4 November 2026

Halloween ’26

Another Halloween is come and gone.
Another season for the books. It is a month long celebration, the actual night is usually bittersweet. I am left with the joy of an evening well spent and the sorrow of fall being almost over, of pumpkins and fog, of fallen leaves crunching underfoot and beautiful decorations being rapidly replaced with red and green and Christmas things.
Halloween is wonderful not for the gore and ghosts that people sometimes want to celebrate but for the beauty of fall and the joy of dressing up.
We spent the evening in our small town, children turned loose to run with us parents trailing slowly behind. Not because they need watched but to share in the enjoyment of the night. They ran and shrieked dashing house to house. They disappeared inside of houses without a worry or care. They left us far behind as we old folk needed to sit and rest a moment watching as Halloween passed us by.
Children came and went as we tried to keep a basic count on the children we were supposed to have along trying to figure out who various extra masked creatures might be. Night fell and fog rolled in drifting over lights and decorations. Having covered most of the town and lost the majority of extra monsters we staggered exhausted back to the car, ready to be home to rest.
The children chattered excitedly recalling friends they had met and houses they had visited. No demons just joy. Plans for the next year. And sadness as we say good bye to the beautiful pumpkins, fall leaves, corn, all the best things in life until next year.
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30 October 2026

Hemingford Trunk or Treat

We stumbled into it by accident.
We were there on purpose but we hadn’t expected quite so much. There for a haunted house put on by the school as a fund raiser we found the whole street blocked off and children wandering about in costume.
At first we were confused. Were we in the right place? Had they forgotten to mention that this was an even for every small children?
Hesitantly we got out of the car and followed the trail of families.
As we passed one business then two, we realized it was an organized trick or treat. Every business in town was decorated and handing out candy. The first one we passed insisted the kids each take a piece of candy as my children politely tried to decline because they weren’t in costume.
Each place we passed insisted just the same. Teenagers handing candy out of the back of old pickups laughed and joked making conversation. Small children waddled along next to parent. Laughing and surprised we joined in.
Up and down main street we walked admiring and accepting candy forced upon us in that typical midwest hospitality. The weather was cool, the trees dripping golden leaves, the small town was picturesque. It could not get any better.
We did finally make it to the haunted house. It was delightful, quaint in the best way possible as high school kids got to play dress up and enjoy themselves without the requirement to be cool that is the normal in daily life.
Leaving town we wandered down side streets, looked at the decorations in yards, admired the beauty of a small town. This is what Halloween is about.

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7 October 2026

Cat Math

Cat math is like chicken math.
We lost one cat so my daughter had permission to get one more.
We ended up with three. They were settled in the barn where they could keep the mouse population nicely under controll. Until they moved to the house and joined the others in patrolling the back door least we should try to come and go from the house in peace.
Then the stray kitten wandered in. She began her life here by trying to walk under the hooves of all four horses. At once. Having survived that my daughter took over and moved her to the barn where she was fed, watered, and thoroughly loved.
Until we tried to work on equipment with her underfoot. She nearly died, several times. We all did really. So she was brought to the house to join the others. At least she’ll only trip us as we walk here. Better than being smashed as heavy equipment is worked on.
And then I tried to work horses.
All of the cats dove underfoot. Under the horse’s feet that is. The yellow one sat behind Sunshine, their coats matching perfectly, and batted at his tail. It might have been the yellow one again who dove under my youngest horse as I held her. Causing her to try to dive over the top of me. The newest black kitty who my daughter cherishes, has no fear of horse hooves. She would stand between them while I held my breath and tried to shoo her away. Which resulted in twining about my feet purring.
In the end I moved my horse trailer/tack room clear across the yard. The big yard. It is far away from cats and the haven’t found it or me yet as I try to work horses. The long walk is well worth it to not smash any darling kittens beneath the horse’s feet.
Dangs cats, I mutter under my breath as I swing yet another purring kitten into my arms to scratch. We need to cut back on all these dang cats.

