Mead-Ferro’s wonderful memoir more closely resembles a collection of picaresque snapshots of the rough-and-tumble western life and times that existed even well into the twentieth century in Wyoming. More than that, though, her reminiscences beg a question. Did growing up on a ranch imbue her with a willful spirit? Or was it the result of having a mother who apparently believed in keeping loose but ready reins on her children? Whatever the answer, Mead-Ferro seems to have come away none the worse for it.In fact, arguably better. Certainly more capable. Indeed, she misses her unique—at least to city folk—heritage so much that she is attempting to recapture just a glimmer of it for her own children to experience. Even so, there is no going home again. The family ranch was sold off and Mead-Ferro has had to settle for being a part-time rancher and farmer on the wrong side of the Tetons. Ah, but the memories. It is good to savor the memories.
— Donna Chavez, Booklist