Digging through our attic for the Christmas ornaments I came across a carefully set aside box of baby clothes. Not the modern baby clothes strewn throughout the rest of the room but far older. Baby blankets, some hand knitted some store bought but in styles so different from today’s. A few sweaters moth eaten and worn and my favorites, the delicate white dresses, embroidered with neat intricate stitches. Some stitched pink, some white and another in blue.  They feel so fine and thin in my hands, it  is hard to imagine a child such as ours rampaging about wearing them. They are crisp and unwrinkled, lovingly folded, the favorites, chosen to be saved and put away after the children were grown. I can easily picture my predecessor performing the bittersweet task, doubtless  remembering sleepless nights and first steps as she worked. That is much easier than imagining my large, gruff Father-in-Law ever wearing such tiny fragile things.

I picked out a few, of the proper size and sturdier than the rest, to try for The Goblin Child. I am at the same time horrified at such a thing and at a loss as to what the proper treatment is for these treasures. They are family heirlooms, to be kept safe and appreciated. They are rotting away, worn down by moths and time, going to waste in the attic. Some should be framed and hung where they will be appreciated for the works of art that they are. Others, by all rights, should be thrown away, covered with holes and stains.

I won’t be throwing anything away of course, instead we will make careful use of what we can and leave the rest for me to rediscover at a later time or to be found by some other mother who will cherish the tiny memories of other children who have lived and loved on this farm. As my child grows I will pick out the outfits that mean the most too me and add to the collection.

Who doesn’t love to blame their parents? This time it really is though, she got me hooked. She sent me links and whined until I watched, now we, the child and I, can’t stop. This is what we do instead of Barney or what ever monstrosity they are foisting upon children nowadays. This one is my favorite, I have a thing for cute little farmer guys in white tee’s. He’s not near as cute as my farmer guy of course.

I think this is the child’s favorite

Well corn harvest is over, most of the cattle are home, there are calves to feed and my pumpkins are rotting on the lawn,  winter must be here.

Corn harvest was delayed continually by blizzards, regular snow and rain, but all in all went smoother than the nearly nonexistent wheat harvest. A lot of the corn was laying down, I understand, but the cattle will enjoy eating it and my Father-in-law has been out baling corn stalks. We got to enjoy riding in the combine. It is a much sought after treat for all the children, and the Goblin Child is just starting to appreciate it. Plus during harvest it’s the only way we get to see my farmer husband who gets to take a small vacation from working in town to play farmer full time.

All of last weekend was spent gathering and hauling cattle. Some were there, where they were supposed to be, others were off visiting the neighbors. One way or another they all had to come home. The closest got to walk, the farther away bunch got a ride in the trailer. That leaves one bunch to go, the time and method remains to be seen, by us at least. The Goblin Child and I didn’t get to bring a horse but we got to ride a little on a four wheeler and drive the pick up and trailer. She got to skip the car seat when going across country and really enjoyed chasing the cattle. Her father even let her ride on the four wheeler and chase them for real. She got very good at “haw”ing them.

With calves here to feed it’s back to work for the child and me. Last year she was too little to come along. This year my mother-in-law is spared the dreaded job of watching the child and The Goblin Child gets to help feed. I am glad that I got to learn how to drive the feed truck last year with out quite so much help, that makes it easier this year to feed with her hanging on my arms and onto the wheel and pulling every knob and control. Her favorite part seems to be when I floor it. The engine revs, and revs, and finally switches gears and we are thrown back in our seats as we reach top speeds of ten maybe fifteen mile an hour.

On the bright side I think the child will know how to drive long before she can reach the peddles.

I do like his choices. Mom said it looked more like it’s appy side and I said I wasn’t interested but when I looked I must admit it caught my eye. Not that Wisconson has gotten any closer, it’s still to far away, not gaited apparently, and not old and very broke.

This is one of those rare instances where a Craigslist add got it right. Decent conformation shots and a write up that sold her for me.

