28 August 2025

Poppers

I had made the poppers properly this time. With bacon for sure, no brisket mixed in there. The cheesy bacony goodness was dripping from our fingers while butter from the fresh sweet corn smeared our faces.

Then my daughter yelped. Hot! So hot!

Apparently one of the pepper plants was an actual jalapeno, not of the same not spicy variety as the others. And it really was hot.

We had a whole pan of jalapeno poppers and some of them were spicy. But which ones?

My son found the next one prompting large glasses of milk for each child.

We sat around the table laughing, gasping, dripping butter, and playing a game of Russian roulette, jalapeno style. Who would burn their tongue next? Was there a tell we could know the hot peppers by? A different shape to the hot peppers? We all happily joined in the game. It added spice to the meal, literally and figuratively, as more of the hot variety was found. No one was going to pass up the delicious poppers just because a few of them carried hell fire.

A good meal isn’t all about the taste. The most important part of the meal is something else altogether.

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21 August 2025

Doctoring Cattle

His lack of worry and understanding was frustrating to say the least. Here I was dealing with what seemed like a major emergency and there he was being all calm and not getting what a big deal it was.

I tried to explain that the dart had mostly disappeared into the hindquarter of the calf and he was checking the company website to see that it should drop out within half an hour. I understand that this is weird, rare, and unusual, when something has never happened before it’s hard for someone to understand what is going on. Something was wrong enough for me to call my husband, at work no less, and ask for help, that means something is really really wrong.

He likes to help me, but he thinks I need his help. Which makes me vow to never need his help.

The calf had a touch of pink eye. I was there to doctor a different calf, and to go through the herd carefully to make sure there wasn’t anything else that needed help while I was there with supplies. My daughters calf, her only calf, is a bald face, pink eyed, black Hereford. Yes, I know, Herefords are red, not arguing about it, he’s a black Hereford. Those pink eyes make him so delicate to out bright sunny summer days. It wasn’t surprising to see him with signs of pink eye. I’d just give him a quick shot while I was there.

A quick shot out in the pasture means the dart gun. Loaded with a blank 22 shell it shoots a dart full of medicine at the calf. In theory the needle goes in, sticks for long enough for the dart to discharge it’s load of medicine, then it falls out.

Immediately after shooting the calf I was impressed with how long the dart was hanging on there. All the medicine would get into the calf. Yay! Then it still didn’t fall out. Then I realized I could only see the very end of the dart. I had shot the calf! For real. I had shot an 8 inch long at least a quarter inch wide dart deep into the calf!

Panic did set in a little. This was my daughters calf. Her only calf. She lost her calf last year to coyotes, she didn’t need to lose this years to her mother.

I called the neighbors. If I could rope the calf on foot, like I did the last one I had needed to get a hold of out in the pasture, then I could pull the dart out. But the long drive home to get a rope would take forever. If I could get one from the neighbors that would save some time. They weren’t home. Fat lot of help they are (which I say because I know she’ll be reading this 😉 ) But their daughter ran back home to get a rope and meet me. She brought two ropes just to be on the safe side. Smart girl. I need to get a rope to leave in the pickup.

My husband called back to see how things were going. Still smarting from his lack of concern over my predicament I told him not to bother to come out. I would figure something out. That might be going home for a horse and waiting for the neighbors to get home, but I would manage something. Then I got back to work.

The other calf that needed doctored still needed his shot. I was scared. I was also in the middle of a text conversation with my vet. She was unconcerned about the first calf. Calves are tough, cattle are tough, amazingly so. If I couldn’t catch the first calf, it would fall out eventually. I suspected that like my husband she didn’t understand how deep the dart was embedded, but was still comforted by her lack of concern. She also assured me that I would be fine, this sort of thing doesn’t happen. Go shoot that other calf!

I did that first so I wouldn’t be tired or injured for the chase if I waited until after. This time the dart bounced off and I have doubt it made enough contact to deliver any medicine. Sheesh.

The I went calf hunting. It was mid day and most of the cattle were at the tank for a drink and they settled in to hang out and nap. The calf in question stood next to his mother. I walked up close. The cow is quiet. Not a pet, but not worried about people either. Knowing my only chance at holding a three or four hundred pound calf was to heel both hind legs I tried. I almost got it too. I’ll blame the stiff rope made for heading not heeling. It’s possible it could be my complete lack of roping ability. Either way, I made contact, but did not get heels.

My husband texted. He was on his way. He had a moment he could get away from work and would come help me. I was grouchy and mean. There was no point in him coming out, nothing he could do anyway. He said he was coming anyway.

