The cold early winter day dawned a few hours ago and I find myself still at the kitchen table sipping coffee and scrolling through Facebook. With my rear end finally getting numb enough to force a move, I slowly rise from the chair, finally ready to start the day's first task. Dressed in my light winter gear I jump in the pick-up and drive the short quarter mile to the local Christmas tree lot and park off to the side. The fenced area houses 50 or so trees lying on the ground, wrapped tightly in nets just waiting to snap open and display their true beauty. The lucky ones have already been placed in a metal stand and confidently stretch their limbs to show just how many ornaments they can hold. I select the best one I can find and only minutes after arrival, I jump back in the truck and... 

I recall growing up that all the old people would say that time goes faster the older you get. And while it actually does not speed up, it sure seems like time flies as a person ages. This past year seems to be a true example of that as it came and went like a Banshee. And having said that, one might surely ask “Ol’ Dutch. What in the world is a Banshee?” 

Last weekend we set our clocks back one hour to officially end what is known as Daylight Savings Time (DST.) Which in name alone is the silliest thing a person could ever say as no matter how you tally up the hours in a day, you can't save any for future use.  A Native American when told about DST said, “only a white man can believe that if you cut a foot off the top of a blanket and sew it on the bottom that you would be left with a longer blanket.” And he was exactly right as days are just 24 hours long no matter how you slice it or dice it. 

I am not sure who sets up the high school class reunions. There is one thing for sure, though, you can never tell what the agenda for the weekend will be or what time of year they will choose to hold such gatherings. Ol’ Dutch has been to one reunion so far and I am thinking I will go to my 50th just to see who is still alive and kicking.  

This summer, the Biden administration offered Wyoming $35 million to help the state plug and clean up abandoned oil and gas wells. When Wyoming turned down the cash, it seemed hard to believe. It could cost the state more than twice that amount to reclaim its 1,000 or so defunct wells that remain unplugged. Economists have also warned that market forces will continue to diminish the state’s main revenue source — severance taxes on fossil fuels.  

I am against hunting mountain lions in Colorado. Today, I join many wildlife professionals and hunters who support Colorado’s Proposition 127—Cats Aren’t Trophies, on the ballot this November.  I’ve never been much for so-called “trophy hunting,” especially when the animals are chased to exhaustion by commercial outfitters using dogs and GPS tracking. Once these lions are perched helplessly in a tree, they are shot by a so-called “hunter.” 

The past weeks have been a real hardship on Ol’ Dutch. What with the loss of Cooper the Yorkie, and then my father it's been hard. Neither was unexpected but somehow that does not make it any easier. 

In 1998, when I was in fourth grade, I joined a class field trip to Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado. But when we got to Cortez, the road was barricaded. Hours earlier, three men had stolen a water-tanker truck and killed a police officer before fleeing into the desert.