Blog Archives

On Tour

Posted on by Christopher Bock / Comments Off on On Tour

We loaded in early to the Flipside Lounge in Pocatello, parked the rig, and hit the closest espresso joint to shake off the cragginess. It’s the first gig on a nineteen-date tour, and everyone is getting along. So far. This time out we have two bands—RevoltRevolt and a punk band supporting us called Mindrips—which means eight guys in a RV pulling a trailer. It sleeps six in beds, one person takes the floor, and I take the roof. Viva la stench! Continue reading

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My Walk in the Frank

Posted on by John "Stan" Stanfield / Comments Off on My Walk in the Frank

The memories ebb and flow, from crystal clarity to blurry amalgam. Some things do not dim: the sight of the night sky full of brilliant stars, the smell of pine and smoke sticking to one’s clothes, the bend of the rod and pull on the line, and the sparkling flash of a fish as it breaches the water’s surface. These do not fade. Continue reading

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The Land of the Free and the Very . . .

Posted on by Steve Carr / Comments Off on The Land of the Free and the Very . . .

I spent the Independence Day holiday in Sun Valley this year. With its rodeos, parades, fireworks, Asian rug sales, live bands, egg tosses, and slippery slides, I challenge you to find a more all-American place to spend America’s birthday. Okay, I pretty much just described every town in Idaho—if I leave out the Persian rugs. Continue reading

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Back from the Brink

Posted on by Geraldine Mathias / Comments Off on Back from the Brink

My spouse Jim is an avid fisherman. Did I say avid? He’s a fanatic about fishing. When I told him I was driving down to the new Springfield Fish Hatchery for sockeye salmon to interview the manager and have a tour of the facility there, he was more than ready to accompany me. “I’ll be your photographer,” he announced. Continue reading

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Flatlanders

Posted on by Steve Bunk / Comments Off on Flatlanders

This particular long-haired guy was newly arrived in McCall from Los Angeles, which had the risible reputation of a laid-back place. Laid back if you were from New York maybe, or Tokyo, but hardly to the early-twenties crowd slouching around the porch of Lardo Saloon & Dance Hall, across the street from Payette Lake. Let’s call the newcomer Jake, because I barely knew him and certainly can’t pluck his real name from the entangled ecosystems of memory spanning four decades, and more important anyway is what everyone called him. We called him a Flatlander, the same thing we called everybody else who drove against the down-rush of the Payette River up the twisty highway from Boise to the lake in the mountains. Continue reading

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The Impresario of Readings

Posted on by Ron McFarland / Comments Off on The Impresario of Readings

By Ron McFarland

She could not, would not fly. This poet, whose books boasted such titles as Cruelty and Killing Floor and most recently Sin was, it seemed, afraid to fly. At that moment twenty-odd years ago, she embodied the very definition of edginess and wrath and poetic violence. But she would not fly. Continue reading

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The Daylilies

Posted on by Dean Worbois / Comments Off on The Daylilies

My mother had a way with plants, and her flowers were a summer-long frenzy of color.

She always planted daylilies, their long stems holding up orange clumps of color to the height of car windows passing by the southwestern corner of our Boise property. This was one-half of a block of land my folks bought in 1947, when I was two. The block was a garden and cow pasture owned by a Mr. Quarbridge, who had never developed it. Continue reading

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Ewe and I

Posted on by The Editors / Comments Off on Ewe and I

Here’s an image of the upper sheep pasture of our property near Challis. When I drove there on a recent evening to feed our Pyrenees guard dogs, Benny and Bobby, I discovered a ewe off by herself suffering from mastitis. Continue reading

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Inspired

Posted on by Bev Stone / Comments Off on Inspired

I had my first opportunity to see the Trailing of the Sheep Festival a few years ago when Andrea and Tom Rich, good friends of mine who have a long history of sheep ranching in Idaho, suggested I make the trip to Ketchum in October. Continue reading

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