Category Archives: Agriculture and Ranching

Madcap Days of Summer

Posted on by under Agriculture and Ranching, country life, gardening

It has all been a madcap whirl and a wild rush! There’s a lull, right after calving and branding, a lull that lasts about a week and a half or two weeks, and then the summer kicks into high gear. In some ways, we’re less busy than ever. Oh, that’s not correct. We’re busier than ever. But it is an easier busy? Really, it just doesn’t stop.

It is the whirl and rush of the normal rhythm of a longer day, longer at both ends, with a list that seems to grow to fill the length of the day.

It’s a morning run, accompanied by three black-and-whites, the sun on my shoulders, sweat trickling, mud flying, puddles splashing, pups hurtling around and easily going twice my distance.

It is the whirling rhythm of keeping a house and a home, the pleasant and never-ending tasks of being a wife and a homemaker, laundry and bread baking and the endless satisfying work of tending a thriving garden and greenhouse and a flock of chickens.

It is the satisfaction of once again eating meals fully produced on our ranch, as the garden has begun to produce plentifully!

It’s the roadside meetings for an egg delivery at random times of the day – I love having more than enough and being able to share what we have with family and friends!

It’s the uncanny feeling of drifting through a sea of grass, when can’t see the tires much less the ground in front of you on the ATV. What a change from last year.

It is the laughter while watching the dogs learn to navigate grass this tall. Roughly two normal bounds and then a vertical jump to see over the grass, then two normal bounds and a vertical jump.

It is the smile ear to ear of seeing pups become cow dogs, of watching their instincts emerge and blossom, of learning to work with a little partner.

It is the odd projects and tasks that come up throughout the week, the spontaneous mornings moving cows, or the fun work of vaccinating yearlings.

It is covering country horseback in the cool of a summer morning.

It is the joy of seeing a beloved bed of flowers grow and bloom in a shifting, changing pool of color, humming with bees.

It is the color brought into the home, of fresh-cut, homegrown flowers.

It is the perfume of the alfalfa, and the heavy fragrance of fresh-cut hay.

It is the amazing sigh of relief, seeing bales – and bales and bales – in hayfields that produced next to nothing last year.

It is the irony of being stalled in putting up hay because of too much rain (too much?), but you won’t hear us complain about the moisture! It is the comedy of talking about finishing haying in the next few days, and seeing the forecast for nothing but rain, rain, and more rain.

It is the elation of counting inches in the rain gauge, yet the surge of worry that turns into a prayer at the sound of the first hailstone hitting the roof. God has graciously spared us from destructive hail but has given us beautiful storm after beautiful storm, already bringing more rain than we had all of last year put together.

It is the ever-changing bouquet in nature’s garden, marking time with the blooming of the flowers. The wild roses are already starting to fade. The spiderwort has been blooming for weeks. Yarrow is here for the duration. But it is sunflower and purple coneflower season now.

The sweet cumulative hours, sometimes quick, sometimes slow, spent over coffee, with husband, in-laws, or my mom – such an important tradition.

It is all a whirl and a rush!

We try to slow down, we do. We try to enjoy a walk in the evening when the light is golden, and savor this time, the warmth, the sun, the rain, the clouds, the everything that makes this summer a wonderful summer. Because in a few months, we’ll already be looking back wistfully at these madcap summer days.

In the Coop | Guilty

Posted on by under Agriculture and Ranching, country life

I keep the girls locked up in the morning, partly because I don’t feel like scouring all over for wayward eggs, partly to give them a break from the overzealous boys, Bernard in particular. But when I finally fling open the run door and let them free, they gleefully scatter.

We were just doing odds and ends around the yard and I had a stack of old lick tubs to take to the barn. I set my load down to open the barn door and heard some suspicious noises from inside, and this is what I found:

Brad had just brought a few tubs of grain down from up north. The girls didn’t waste any time! They had sneaked in the back door, which was just open a crack, and definitely looked a little guilty. Emphasis on “a little.”

