Dairy Daze...and Now Beyond

Yesterday, for the first time this summer I believe, Bella and I forsook civilization, chores and everything mundane, and headed to the wilderness.  Thither we go to cast off our cares, live for the moment, and fill our souls with God's magic. The way is not easy, but we persevere: (This was only one deadfall in our path down to the river) When Bella and I go to the wild, we are enchanted by:  who we meet;  the signs of those who wish to not be seen; and the artistic skills of those blessed to hang around in the woods all day. The way down the hill is quite steep and weedy, but we find fascinating sylvan scenes that conjure up the dryads of C.S. Lewis.  Surely they must be around somewhere; peeking between the roots or from under mossy logs. Bella herself looks, and looks, and looks and looks, But the wild ones are elusive. So we content ourselves with scenes from the woods, flecked with early yellow sign...

Look what I found last month! Nine teensy turkles!  Last June I watched the mama turtle lay her eggs in the west yard, out by our big sign.  I marked it with little sticks so I could find it this spring.  But what with mowing and limbs falling and all I lost my markers.  Last month I just couldn’t wait any longer, so I took the shovel and went out looking for the nest.  I dug very carefully all up and down where I thought it was and couldn’t find anything.i almost gave up, but I tried one more spot and AHA!   I will keep one or two of the smaller ones and let the rest go into ponds or the river. Here are the smallest and the largest.

Ellen and I did our annual walk down to the creek last week, on the 11th, when she was on her spring break from school.   It was up a bit due to the rains we had, and in some places was flowing quite swiftly. I missed getting a close up of Bella in any of the shots we took, but she was there, as usual. Ellen has always loved going to the creek.  You can probably do a search on this blog of "creek" and/or "Ellen and  come up with more than one post that involve her in the creek. (Thankful for running water on our property, for a daughter who loves the outdoors almost as much as I do, for a walking buddy.)

Her eyebrows are not as pronounced as they were when she was a calf; but she is still cute.  For the time being she is our only dry cow up the road.  We are slowing down with the breeding and all, so we don't have many to calve soon.  It's kind of sad, but a relief in a way.

Today, the day I am starting this entry, is December 21, 2018.  I probably will not finish tonight, or even this month.  I have to have time think things through. On December 16th we lost one of the pillars of our little church; Rick Mills.  It was a blow to us all, but we rejoiced with him as well.  He'd spent the last few years battling an incurable cancer, was on meds for it and was sick most all the time.  He'd spent a great amount of in and out of hospitals this past year, and I believe he was ready to rest and meet his Savior.  The only reason he'd stayed was for his wife, Jane, and his family. At any rate;  we had his funeral today, the 21st.  The family had a memory box there, with papers for us to fill out with memories of Rick for them to read over.  I took a paper, but couldn't get my thoughts into coherent words.  This funeral, though beautiful, was hard for me; almost as hard as my dad's was.  That is what this bl...