YES. WE ARE OPEN. JUST WITHOUT A WEB SITE--FOR NOW

Wild Lilies in Bloom, Dancing Bean Ranch B&B

How can I explain the vanished web site? Like all things computer related (at least in the world my brain inhabits) it's complicated. The old one went away and now I'm going about trying to get things fixed. As I said, it's complicated. 

We're still open, and are still in our off-season when rates for a full weekend drop to $120. Single night, $65. Double Occupancy.

As to those lilies, they're not quite yet in bloom but they are on their way.

Any questions, please call the Dancing Bean at 918-762-2443 or email me at dancingbeanbobbie@gmail.com. Please put B&B in subject line so I will be sure to get it.

Hope to see you soon, Dancing Bean Bobbie

Spring, Easter, Baked Bread, Pastry, Hot Cross Bun

Hot Cross Buns, Hot Cross Buns,

One a Penny, Two a Penny,

Hot Cross Buns

I hope those of you who celebrate Easter enjoyed a holiday as happy as our family's. Yes, Ms. Dancing Bean did a good bit of baking. Fortunately, the everything-from-scratch cupcakes and key lime pie that I made turned out better than the crosses did on my hot cross buns. 

"WITH OVER A HUNDRED ACRES TO EXPLORE FOR RELAXATION, ALL IT TOOK WAS 4 SQ. FEET OF PORCH."

Finding the above quote in my guestbook was one of the nicest gifts I've ever received.

I had a variety of reasons for opening a  B&B. I enjoy playing Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, while Mr. Dancing Bean, who hates to travel, likes nothing more than meeting new people. And, of course, a little extra money (triple underline little) is always nice. 

What I hadn’t expected was to offer a retreat service. No, not the kind of retreat where you meditate and think deep thoughts. Or the kind where you coax unwilling joints into bending like human a pretzel Nor the kind where workshop leaders will get you motivated--although you are free to do any of those things during your stay here. 

Last summer, I had the privelege of providing a quiet space for a two-career couple who just wanted to unplug and spend downtime together. (I thank them for the above quote.) Another guest came for a very different reason. Recently widowed, she needed private space to work as a part of her journey of grieving. 

These are just two of the guests who found the peace and quiet (other than the sounds of nature and the barking of our Awesome Dog Pack) they needed here at the low-tech Dancing Bean Ranch. They helped make our experience as B&B owners especially rewarding. 

THE BRIDGE IS DONE

Hip, hip hooray. 

The Bridge Is Finished!!

After more than a year of sending guests the circuitous detour route to get here, we finally have a bridge! It's concrete and a wide two lane. The old bridge, wooden and rickety, was far more picturesque but the new one is safe to drive on. So there's that. 


As anyone who has visited the Dancing Bean Ranch in the past year can attest, the detour route included  two extra miles of gravel road. Far worse was the very narrow wooden bridge, with no guard rails and clear gaps in the plank. Crossing it wasn't for the faint of heart.


But that's history. Come visit the 'Bean this spring and enjoy crossing the finest bridge in Pawnee County.

Torvald and Inga, continued.

Inga, a weiner/terrier mix who had been dumped in the woods, found her way to the 'Bean and whimpered her desire to join the DBR's Awesome Dog Pack. From the moment she appeared, big Torvald treated her as the little sister he'd always wanted. For days, Inga's head was gooey where Tor had licked her and even tried to pick her up by the scruff of her neck and carry her like a puppy. They're best friends. The two nap together, play together and, unfortunately, get into mischief together.

Like the lovely spring evening they decided to take up gardening. I heard a thunk outside the kitchen window and went to investigate. Big Tor had managed to reach a flat of strawberry plants I'd set on an outdoor shelf, one I'd thought was beyond Tor's reach. Silly me. The thunk was the sound of big Tor pulling the flat off the shelf. When I arrived, Inga was doing her part by running back and forth through the plants as fast as her stubby little legs would carry her. Both dogs seemed very pleased by their hard work, and I learned my lesson on the extent of Torvald's reach. Or so I thought.