I spent the meantime stalking the calf around the tank. The cow herd is quiet. I squeezed my way between cows who saw no reason to move. Walked by my napping bull quite a few times, he saw no reason to get up. All the other calves hung out or came to check me out. I could have caught any of them. Except the one I was after. I got a few chances, but missed my loop. I am no cowgirl. A horse might have made it easier, unlikely though.

My husband showed up. He parked his suburban at an angle to my pickup so we would have a spot to corner the calf if we got that chance. Then we went hunting together. The calf was by the tank. We split up to try to catch him between the tank and the windmill pond. If we could hold him up there for a minute I might get a shot.

It was working. The cows just needed to get out of my way! How did they always know to stand on my right of the calf??!! Then, I aw the calf go to squeeze past my husband. Why was he letting it go! It stepped into the pond and went right around him. There went that chance.

My husband turned back to me and held up his hand. He was holding a dart!

As the calf slowed and squeezed by him, not wanting to get too deep in the pond, he had reached out and grabbed the dart. As simple as that. I had been fighting for a couple of hours by then. Some of that was doctoring the other calf. But I had gotten to the pasture about 11 and it was now 2. He showed up and solved the whole problem in five minutes.

Sometimes I forget that just because he doesn’t like cows doesn’t mean he isn’t completely capable of handling cattle. Being a farmer with no interest in being and no pretenses of being in any way cowboy doesn’t mean he isn’t completely capable. Boy did I need to apologize. Guess there was plenty he could do after all.

He did admit that he had never seen anything like that dart and wow it was deep. That doesn’t quite make us even.

The calf is going to be sore. That was a very deep injury. Luckily he’s already been treated with an antibiotic. Hopefully that helps. I sure wont be shooting him again with a dart. Cattle are tough and can take amazing injuries and be fine. This one is one for the record books.

As my husband headed back to work, slightly more dirty than he had left, he called to tell me his suburban was reading 99 degrees. Hadn’t even noticed the heat with all the other fun we were having.

 

Category: Cows | LEAVE A COMMENT
20 August 2025

August

At the end of August everything has reached it’s peak. The garden is bursting with vegetables. The flowers strain towards the sky. Petals thick and lush. Bees fill the air as they rush about harvesting from each flower, storing it away for winter.

This is such a bitter sweet time.

Everything is at it’s best, just before it dies. We have a few weeks? A month? Maybe more, maybe less, but the time is coming soon. Like the bees we work to put away as much bounty as we can. Stuffing ourselves with veggies at every meal, freezing and canning as much as we have jars for.

This peak production is here to supply us for the coming winter and we had best make use of it. If we don’t the winter will be long, dark, and hungry. I curse the heat but fear the cold.

Category: Garden | LEAVE A COMMENT
19 August 2025

Jalapeno Poppers

My husband grows an amazing garden. Through the summer our diet largely consists of the produce from this garden. All sorts of fresh veggies. Mostly very healthy.

One of the favorite meals is jalapeno poppers. Not so healthy. Big, thick walled, juicy crisp, not so spicy peppers, filled with cheese, then wrapped in bacon. We have some slabs of bacon, not cut, just a big hearty slab, saved just for this delicacy from a small butcher shop/smoker down in Colorado. Nothing but the best for our favorite, very unhealthy meal.

Usually we eat meat from our own cattle. Processed locally. We have freezers full of fresh beef. It’s a usual meal pastime to figure what percentage of the food is all home grown, if we can get in the 90th percentile it’s a great meal. But cattle are not pigs so bacon must be outsourced.

I had a package of bacon in the fridge, thawed and ready to slice. I picked the biggest, juiciest peppers. But, as I started to cut the bacon I ran into problems. This bacon sure was cutting hard. I could barely get a knife through it. It looked a bit odd too. Finally managing to saw enough off to finish the meal I put the whole thing in the oven.

The house did not fill with the usual bacony aroma.

Peaking into the oven the bacon was brown looking and thoroughly unappealing. What in the world was wrong with this slab of bacon?! It isn’t cheap and I was getting a little grouchy. Trying a bite, better to just poison me instead of the whole family, it tasted alright. Not spoiled or rancid at least. So I called the family to supper.

The kids looked at the poppers skeptically. I couldn’t blame them and was impressed that they were willing to try them at all. They were lacking in any of the usual delectable flavor. Quite bland really.

My daughter poked around a little then looked at me. “Are you sure you didn’t like, cut up a brisket instead of bacon?”

