Another Sheep Herding Ride

They're headed home by the resident sheep herders.

Another great sheep herding ride.

But not on horse back today.

Come on, get going.

Ah, a little self portrait, why do they never seem to turn out.

Hi Bet! Hi Anna!

Moving the sheep from the back sixty to the front twenty takes them through a lovely wooded belt.

Where the grass is very lush. Martin, do you see this problem. So, you think you are dog enough to solve it or do we need to go get the Border Collies?

It looks as if Martin can get this crowd under control after all.

He has taken some lessons from the Border Collies. And he is determined to let Dirt know that he is all this farm needs. No reason to replace the aging Border Collies with any one but him.
Ah, the back gate finally. And it looks as if they are getting through it.
Yes, they are through it and now Martin is going to make sure that the lead sheep do not cause a pile up. He is pretty smart about these sheep after all.

The horses are not impressed however by being replace by the four wheeler today. Maybe this evening's trek to eat out back will be orchestrated by those who ought to have the job. Those four wheelers just do not give you that same bucolic feeling that we do.

Those Border Collies need to stand up for themselves though. What are we? Our doggies keepers?

It's The Dirt II

You know you have it okay when...

Dirt and I were at the feed and hardware store a while back, together. A rare occurrence, I usually go during mid morning if the girls realize they are about to run out of something and Daddy rode his motorsickle to work. Or if I am making repairs and can't wait till afternoon. Dirt usually goes in on his way home from school on less-than-nice-motorsickle-riding days, to stock up on the various feeds or needs. But this day we were in together.

The owner has know us for a long time and knows that we belong together, but the employee there at the time, a young fellow, wasn't so sure.

When Dirt picked up on his hesitation in putting us together, Dirt says with a secret smile, "What's the matter Mark? Doncha know this is my wife? Or did you expect me to be with a better lookin' woman?"

"Uh, well, uh, um, I, uh," sputters Mark.

I giggle and pet Dirt's arm affectionately. This is after all the man who gave me the nickname "Big Bertha" when I was pregnant with our second. The baby, upon being born, was nicknamed Bert before she ever got her real name. So I am no longer surprised at his sillies. But back to the story at hand.

Mark looked nervously at me as I stood next to Dirt with a dreamy smile on my face, and the girls went about their browsing in the store for something else to spend their money on.

"I can't believe she's not hitting you! My woman would never stand for that," Mark says to Dirt avoiding further eye contact with me. Dirt just continues to smile, slightly.

"Oh, I know he is just being silly and teasing you," I say, feeling sorry for the young man whom Dirt has caught up in something. I feel that there is something a foot with all this, some more of Dirt and the Holy Spirit shenanigans, I don't know for sure, but I follow his lead.

"I know where I stand with Dirt, I am very secure, I know he loves me greatly." I say, "Mark, the last time I was in you told me you aren't married to your 'woman' and the two of you are expecting your second child together soon. I didn't say anything to you that day, but maybe you ought to remove her insecurity and marry her. Women weren't meant to spend their years being insecure. (It makes 'em mean inside)"

What I was telling Mark wasn't a stretch. I have over heard and have been told by others how Dirt will counsel other men, especially young men too scared to make a commitment, that he never thought as a young man that he could love his wife once she got old. He tells them how silly that all seems now, because he loves me way more than he thought he did when we began this life together. He loves me now way more than he thought it possible to love another human being. Dirt says he knows he will love me even more tomorrow because he has witnessed how much his love has continually grown.

But I don't need to hear it from others or over hear Dirt say it, I feel it clear to my toes. I know my Dirt loves me, I know he lays down his life for me every day. In spite of my grey hair, wrinkles and extra weight, I feel gorgeous, and if I'm feeling insecure from the onslaught of the world I just hang out with Dirt and it goes away.

Well we left there that day with Mark shaking his head and the next fellow in line behind me grinning from ear to ear from hearing my little speech to Mark about marrying his "woman." Maybe it was her dad.

Dirt was in to the same store a couple of days after that and Mark was helping him.

"Well Mark, you better be ready," he says to him nonchalantly.

"What for?" Mark asks.

"Well, you gave my wife something to grab hold of and pray for. And when she gets to praying, look out, stuff happens."


Why thank you dear for the compliment. But it is you who is the praying crazy man, I'm just along for the ride.


So all in all, Dirt did have a reason for being silly that day with Mark when he shocked him with the joke. I wouldn't advise men to try going around and saying such things about their wives, it could give others the wrong impression and cause them to stumble. But the Holy Spirit used that little moment to set some things in motion.

I don't know if anything great will happen in that young man's life in the next few months before that baby comes and the momma is just a little farther away from the security God intended us girls to have. But praying never hurt nobody nohow.

The Big Truck

The big green truck was here at eight this morning. I love Mike's big green truck. When I opened the door to put the check and list of phone numbers of the buyers in on the seat I get a wave of nostalgia. The inside of his truck reminds me of my dad's fuel oil delivery trucks. This winter I will make sure I roust up some pics of my dad's trucks and post them with some memories of my childhood having the greatest man that ever lived as a father. (sorry Dirt. You do remind me of him though dear!)

Mike got straight to work. A man of few words. Unless he is telling a story about eating sandwiches in the barn. He does a nice job, we have used him as our farm slaughter guy ever since we started this life twenty-three years ago.

The girls watch between fetching the lambs from the barn for Mike. Probably watching close for some pointers next time they have some road kill or vermin on their hands. Purr Bob is in on it too. I think he is waiting for some tidbits to come his way. Fluffy Joe was stealing lamb ankles when I came out to take these pics.

