedtime, and when I turned out my light, I’d take a flying leap into my bed, squeezing my eyes shut and not opening them until morning.

While my hyperactive imagination called the shots at night, I was much braver in the light of day. As often as I could, I went running on the trails that crossed the battlefields, drinking in the landscape steeped in so much history. Often, I was alone on the tranquil paths. Dense trees, lush grass and the first flowers of spring created a park-like atmosphere, but then I’d stumble across a moss covered statue of a Civil war soldier, a stark reminder that more than a century ago, nearly 50,000 men lost their lives during the three-day blood bath on those very fields.

Maybe it was the power of suggestion, but I felt something there on those battlefields. A quiet energy, unlike any other place I’ve visited. For anyone who has experienced Gettysburg, you probably know what I mean.

During my four weeks in Gettysburg, I never saw one sign of the supernatural. Not on the trail, not in our office, which of course was in a haunted bank, and not in my room at night. But maybe that’s because I never really opened my eyes.

The video below is one of my favorites. While this car ad wasn’t filmed in Gettysburg, there is footage of what appears to be a ghost, but you have to watch carefully. Enjoy and Happy Halloween!

On the Trail

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As a writer, inspiration strikes hardest when I’m running or hiking . . . hence the name of this blog. Ideas also occur when my mind drifts during monotonous tasks, but calling this blog “In the Shower” would be misleading and probably inappropriate.

Weird things happen on the trail. One time a dead prairie dog fell from the sky and landed with a thud just a few feet in front of me. I guess the natural thing to do when such a thing happens is to look up to see if it’s raining prairie dogs. There, circling above was a bald eagle wondering what to do about his lost breakfast. I backed away and sat down, wanting to see what was going to happen next. The eagle landed on a fencepost and we watched each other for a while. Finally, he cocked his head as if to say, “You want it? I’m not that hungry.” But I’d already had breakfast, so off I went.

On lucky days, I find exactly what I need on the trail. Once, when I was in a particularly sour mood, I came across five bluebirds sitting on a barbed wire fence. Tiny as chickadees, their vibrant blue forms shone like DayGlo paint against the sagebrush and yellow grass of November. I stopped mid-run to admire them, half wondering if some talking field mice would appear and together they would whip up a dress for Cinderella. Rationally, I know that birds migrate in the fall and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. But still, it felt like a sign. I left those birds feeling all zip-a-dee-doo-dah in my soul.

It’s hard to say what’s going to happen on this blog. I’ll write about things I like: books, music, nature, quirk, serendipity, and living in the West. I have a soft spot for relics from the past, which is why I love my husband. KIDDING, Darrick! My two wild children might spark a post or two. And I’ll definitely write about writing! Thanks for stopping by!