Thinking back I realized that she was right, brilliant girl as always. I never even looked at the package or labeling. I just grabbed a slab of meat from the freezer. It explained everything. The lack of flavor, the brown color. The idiocy.

We choked the brisket poppers down. Luckily there was fresh sweet corn to round out the meal and cleanse out taste buds. It was a terrible waste of brisket that would have been delicious cooked properly. The rest of it is in the fridge now. I guess we’ll be eating brisket properly for the next meal. And a waste of perfect peppers. 1 out of 10 do not recommend brisket poppers.

Need to go find the actual bacon now. Read the label this time. We’ll have poppers for real!

No pictures of the poppers, they were pretty gross looking, brown, shriveled, and lacking in bacon.

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14 August 2025

My Trusty Green Mount

The 4-wheeler lurched then coasted to a stop.

I was a half mile from the pickup. In the middle of the pasture. The day was warm but not yet nearing the 100 degrees we had been promised. There were cows all around, but nothing too close. Now to figure out what to do.

My trusty and well loved green mount of Japanese breeding had been having issues. At first she would refuse to start without a battery charge once a month or so. Then weekly. Then she kindly started giving us warning she was having battery issues as all the lights on the dash would start blinking, we would rush her to her stable and hook her up to life support. Then finally she would blink at us briefly before dying. My husband had been stranded not far from home the week before now here I was out in the middle of the pasture.

I hated to leave her in the pasture. Cows love to chew and scratch on anything they can find, it gets hard on a 4-wheeler in otherwise, mostly, very good shape. We don’t hold this temporary sickness against her. No matter what I would be walking back to the pickup. At least I had boots on instead of my usual hot weather footwear of sandals. During my walk I called and made an appointment at the vet for my girl to get worked on. Soon she would be back to her normal dependable self. But for now I needed to figure out how to get my girl to safety. In order to get the running 4-wheeler loaded into the bed of the pickup I needed a bank, something to decrease the slope of the ramps. I am not brave enough to drive up there from ground level.

In order to get a non running 4-wheeler loaded I would need the perfect ramp. There was nothing like that in the gently rolling hills of the pasture/wheat field where she was currently stuck.

Coming back to the old girl with the pickup I thought maybe she would tow better backwards. The front wheels could turn freely to allow her to follow the pickup.

Nope. That sure didn’t work. It broke the old rope I had found amidst the other useful junk laying int he back of the pickup almost immediately.

So I hooked up to the front of the 4-wheeler.

That worked better as long as we were going straight very slowly. A few times I was able to send the pickup ahead without me, 1st gear low is a wonderful thing, as I ran back to do some steering. Then back to the pickup to get her back on the proper path. It was slow going but we made it to the gate out of the pasture. Now, even if I was unable to get her loaded, she would be safe from the cattle.

I had left my ramp at the place where I unloaded in the first place. It was a good place and I thought we would make use of it. But after the knowledge I gained from the experience of getting across the flat straight pasture it was clear that getting to that place would be impossible. It was on the other side of a steep draw with twists and turns. We could do straight. Anything else was out of the question.

Looking around, closer to the gate, I realized that the side of the road going into the draw might just be perfect. It was close, flat leading up to the possible point of loading, and close!

I unhooked the baling twine that had been serving as a tow rope, because of course baling twine! and backed the pickup up to the bank. It was great. Now I just needed to walk across the draw and get my ramp. Which was burning hot on my bare fingers. Back to the pickup for gloves, then after the ramp again. Then back to the 4-wheeler which in hind sight might have been nice to have pulled with the pickup to somewhere a bit closer to the loading site.

The kids push the 4-wheeler around all the time just for fun. I could push it the little ways across the flat to get to the ramp.

Being able to and enjoying the process are two different things. It was warming up quickly. Even flat isn’t ‘flat’. It took a while of huffing and puffing to get the 4-wheeler that short distance. Then there was the forward and back of getting it lined up just right with the ramps. My ‘perfect loading spot’ was perfect. It had a nice downhill slope to get to the slight up hill of the ramp. And if things weren’t lined up just right with the ramp before hitting that downhill it was going to be a wreck.

Finally deciding we were squarely on target I gave the past push over the edge of the hill from the handle bars, then jumped on. It was just a short hill, but it was as exciting as a roller coaster none the less. Just enough break to keep her going slow, not enough to ruin the momentum. Steering with a white knuckle grip and in a second or two the front tires were on the ramp! Where we stopped. If everything wasn’t lines up perfect I could injure my trust Japanese mount, and probably myself. So I dismounted to double check everything and pushed her the rest of the way in. It was done. She was loaded. I hadn’t died of heat stroke, or been run over. Floating high on the success I headed off through the pasture towards home. The rest of our days work would have to wait.