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28 September 2026

Butter

My kitchen is a mess. The sink is over flowing with dirty dishes. Strange pink stuff is splattered everywhere
And I couldn’t be happier.
The house is full to over flowing with children. Near to bursting at the seams. Four children total, but it feels like more. They are laughing and playing and generally being kids.
The boys have been out climbing the hay bales.
The girls decided to ‘cook’. They settled on poke cake. Jello poured over a cooked cake. These directions called for a whipped cream frosting. They poured my cream, carefully kept on hand for coffee, into a bowl and began to mix. I left them to it, both wanting them to have the time to themselves and needing a small break from the joyful noise.
Outside working on Halloween directions, I got a phone call. They had messed something up, could I please come back? Don’t worry, nothing was broken.
Glad nothing was broken, I was still concerned, what could they have messed up making a cake? I hurried inside.
Exuberantly mixing the whipped cream they added in some of the jello, just like the recipe called for. They talked as they mixed, hanging out and having fun. They only looked away from the bowl they were tending for a minute.
When they looked back it had separated. Curdled? It was a lumpy pink mess. They were sickened by it. I stuck a finger in and tasted. Worked a clump between my fingers and thought. It was impressive really.
They had made butter. Ooops.
Not a total loss. I scooped it out, squeezed it relatively dry and put the pink butter ball in the fridge. We’ll have it on muffins in the morning.
This sort of day is exhausting to me, but at the same time it doesn’t get any better. Children laughing and happy, experimenting and getting dirty. One of my favorite podcast was saying today as I listened between talking to children that they make life harder, but better. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, we need both the hard and the better.
After cooking and climbing the two groups joined together again and carved some pumpkins. More messes were made, outside this time. Without those loud, messy days life wouldn’t be near as fun.
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18 August 2026

Toads

We are inundated with toads.
That’s not a bad thing. It isn’t a curse of toads or a plague of toads. It’s just toads.
There was one rain this summer. As in it rained for real once this whole year. There have been a few sprinkles, and even a couple of measurable amounts of moisture since then. But only one real rain. It was beautiful. There were puddles everywhere. The sounds of toads croaking filled the nights following with their deafening music.
They came out of their drought induced hibernation for three or four nights.
Apparently they were very busy for those few nights.
Then they were gone again.
Every puddle left by the rain was quickly filled with tadpoles. The water hole in the horse’s pen started squirming and frothing as it dried. That was enough to make me go look. There in the puddle were more tadpoles than water. Some had small leg bumps starting to appear. None of them would be ready to hop away before the puddle dried.
So I sent the children out. They got filthy. They played. The laughter could be heard from the buildings. They scooped as many tadpoles as they could get and redistributed them to water tanks.
Now, every time we travel along our driveway we have to slow and watch carefully for toads hoping happily across. Not all from the tadpoles the children scooped up. They must have hatched everywhere. The come out when the pivots spray across the road. Whether driven out of hiding by the large water droplets or if they just enjoy hunting the bare roads, they come out and slow traffic.
The children and I both love to jump out of the car and follow them along. Maybe scooping them up for a moment to admire their big fat bellies. They’re all the same size, which makes sense if they’re from the same hatching.
We will enjoy our company while we can. Soon they will burrow back down again, cocooning themselves in a layer of sloughed off skin to preserve moisture. There they will wait for another big rain. Another chance to come out and procreate. Another time to serenade us with their beautiful music.
We’ll just have to drive very slow until then.
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10 August 2026