Like I said, silly me.

OOOOPPPPSSS--EMAIL ADDRESS HAS CHANGED

The nice lady who does the web site for luddite me is on leave. Our email has changed--

dancingbeanranch@gmail.com. I'm so sorry for this. The telephone number, happily, hasn't changed.

Volunteers Need to Eat, Too

Though there were nights they were so tired that forks barely made it to mouths--even when the DBR's Fudgey Ice Box Pie was on the menu-- our Newcastle UM friends shared dinner at the Dancing Bean three nights of their stay.

Correction: some of them were too tired to eat. The boys pictured in the bottom photo didn't have that trouble, plus then they even had enough energy left to take a late night time swim in the pool. Who was it who said that youth was wasted on the young?

What Can You Say About People Like This?

How would you describe people like this? People who would drive from their home in Newcastle, Texas, 50 miles south of Wichita Falls, to Pawnee Oklahoma--at their own expense--and spend their summer vacation working 10 to 14 hours a day in 105+ temperatures to put a new roof on a building for people they will never see again?

What can you say about them? Crazy comes to mind.

But on the Dancing Bean, we know them as the people from the Newcastle United Methodist Church on their annual Volunteers in Mission (VIM) trip.

VIM is a program of the United Methodist Church, affording people the opportunity to be a missionary for a little while. The Oklahoma Conference of the denomination coordinates projects in, logically, Oklahoma. The Indian Methodist church, part of the Oklahoma Indian Conference (OIMC) needed a new roof on their old parsonage as a first step in their plan to convert it to the fellowship hall the church desperately needs. The Newcastle UMC needed a project for the summer. The conference VIM office played matchmaker and, Bob's your uncle, our Texas UM brothers and sisters were on their way north.

Mr. Dancing Bean and I, with our creaky old joints, have never felt up to a VIM trip but always wanted to contribute. Through a stroke of good luck, Debbie Whitely, one of the volunteers, called the 'Bean to inquire about lodging for 4 nights. As she explained how many would be in their party, my brain starting calculating. Can I accommodate 14 people? And what would I charge? Then Debbie said the magic words: we're up there to do some work on a Methodist church. "Well, why didn't you say that before?" was my answer.

While I was working with Debbie, our pastor, Susan Ross, was working her end. By the time we were done, all 14 people were having lunch at our church, Pawnee First UMC, where a few of them also took a well-earned siesta. At night they had dinner at the 'Bee and slept in the Bunkhouse. It was a little crowded, but nice and cool and, equally important, equipped with showers.

Left side, Pastor David Ray. One year out of seminary. Newcastle UMC breaks their preacher in hard.

The DBR and the PBR

"Discover Oklahoma" did a show about the wild west attractions of the Pawnee Bill Ranch and recommended "bunking down" at the Dancing Bean. Nice mention. Thanks, "Discover Oklahoma."

And the photo? Just a way to celebrate the butterfly weed, still blooming madly in spite of this brutal weather. Speaking of, that's a butterfly atop it, back in June when Oklahoma wasn't yet engulfed by drought and heat.

The Summer Is Too Hot

What more can I say? Except, the swimming pool beckons.

The Naughty Adventures of Inga and Torvald.

The big dog is Torvald. The little one's named Inga. They came to us the way all our animals have: dumped by some tender soul.

Torvald came out of the woods the morning of one of the coldest days of the year, last winter. He was just a pup. As with all our dumpees, he was at the doctor's office less than 24 hours later. (No litters on the Dancing Bean, thank you very much). Dr. Gilliland told us he was a very fine example of a pureblood labrador, but warned that the breed "can be a little rambunctious. " (The Doc is a master of understatement.)