Sometimes I feel like an imposter. I’m not ranchy. My days are no longer spent horseback, checking cattle. Am I really even cowboy?

Then I spend a day wrangling my injured mount into the pickup like this and think I must be authentic after all. Never mind that my days are spent taking care of the cattle, working the horses, doing all the things, just usually done farmer style, instead of ranchy. Is there a farmer term alternative to ranchy? Instead of cowboy up do we farmer up? We’re definitely still getting western here sometimes. Just doing it farmer style.

Category: Cows, Farming | LEAVE A COMMENT
12 August 2025

School Bus Pickup

It was supposed to be fairly cool. In the mid 80s, that’s fairly cool for August. The kids had declined to ride over the weekend. Si thought fine, we wont ride now, but, if I show up to pick you up from the bus with horses you wont have any choice but to ride! Or to walk home I suppose.

It was pretty warm by afternoon. I saw 90 showing at home. But I had made plans and we were going to stick to them dang it! I gave myself an hour to get cows here at home checked, saddle horses, and leave with half an hour to get to the highway. Everything took longer than hoped. My dog did not want to be left behind. She had to be caught and forced to wait in the nice cool house, she hates being outside anyway. I saddled the mares and let them loose to graze. Got Rusty saddled and went to catch mares.  Lady let me grab her easily from Rusty’s back, I thought she’d be the hard one. Jerry would not let me near her on Rusty.

She was following nicely though and Rusty and Lady get crazed together when we first start out. I let Jerry follow loose and turned Rusty and Lady loose, in a different way, to use up energy and make up time dashing across the hayfield. They were off. Jerry trailed behind, sometimes falling way back, sometimes passing us. At the road I got off and caught her. Then had to get back on. Then enjoyed ponying two horses the rest of the way to the highway.

We waited in the shade of the neighbors driveway for the bus. We hadn’t beat it there by much.

I could see the delight in my children’s eyes before they ever got off the bus even. Or maybe horror. Why did I have to bring the horses? They didn’t want to ride home. Please never do this again! But, they’re out of luck. Both on that day and in the future. No one died. We’re doing it as often as I can manage.

Lady was perfect. For all the energy she had getting to the bus stop she plodded home barely keeping up with the other two speedy horses. She always goes faster away from home, she seems to enjoy the adventure.

Jerry, our slow lazy one was off. She would have beat all of us home by at least half the time if she’d been allowed to go. And that was mostly at a walk. She got to be ponied instead. That made her and Rusty both mad. Then we had to stop regularly to wait for Lady, that was even worse!

It was hot. The horses were lathered. The kids were mad, one more than the other. Lady’s rider went through a stage there where he wanted nothing to do with her but he is back and riding better than ever. He didn’t mind it at all. Jerry’s person might have been happier about it if they could have plodded slowly like they usually do. I was exhausted and not entirely sure why we think this is fun, but ready to do it again next time it cools down a bit!

 

Category: 8, Goblin Child, Horses | LEAVE A COMMENT
9 August 2025

Flower Garden

My daughter and husband have been watching Gardener’s World, and English gardening show, together. She wanted to make a garden like those.
Of course we can never make something quite like an English garden out here in the hot, dry, windy area where we live, but we can do something.
My husband left a bit of ground when he worked up the rest of the garden. We went to work, me and the kids, transplanting all the little volunteer plants around the garden. Radishes are my favorite this year. Their airy, floaty little flowers that turn to yummy edible seed pods. Dill, cilantro, mustard, the greens that bloom beautifully and also taste good. Cosmos were coming up like crazy in last years garden plot, so was ornamental corn. Those got added in. Marigolds and zinnias were added from seed. We bought a few flowers, some moss rose and petunias.
It was pretty tiny and sparse at first. When the flowers went on sale at the stores in town I bought a bunch to fill in the holes. Then we hit that week in July when everything grows a foot or more a day, or so it seems.
The flowers I added in got dwarfed. The big wide paths we left grew in until we need to squeeze to get through.
I love to stand and stare at the pretty flowers, as I swat mosquitoes. Irrigating the slightly sloped patch is a hobby all on its own. We dig ditches and spread the water across the plot instead of running straight down. Children wander through picking a bit of whatever is growing to snack on as they go. Bees buzz about, spiders catch their prey.

I think we’ll need to do this again next year.

Category: 8, Family, Garden, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT