Desert Boy saw some balls the other day and just had to go down and play.
The basketball seems kind of big for him, and he doesn't look too sure about it.
That's not an expression of fun, and he doesn't quite get the dribbling concept. Maybe he isn't going to turn out to be a star basketball player. 
Maybe he will be a bowler, letting the ball roll away from him.
Or perhaps he will be a star soccer player. It's good to see him explore all his options.
I decided that it was time for Desert Boy to hike an entire trail, so we went to a half-mile long nature trail with an easy surface for him to walk on. He was excited to walk, and started out jauntily. He didn't want to hold my hand or be too close to me, he just wanted to walk.
Except that didn't last long. After a couple dozen steps, Desert Boy was ready to explore what was off the trail, especially if it involved water. He doesn't have much fear, or much common sense, so he will go off in a flash. 
Fortunately I was able to entice him to come back to the trail. And then he made a great find--a boulder next to the trail with a pool of water still on top of it. He immediately put his hand in it, even though his hand was already cold and the water was colder.
He splashed more vigorously, even getting his face wet. Mama made sure to be far enough away to escape the flying water. 
Apparently just splashing wasn't good enough, because in about a nanosecond Desert Boy was up on top of the boulder. I was telling him not to crawl in it and not to slurp it up. Yes, I have to tell him these things because they are favorite activities when water is around.
This time Desert Boy just wanted to do a little dance in the puddle. I figured it might help clean off the mud from yesterday when he did a little dance in a mud puddle.
And then it was time to go to the edge of the boulder and contemplate jumping. Except Desert Boy doesn't know how to jump, he just kind of leans forward and hopes you will catch him. Sometimes his timing is a little off and he goes splat. Still, the next time he will do the same thing, so I don't think he's gotten any sense knocked into him yet. Or perhaps he is just an eternal optimist. After getting off the boulder, it was time to move down the trail.
This twisted aspen made for a great game of peek-a-boo. It wasn't far then until we reached the stroller, completing Desert Boy's first hike that he did by himself.
Yesterday Desert Boy and I went in search of some fall colors, and we had wonderful success. We saw this beautiful butterfly on the leaves of a shrub. I was trying out my new camera and couldn't resist taking a photo. Hurray for 18x optical zoom--it is really easy to frame photos. This particular photo didn't need any cropping.
Later in the day we headed up high. We don't have many deciduous trees here in the desert, even in the mountains, so fall colors usually aren't especially dramatic. Nevertheless, the aspen trees provide little dashes of color amidst the dark green of the surrounding evergreens.
Aspen trees are often clones, so all the trees in a particular grove will turn the same shade of color at the same time. The scientific name for quaking aspen is Populus tremuloides. I've always liked the word tremuloides, which sounds sort of like trembling. The heart-shaped leaves are supported on small stems, so even the slightest breeze makes them rustle.
As we walked near the trees, a few leaves fluttered to the ground. The temperature was perfect, and it was a delight to be outside. Soon a yellow carpet will be covering the forest floor, and not long after that, a layer of cold, white snow will top the delicate leaves. 
For now, though, we just enjoyed the vibrant trees. They just made me feel happy! It was hard to leave and head down the mountain to home, but at least we have a few photos to remind us of nature's fantastic color show.
A couple weeks ago I took Desert Boy to town to go to the dentist. Town in this case was over two hours away by paved roads. Perhaps it was all the city traffic, or maybe it was the stoplights, or perchance it was just so many stores and bright lights to look at. Whatever it was, on the way home I decided to take a detour and get off the civilized paved road. I knew I could turn off the highway by a ranch, head up the valley, go across the pass, and in a while I would end up at home. Had I ever taken this route before? No. But I knew it would work out, and I had a truck full of groceries, so we had plenty to eat and drink.
One of the first signs we saw were these Stay Out tires along the post. It made us feel very welcome as we drove along. Actually, the Stay Out tires cracked me up, because everything on the other side of the fence pretty much looked like what was on our side of the fence. We obeyed, though, and stayed on our side.
Our side consisted of this long, long gravel road, stretching out as far as the eye could see. If you look really hard, you can see some mountains at the end of the road. I figured we'd have to drive nearly to those mountains before we made our turn to go over the pass. So we drove and drove. Desert Boy woke up from his nap and we sang songs. There wasn't much to point out to him except mountains and desert plants because we didn't pass a single vehicle. It was a blissful afternoon in the desert.