Snowflake Appaloosa/Walkaloosa Mare – $500 (West of Madison)

Ever since I mentioned that I was thinking about another horse my brother has been finding me suitable candidates. All of them in Illinois and Wisconsin (far, far away). If not for the distance I really like most of his choices. He has the same slightly twisted taste in horses as I do. We both look for something other than obvious good looks. I like to think we go for something deeper. Good bone, big hooves, staying power, general good or at least interesting character. Maybe we just like weird.

My brothers apparent favorite so far is this little Halflinger. They even went to look at him, in hopes I think of me or our mother giving in and buying it. They said it was very fat, near to foundering. My brother hopped on and tried the boy out. bareback of course. Who wouldn’t try out an unknown, green broke horse bareback? I wish I had the seat and confidence he does. The horse was to fat to succeed at bucking and willing if uneducated. Although he was willing to bring the Halfy home our mother was not and it didn’t suit any of my requirements.

My favorite is this little Morgan cross. His price is right but other than that he doesn’t fit any of my requirements either. I like him though. His hooves are huge and what a nice butt. He, like the Halflinger, is a very nice height. The poor guys head looks gigantic in the, required, really bad Craigslist photo.  He is not gaited, not old, not really, really broke. If I were looking for a prospect he might be fun.

And the runners up are:

Chocolate palomino Morgan gelding. My gelding had a brother that sold with him who was this color. Could this be him?

Possibly Saddle bred, possibly walking horse, she’s not sure. Are the pictures supposed to be of her or the horse? What exactly is she selling?

Green broke mustang stallion, wow he really takes the cake. Free to a good home or 450 to a bad one. I gotta admit I don’t see the appeal here unless it’s to give this poor, ugly, sucker a chance.

So far despite his best efforts I am keeping my horse search nearer to home. I’m still thinking the little Paso mare is the winner. I can’t stop looking though horse shopping is too fun.

By pure coincidence I came across a grey Morgan mare for sale. Not just a grey Morgan but of course a half sister to Nev. She was out of a mare I have ridden and enjoyed, Wintermoon Light Kisses, and right next door here in Arthur. I called, mostly because I was amazed to see another Morgan so close, we really have nothing but quarters and their derivatives out here. The last thing I need or even want is another one of these, it would be just too much.

Of course there is this one though.

Black gaited Morgan gelding. He is gaited, he is older, he is not quiet not like I need, he is not close. I am trying so hard not to be set on Morgan, trying to prove I am not one of those obnoxious people who think their breed is the only one that’s any good and everything else is trash. Sometimes it seems like I am surrounded by them out here with my not quarter horses. I really do love a good variety of breeds and types but it is hard not to keep coming back to the old tried and true. Plus my moms all time favorite came from Missouri Vally that seems like a good reason to look right there.

I very seldom put The Goblin Child to bed. This dawned on me one evening during corn harvest when my farmer husband was out late into the night in his beloved combine and it was up to me to get the child down. Don’t get me wrong I put her down for her naps all day, it’s just in the evening that he takes over the role. Father daughter time and all that. Not that she is usually hard to get down but I tried one other time recently and wound up with a screaming, wide awake baby until her devoted father came home and rescued her from me. He had her asleep in minutes and gave me exact instructions on the procedure.

I believe that a little apprehension on my behalf was understandable. With diaper changed and pajamas on we sat in her darkened room, the hum of rain from her noise maker droning softly in the background. I read her a book maybe sang a song or two. She cuddled in close, then began to spin in circles on my lap. Around she would go then sit sprawled against me for a moment then spin again.

I was at a loss. My child expert husband had not said anything about this in his instructions. Then she looked back at me, I swear in exasperation, and pointed at her crib. Dumbfounded I carried her over to it and asked her what it was that she wanted.  Pointing at the crib again she said dat. I laid her down and she smiled contentedly at me as I left the room.

I had to go outside last night around bed time. When I left the house she was running about, playing happily. Outside for only minutes, I came in to find no child in sight. Her baffled father explained that she had pointed to and banged on the door to her room asking to please be put to bed,  not her exact words, that would have been impressive.

It is nice to have a child that wants to go to bed with out having to fight. Hopefully this is a long lived trend.