12 January 2024

Breaking Ice

The weather went from pleasant, in the thirties and sunny, to miserably stinking cold.

School was canceled. Everything was canceled. The light dusting of snow never did stop. We eventually ended up with a few inches of dry dusty powder. None of that means the kids get to stay inside.

Nothing spoils an other wise pleasant day like coming in exhausted to bored energetic children. So they get to go out and play when we do. Besides, it makes chores so much more fun.

They chose to stay behind and play outside yesterday while we went to break ice in the evening. It seems like they should be old enough to stay home alone for short periods like that. Apparently not, especially with the terrible influence of the movies they’ve been watching. Trying to be like their favorite characters, one of the children, who wishes to remain anonymous, stuck her tongue to a metal bar. She managed to get free on her own without too much damage, but the evidence was there. A sore slightly bloody tongue and an odd frozen white spot still there on the bar the next morning.

No more Christmas Story for them.

We got to see the spot her tongue left when we went out this morning to break ice.

On our way out we stopped and gave the horses some extra cookies. They deserve a little extra to keep them warm in this cold weather. The heated waterers were keeping up just fine. Then we fought our way across the corrals to the unheated tanks.

Half way across the children collapsed to the ground. They couldn’t go any farther. The trek through the snow was more than they could handle. They took turns pulling each other up then collapsing on top of each other.

After that bit of rest rolling around in the snow they were rested enough to carry on.

Once we reached the cows I left the children to break ice while I gave my pet cows some cake. Soon the children let our cries of distress. The fork part had fallen off the pitchfork. It sank away to the bottom of the icy cold water tank. The three of us stared forlornly into the depths. We could see the tines down there, just sticking out of the muck.

With the handle and the ice breaking bar we fished around, stirring up the muck. I took off my sunglasses and handed them to my son to hold. Peering into the depths I could see a little better. Fishing around I hit it a few times. I also dipped my gloves in the water. Shaking out the icy water I went back to fishing.

Pretty soon a bare hand reached into the water in front of me. My son had decided to get the ice out by hand since our pitchfork was dismantled. I yelled at him about playing in water while it’s below zero. He put his gloves back on. Then continued to pick up ice chunks with gloves on.

Luckily the fork caught on the handle and I was able to slide it up the side of the tank. It was just about to break the waters surface when something else splashed into the water.

My sunglasses, forgotten by my son as he amused himself clearing ice, had fallen in. In that split second I pondered all my choices in life. What choices had I made that brought me to this terrible cross roads? We needed to fork to keep the ice from freezing a foot thick in this weather. I needed to glasses to survive the bright sunlight reflecting off the blinding snow. I might be able to stumble back to the house with my eyes closed. Why weren’t the glasses floating. Shouldn’t they float? They didn’t They sank clear to the bottom as I hung tightly to the fork.

Maybe we could fish them back up the same way?

My hands got soaked reaching in for the fork, but I wasn’t going in up to my armpit digging for my glasses. So I fished some more with the fork handle. And actually found them! They came up in a clump of moss and muck. I plucked them out, wiped off the ear pieces and tried to wipe the lenses. I didn’t have enough dry places to get them clean so I peered through icy frosted lenses. It blocked the sun even better.

At the next tank we held the fork by hand and scooped ice out. My sons gloves froze quickly to the metal guardrail fence as he climbed over. We all gazed on very impressed until he yanked them free, leaving chunks of glove behind. At least it wasn’t anyone’s tongue.

My husband came and rescued us in a heated vehicle making the trip home much more pleasant. Once inside we pealed off layers and laid gloves out in front of the fire to thaw. They need to be ready to break ice again in just a few hours.

 

Category: 8, Cows, Family, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
1 November 2023

Halloween ’23

Halloween is over. Come and gone once again. For us that means the whole month of October. It’s my favorite time of year and can never last long enough.

I can’t possibly fit everything in. It started with festivals, an eclipse, moved on to our Halloween/pumpkin carving party. The kids all ran so fast and played so hard that I didn’t even get pictures of my own children. The weather turned perfect for it. 8 organized a pumpkin hunt, then ran so hard, with so much enthusiasm leading it that he lost a good number of his participants.

