Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Morning of Goodness

The view from my back step at sunrise:

I had thought to post this morning's picture with the standard English greeting of, "Good morning."  But I love how Arabic speakers say it:
Sabaah al-khayr/ sabaah an-nuur. I'm told that it's a back and forth exchange -the first is "morning of goodness" and the response is "morning of light".

It gets even better. As a response in Arabic you can also say sabaah al-ward, "morning of flowers". That one is usually reserved for special occasions. How beautiful is that?


"Say only what helps, each word a gift." ~Ephesians 4:29, The Message 

Monday, September 26, 2016

Up to Autumn

Sometimes when we need a reprieve from the funny farm, Hubby and I head upcountry for a hike. Yesterday's jaunt was in Tensleep Canyon. 

The vivid blue sky vied with the autumn foliage for attention. Recent rains must have washed the sky of summer's dust and wildfire smoke. 

These thick-stemmed asters aren't as vibrant as their low land cousins (mine are just beginning to bloom), but they boast showy disk flowers. 

It snowed in the high country, so one would think that the creek would be too cold for wading. 

This little leaf stuck on the side of the log reminded me of kindergarten art projects. I can almost smell that white paste. 


The genial sunlight melts on the hills
The breath of the morning white and cold;
By the wayside bend sprays of aster bloom
And the forest turns to russet and gold....
   ~C.B. Galbreath, Autumn Leaves, 1918

Friday, September 23, 2016

Tree Farming

At long last: rain! After an extended dry spell, there's nothing sweeter than the patter of rain on the roof. A fencing chore was postponed, but conditions were perfect for tree transplanting. 

We hadn't expected an audience. 

"As the poet said, Only God can make a tree -- probably because it's so hard to get the bark on." ~Woody Allen

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Happy Fall!

Wishing you a heavenly autumn!

(Painting by Jenny Robinson of jennyrobinsonstudio.com)


"On earth there is no heaven, but there are pieces of it." ~Jules Renard

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Excerpts from the 2016 Yearbook

Zeke, Dazzle's firstborn, was also the first calf on the scene in early spring. Voted most likely to be a fireman. 

Prince, son of Princess, is the pasture's quiet, handsome, humble, sensible giant. Amazingly, Prince was voted most likely to run for office. (Prince for President, anyone?)

Flash, son of Flame, aka Mr. Congeniality, has never met a stranger. Voted most likely to be a talk show host. 

Photos by yearbook staff. 

Friday, September 16, 2016

Names and Numbers

A recent bovine census estimates the cattle population of Wyoming at 1,270,000. I can't find any data on this, but I think it's safe to say that the majority of said citizens are unnamed.

I've often been teased--loudly ridiculed once--for naming our cows. It's likely they haven't befriended an Angus or kept company with a Hereford, so they don't know how winsome a cow can be if treated kindly. 

A typical rancher may look at a beef cow and see numerals: ID tag number, age, milk index, feed efficiency, body condition score, weaning weights of her calves, number of times she's needed to be doctored or helped with calving, profit and loss. Not me. I stink at math and can't remember numbers. Besides, I look at a mama cow and see an amiable, beautiful creature working fairly hard to help us pay our taxes and land payments. How can I not give her a name?

At this point, I'd like to tell you that a cow can recognize her name on the lips of a person who cares for her, but if I did, you'd think I was at least one bale short of a stack. 

I get that some folks really don't want to know that their cheeseburger used to be a sweet calf named Gus who was the apple of his mama's eye, or that their steak was a friendly, playful fellow named Pancho. Still, no cow has lived here and given us calves, no calf has romped around our pasture in the evening, who hasn't been dignified with a name. Sometimes, if they were particularly ornery, they even earned (albeit unflattering) nicknames. 

Princess and Penelope lead the herd down the trail to fresh pasture. Princess has enough stories and personality to have her own Facebook page. 

Cupcake watches over her heifer, Cinnamon. Cupcake is a grandma but goofs off like a young calf. 


"He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out." ~John 10:3 NIV

Saturday, September 10, 2016

Sunny and Bunny Grow Up

In a week, these two will be six months old. They were born in the coldest week of calving season. 

Sunny came on the scene just as the thermometer plunged to zero. She had to be dried out and warmed up with towels, a heater, and my blow dryer. I remember that her right ear, along with three inches of her tail, felt like icicles, and we prayed that she wouldn't lose them. She didn't!


Bunny showed up on Easter, just after her sister Lily. I don't recall any drama surrounding her birth, so it must have gone smoothly. I think she's got some dramatic beauty though. 


"Faith isn't the ability to believe long and far into the future. It's simply taking God at His word and taking the next step." ~Joni Eareckson Tada  

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

The Hunter-Gatherer

As blue heelers are wont to do, Lily collects unsavory effects like antlers, bones, carrion (usually small victims of the cats), hoof trimmings, corn cobs stolen from the cows, and various unidentifiable objects she's unearthed. Most are displayed in our yard. 

Lily carted off this rib from some hapless cow which has been lying in state for at least a decade. (Our late blue heeler, Jessie, was thrilled to discover the old carcass when we moved here nine years ago.)

If I was a paleontologist, I'd consider employing a pack of blue heelers to help at dig sites. 

"It is good to collect things, but it is better to go on walks." ~Anatole France

Monday, September 5, 2016

Hay Delay, Earth Delight

Raindrops have been few and far between this summer, so last night's rainfall was a special occasion--even though it drenched half of the third cutting before it could be baled. 

Those hot, dry winds that we complained about all season? We sure could use them now. 

"Do not be angry with the rain. It simply does not know how to fall upwards." ~Vladimir Nabokov