Ranch Wife Musings | Lessons from a Lilac

Posted on by under Agriculture and Ranching, country life, gardening, Photography

In the middle of the ranch on a lonely and beautiful hilltop, miles away from anything, is a lilac shrub. Woody trunks and sparse patches evidence its age. It blooms wonderfully in the spring, though a little wearily, cascades of purple blossoms and glorious fragrance. It is all that remains of a homestead from some 100 years ago or so.

Out in front of our house is another lilac bush, which is also splendidly covered in pale lavender blossoms each spring, with an equally splendid fragrance. A third shrub blooms in front of my husband’s parents’ house, six miles north on the ranch. These two lilacs are transplants from the lonely lilac on the hilltop homestead, and they have bloomed faithfully for decades.

I wonder what the homesteader and his wife were imagining as they dug a hole and settled the roots of their shrub in the ground. I’m sure it was a tiny shrub at the time, and who knows where it came from, whether there was someone in Rapid City who sold them, or whether it was a shrub they brought west with them, similar to the Oregon Trail Rose, brought with pioneers as they blazed trails westward, leaving their fingerprints in the form of beautiful yellow roses scattered across the west.

What a beautiful and tangible act of hope and optimism. How lasting that little investment in the future!

Had they any idea when they firmed the dirt around the roots how the lilac would outlast their homestead, their dreams, themselves? I don’t know anything about them, what their plans or dreams were, what they did for a living when the homestead dream didn’t pan out (since most didn’t), whether they had children or how successful they were, or where they came from in the world before they claimed their homestead land. There isn’t a stick or a stone left of their dwelling place, or any outbuildings. Not even the faintest evidence of a foundation, or a well or cellar. Just the lilac, and a patch of irises.

But I do know one thing – They pictured a future. Enough to bring a lilac with them to their homestead. Enough to take a spade to the hard and rocky hilltop and sink in some lilac roots. Enough to haul water for it to survive that first couple of years before it could take care of itself.

How do we look toward the future? Or are we so invested in the present and in our little personal pronouns that we don’t bother trying to leave something for the future? We are products of a culture that would rather spend $5 on a fancy coffee drink at a drive-through that will be gone in 15 minutes than spend $5 on a flowering plant that will bring enjoyment year after year. We tend to think in terms of the here and now, our needs, our enjoyment, our fleeting pleasure, our experiences. If we won’t reap the benefits, we don’t do the work. If it takes hard work, few people will do it. And consequently so little gets left behind for the next generation.

It makes me ponder what I’ll leave behind. And what I want to leave behind. What fingerprints will I leave? What skills will I pass down? What will I teach? Whose life will I touch? And in what ways? Sometimes the smallest ways are the most profound.

As they planted their lilac, I doubt they imagined that 100 years later three generations of a ranching family would continue to enjoy a descendent of their humble shrub. Three generations of ranch wives would bring the fragrance and beauty into their kitchens. I doubt they imagined that their hope and optimism, made tangible in their lilac, would continue to grace two simple ranch yards a few miles from their homestead. But what joy and beauty they brought.

Raindrops on Roses

Posted on by under Agriculture and Ranching, country life, gratitude, Photography

You probably know the song. It happens to be one of my favorite songs, and in another life I enjoyed singing the role of Maria in two different community theatre productions of Sound of Music. There’s a fun fact for the day!

But does it really get much prettier than this?

The roses have burst into bloom over the last week, and I don’t know that I’ve ever photographed them looking more fetching than during this stormy-day walk.

Ranch Wife Musings | Prayers and Rain and Sunshine

Posted on by under Agriculture and Ranching, country life, Photography, Writing

I think of the prayers. Months of prayers. More than that. Much more than that.

Prayers that went something like this: “God, you know what we need. You know what we need more than we do. You know what we need beyond the physical needs we can see. You always provide – Somehow, You always do. Thank you for Your provision. We also know that how You choose to provide is Your prerogative, and it isn’t always the way we would choose. Align our hearts with Yours. And please send rain. You know we need it. And help us to trust in Your provision.”