We did a wonderful chili feed and hay rack ride with our church. Again, beautiful weather and a great time with friends. We even stopped by the lake on the way home,played in cat tails and admired the beautiful trees.

There has been nothing cuter than our kittens twining about the pumpkins.

Then it got really cold. My pumpkins froze solid as did everything else. But we dressed up warm and did one haunted house. As the children disappeared into it ahead of us I thought how nice it was that they were getting so big. Never thinking about the one tiny one among them. He came out crying and terrified. Poor thing. The older ones begged to go through again. I was happy to oblige. Nothing like a good haunted house.

When Halloween day finally comes it’s always a bit bitter sweet. The month is over. Fall is done. No more kicking through crinkling leaves. No more pumpkins and beautiful decorations.

But, we jumped in, ran full tilt, squeezed every drop of enjoyment there was to be had from it. The school trick or treating through the halls. I always get in to watch the kids come through. Then supper at the church and their trunk or treat. Finally down the streets of town.

There’s nothing like a small town Halloween. We know everyone so as children disappear into houses we stand on the streets and wave. Groups of children meet up, greet friends with happy shrieks as the faces under masks are revealed. Then they run off together for a few houses before parting ways.

By the end of the night The Goblin Child had morphed from a fairy to Sherlock Holmes and I think we have next years costume figured.

Once done in town we head into the country and stop by the houses of friends. With only the few expected visits they give out loads of candy. Visits get long. The night gets late. Once home children collapse into bed but are to wound up to sleep. This year school will come bright and early the next day.

This year it means one more day of dressing up. The theme is western. That means mostly just the normal clothes. except for one. The Goblin Child gets out her most treasured shirts. Shirts made by a friend in Australia special for her own daughter then sent to us once out grown. They almost fit her perfectly now. And she asks if she can top it off with one of my buckles. We dig them out and she looks carefully to decide which she wants to wear. Looking at them is bitter sweet, to keep with the theme of the holiday. Almost twenty years ago now. They’re getting old. How can that be?

I had wanted to get back to showing again so bad as the kids got older. Then we started doing tricks and it isn’t even on the radar now. It’s fun to relive the past, but I wouldn’t trade it for the current.

 

Category: 8, Family, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
25 October 2023

Meeting The Bus

The sun had come out. After being foggy and drizzly all day the clouds had broke.

There wasn’t going to be time to work horses. Not before I had to go meet the bus. But now the sun was shining. I hadn’t gotten horses worked. Had to get kids from the bus.

I’m a bit embarrassed that it took me so long to figure it out. I could take the horses to get the kids!

If I hurried there was still time for that. Lady would have to go with burrs in her mane. There was not time for that. I did get them saddled and we headed off. Or tried to.

I stepped onto Rusty from the mounting block. He spun and took off. At a walk. If you’ve ever been taken off at a walk on a Morgan than you know that it is like being bolted with. Almost. Dancing on his tiptoes he bounced across the yard spooking and shying.

Out to the driveway I gave him his head. Work it out I told him. Use up some of that energy. He was off. At a trot. Lady followed behind. My phone started to slip. Reins and lead in one hand, fumbling with the phone with the other.

Rusty, noticing I was distracted, ducked his head and proceeded to crowhop. Then he spun back towards home. Lady was still back there quietly being drug along through all this at the end of the lead. Keeping a hold of phone and reins and lead I got everyone stopped. Rusty was still mad, but remained still long enough to get the phone secured and Lady reeled back in. Then we were off again. At a walk this time.

None of this was looking like a very good idea. We were going to ad children and backpacks to the mix of spicy horses and a cool windy fall day? Oh dear.

We made it to the bus stop and paced in circles for awhile while waiting. I finally got off and convinced the horses to graze. We didn’t tear up the yards too badly.

The bus came. The children got out and dove onto their horses. No one spooked. No one died. I was left on foot. That was fine. It was getting cold. Walking a little was warm. Then I begged a seat from my daughter and she obligingly allowed me on her horse with her. We zipped towards home.

The children played and laughed and had no idea they were riding fire breathing dragons. The dragons kept their feet on the ground and abstained from flying. Despite my nerves, we made it home safely.

