a Friday ritual… a single photo… no words
capturing a moment from the week
(participating with the Soule Mama blog)
Category: Uncategorized
Working Women’s Wednesdays
Had a great work day yesterday!
- sheared the rams, moved them to a new paddock
- finally got all the bred ewes moved to the barn pasture
- reinforced fencing and removed temporary fencing broken by snow
Thanks to our wonderful little helper, Harley and our wonderful bigger helper, Lena!
Signs of Spring
The barn lane – as water feature – small rivulets of running water and large, deep puddles, produced by the recent snow melt and rain
Robins! and green – well much more brown than green – grass!
Tiny daffodil buds – planted long ago by our great, great grandparents – in front of their original house, down by the barn.
Lush, thick, and very green moss – uncovered this weekend as the snow pack slowly receeds into memory
Sunday Muse
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when summer is in the light, and winter in the shade.”
— Charles Dickens
{this moment}
{this moment}
a Friday ritual. a single photo. no words.
participating on the Soule Mama blog
Still… the Adverb
Still…
(adverb) as previously, as yet, as in the past…
Despite a couple days of warmer temperatures, some of the feeders and the fence line still look like this
and this… Samson can still walk over the perimeter fence, so he is still in the barn
where he now thinks that his primary job is to guard the rabbits and the hay bales. This and the fact that we now need to take him on walks, has made feeding time even more of an adventure.
Poor Saul’s breeding group is still at the bottom of the hill. We are still pulling hay and water to them on a tarp, BUT we no longer have to wear snowshoes! Woooo Hoooo!
Still… the Adjective
Still…
(adjective) inactive, silent, calm, quiet
For weeks it has been very still around here, even on the wildlife front. This weekend the barn lane became a wildlife boulevard, evidenced by the numerous turkey and deer track.
A lone deer was determined to come through the pasture and get down to the crab apple and pear trees on the side of the hill. After looking for food, it made this very pretty loop and met its own tracks to go back up the hill.
This renewed activity is causing some worry. If the deer are coming up from Wolf Creek where they have been hunkered down, the coyotes might not be far behind. With the warmer temperatures this week, we are really hoping for some significant melt-down of the snow pack.
Sunday Muse
We have been thinking about our Dad… even more than usual… this winter.
He was a dairy farmer.
He milked the cows every morning… every evening…
In the winter… when winters like this… were not so unusual.
Without the benefit of modern conveniences…
No snow blower… no four-wheel drive.
Down the barn lane he went… every morning… every evening… every… day
He went down the hill and milked the girls… Blackie… Brownie… Nellie…
He was a dairy farmer.
He was… our Dad… our Hero.
It’s Official
As you all know, it has been a monster of a winter! And now it is official – the scoreboard for the month of February —
Godzilla Winter 13 1/2
School Days 5 1/2
Clearly the winner is — Godzilla Winter.
March 1st
MARCH
Of all the months of all the year old March has them all beat.
First we suffer from the cold, then we suffer from the heat.
The wind it huffs and puffs around. The rain falls all day,
But then at night it snows and snows and never stops to play.
Next morning out pops the sun and melts the snow, and then
The children all come running out ready for play again.
The east wind takes a look and thinks, “Now I’ll have some fun.”
He picks up the boys hats and says, “Now watch them run.”
He tosses all the kites around away off through the sky
And then he laughs, how he can make the little girls to cry.
Oh yes! Old March is full of fun, he keeps us on the go.
First we are wading through the mud, then plowing through the snow.
So of all the months of all the year, we like old March the best.
He keeps us guessing all the time and never lets us rest.
author… Lena Gertrude Dixon Wiles, our Grandmother