Our ranch was perched on the side of Logan Mountain. Far below at the waters edge was the highway that ran from Cody to Yellowstone Park. Just on the other side of our lawn was a little knoll where we built a small fire pit. Some clear evenings, Mom would build a fire and we would sit around on the boulders and talk or sing.
We would roast marshmallows--each of us had our favorite method, one of my brothers liked them just barely brown, but I liked mine to catch on fire, then I'd blow out the flames, take off the char and recook it. It was a game to see who could get the most roastings off one marshmallow.
The sky was so clear that you felt you could reach out and touch the stars. Often we would try to find the constellations that Mom would name, or take turns telling stories born in our imagination. Occasionally we would see the glow of headlights from a car on the highway far below us. These were special evenings that now live in my book of memories.