If we get anymore warm afternoons, I think we’ll need to do this again.

Category: 8, Goblin Child, Horses | LEAVE A COMMENT
2 October 2023

First Day Of October

I had things I wanted to get done. It’s October! Time to decorate everything with Pumpkins and corn. These things should have been done already.

We spent the first part of the weekend hauling hay and getting some posts set so they’ll be ready when I fix fence next spring. Today was going to be the day I cut corn stalks and covered our house.

But first there were a few things that needed done.

We forced the kids to come with. They had spent too much time sitting at the computers while their father and I worked at jobs that would have meant them sitting around if we had made them come with. Might as well let them have fun instead.

Today there were things they could participate in. First, to secure the cables on out internet tower. The wind over the last couple of years had been hard on the straps. We’d like to keep getting internet. So some preventive maintenance was called for. And the bucket of the payloader. The wind was blowing but was supposed to get worse. My husband wanted to get to it before that happened.

The four of us loaded up and went to work. Son and husband in the bucket. I got to drive. I gave our daughter my phone and told her to take pictures.

I lifted the boys up. Fortunately the ladder wasn’t needed. They strapped the cables back down securely. The pole was waving in the wind. Watching it sway back and forth made me happy they weren’t up in the bucket truck and that we didn’t wait until the wind got worse.

Then it was off to fix the pivot.

It was a major repair, or attempted repair. We all got to lend a hand. The kids climbed, the tower, and the 4wheelers. They laughed and played, and worked. Then they conspired. Grabbing him by the hood of his sweatshirt, I heard my sweet daughter tell her brother that “this would be a lot more enjoyable if you cooperate.” Then she whispered in his ear. They giggled, looked at us, and ran away. Apparently it had occurred to her that they could escape this dreaded work we were forcing on them if they left. Home was a little under a mile away.

They thought they were being devious. I thought they were being darling. They had done their work. No reason they couldn’t get the exercise that walking home would give them, then go do their own thing.

The work part is what they’ll remember. How they got to climb the pivot tower and ride up high in the bucket of the payloader. How we did things together. How they outsmarted us by running home.

It was a good day. Much better than decorating for Halloween even. Sometimes it’s the things you don’t plan on that are the best.

 

Category: 8, Farming, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
4 September 2023

A Day At The River

We got to spend a rare afternoon at the river with good friends yesterday. And even more unusual my husband was able to escape and join us.
It was the perfect day. Miserably hot, cooled beautifully by the cold river water. There is no phone reception down there so my husband wasn’t bothered by the usual phone calls every few minutes. We got to enjoy piece and quiet.
The kids bounced and screamed in the deep water under the water fall. They found a huge trout in the shallow water. I walked up to see it too and shrieked as it swam at my foot. No more doubting their story about the big fish. They floated down stream, allowed beyond our careful watch for the first time to explore a little on their own.
Us adults soaked and rested and occasionally played in the deeper water too. Two of us shrieked as we saw the trout jumping up the waterfall. One of those was a grown man 😉 It appeared briefly feet above the water as it climbed up stream.
As we stood together for a moment, my husband and I, my friend said wait, hold still, I’ll get your picture. We gathered one child and called the other.
Nothing more clearly shows this child’s personality and the story of our lives with him than these pictures.
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8 August 2023

11th Birthday

Larely, while the Goblin Child has been happily riding around ON her horse, she has been saying how nice it would be to go on a trailride. I point out that she is in fact currently trailriding.

That doesn’t count of course. She wants real trails, beautiful and scenic and somewhere she has never been before.

We have two horses. Three of us. There are trails nearby. But getting there and figuring out the logistics is daunting.

Finally it occurred to me that we could manage that. Fort Robinson isn’t that far away. They offer trail rides. One of which goes up into the buttes. She could have her trail ride and I could get a bit of revenge. Don’t like riding your horse here at home? Here, how do you like these trails 😈 as we climb the steep terrifying buttes.

It rained all night long and we woke up to a cool damp morning. I was worried they wouldn’t be giving rides.

