This Time for Good Story and Photos by Glenn Theberge In June 1970, my seventeen-year-old wife Cathy and I visited Mountain Home to see her uncle, who was stationed at the airbase. Our drive from Massachusetts across the
Okay, but Not Really By Jack Goodman Oh, by the way,” my brother said, “you’re entered in the wild cow riding contest opening night at the rodeo.” Rodeos are as much a part of Idaho’s character as are
When I was a kid, my family’s farm near Filer in southern Idaho was a magical place, where anything could happen.
We had parts and pieces of things all over the place—we could make forts, dig for queen ants, play with electricity (hot wire and hose pipe tricks), skip rocks, climb haystacks—you get the idea. What I didn’t know until I left was that growing up on a farm and being part of the operation was the best gift I ever could have received. Continue reading
The morning is so cold I see vapors rising from an irrigation creek on my left as I drive through Filer on my way to Twin Falls. Though the sun rose thirty minutes ago, the clouds shroud direct sunlight. A line of trees leading to a house approaches on the right and the veiled sunlight casts eerie, frozen rays through the bare, dark branches. Like I do every time I drive by this hauntingly beautiful scene, I chastise myself for not bringing a camera.
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