The Brunette

Remember little Brownie, born last spring?

Well, Brownie is still beautiful, but she's neither little nor brown. 

This morning's frost actually made her black-and-white.

"Fear not...I have called you by your name; you are Mine." ~Isaiah 43:1 (NKJV)

The Grumble Graph

Is there a complaint department in heaven? Does someone keep track of all uttered grievances? Are the gripes duly noted and catalogued according to date, source, and trends before being rendered into pie charts?

If so, I bet there's a Grumble Graph entitled something like January, Northern Hemisphere, in which the overwhelmingly largest slice belongs to WINTER. A click on "Sub-gripes" might list freezing temperatures, long nights, dead batteries, icy roads, flu season and wet boots, mittens, hats and coats spread about the house to dry. 

Hopefully there's a corresponding Gratitude Graph. After all, the hardest aspects of winter should generate thanksgiving. If we have warm homes and hot meals and steaming cups and light to read by, what grace! If we're strong enough to shovel snow and our families and pets are safe and, if we have them, our livestock are snug in beds of straw and hay, what grace! So many don't. 

"Only a stomach that rarely feels hungry scorns common things." ~Horace

The CEO

Pre-spring cleaning...

...under (literally) the supervision of the the CEO, the Cat Executive Officer. 

Kith and Kin

In nearly every respect, horses are more impressive than goats. Yet we humans have to study and practice, often for years, before we can communicate effectively with horses. We feel greatly honored if horses "join up" and follow us for a few strides without halter or lead.

It seems to me that horses merely condescend to include us in their social circles, at least until they tire of us--or the pasture gate is opened. 

Goats, on the other hand, must be fenced away from humans. Given their druthers, kindly-treated goats would take up residence on our front porches--or sofas, if the doors weren't latched properly. Although we've never attended goat-handling workshops or studied caprine psychology, they bond to us quickly and follow us sincerely, sometimes even enthusiastically. 

Horses might allow us certain herd privileges, but goats count us part of the family. 

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life." ~Psalm 23:1,6 (NASB)

Somewhere

Our favorite place to run may seem, at first, to be smack dab in the middle of Nowhere, Wyoming, Population 0. 

Upon closer inspection, however, it's obvious that the place is teeming with residents. 

Pronghorn, mule deer, mustangs, horned larks, jackrabbits, cottontails, golden eagles, and a variety of rodents call this place home.

Apparently, Nowhere is something of an exclusive neighborhood!

"The greatest science in the world, in heaven and in earth, is love." ~Mother Teresa

Pasture Politics

Sugar is devoted to Rule 323-5b of the Book of Cowhorse Ethics, which states: "A cowhorse may apprehend a cow's hay, in the politest manner possible, but is not required to share said hay with said cow."

You can probably guess that 323-5a says that: "A cow, as a matter of principle, is not allowed to eat a cowhorse's better-quality hay allotment, unless said horse abandons said hay for reason of satiation."

I can only assume that said Book was compiled by cowhorses--with no bovine input whatsoever. 

"Love your neighbor as yourself." ~Mark 12:31 (AMP)

 

Ahoy, Marigold!

RIDDLE: Why did the rancher use his wife's hair dryer on the heifer?

ANSWER: So the pirate-patch would stick on the heifer, of course! (Marigold scratched her eye. The patch protects her eye from sunlight while it heals.)

"The light in the eyes [of him whose heart is joyful] rejoices the hearts of others." ~Proverbs 15:30 (AMP)

Who's Counting?

Only 64 days until spring!

"Because of the Lord's faithful love we do not perish, for His mercies never end." ~Lamentations 3:22 (HCSB)

Frosty Morning Glory

Sundog and more

Russian olive

Tumbleweed in fence

Solace

There's no graceful way to describe a dead cow morning. Yesterday, Gracie was hale and happy; today, she was dead. 

Gracie was a gentle, lovely young cow whose only vice was avarice. She was the first to get up for breakfast, whether hay or pasture, and if she could manage it, her breakfast would overlap lunch which would overrun supper! We can't say definitively but suspect that her portliness may have led to her demise. 

Speculations did nothing to stop tears from streaming down or knees from buckling into the snow. 

Before long, however, my favorite cow, Annabelle, planted two big, damp cow kisses on my already wet face. Annabelle so rarely dispenses smooches that I couldn't help but feel oddly comforted. 