Telling the kids we had to get some shopping done I drug them out of the house. We drove through the town with the stores and out the other side. I thought they might be engrossed in their tablets and not notice where we were going. Instead they were happily looking out windows. And still never questioned that we had passed the store I had said we were going to.

Pulling up to the fort we were supprised to see a neighbor of ours get out and beat us to the ticket line. She was signing up for the next available traileride for her kids. We signed up for that one too. Plus a jeep ride to fill the time between.

The goblin Child had texted one of her friends about something completely unrelated. It was a huge surprise when the friend texted back that she was at the fort, and they, she and her family, were going to be taking the same trail ride we were!

Wow, what a small world.

We toured one of the museums. Took our jeep ride. It was very pleasantly cool in the open top jeep as we wound up the buttes. Lunch in the restaurant, buffalo for everyone! Then it was time for our ride.

The trail horses were the usual tired, bored with life, and sick of people. I got a big raw boned sorrel who came with the warning to watch him and not let him bite the horse in front. My son got a cute little bay roan, rabacino? who walked so nicely right behind. My daughter got a long lanky grey who fell in line next to her friend. They were clear in the back of the line.

We started out across the gentle rolling hills. I fell into conversation with the girl leading the ride. She was a horse girl, of course! who also loved her milk cows. We had a lot to talk about. I remembered to look back and check on the children once in awhile. Every time I did my horse took the opportunity to reach out and bite the lead horse. Then we started climbing. The trail went straight up for quite a ways. The horses panted and climbed dutifully upwards. We stopped occasionally to let them rest.

The trail was mostly wide and not terrifying. Not even to me who is terrified of heights when horseback. A couple of places got narrow on steep side hills but we all survived. It made me think how nice it was not to be riding out flabby out of shape horses. They would never have made the climb. At the very top of the butte we stopped to admire the amazing view, and let the horses breath a bit. I took the chance to get my phone out and get the few pictures I did get. My horse took the opportunity to bite the horse in front of him.

Then it was time to start down.

At first the trail was gentle, winding down along the sides of the hills. Then it took a turn straight down. Holding my breath and tensing I let my horse know how terrified I was. He stumbled a little. I forced myself to breath, deep and regular. Then made muscles relax, as much as I could. I thought about how embarrassing it would be to insist on getting off and walking. On a guided traileride. On a horse who had packed all sorts of non horse riding tourists in sandals and shorts down this same hill. That was enough to make me stay on. Each slip on a loose rock made me gasp and cling tighter to the saddle horn. Each time we brushed against a sharp yucca I was sure it would be the last straw that made him take off bucking down the hill.

Not surprisingly, we made it to the bottom without incident.

Back on the gentle rolling hills I was able to breath again. To check back on the children riding behind me. My horse too the chance to bite the horse in front of him.

We all survived the ride. My son was exhausted. All that long slow was a lot more work than zipping around on his little mare in the yard. My daughter had a great time coming up with stories with her friend. They had decided on the worst case scenario for the ride. Her story goes like this:

Your riding along on your horse and the horse gets bit by a rattle snake. That makes the horse buck. You fall off the horse, over the steep cliff we were riding along. You get impaled on a tree on the way down. A mountain lion comes along and eats your legs as you hang there. Then you catch on fire!

Luckily, none of those things happened. But think how fun if they had.

She enjoyed the ride greatly, but doesn’t think it would be worth it to work on steering her own horse so they could go do it together. It was more fun on a horse she could just sit on.

Dang kids.

Category: 8, Family, Goblin Child, Horses | LEAVE A COMMENT
9 March 2023

Beginning of Calving ’23

It started today. The first calf was born.

We were feeding. One cow wandered off away from the corrals. She was ready. It’s a bit early still, a week or so before they should be going for real. The weather was nice, cool with snow flurries. Which is better than freezing with howling winds.

I was going to bring her into the corrals so we could watcher her better, get her in easier if there were problems. By the time we finished feeding and I got back with the 4wheeler the calf was almost out. No sense in moving her now. Then she was done.

The calf was tiny, no wonder she had him so quick. I made sure he had his head up and she was licking on him, then left them alone.

