Partying with Peaches

Through the door there came familiar laughter...

Through the door there came familiar laughter

I saw your face and heard you call my name

Oh my friend we're older but no wiser

For in our hearts the dreams are still the same

Those were the days my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

- Gene Raskin

I think people reflect the weather where they live. Sunny parts of the country have ‘front porch weather,’ where people spend more time in their yards or front porches and talk to their neighbors. That doesn’t happen in snow-covered places with winter temperatures at five below zero or more. To be fair, people who moved into northern Montana from other states tended to leave after experiencing one winter. Maybe it just wasn’t worth the effort for Montana born locals to make lasting friendships if they would leave the next year.

I had joined a group of women learning tole painting. The women were all native Montanans and weren’t interested in friendship with me outside the class. Tole painting was very different from painting classes I had in the past to learn techniques in watercolor, pastels and oil painting. I joined to make friends. It wasn’t working, so I dropped the class.

The weekly beading group was different. We were all women who moved here from outside Montana and we quickly bonded. We were like refugees from places that were changing so quickly they became unrecognizable. Our reasons for moving here were as varied as our ages and backgrounds. We had exchanged phone numbers and began to do things together outside of class, sometimes as a group.

It was early summer, the weather warming up though still chilly at night. Summer in the far north meant the sun set later in the day and it stayed light until eight o’clock and later as summer wore on. Traveling back and forth to the Thursday group was done in daylight.

We had all settled into our places at the table one Thursday, chatting about this and that. Someone had brought cookies.

“Richard is flying out tonight and doesn’t know how long he will be gone,” said Peaches. “I decided to have a no-wienie weekend party and my sister is coming from South Carolina. You’re all invited. Come over on Friday afternoon. Bring sleeping bags and food to share.”

She passed out directions. We talked about what food to bring.

“Where is Richard going?” asked Tatiana.

“He doesn’t know yet, or can’t talk about it,” answered Peaches.

“Why can’t he talk about it?” Tatiana was not going to let it go. The rest of us looked uneasily at each other, then concentrated on our work.

“I can’t talk about it either,” countered Peaches. “He works for a private agency that contracts with the government.”

Earlier Peaches told us Richard had been a Marine, but was no longer in the military. He had built a workshop and started a small business, something industrial. He had government contracts and he traveled a lot. She was vague about Richard’s business.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked Peaches if she had dogs.

“Yes,” she said. “I went to the kill shelter in Kalispell and asked to see the dogs on death row.”

“Death row?” I asked.

“Yeah, dogs are only allowed to stay for so long and then have to be put down if no one adopts them.  I adopted two dogs – a black long-haired dog and a short haired golden retriever mix.  I named them Pepsi and Dingo.” said Peaches.

“Are they friendly?” asked Natalie. “I am not a fan of dogs.”

“We live on ten acres and both dogs are friendly. Oh, and dogs are welcome this weekend,” added Peaches.

After Natalie’s comment about dogs and since Peaches’ dogs were new to her, I decided to kennel mine. My neighbor, Deb had recommended a woman in Columbia Heights who owned a small farm and boarded dogs.  Fortunately she had space for Gypsy and Veronica. It was a wonderful set up. She had converted a barn into a kennel. The dogs could sleep inside on straw and use a flap door to go outside to a nice large run. I left plenty of food and water for the cats, who could use their cat door to go outside.

After dropping off the dogs, I set out for the no-wienie weekend at Peaches’ home. She lived a few miles outside of Big Fork on Foothills Road. Her directions were good and the house was easy to find. I knew I was in the right place when I spotted Judy and Liz unloading containers of food from their car.  The house looked like a recently built log cabin with a wide front porch. It had all the charm one would expect in ‘rural’ Montana. There was a garage, a workshop behind the house and a cute cottage next to it.

.

A tipi was set up in the yard. It was large and looked real, not some store-bought replica. I asked Peaches about it and she said it was real. She had been born on a reservation in Michigan, but moved away when her mother remarried. She said her family didn’t live in a tipi, she had inherited it.

