Off to the ranch

We're going to spend Thanksgiving week in what I hope will be extreme peace and quiet. Between the renovating we're doing, we'll take a few moments to sit in the hot tub, curl up in front of the fire, and hike through the barren woods of early winter.

This trip, no human or canine will be allowed outside without an orange vest. This is the last week of hunting season, and our place backs up to the national forest. Our neighbor, Dr. G, tells a story about the other physician in her practice who was standing in his own front yard during hunting season one year, minding his own business, when suddenly a bullet came whizzing by his ear.

The G's own about 35 acres that completely surround our measly six and a half, and they have peppered the boundaries of their property with "No Trespassing" signs. In Montana, they observe, people are far more likely to respect these signs than in other places, but hunting season is the time when they are least likely to be respected.

So, neon orange it is.

We're going to try and get internet up at the house this week, but I don't know whether we'll get it done.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.