A child has been home sick all week. She seemed better this morning, but she seemed better yesterday morning and they sent her back home before noon, so we kept her home today.

I went back to check on the calf, he hadn’t moved, hadn’t stood yet. He was going to have to come into the barn. I came back and got the no longer quite so sick child and made her come with me. She could help get the calf in. And be there to call in help if the cow ate me while I tried to help her calf.

We got on the 4wheeler together, drug the sled along behind, and went out to the cow.

I would rather not get my child killed. She had orders to get out of there first if anything happened. On the 4wheeler of course. Get a safe distance, then call for help if anything happens.

Then I went back for the calf. I grabbed a pair of vice-grips from the tool compartment. They were as good a defense as anything. With the sled between me and the cow we met eye to eye as I reached for the calf. She bellered, I tapped her on the nose with the pliers. I grabbed a leg and drug the calf into the sled. He limply slid in. I stepped back and got to the 4wheeler. She sniffed her calf.

It had worked so nicely. We had the calf. I was alive and uninjured. Both good things. We started for the barn.

Pulling the calf behind on a sled is nice because you don’t get covered in filth like you do with a calf draped across your lap. But mostly because the cow can see and smell the calf as it moves along in front of her. That way the cow can follow the calf and they both get to the barn at the same time and you have the mom there to keep with the calf.

She missed the memo somewhere.

She followed sure enough. In full coyote mode. Screaming and stomping she attacked the sled as soon as it moved. One rope broke loose and the sled trailed crookedly with only one attachment remaining. I went faster, maybe it would hold and we could get ahead of her before she killed the calf. She pounced again and the sled broke free. She stood over calf and sled, head high, snorting. My daughter was in tears. The ordeal had scared her terribly. She begged to get out of there, away from the crazy cow.

It wasn’t like we had too many other options. The cow stood over our sled like a lioness over her kill. I wasn’t going to try to get the calf out from under her. We drove back towards the house as I tried to think what we could do. The calf had been cold and was going to die if we didn’t get him warmed up.

We’ll come back with the pickup I told her. You can stay in the cab. For some reason that made her cry harder. Fine, she could stay at the house.

At the house I got my rope, the one Ghost and Rusty usually play with. Today it would be pressed into real work. Pansy jumped in the pickup too. She might as well come along. A dog would either get me killed or distract the cow if I got in trouble. I prefer to be optimistic.

Wincing as I drove over cornstalks in my pickup I got back to the cow. Backed up to the calf. Climbed out the passenger side door, more distance from the cow looking on warily. Climbed into the bed of the pickup with my rope. The calf wasn’t as close as I thought, but I wasn’t going to go through the whole ordeal again. I dropped the rope. Fought with some cornstalks. Gave up on getting two legs. Pulled the slack tight and gave the calf a pull. The one leg gave me enough heft to pull him up to where I could reach down and grab the other leg. The mama wasn’t too upset. She wasn’t hitting the pickup. Just calling nervously. I pulled the calf over the tailgate and eased him into the pickup bed.

Then looked out at the mom.

I could probably hop out and get in one of the doors without her getting me. Or I could climb in through the window. It looked pretty tiny. Shedding my winter coat I decided it was worth the squeeze.

The mom stayed with the sled.

Back at the barn I forced my reluctant child back outside. We wrangled the calf over snow drifts and through buried doors and managed to get him inside. Then we rubbed him down good, got the heater going on him, and went for colostrum. She did a great job of helping out even through her fear and reluctance. She’s never going to want to stay home sick again. School was far preferable to this. But I appreciated the effort, even if it was unwilling.

With the calf out of immediate danger, I went back for the mom. Hooking up to the sled I found a way to convince her to move away from where she last saw her calf. This time she didn’t try to kill it. It would have been nice if she could have refrained earlier. For now they are together in the barn. When, if, the calf is able to stand by himself we will make sure he can nurse. Now it’s time to wait and see what we can do.

And hope the next birth goes more smoothly!

Category: Cows, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
5 October 2022

Snakes

We were cruising down the road, The Goblin Child and I. Should she have been in school? Probably.

