Roger and Jack loaded up the Jeep with a .22 and some cans of expired v8 juice that I cleaned out of the pantry last week. I tucked in a copy of The Whistling Season, the Ivan Doig novel I need to read for book club this week. The story begins in rural Montana in 1909.
We drove out past the southeast corner of Utah Lake. While the boys set up cans for target practice, I settled in with this spectacular view and began reading.
Not three pages in I came across the following passage, and I knew I'd embarked on quite a journey with these characters.
"Boys? Boys, what would you think of our getting a housekeeper?"
"Would she do the milking?" asked Damon, ever the cagey one.
That slowed up Father only for a moment. Delineation of house chores and barn chores that might be construed as a logical extension of our domestic upkeep was exactly the sort of issue he liked to take on. "Astutely put, Damon. I see no reason why we can't stipulate that churning the butter begins at the point of the cow."
We headed west this afternoon looking for an adventure. Lucky me, I got two!
1 comment:
I think you're going to like it.
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