Story and Photos by Andrea Eldridge I was lured by the shack. It was kind of like Butch Cassidy and Sundance’s Hole-in-the-Wall the first time I strolled by with the dogs. The poma shack is a little warming
And It’s a Laugh By Carolyn White The little white car came flying south on Highway 95 and caught up to me about five miles from Donnelly. It was 6:30 in the evening and I had just filled
One Shot Deserves Another By Carolyn White Tree!” Tina hollered, grabbing a handful of low-hanging branches and letting them go. I ducked, burying my face against Bonnie’s mane as they whipped over my head. Straightening in the saddle,
In the Secret Patch By Karlene Bayok Edwards, photos by Jan Yensen This story is offered free of charge in its entirety for the first week of August. Huckleberries. Just the word conjures halcyon summer days of tangy,
In 1970, my parents bought a property in the Wagon Wheel subdivision about four miles from Donnelly by road and a half-mile straight up Boulder Creek. With no full-time residents, the roads were not plowed in the winter, although a parking area on Loomis Lane was plowed just off the old highway. When we went to the cabin on weekends and holidays, we had to cross-country ski or snowmobile in. We would haul the sleds up with us and go into the cabin. We had an old ‘40s car hood with a board across the end to haul groceries, bags, presents, water, and fuel in for the weekend.
The power lines extended across Boulder Creek and the power went out often. The first winter, we decided to put a wood stove in, as the house was all-electric. We hauled in the stove and all the parts and tools on the snowmobiles, using the sled. It had snowed enough by that time that my dad handed the parts of the chimney up to his friend, who hooked up everything on the roof. To this day, the wood stove, propane and oil lanterns, candles, flashlights, and extra water in jugs are kept for the not-so-often but still occasional power outages that are part of rural life. Continue reading
