Over and done with just like that, Custer’s 100th Gold Discovery Days was a great intro into multi-day vendor events, and I loved meeting and visiting with people, locals and out-of-stater-ers, and sharing my love of photography and the Black Hills! In spite of rain and hail the first day, and soaring temperatures the next two days, the event came off well and I’m definitely glad I took the plunge. It was a low-key enough event that I was able to work out the kinks of my booth setup easily, resulting in a last-minute rearranging of my booth on Saturday morning. I purchased the tent off Amazon, and definitely am happy with how it held up, especially considering the stormy weather we had on Friday!
Lots of fun ideas are being sparked from this event, including the possibility of teaching photography classes, some new product ideas, and incentive to get an online store set up for selling prints. My little mind is a whirlwind of ideas right now!
It was also great to have company for the weekend, since my friend Hope, with Hope and Health tallow skincare, had a booth right across from mine, and my husband spent Sunday in my booth with me! And once again, the sweetness of the rural community was brought home, as I got to visit with many old friends and neighbors.
I’m getting booked for the remainder of the year, and I’m already looking forward to sharing a booth with Hope and Health at the Buffalo Roundup Arts Festival in Custer State Park in September and getting to do the Winter Popup Market at the Monument Civic Center in November. It is fun to see something I’ve slowly worked at for years starting to bear some fruit! God is good.
Support Song Dog Journal and share to social media!
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.
Support Song Dog Journal and share to social media!
Hear, O sons, a father’s instruction, and be attentive, that you may gain insight. ~Proverbs 4:1
We learn the foundations of life from them – Our work ethics, how to interact in the world, how to treat people, how to be the people God made us to be. We follow their examples. In relationships. In work. In spiritual and faith matters. We learn life skills, of all sorts. We learn our sense of humor from them. We learn how to shrug off a skinned knee or hurt feelings, how to stand up tall and stand our ground. Boys learn about manhood how to treat women by how their fathers treat their mothers. Girls learn about womanhood and how they should be treated as women, by watching how their fathers treat their mothers. We share their genetics. Physical characteristics. Personality traits.
There are two important fathers in my life, men who have played important roles in my life over the years, and who have, through their examples and leadership and faith and decisions, contributed to the life I feel so blessed to be living. My father, and my father-in-law.
Like many a father does, like a good father will, my dad set my standard in so many ways – He was the dad, the best dad. He was the way a father ought to be. The way a husband ought to be. I think of the things I learned from my dad – My view of the world, my love of Jesus, my entrepreneur-spirit, that it is okay to change directions in life, how to follow God even when what He is asking of us makes no sense to the people around us. How to do what is right even when everything in you and around you is rebelling against it. That there are so many things more important in life than what others think of us, or how padded our bank accounts are. I learned my love of the outdoors. My love of politics and theology. My love of photography, even. In a lot of ways, I can thank my dad for the husband I ended up marrying. Dad’s example of Godly manhood shaped and influenced what I knew to look for in a husband, the things that were important to me. Kindness. Humility. A genuine and abiding love for Christ. A willingness to learn and grow and change. A desire to lead.
But my thankfulness doesn’t stop with my dad. Not only have I been blessed with a Godly and strong father, God has also blessed me with a great father-in-law. I am also so thankful for the man who shaped and molded my now husband as a boy and a younger man, who has served as a primary example to my husband of how a faithful husband and father should act, how to be a leader in the community and church, and a man of strength and resilience. I’m thankful for his kind spirit and his willingness to teach. Incidentally, he was the first person to come alongside me the first day I showed up to a fire department training and start showing me the ropes. Little did I think that five years later he’d be my father-in-law!
Dad, I’m so thankful to be your daughter! Dave, I’m thankful to be your daughter-in-law! For the roles you’ve played in my life, for your faith in God and your faithfulness to the things He has given you. Both of you, for your kindness and care for the people around you. For being Godly men, men of character and integrity.
Happy Father’s Day!
Support Song Dog Journal and share to social media!
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.
Support Song Dog Journal and share to social media!
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.
Support Song Dog Journal and share to social media!
These days are for earlier mornings up-and-at-’em, for before-sunrise coffee with my man, starting the day the right way.
These days are for chores in the early light and heading down the driveway with horses loaded on the trailer to help neighbors for a half a day, or however long it takes.
These days are for building and deepening relationships…between spouses, among family, and within the broader community.
These days are for all the growing things, from the calves in the pasture to the flowers in the garden to the wildflowers in the field.
These days are for hours in the saddle. Hours in the dirt. For some bumps and bruises and getting covered in dust and the smoke from the branding iron.
These days are for hard work, good work, wholesome work.
These days are for the sweetness of the fresh air, for the warmth of the sunlight, for the freedom of the open sky.
These days are for crawling into bed wonderfully tired, with muscles you forgot about a little sore and waking up maybe a little more sore.
These days are good days.
Support Song Dog Journal and share to social media!
Song Dog Journal 