Torvald's antics have driven us half mad, caught somewhere between laughter and anger. Take the morning Bill opened the door of his carpentry shop where the dogs sleep and heard an unfamiliar buzz. Searching out the source of the noise, he discovered that Torvald had pulled a power sander off a work table that Bill had thought even the big lab couldn't reach. Somehow, he'd manage to turn it on.

Just as I'd decided he couldn't be any naughtier, a partner for his crimes appeared. A very small partner. (To be continued).

The Only Place To Be When It's 100F.

This delightful young family enjoyed Fathers Day Weekend with a low key mini-break at the Dancing Bean Ranch for Wild West Show weekend. As befits the start of a holiday weekend, they stopped by Click's in Pawnee for a fantastic steak dinner and pie with "the highest meringue I've ever seen," according to them.

Because the little girl's hair is wet, you can't see the ringlets that give her a natural-born angelic look.

This business may not make me rich, but meeting people like this is half the fun.

PS: Families welcome, also singles, couples, partners, life partners, friends or anyone else looking for a peaceful retreat. Or a noisy splash in the pool on a hot day.

A Park Too Far

These Victorian flowers are violets, from my smallest garden. I'm interested in all things Nineteenth Century but, since Bill and I watched Ken Burns' "Civil War" the first time it aired, we hadn't intended to watch it again. Yet the minute David McCullough's voice began the narration, we were hooked all over again.

Civil War buffs are famously devoted students of our nation's great war. One of my most delightful vacation memories is about just such a young man.

Years ago, my daughter and I were returning from a holiday in Eureka Springs, Arkansas (my rates are a half or less of what you'll pay there for comparable accommodations--just sayin') and on the way home stopped at Pea Ridge Civil War Military Park. We pulled into a parking spot at one of the outlook points where markers describe the action that took place in the valley below.

At the same time, a very attractive young couple pulled a car with Arizona plates alongside us. The man behind the wheel parked, grabbed a camera and started racing from point to point, stopping only long enough to get a photo. Why the hurry, I wondered. Especially since the day was hot. Then I saw his partner, slumped in her seat, arms folded tightly over her chest and a big, angry frown on her face.

I have a hunch that wasn't their first Civil War park.

While we have no military parks or natural springs nor mountains, we do have a colorful cowboy mansion and museum to offer, a Wild West Show in the summer and a big swimming pool that makes summer heat a joy.

Just How Real Can It Get?

That's me and our Norwegian Forest cat, Sally, spending a snowy winter day enjoying the first draft of Jeri Westerson's new series, Oswald The Thief. If you've read my previous posts, you'll recognize Jeri as my guest blogger in the piece on crime in the Middle Ages. She's a terrific writer, and her new book is no exception. Having reinvented medieval mysteries by writing the first medieval noir series, she's doing it again by creating the first caper mystery set in the period.

Why do I get to read the first draft? Because I write mysteries, as well, (No, not published; I'll let you know) and we are two of four parts of the online critique group we've fondly named the Vicious Circle.

My story is a cozy mystery set in a small Oklahoma community. The protagonist is a middle aged, beekeeping, B&B owning widow. Write what you know, amirite? Except here on the Dancing Bean Ranch, the Top Hand (my husband, Bill) is alive and well and kept busier than he would like with my many projects. Pippa McMaster, my amateur sleuth, isn't so lucky and has to manage the fictional Dancing Bee Farm all on her own.

But back to Write what you know. How far can that old chestnut be taken? In a county where the Grand Jury just handed out indictments to various county officials, it's tempting to turn the situation into something more spectacular than it is. And with a little scandal brewing in an upcoming election for a local office, the temptation only grows worse. I don't write true crime, so I'll leave the details to the justice system. For local color, however, the allure of our little crime wave is irresistible.

And how about this one: a set of identical twins, two women in their eighties, who still dress exactly like each other. (At least in public, where I see them). Seriously. Not only do their respective clothes and shoes match, so do their eyeglasses, hair styles, jewelry and even shade of lipstick. Replace the smiles on those identical faces with a vacant stare , and you're looking at Children of the Corn: The Adult Years.