The Best Laid Plans

Three of us were loaded in my pickup, headed out to check cows. The dog panted in the back, determined to come along no matter the heat. Windows were rolled up and the air-conditioner blasted, making it possible for us to squeeze in the single cab together. The radio sang happily along.
My daughter commented about the speaker. It was doing a thing, maybe like the one in a different pickup likes to do. I pondered that absently. It never seemed like my speakers had any problems. As I listened though I began to wonder. Was that sound part of the song?
Turning the radio down the noise was still there. That wasn’t good.
I stopped and stepped out to check tires on my side. Parked in the middle of the two track dirt road it was easy to see that the tires were fine. My son hopped out the passenger side and stopped immediately, there was definitely a problem.
Walking around to look I saw my rear tire shredded. The rim sat on the remains, nearly flat against the ground. My poor baby. I’ve had my pickup far longer than the children or husband. She is dear to me. And here she sat lame, injured, out of commission.
We were barely two miles from home. It was almost 100 degrees. The dog panted happily in the bed.
I called my husband.
That’s what you do when things go bad right? It’s what I do. He fixes things. Especially things like tires. That is not my area.
He came on a four-wheeler and looked it over. The rim wasn’t on the ground, it was protected by the remains of the tire. We could probably drive slowly home. So we began backing down the road. The ripple of shredded rubber the new sound track of our trip. He drove along side, watching to make sure the rim was alright.
The spare tire sits next to the pickups usual parking place. It fell off of the bottom where it had a special carrying spot. Luckily it fell of next to a cow tank. I pulled up to check water and there sat a random tire. Where could that have come from? Oh, it fell off my pickup.
So it went in the back. But I had to haul four-wheelers, or goats, or calves, or fence posts. So many reasons it was cast aside, temporarily, never to be put back where it goes.
Finally to the yard I let the children out. They get restless at slow speeds. Then we limped slowly on to the quanset where there was tire changing equipment. My husband stopped and got the spare. He made quick work of the job. In the hundred degree heat. My pickup was sound again. We could make sure the cows had water.
Thank Goodness for spare tires and good husbands.
Category: 8, Family, Goblin Child, It's a God thing | LEAVE A COMMENT
1 July 2026

Hide And Seek

I sent the children off this morning on their horses. They rode to somewhere. Although I know the general direction, the exact destination is fun to conceal. It’s their secret that they share. Knowledge they can hold against their parent, against authority.
When they get back the morning has already turned hot. A rare perfectly still day to make us almost miss the constant howl of the wind. Almost, but not quite. The mares have worked up a slight sweat. Just a square to show where the saddles sit. It can’t be too hot then. Not as hot as we let ourselves believe as we swelter under the hot sun.
Or it could be the very leisurely pace the never default from.
Saddles off I let the old girls loose to graze. They deserve a little extra treat. They deserve it for taking care of the kids, for going out on their morning ride. They deserve it for just being them.
Jerry, the color of a newly minted penny, bright copper orange, has a temperament that matches her color, bright, cheerful, interested in everything that goes on around her. She may be aging but she vibrates with curiosity. Time hasn’t taken away her interest in all that is going on around her. Delicate, tippy ears perked forward to investigate any potential treat.
Lady is more reserved. She is zippy and alert. No old plodder here. But she carries a suspicion of people, never sure that we are something she wants to associate with. She can be hard to catch and lacks Jerry’s interest and determination that whatever we have it is going to be wonderful for her.
Both of them are light and responsive, energetic without being hot. They deserve a break from the two obnoxious young horses they are forced to share a pen with. Time alone to enjoy the green grass.
They do a good job of staying out of trouble, for the most part. The occasional foray into the alfalfa just outside the yards boundaries keeps me from getting too relaxed while they enjoy their graze. There are no fences to force them to comply. Instead we rely on their good nature, and the other two horses being confined. Surely they wouldn’t want to leave without the whole herd.
I went to check on them this morning and they had wandered. Wandered away from the place I had left them, the place they were last seen. Not a big deal, there is plenty of room for them to roam without getting into trouble. I checked the close places on foot. No horses there. So I grabbed a 4-wheeler and made a lap around the yard. No horses there.
Now I was starting to get concerned. If they damage the corn I’ll be in trouble. If they wander to the middle of the alfalfa they’ll be in trouble along with me. I watched the whole time for the horses still in the corals. They’re the best guide to finding wandering horses. They will stand at the fence like pointer hounds directing me to my prey.
They weren’t out in the big corral, so the mares probably hadn’t wandered that way. Finally I spotted them up by the barns. That was where I had looked for the mares already. Odd.
Trusting them to guide me I drove up to where the big grey horse stood, as the tallest he’s easy to spot. Getting closer I could finally see the shorter horses standing around him. Three. There were three shorter horses.
The mares had been quietly standing at the gate back into their pen the whole time. I had searched everywhere, in the opposite direction. Never once had I turned to look behind me. Behind me where the mares stood waiting wondering why I was running around instead of letting them back in their pen, where they wanted to be.
Category: 8, Goblin Child, Horses | LEAVE A COMMENT
21 March 2026

Tagging Calves

I paused in the near darkness to make a phone call. One of the heifers had calved. Could she write up an ear tag? I’d be there in a couple minutes to pick her up and we could tag the calf before it got big enough to be really hard to catch. As opposed to just hard to catch.