We came to a couple intersections and I headed in the direction I knew we needed to go. The only problem was that the roads didn't keep going in the direction they started out, and eventually I determined that we were disoriented. That's right, we were not lost. Someone once told me that as long as you enjoy where you are, you're not lost, just disoriented. Plus, it wasn't like we could just pull over to the nearest convenience store and ask for directions, so it was better just to enjoy it. After driving a bit further, the sun started getting a little lower in the afternoon sky and I decided it might be better to backtrack and try a different set of two-track roads. On the way back I got a picture of this neat sheep corral. I wouldn't have seen it if we hadn't gotten lost--oops, I mean disoriented.
We finally reached a more traveled road that led to a white-colored mountain called Crystal Peak. I had been to this peak before and felt good that I could find my way home from it. We stopped to admire the volcanic rock, which really stands out against the darker surrounding rock and conifers. Desert Boy needed a diaper change and the back of the truck was full of groceries leaving no space, so I pulled the diaper bag out of the truck and we went a little ways off the side of the road. After changing him, I thought it might be fun to walk around a little and stretch our legs.
I also enjoyed looking at some of the neat plants like this rock spiraea (Petrophytum caespitosum). It grows in mats on the rock and puts up these pretty flowers.
The mountain is quite large, and the volcanic tuff has lots of interesting pockets in it. There's a ponderosa pine tree at the bottom of the picture to give you some perspective. 
And then Desert Boy and I went hiking. We had driven this far, so we figured we might as well enjoy it!
When we see water in the desert, it's hard to pass it up. Desert Boy, Henry, and I were heading out for a hike and somehow ended up on a little detour to this lake by the side of the road. During part of the year, it's a reservoir with a dam holding the water back. This time of year, the water level is down so much that the water doesn't even touch the dam, so it's a lake with big beaches full of cockleburs.
Henry, a labrador retriever, absolutely loves the water and didn't hesitate at all getting in the water.
Desert Boy, a fearless toddler, decided to follow Henry. 
Desert Boy keeps on heading down the rocky shoreline to the water's edge.
Before he gets to the water, he realizes that these rocks would be really good for throwing.
The best place to throw rocks is into the water. Sometimes the water and mud even splash so he can get wet without getting into the water. He's already figured out how to technically obey his mother but still get what he wants!
One rock is too big and as he pulls his arm back to throw it, he loses his balance and sits down.
He doesn't let that stop him for long, but keeps on throwing more rocks.
Some folks in an inflatable canoe decide to check out the fun. The lake is so shallow Henry can nearly run right out to them. Do you like the mountains in the background? They created a bit of their own weather, and those thunderheads you see building even produced a little rain a few hours later. Desert Boy and Henry had another chance to get wet, so it was a good day.
These are charcoal ovens, used in the late 1800s to produce charcoal to run smelters to process the ore found at nearby mines. These particular ovens are found at Frisco, Utah just off Highway 21. 
They have an arched entryway, big enough for a person to enter. They were filled up with about 35 cords of wood: pinyon pine, juniper, sagebrush, and whatever else was close by and available. Then fires were set and over the next few days this wood was reduced to about 1,000 bushels of charcoal, which was small and compact. It took approximately 13 days to go through the entire process of loading the oven, burning the wood, and moving the charcoal.
Each of the charcoal ovens has a window high in the wall opposite the door to improve ventilation. I've tried to find information about how this window might be closed, but I've found very little information about how these charcoal ovens operated. (If you know more, please let me know!)
The shape of the charcoal ovens is a beehive, or parabolic, which helped to concentrate the heat into the middle of the oven. Look closely to the right of the door, and you can see little holes in the rocks. These provided additional ventilation and could be plugged or opened as needed.
Desert Boy enters one of the charcoal ovens, giving you a sense of scale. To the right are some little light spots in the wall--those small ventilation holes. The more intact charcoal ovens are quite dark inside, the rocks stained with dark soot.
Five charcoal ovens were originally built in Frisco in 1877 by the Frisco Mining and Smelting Company. This company decided it would be profitable to invest in the area due to the high-producing silver mines in the San Francisco Mountains, particularly the Horn Silver Mine, discovered in 1875. 
