Day 2 of Penny

Today I am supposed to regale you with stories of my first love. This girl doesn't kiss and tell, and it only lasted a week or two so, I'll tell you about my first True Love.

My mom was born and raised in Wyoming, and comes from a 5 generation ranching family. My maternal ancestors helped to settle what is known as The Bridger Valley. My Great-Great-Great Grandpa shot my other Great-Great-Great Grandpa on a ditch bank over water shares. My Great Grandma Maxfield used to walk 15 miles just to do her visiting teaching, no matter the weather.

My dad is was born a California Boy and raised in the back country of Utah. From the time he was first old enough to work he hired on at farms and ranches in Sanpete County. He rode Bareback Horses, Saddle Broncs, and the occasional bull. He played Cowboys and Indians with his friends in the mountains near his home, with real horses.

As you can see, the Romance of The West was ingrained in me at an early age. I had my first horse when I was 2, he was a Palomino named Clipper. My first shoes? Red cowboy boots. I went to the National Finals Rodeo for the first time when I was 7. By the time I was in middle school I had traveled all over the west, I've been to every state west of the Mississippi River. The first "real" book I ever read was Lonesome Dove, in 5th grade (yes, I bawled through the last 100 pages). My summers were spent here in Bridger Valley, where I camped out with my grandparents, got to celebrate Pioneer Days, and play in the hayfields with my cousins.

I am still completely enamored with all things "West," although country music tends to make my ears bleed. There are only a handful of real cowboys left, and I am privileged to count some of them among my friends. I still feel small when I stand and look out over the vastness of the Red Desert and the incredible rise of the Mountains beyond it. Baby calves and foals still make my heart happy, and wild places like Yellowstone National Park still take my breath away.