“It’s used for special occasions, more ceremonial,” she explained. “You have a choice of sleeping in the tipi, in the house or on the front porch. My sister has the guest bedroom in the house and my best friend from Idaho is staying in the cottage.”

I opted for the tipi, thinking this would be my only chance to sleep in a real one. I had brought a folding cot with a thin mattress.

Peaches introduced us to her sister, Jessie. They looked nothing alike. Peaches was short, very petite with dark hair, a round face and high cheekbones. Jessie was a tall blonde.

“We don’t look alike,” said Peaches. “I was a baby when my mom remarried.  Jessie and I have different dads. Our dad adopted me, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s my real dad.”

 We milled about in the yard as more of the group arrived and then Peaches invited us to tour her home.

The front window looked out onto an open meadow, a mountain range looming in the background. To the right, a horse stood inside a large fenced grassy area with an open shed on one side.

“Is that your horse?” I asked.

“No, we let a neighbor’s horse board there,” said Peaches. “We don’t ride.”

Peaches took us on a short tour of the house. It was my first time inside a real log cabin and it was darker than expected, but well lit with lamps. Peaches explained that the thick log walls kept the inside in shadow. The living room had a large front window and a river rock fireplace. Peaches had kept to a western theme with overstuffed leather chairs, antler based wrought iron lamps and throw pillows. The open kitchen was separated from the living room by a large cabinet.

I commented on the floor in the bathroom. It was a very convincing replica of large river rock.

“I hand painted that,” said Peaches. “It was a boring linoleum floor, so one afternoon I decided to paint it.”

“Well, you did an excellent job,” said Liz.

A shiny red Tahoe drove in and honked.

“That’s my friend, Nora, from Idaho,” said Peaches.

Peaches threw open the door and, with hands on hips, said “I had a feeling you would show up with a new Tahoe after I told you we bought a Chevy Suburban!”

“Well, I couldn’t let you get one up on me,” laughed Nora.

They hugged as Nora came through the door.

Since everyone had arrived, we pitched in to set out the food. Tatiana took charge and directed traffic. Olive explained that her dish was both vegan and gluten free.

“I am writing a vegan, gluten free cook book, so I am trying out recipes on friends,” said Olive. “This bread is made with spelt flour, pea protein, and brown rice flour.”

We chatted as we ate, learning more about each other.  The food was wonderful. Most of us tried a bite of Olive’s vegan gluten free bread. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it tasted like sawdust. No one else said anything either.

It was an eclectic group. Tatiana was the oldest and took to “mothering” the rest of us. I decided it must be a part of her Bolivian culture for the oldest of a group to “take charge.” Olive had lived in a yurt for two years in California. Cyndi and her husband had started on the east coast and steadily moved their way across America to Seattle, the backtracking to Montana. Judy had grown up in Fargo, but told everyone she was from Minneapolis after the movie “Fargo” was released. Peaches and her husband moved from South Carolina to Montana because they thought it would be an interesting place to live. Natalie was close lipped about where she grew up and why she moved to Montana, so we didn’t pry.  Nora and Peaches had met when their husbands were Marines stationed in California and had stayed in touch after leaving the service. Peaches reminded us often that she could be “giddy” when she had too much sugar and for us not to mind if she got a little silly. Which she did, as the evening grew into night.

There were no streetlights. The night grew darker, then turned black, drinking up any light from the house’s windows. Tatiana, Cyndi, Olive and I used a flashlight to find our way to the tipi. We talked awhile and then each drifted off. In the distance I heard a coyote howl. One of Peaches’ dogs answered. The horse stomped and whinneyed.  During the night I awoke for a trip to the bathroom. As I exited the tipi, the sound of nearby hooves pounded away into the night. The next morning I mentioned it. Peaches said it was probably deer, since they often came into the yard at night.

It was a great weekend. We stuffed ourselves and laughed a lot. When we left Sunday morning, Peaches said we would make this a regular event when her husband traveled.