By the time I got back to the house on the 4wheeler she was out the door and ready to go. She had brought along the tag for the cow who tagged yesterday. The one we hadn’t managed to get to yet. Did I want to tag that one while we were at it?

I did. And I appreciated not only her help, but her willingness. Barely even a teenager yet and she is making an hand. She is great assistance at tagging calves. She is every bit as good when pulling calves or working cows. She’s game. Happy to give it a try whatever ‘it’ might be.

As the sun sat further and evening faded to night we got the heifers calf tagged. As heifers usually are she was sweet, stupid. The calf was young and small enough still that we got its new earring in without too much difficulty.

It’s amazing how much difference one days growth can make. The other calf had been born out on cornstalks the day before and brought in to the relative safety of the corrals, but never tagged. He was up and running. His very protective mother right behind. Dark enough that it was getting difficult to tell the difference between black cow and black calf, we got the calf cornered against the fence and I jumped off to grab a hind leg. One of the drawbacks to being a woman is the lack of a man’s strength. I am not capable of holding the calf with one hand and effortlessly squeezing the tagger with the other.

Luckily I am a woman. A woman with a very handy daughter.

With the calf by one leg and the cow nose to nose with me I drug him back to the 4wheeler. Here. Grab his leg!

It isn’t covered in poop is it? There’s only so much she’s game for and poop isn’t among those things.

No, there’s no poop I assured her. Shw grabbed the leg, holding the calf there along side the 4wheeler. It is nice to have a safe-ish place nearby to jump for if the cow wants to get a little too friendly. She held tight with one hand and waved the paddle in the cows face with the other. I stepped forward to grab the ear, my knee pressed firmly into his back end. I felt the wetness soaking through to my thigh. There might not have been any poop on the leg, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any anywhere else.

With two hands free because I didn’t have to hold the calf the tagging was accomplished quickly and easily. The calf was quiet. The cow didn’t eat us. The sky was almost fully dark. Sitting on the 4wheeler behind me she told me I stunk of calf poo. She tried to stay back far enough not to touch me. But she knew she had done a good evenings work. She knows she’s good at this cow stuff. Hopefully she’ll be around to help me tag many more calves. It sure does make life easier.

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11 March 2026

Brisket

Could it be that this is actually going to work out? That happens so seldom that it seems unlikely. But it is going good so far.
Brisket lost her calf yesterday morning. No idea what happened, but, these things do happen. Especially with heifers.
With the prices I’ve been hearing about for bottle calves this year I had no intention of getting her a new calf. It was just left to decide if she was going to be run open for a year or sold.
But, I couldn’t resist looking around. Seeing if there was something out there. It happens sometimes. I checked with the lady I often have bought calves from in the past. The one Brisket came from actually. She didn’t have anything. I checked the facebook bottle calf pages. They seem to be gone. It is only surprising that it took this long for facebook to get rid of them. This no animal sales rule is stupid and obnoxious.
Then I checked a local sale barn. They had just made a post saying a calf would be selling. So I called and asked to be called when she went through.
When the call came I was in Walmart. Standing there in a random aisle I bought a calf over the phone sight unseen. The guy on the other end said she was healthy. A twin born yesterday. And she was small. Wow was she small. Possibly because of the size, maybe I just got lucky, she sold cheap.
When I finally got there, over an hour the other direction with a stop in the middle to put away groceries and get a vehicle to haul her in, wow was she small.
I carried her through the parking lot to the pickup and wasn’t winded. She weighs less than a bag of grain. Less than the 40 pound bags of dog food even. Surely she isn’t under 40 pounds?!
So tiny but so vigorous and determined. I love those tiny calves that jump up and are off running from the first. Brisket’s bag was hard and tight. I fought for the first stream of milk. Brisket did not kick my hand off. Then the calf went to it. And stayed to it. I was still sitting there supervising them in the chute a half hour later. Finally I pulled her off fearing she’d make herself sick eating too much.
Brisket wasn’t thrilled with the whole thing but didn’t fight much. She’s such a good quiet cow. Just sweet all the way around. Surprising for such a high strung cow.
Once the kids got home we turned the calf back in with Brisket. Brisket said no. She kicked her off and was not willing to let her nurse. Back into the chute it was. For another extended period. How can such a tiny calf drink SO MUCH?
Then we separated them again for the night.
Cows will not just let a calf nurse. They will let their calf who smells like them nurse. There are many different ways to adopt a calf onto a cow but the one I’ve always preferred was to let the calf nurse until they poop out the smell of that cow. Then the cow will smell it and think it’s their calf. That’s why we need to use the chute, to hold the cow still so the calf can nurse. We keep them separate then so the cow can’t smell the calf and know it’s not hers and so the calf doesn’t get hurt trying to nurse. Cows kick hard and don’t care if they hurt a baby.
I checked this morning early. The calf was sleeping happily in her little pen next to Brisket.
We went out to feed a couple hours later. The kids and I had been discussing how we would proceed. My daughter came back in to inform me that the calf was in the pen with Brisket and nursing happily.
She must have squeezed through or under the gate and taken matters into her own hands. And the adoption is done. Brisket was carefully checking on the calf as we hauled feed in to her. The calf finished nursing and toddled about hopping and playing for a few minutes before nestling down next to her new mama to sleep.
There is lots of sickness to be picked up in a sale barn and it is stressful for a calf to change homes like that. If we can keep her healthy and if Brisket keeps accepting her like this it might be a done deal.
My daughter has named the teeny tiny calf Fatty. Because she has a sense of humor.