When the inspiration for colorful characters is as abundant as it is here in Pawnee County, it leaves only one question: how real can it get?

Guest Blogger: The Romance of Lawlessness

From Bobbie:

As a teenager, I became a fan of Oklahoma history after I discovered author Glenn Shirley's Law West of Fort Smith. Few lawmen-lots of territory for them to cover. It made the Indian Nation a haven for outlaws like Belle Starr and Bill Doolin's Wild Bunch.

Maybe because I spend my days thinking about fictional murder, I remembered Shirley's book and began to wonder how other societies in earlier ages dealt with outlaws and lawmen. And I knew just the person to ask, my friend Jeri Westerson, (that's her picture) author of the one and only medieval noir series featuring disgraced (but noble, in his own way) knight, Crispin Guest. Jeri graciously agreed to do a blog post for us. She's a terrific writer and a whiz at the history of the Middle Ages. By the way--you'll find copies of her books in your room at the Dancing Bean.

And now, my guest blogger, the clever and creative, Jeri Westerson.

Lawlessness in the Oklahoma Territory and the Middle Ages

by Jeri Westerson

It's a romantic period in American history. The old west, the wild west, with its own cowboy justice meted out in the lawless territories. Lynchings, barroom brawls, gunfights on the streets. Everyone getting medieval on each other.

Whoa, hold on there partner. Are we saying that the wild and woolly west had a counterpart in Europe's Middle Ages, where torture was common, subversion of the law was the norm, and the Big Bad Church oppressed one and all?

Well, not so much, really.

I'm certain there is just as much exaggeration about the wildness of the west as there might be about the Middle Ages. For one, there was very little in what you might call lawlessness in the medieval period. In fact, there were a slew of laws, from imprisoning those who slandered others, to rampant lawsuits filed by rich against poor, poor against rich, and everyone in between. And there were rules to follow, hearings, lawyers, and a jury. In fact, we get much of our legal terminology and proceedings from medieval English law. It was pursued practically and, for the most part, as fairly as was culturally possible for the time. For instance, in those days, a jury was chosen not because they didn't know the defendant but because they specifically did, a true jury of their peers. Who better to judge you than people who already knew you?

And what about torture as a judicial device? Again, just a bit of exaggeration brought down to us from our Victorian ancestors who liked a bit of gothic ghoulishness to tickle their corsets. In fact, one of the more notorious torture devices, the iron maiden, wasn't medieval at all, and in fact, never really existed except in the minds of prurient Victorians. These iron maidens were wooden cabinets with iron spikes inside. They were shaped rather like large bowling pins with the image of the Virgin's face on the head part. Closing the hapless victim inside would pierce him in inuumerable holes all over the body. Blood loss, possible asphyxiation, and the horror of it, could cause death.

Except that it didn't. It doesn't appear to have been invented until the late 18th century, and even then it was all in the mind. The earliest account of this device can be found in 1793, but even that was a hoax! It was possibly confused with a "cloak of shame," something that was used in the Middle Ages. But this was more of a portable stocks, a barrel that one was forced to wear, humiliating oneself by walking around town, letting everyone know that you had been naughty, where citizens could hurl ridicule as well as rotten vegetables at you (where were folks keeping all those rotten vegetables they are always throwing at people?). The Victorians read an account of this and then the account of the hoax and sort of glommed them together because medieval people, they thought, were uncivilized barbarians just waiting around to be enlightened by the Renaissance...where there was a lot more use of those torture devices.

