Tag Archives: frontier

Forts and trees and a Mean Kitty

So, how did everyone enjoy their forts this weekend? Holly, of The Aluminum Foiled My Plans fame, pointed out a video from The Mean Kitty to me this week. I’ve been a big fan of The Mean Kitty for a long time but had stopped following Mr. Safety‘s work after he got married and stopped doing it for a while. Turns out, though, he’s been doing a lot of work I’ve missed. Including, wouldn’t you know it…a fort. This week.

To this I say…maybe our breakfast nook needs boxes again. Oh, and petcentric.com? Sponsor us! We have hundred of fans! And that’s no typo.

The Boy and I figured out what Oliver is allergic to this week. I was thinking it was weird that he’s turning eight years old this month and this is the first time he has had any issues at all. We were bending our brains trying to figure out what is different in this house. And then it hit us. Cottonwoods.

If you are unfamiliar with the Cottonwood Tree, they are a big deciduous tree that sends out seeds this time of year. In the form of a cotton that floats down from the tree and drifts and gathers. It’s like snow in the summer.

When Cheyenne was founded the whole town had 12 trees. The ladies who came with their rancher husbands were not pleased. So they did something about it. They went around the region and found trees that grew well in the area – including Cottonwoods from Nebraska – and they planted them here. Then they took care of them. The women would send their husbands back to work after lunch with the pail of washwater they’d used that morning and the men would water the trees along the way. Then the kids would bring back the empty pail on the way home from school. Now, Cheyenne is a Tree City USA.

Now, Cheyenne gets drifts of “cotton” in July.

But not in my old neighborhood – I had spruce trees. Even though this house and my house are the same age, this house was built in a historic district where the tradition of Cottonwoods has been going since the 1800’s. My house was built in a new neighborhood in 1940, and by then there were so many more options for trees that no one wanted the same ol’ Cottonwoods.

So the mystery is solved.

Oliver is doing better. His eyes are watery and he has sneezing fits and he looks as miserable as all my human friends who have allergies. But he doesn’t sound like he’s on the brink of death. I’ll take that.