I wonder what this rose finds so funny.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Monday, June 27, 2016
Ziggy couldn't be happier since finally giving birth to a fiesty heifer. I don't know what Ziggy calls her independent-minded little one, but Hubby named her Helga.
"She's kinda stubborn so [sic]," Hubby noted. It had taken two of us plus Ziggy to move the calf to a shady spot behind the barn, which she promptly exited.
"She must be Norwegian," Hubby, who is of like descent and well-versed in these matters, added.
Friday, June 24, 2016
Maxwell, our charming new buckling, has outwitted Hubby and me by escaping from nearly every enclosure that we've built. It's pretty bad when a nine-week old goat is smarter than two, ahem, mature humans.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Friday, June 17, 2016
When town kids come, we get to see country life through their eyes. We look around us and see pending jobs and unfinished projects--this barn, those weeds, that fence, those heifers, that garden, those horses, that field, this house, that shed--but the kids remind us to slow down. Breathe. See. Ask. Enjoy. Relish.
"In a world as wrong as this one, all we can do is make things as right as we can." ~Barbara Kingsolver, The Bean Trees
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Hubby's Tennessee Walking Horse, Solomon, turned 20 last month.
The years have been kind to Solly. He's as strong, sound, sure-footed, velvet-gaited, cowy, and moody as ever. Solly can be sweet and cooperative one minute; the next, grumpy and offended.
I'll never forget the afternoon that four of us hiked up the East Rosebud Trail to camp and fish. Solly had been recruited to pack our gear and grub. He pretended to go along with our agenda.
Once we reached Elk Lake and began to set up camp, Solly pretended to graze contentedly. When we weren't looking, however, he unpicketed himself and galloped down the trail the way we'd come.
Hubby tore after him, taking shortcuts across the switchbacks for a mile or so. It looked like Solly might not stop until he reached the truck and trailer.
Just as Solly approached a small footbridge, a chipmunk fortuitously scampered across the bridge. Apparently, tiny chipmunks pose some kind of danger to large horses because Solly hit the skids and was soon apprehended.
If we'd known what Solly knew, we'd have trotted right down that trail with him.
That night, a thunderstorm erupted. Lightning ricocheted around the mountains, sending a moose crashing through camp. The six-hour rain streamed through two of three tents.
Morning found us as drenched as Solly, whose expression clearly said, I told you so.
Monday, June 6, 2016
Saturday, June 4, 2016
Thursday, June 2, 2016
I'm not a chicken person, but perhaps I should reconsider. What town-to-farm visit is complete if there are no hens to feed or eggs to gather?
"There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million." ~Walt Streightiff