Over the years, all four of our girls have helped Mike out when he comes. As parents we felt it was important for our children to understand the cycle of life and what it takes to put food on the table. That's why they also work in the garden, tend the chickens, milked the goats when we had them and do most of daily chores while I sit inside watching soaps and eating bonbons.

My girls, all four, are often better gardeners than me, even my second out classes me, I could never have turned an apartment balcony into a precious garden like she did. It is for certain that they are far beyond me in animal husbandry. They are notorious for stitching up ripped up poultry from the landlord's over zealous Labradors. I'm was a nurse and I'm not sure I would attempt that, or nonchalantly give animals shots when they needed them.

As a family we appreciate God's bounty and provision. We don't see animals raised for meat, eggs or milk as the enemy of the environment. (We all have a little tree hugger in each of us, land workers are the true environmentalists. My personal opinion of course.)

The problem arises from man's (or woman's) gluttony. Like eating a twenty ounce steak in one sitting by one person. Come on folks, that is a five day meat supply for one. Even a petite steak at eight ounces is really more than enough for two because often we have some other supply of protein in the side or salad that comes with it. This occurs in restaurants and in backyards everywhere, every day. No wonder it is hard on the earth and the person. Normal meat eating, not unlike normal plant eating is not the problem. It isn't what we eat, it is how much we eat or consume. Mindless consumption is the enemy not the type of food we consume. Dirt and I have found that even though we love feasts, having raised our own meat supply makes us far more sensible than before.

To wash away all that necessary unpleasantness here is a beautiful flower to gaze upon.

Unfortunately it is reminding me I have a ton of watering, fertilizing and controlling of pests to do. It certainly takes a lot of work to make a little beauty and sustenance.

An Incident In A Day In The Life Of Anna

Umm, tomorrow is not a day for vegans on the farm. Mike Erickson is coming in his big truck and this years lamb crop is leaving in it in a very altered state.



One lamb is staying. And what is rather humorous, (sorry can't help it, I break promises like that all the time, besides its nearly tomorrow) is that the one that gets to remain for the rest of her natural life (approximately 7 or so years)or until she can't keep lambing, is this year's bummer.



Not such a bummer after all to be a bummer. Especially Anna's bummer. I'll look for some pics for tomorrow of Tilly as a bottle lamb (that is what a bummer is).



But here are pics of another of Anna's bummers, albeit a bummer of a different nature.

Mind you she came to me herself with camera card in hand, "Here blog this, " she says. "What happens when you forget what you've done."



"Anna" Fluffy Joe calls. "Better come here, I think you have a problem."


"Oh, cracken snapple! I forgot to shut off the water," Anna cries.



"Well now you better turn it off. I am sure the hydrangea has enough water," Fluffy adds rather sarcastically.


He is old and grumpy, sarcasm comes easy, especially when it isn't his mistake. Not so sarcastic and snide when he was on trial for murder, but that's another story for a different day.

"This may be what happens when you don't water the hydrangea when your mom asks you too."

"Alright already, Fluffy, I get it! You want your hair balls combed out now, Matt?"

"Uh no, I didn't say that. I'll go back and lay down and mind my own business and next time I'll just let the river run through it."

"Oh, now that is just a dumb use of a movie title," as she heads towards the Cook's Porch door. "You don't even watch movies, you're getting the comb and scissors tomorrow for sure." Anna says as she shuts the door behind her.

No rocks were harmed in the filming of this docudrama. But tomorrow there will be some hair spilled. And because this incident was produced by well water no water was really wasted. In a few days it will be right back where it started. So activists can just sit back and enjoy the humor and unwrap their panties.

What The Heck?

Okay, are you listening to George Noory tonight? My husband is sound asleep but I know if I try to turn off the radio he will just roll over in his sleep and turn it right back on.

Katherine Albrecht is something else, man she is sure worried. I guess every generation needs a good worrier or two, on both sides. Go Al, Go Katherine.

So how many RFID chips are lurcking in your clothing do you think? And is your life so exciting that the government wants to know? Mine sure is! Illegal children, illegal animals, illegal somethin' elses I'm sure! No one is knocking on my door, darn, never any excitement.

Hey! this could bring back that whole cool thing we used to do in High School - trade clothes for the week with our friends. That'll over work their stinking tracking system cause I am sure the government wants to know what I am doing on Thursday! But then they'll think that I'm my friend and my other friend is me. That'll serve them right for spying!

I wonder if they put RFID's in egg cartons - anyone out there know the answer to that? Fellow Coast to Coast-ers?

Uh oh now there is a new guy on and I heard them mention the Pope.... ah the Pope and UFO's umh, umh.


ARRRGHH I wish another radio station came in at night. With a midnight car talk. Or radio food network. _ oooh maybe not, the kitchen is no place to be in the middle of the night, conscious or unconscious.

HMMMM

I get the feeling that my sense of humor isn't so stinking funny to the rest of my world right now, so I guess it may really be a case of heat stroke not a funny bone.

So I am going to take the girls in to Rebecca's for a swim, because the pond is not appealing to me as a swimming hole. Somethings I do, or don't do, are age appropriate.

Maybe it is just a generational pendulum swing thing. You'd think some people came straight from their grandmother's serious womb instead of from their parent's.

But then again, when other people appear to agree with them, clearly it must be true. Or a medical condition.

I promise, that when I get back home, I will refrain from being funny, or trying to be as the case may be. Maybe my humor is like my use of commas, a bit over the top.

Appoligies to one and all.

Watch Out!

Uh oh. I feel a serious case of nut job coming on. And that is the only serious thing that is going to happen today. No serious conversations, no serious thoughts, no serious work. Just serious nuttiness.