And believe it or not, even the Big Bad Church wasn't as big and as bad as one might think. Oh there was the Spanish Inquisition, and according to Monty Python, no one expects that! But there wasn't the resistance to science as there was later in the Renaissance. In fact, in the Middle Ages, seeking the Truth was a much beloved trope, because Truth brings you closer to holiness. Even homosexuality, though little understood, did not result in the Church "getting medieval" on sodomites. More often than not, punishments came in the form of ecclesiastical penance rather than jail time. According to historian John Boswell in his book, Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, the penalty for homosexual behavior "is given no greater attention than other sins and, viewed comparatively, appears to have been thought less grave than such common activities as hunting." Still, between the law courts and the Church, it was best to keep a low profile.

So is it possible that the Middle Ages was more civilized than the wild west? A startling thought. Makes you want to reread some history, doesn't it?
----

Jeri does nothing else but reread lots of history for her medieval noir series. Her tough guy ex-knight turned detctive, Crispin Guest, is back in the third installment, THE DEMON'S PARCHMENT. You can read an excerpt on her website http://www.jeriwesterson.com/.

Don't Blame the Goldenrod

I've been in the house all day, hiding from the wind and the ragweed pollen. Whenever I see fluffy golden flowers, I know what's coming--hay fever. Imagine my surprise when Sue, a fellow NEOBA (Northeastern Oklahoma Beekeepers Association) member, told me that those golden plumes aren't ragweed. It's goldenrod, not a serious allergen. Among it, however, grow ragweed plants with their inconspicuous blooms producing nuclear weapons grade pollen. Foraging bees love it. I don't.

A common theory about seasonal allergy treatment is that local honey, created from neighborhood pollen, helps the immune system fight hay fever. I'm not sure it works, but I'm willing to try anything right now. My recipe is a big dollop of honey in nice cup of tea doctored with the juice of half a lemon. Effective or not, this medicine is deeply comforting.

White Peaches and Possums

I picked most of the white peaches remaining on the tree with my five year old granddaughter, Emma. We picked as many as we could using the three step ladder (and took a small tumble together and lived to tell the tale). Then I moved the land defenses and left several at the top of the tree. This morning, only two were left.

The possums love them, so why not share a few? Here on the Dancing Bean, we try to co-exist with nature.

Possums and Peaches

The China Pearl peaches, a white variety, are the biggest, sweetest and the last to ripen of the stone fruits in the orchard. It's August 31, and the Game is On, as Sherlock Holmes would say. Who'll get the white peaches this year?

To date, the score is: Late Freeze: 4, Possums: 3 Green June Beetles: 1 and Me: 0.

This is my year. I can feel it. I've kept a daily watch for the beetles, designed and constructed my own cruelty free, chemical-free ground defense against the possums, and monitored the fruit daily for degree of ripeness. (A test that has required a bit of eating, I will confess).

At a half pound apiece, these beauties are worth the work. If you're in the neighborhood, come share.

News Flash--DBR is Closed For These Dates

Sorry, but the Bunkhouse is unavailable the following dates:

July 30-August 9 and the weekends of October 8 and October 15. I expect to be closed on days on either side of the 15th.

Otherwise, the the calendar is wide open. Come and enjoy The Dancing Bean Ranch, just not on the above dates.

What Is That Lady Doing With That Troll?

What AM I doing with that troll? Or what's it doing with me? Nothing, really, except helping me enjoy a vacation to Disney World with my daughters.

Disney World isn't in my budget this year, and maybe not in yours, either. Plus, I'm in the grasp of summer doldrums. Maybe you are, as well.

The writing is going slowly (and I'm still debating why someone killed the victim in the next story) and maybe your work is, too.

So to make your escape easier, I'm lowering my summer weekend single night price to $65, double occupancy and reducing Friday, Saturday stays to $120. And just for fun, I'll leave a special welcoming gift for you--a slice of pie so homemade that even the peaches came from the Dancing Bean's orchard.

I can't offer trolls, by the way, nor pixies nor elves nor even gnomes. But husband Bill (sadly, dead in the first book but happily alive in real life) is an expert on all things Norwegian. Or you can just enjoy our 20x30 foot in ground swimming pool. Personally, my advice is to take the latter.