I think of the sick pit in the stomach last year at this time, seeing hayfields and pastures dry up, yet the comfort of knowing that God really is faithful. I remember the attempts at optimism, but the realization that last year just wasn’t going to be the year we hoped it would be. But God would provide. Somehow He would get us through. And He did, though it wasn’t always comfortable.

And then I remember the sense of anxiety as we came through the winter with very little snow, very little to dampen the dry ground. And then March passed. And April. And then we got some snow. And lost a lot of calves. And then May came, and weeks went by with very little moisture, but the pastures were trying to green up, and what managed to green up looked wonderful to eyes tired of the brown. But we could start to see that the grass was struggling, needing moisture that just hadn’t come yet.

And how many times I took my walk in the morning or the afternoon and prayed. Hard. As I walked through the pastures and up into the timber, the prayers just came.

And God opened the skies. How many prayers He must have heard! I know a lot of prayers were sent Heavenward.

We have enjoyed so many slow, steady rains over the last month! I enjoy keeping an eye on the weather radar, and a number of times small storm cells have originated directly over our ranch. How different from last spring and summer, watching storm after promising storm develop to our west and dissipate over us! Just this last weekend, we picked up another almost inch of rain.

Little gets better than these sweet springtime storms. Dark days and heavy skies and wonderful rolling thunder. Walls of rain sweeping across the fields. The sound of big drops on the shop roof, or the barn roof, or the roof of the chicken coop, or the cover of the greenhouse. Ribbons of rain streaming from stormy blue skies against the horizon. Sunshine scattering through shredding clouds, dancing on the prairie. Rainbows spanning the Heavens. It has been transformative.

We still haven’t run much water so our dams remain low, but the grass and the hayfields look wonderful and we hope to begin haying next week. The grass is tall and keeps getting taller, up to the top wire of the fences, tall enough to lose the dogs in it, tall enough to brush over our boots when we’re on horseback. Wildflowers have sprung with vigor – Yarrow and beardtongue and spiderwort and roses, just to name a few of the colorful bouquet. My perennial garden has taken off unbelievably. There are puddles everywhere, and every evening the pups are a matted mess of mud and sandy dirt, and every day I sweep up a sandbox from where they sleep in the mudroom. It is glorious!

Prayers upon prayers have been answered and we are so thankful. Prayer matters. God hears. So keep praying. Keep trusting. Keep looking ahead with faith. And then wait patiently. God is listening.

Photo Roundup | May 14 – 20

Posted on by under Agriculture and Ranching, country life, gratitude

Looking over pictures from the last couple of weeks, the beauty of answered prayers is just impressed on my mind.

And how many answered prayers! Recent and distant, present and past, big and small.

I think of how dry and drought-stricken we were a year ago. How many promising storms we watched build and dissipate without leaving us a drop of rain. I remember how short and stubbly the pastures were, how the grass headed out in June when it was barely six inches tall. I remember the dust we kicked up on the trail, the cracks in the earth. I remember the feelings of uncertainty and seeing the lines of care deepen on the faces that I love.

But God is a God who sees, hears, and provides. He listens. I look at these photographs and see green – so much of it! I see answered prayers.

He has provided rain. Good grass and hayfields that promise a yield. Healthy livestock. Good neighbors.

Then my mind wanders a little father back, to the life I was living two short years ago. The loneliness and unexplainable longings, the dreams and hopes and desires that had gotten snuffed out with the cares of life. My love of writing. My love of photography. My love of the outdoors and hard work. The desire to fit in somewhere. To belong somewhere. To belong to someone.

Then I look at these photographs that I took in the span of a single week and I see answered prayer after answered prayer.

God has provided a community. Belonging. Family. Friends. So much beauty to enjoy. Good work to do. A loving husband to walk alongside.

God is so good. All the time.