Category: Cows, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
5 February 2026

Moving Cows

It was going to be great! I knew it would be. The kids would love it.

They had been riding out alone to fill the cows tank. They were fine going out alone. So why not add one more challenge, or fun game depending on how you look at it, for them to accomplish?

The cows needed moved to new corn stalks. Yes, it would be easiest to move them with feed. Just call them into the corrals in the morning and lead them over with the tractor. They like food and fully understand following the tractor. But what fun would that be?

Instead we could carefully set it up so the cows would be fed in the morning, wait long enough for them to finish all the hay, then send the kids out to move them! It’s not like they could lose the herd. It’s all safely confined. Worse that could happen is the cows go to the wrong corner of the field.

So off we sent them. My son was in a mood from the beginning. That never bodes well.

Their father and I were working along the edges of the field, repairing wind damage to the parked equipment. We could see them the whole time, make sure nothing was going dreadfully wrong. The cows started off in the right direction. My son was trotting along on the far side of the herd on his little mare. They looked so good, it made me happy. My daughter pushed them down off the hill all by herself. Such good little riders.

Then the cows passed the gate and kept going south. Still no big deal. They were on the proper half of the field. It would just take a bit more riding.

My daughter called. Would I be coming out to help them now? She was not cheerful.

Wonderful mother that I am I said no. Did she feel that they were in danger? No? Alright then. Keep moving the cows.

They got to the far side of the field and stopped. I could see one child off of a horse. They both stood there and just stood. The cows grazed happily.

I called back. What’s up?

Lady, my sons little bay arab, wasn’t cooperating. He had rage quit. They were both very grouchy. Not interested in moving cows.

My plan had failed. Apparently they couldn’t handle it and would not get that huge rush of confidence and satisfaction when they got the cows moved all by themselves.

Oh well. Training children is no different than training horses. I know when we are facing frustration and there is need to step in and offer more support. Out on the 4wheeler anyway we headed that direction. My husband hopped off near the gate to turn them the right way when they got there. I rushed out to the kids. It was easy to see the problem when I got there.

Heifers.

Yearlings are an awful thing. Curious and as stupid as any bunch of teenagers. Every time I would push them forward with the 4wheeler they would turn right around and follow me back. On the 4wheeler I could keep running laps with them. The kids, on horses, unwilling to go much above a walk, it can get to be an endless task.

I finally got the heifers to move. The kids joined back in and brought up the tail while I ran the edge of the herd. The cows went in. The children were done and left as their father and I followed the bunch up the lane in and into their new field. It was done. Maybe not well done. Not the confidence booster I had hopped for. At this point I’m just hoping to be able to get them back on the horses again. Maybe we can try this weekend.

Category: 8, Cows, Goblin Child, Horses | LEAVE A COMMENT