The charcoal ovens are about two miles away from the major hub of mining. As more ore was found, a town sprang up. It included a post office, and in 1880 the Utah Southern Railroad extended into town from Milford, Utah, 15 miles to the east. It became much more profitable to ship the ore out. It also became much easier to get water in; very little water is found close to Frisco.
The town grew and gained a reputation for being the wildest mining town in the San Francisco district. It had over 20 saloons, gambling dens, and brothels lining the rocky streets, and a population of nearly 6,000. Murders became so frequent that city officials decided to hire a lawman from Pioche, Nevada and give him free rein. When he rode into town, he reportedly said he wasn't going to build a jail or make arrests. Criminals had two options: get out of town or get shot. Some didn't believe him, and the first night he apparently shot six outlaws. After that Frisco became a much calmer place.
This mill was built near the mines. Just ten years after the profitable mines were discovered, a momentous event occurred. It was the morning of February 12, 1885, and the day shift was preparing to enter the mine. Several tremors had been felt, and they were told to wait. The night shift came to the surface, and a few minutes later a massive cave-in collapsed most of the mine, including the most profitable areas. Amazingly, no one was killed.
Over $60 million worth of zinc, lead, silver, copper, and gold had been hauled away from Frisco in those 10 years. After the cave-in, mining eventually resumed, but never at the same scale, and slowly the town of Frisco faded away. By 1900 only about 500 people remained, and by the 1920's the town had been abandoned.
Few buildings remain, but this old stone wall hint at the town that once existed. 
A small cemetery is located between the charcoal ovens and the mines. I found it to be one of the most depressing mining cemeteries I have ever visited. Despite the reports of the outlaws and murders in Frisco, I'd estimate that nearly three-quarters of those buried there were infants or children. The cemetery is definitely a reminder that although we might look back at ghost towns with a hint of nostalgia, the life was hard and lacking most comforts that we take for granted today.
Frisco's days may not be totally over. In 2002 a mining company bought the rights for the mines and has begun reworking them. Although the mining areas are closed off, the charcoal ovens and cemetery are still open for visitors.
It's that time of year to harvest the corn. We have several pivots of field corn, and it has grown nice and tall, about eight feet tall. 
Corn is one of my all-time favorite vegetables, and it takes some restraint not to reach out and pluck those ears of corn, even though they are field corn. The deer don't show so much restraint--they hide happily in the corn fields and munch away to their heart's content.
When the corn has matured to just the right point and the weather is cooperating, it's time to cut it. What is that right point? According to my dear husband, it's the half milk point. I think that's what he said. If I understood him right, it's when the kernels on the ear have dented in deeply and are hard about half-way down. They are still adding a little starch to the ears, and this is the best time to cut for silage. If you just want to cut the ears (earlage), it's best to wait a little bit longer.
The big chopper is the machine of choice (and Desert Boy's favorite piece of equipment to climb). The chopper cuts six rows of corn at a time. As it drives along, the silage truck drives at the same speed so that the corn goes into the truck.
They start on the outside of the pivot, going in a huge semi-circle. Why not a circle that goes all around the field? Ah, the pivot is in the way, so it's simpler to do two semi-circles than a circle with a major detour. It generally takes three to four days to cut and chop an entire field.
Gradually the rows of cut corn keep expanding.
A silage truck can only hold so much cut corn, so after a few minutes, another silage truck comes in to take its place. The first truck heads off.
Where does it go? Not to worry, Desert Boy, Henry, and I followed it to see.
The truck backed up to this red machine next to a long white bag. It lifted its load, and the silage started coming out.
The red machine, called a bagger, compresses the corn silage into the plastic bag. In this closed environment it ferments slightly, preserving it. Fermentation is an anaerobic process, so the plastic helps keep that oxygen out. Just think fine wine...or not. 
Here's a view from the other side. The white bags are a football field long. The corn silage needs to stay in the bag for at least 30 days before it's used as feed.
Here's the loader getting some of last year's silage. After it gets its scoop... 
...it loads the feed wagon, which then makes a trip through the feed lot and distributes the mixture of corn, alfalfa, and barley silage to the cows.