At the last second I saw a snake stretched out across the road. My wheel was lined up with it, I never swerve, too late to hit the breaks. I was looking in the mirrors trying to see if we had hit it, talking to The Goblin Child, asking if she had seen that. Just then as I was distracted I looked back ahead and saw a herd of deer along the road hidden in the shade of a tree. Thinking how funny it was that we could have almost hit the deer and the snake I was caught by surprise again as one of the deer jumped into the road in front of us.

It takes loner to write one word of the story that it did for all of this to happen.

We didn’t hit any deer. I did slam on the breaks and finally come to a stop. We watched the does and young bucks gracefully hop away. Then backed up to see about the snake.

I love snakes and we are blessed with huge beautiful bull snakes in this area. They eat snakes and legend has it that they keep the rattle snakes away. They may bite but are not venomous. I guess their size and that combined with the lingering fear of any snake that people seem to hold to means we often see the giant beauties dead along roads where people swerve to hit them. It makes me sad and I didn’t want to be a member of that club, even if it was unintentional. We backed up hoping to have missed it, but instead saw a snake still there in the road.

This road is gravel, we weren’t baking down or parking in the middle of a real road. I feel I should mention that.

Pulling alongside the snake I leaned out my window for a good look. Just in time to see the snake strike at the pickup. A rattle snake! But bull snakes will pretend to be rattlers, I couldn’t be sure unless I could see the rattler. The snake coiled and hissed. Then I saw it there. A rattle, shaking enthusiastically at us. I told my daughter to climber over to my side and see this!

We are lucky not to see rattle snakes at the house. Not for as long as I’ve been there. I credit the big bull snakes we consider pets. She’s never actually seen a rattle snake. We look, me fascinated, her disgusted. We hadn’t missed the snake. It was injured, it’s insides spilled onto the road, it just wasn’t dead yet. We looked and talked, then  I backed up farther and took careful aim. As we went over the snake again I asked one more time if he understood why we were killing the snake. She said yes, she understood. Even if it was in that disgusted teenager voice she was still able to repeat, we needed to end the suffering. Rattle snakes have a purpose in life too, we don’t kill them just for the sake of killing. When an animal is suffering the kindest thing we can do is quickly end that suffering.

The deer were long gone as we passed the shade tree again. Corb Lund played loud on the radio, singing about cows, as we drove on home together.

 

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27 September 2022

Fresh Milk

We ran out of milk over the weekend.

Driving clear into town for a jug of milk was more effort than I was willing to put in on an already busy weekend. After all, we have a milk cow sitting out here in the corrals. Why not make use of her?

Not that she isn’t already working hard raising a couple calves.

Women are well capable of multi tasking. So I separated the calves for the day. She enjoyed a break from the kids, hanging out and eating in peace and quite. They may have called for her a little as the day went on but she never even came back to the gate to check on them.

That evening I went out to milk her. She came running and didn’t lift her head from her grain even though she hadn’t been milked since spring.

My husband, dutiful but reluctant, came along and gagged in disgust after he mentioned how foamy the fresh milk was and I drug a finger through it, licking the foam off enthusiastically.

Back inside the kids were excited about fresh milk and worked together to make absolutely delicious caramel with the milk striaght from their cow.

The next morning I got the bowl of milk out and set it on the table for breakfast. Ladling it over the cereal was easier than finding a pitcher. Yummy. Milk fresh from the cow!

Eeewww!

How could I expect those same poor children to actually ingest milk that didn’t come from a grocery store out of a jug! A reminder that this was the same milk they made caramel from the night before didn’t help anything. That was ‘different’.

Being hungry enough to force down cereal covered in fresh milk didn’t mean they were hungry enough to enjoy it. There they sat all through the meal. Faces turned down in looks of total revulsion. The cereal was eaten if not cleaned up completely.

They walked out the door to school ordering me not to eat the rest of the caramel while they were gone. The double standards are amazing.

Category: 8, Cows, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
25 September 2022

Milo?

There’s a boy in The Goblin Child’s class named Milo.
As we drove along a field we discussed the millet that was growing there.
Oh, that’s what the kids in class call Milo. She said.
And that is a level of farm kid humor that I will always aspire to.
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