City Slickers in the Wyoming Wilds
Andrea Gross | Aug 1, 2013, 6 a.m.
Every day we learn something new. One day we have a lesson on wildflowers. Another day we hear stories of Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid, who had an “Outlaw Cave” nearby. And another time we watch a moose moseying around the grounds near the fishing pond.
Saturday is Rodeo Day, a chance for the kids to show off their equestrian skills. “Mount your horse.” Grandson is too short to do it alone—a ranger has to lift him on—but he grabs the reigns like a pro. “Circle the barrels.” No problem. “Weave between the poles.” Granddaughter does it at a trot. Six days has transformed them both from Western Wimps to Cowboy Champs.
But it’s at the square dance where granddaughter really shines. Blonde hair flying, she allemandes left and circles right. Wrangler Dave grabs grandson’s hand. “Come on, Buddy. Let’s dance!” he calls, as he propels a grinning grandson ‘round the room.
Then, the next morning, we have our first crisis. None of us want to leave. “Wait! We have to go down to the barn to say goodbye to Pollywog.” “Wait! We have to take one more picture of the fishing pond.” Wait, wait, wait! It takes us two hours to say our goodbyes and get into the car.
Grandson’s comment, day seven: I like to watch sports, and Wyoming doesn’t have any professional sports teams. But that’s OK. It’s still paradise.
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