"He is the Father of compassion, the God of all comfort." ~2 Corinthians 1:3 (VOICE)

The Great Hay Heist

Hubby thinks our cows are too fat, so he's been trying to limit their rations. Hubby has never been pregnant, so he doesn't understand the acute hunger pangs of an expecting mama--cow or otherwise. 

This morning, Hubby left for work. I plugged in the tractor so it could warm up before I fed the cows, then went for a run. I remember thinking it odd that the horses hadn't come in for breakfast. 

A few minutes later, the road led me right to the scene of the crime: the entire herd plus two equine accomplices had broken into the hay corral. Broken wires were strewn everywhere, and it was obvious that much looting had already occurred!

"Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied. 

Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh." ~Luke 6:21 (NIV)

Enough Already

Blueberry's beautiful eyes, the color of winter sky, must have been overwhelmed by too much reflection off the glacier that is our farm. A case of photokeratitis (snow blindness) sentenced her to the barn for a few days, where she quickly recovered. 

Snow goggles were out of the question, so Zach and I spread forkfuls of trashy hay across the gleaming snow on Blueberry Hill, the goats' favorite stomping grounds. The does seemed thrilled by the sudden influx of brownish-green on the Hill. Perhaps the color reminds them of spring!

"The people were amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the crippled made well, the lame walking and the blind seeing." ~Matthew 15:31 (NIV)

Tameless

I hear the glaciers are melting, but this winter finds us living on one. Glacial encroachment has largely neutralized the Terrible Tiger's reign of terror, as he is averse to frigid temperatures and snow in general.  

But when semi-hibernation in the house gets too boring, a cat can always slip outdoors and up a tree. He probably won't be able to boast any feathered casualties, but no matter. It's not about hunting so much as proving that a Terrible Tiger can never truly be tamed. 

"If he is comic, it is only because of the incongruity of so demure a look and so wild a heart." ~Alan Devoe

Into the Wild~and Back

Normally, Sugar and Solly don't get turned out in the hayfields. Both tend toward the tubby side, and an all-you-can-eat alfalfa-grass buffet is out of the question. But when snow buries most of the buffet, the gate of freedom is opened wide. 

As they trot through said gate, a pair of ordinary cowhorses horses forthwith undomesticate themselves. Curry combs, saddles, hugs, and apples become instant history. Tails up, they snort and run and roll and paw through snow for food--everything that real mustangs do--and that night, they dream wild, hoof-pounding, fenceless dreams. 

There's something about a cold dawn, though, that evokes fond memories of molasses-covered oats. Even a mustang can't resist a sojourn back to the barnyard for breakfast.  

"...To heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives...." ~Isaiah 61:1 (NKJV)

Sparkle Anyway

Yet another storm blew in this morning, adding more snow and moving the old snow sideways. A neighbor told me that she's lived here 30 years and has never seen a winter like this one. Hubby has certainly plowed more snow this year than he ever has in the eight winters we've been here. 

Regardless of season, jet stream, and latitude, storms happen. Cold fronts of fear, stinging winds of conflict, downpours of discouragement, heavy drifts of hurt happen.

But this photo of Sparkle, one of my most effervescent cows, fairly shouts, Don't let the storm snuff out your sparkle!

"Restore the sparkle to my eyes." ~Psalm 13:3 (NLT)

In Good Company

I hear that the Chinese have designated 2015 as the Year of the Sheep--or Goat--depending upon translation. I suppose shepherds will argue for the former interpretation, while we goatherds will staunchly defend the second. 

By virtue of milk production, intelligence, allegiance, sense of humor, and increasing worldwide popularity, goats surely deserve 2015. On the other hand, if it weren't for my cherished woolen socks, long johns, mittens, and blanket, I doubt I could tolerate Wyoming winters.

Perhaps those in the sheep camp and we in the goat shed could agree to share the Year, keeping in mind the words of Dr. Van Horn, Hubby's former college professor of sheep production and animal science: "A sheep is just a woolified goat."

I pray that 2015 will be a most wonderful year for you, regardless of your sheep-goat persuasion. 

Minnie, one of my most winsome friends. 

"Do not fear, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." ~Luke 12:32 (NKJV)