Strangely wonderful, strangely defeating by turns.
Exciting new opportunities have presented themselves, writing for a local newspaper and magazine, shooting more portrait sessions, a wedding. Canning like crazy with the wealth of chokecherries, zucchini, and tomatoes. Baking bread, brewing kombucha, fermenting milk kefir. Productivity and fruitfulness.
A freak hailstorm wiped out my garden a few weeks ago (thankfully my greenhouse survived). I lost four of my precious cats to poison before we figured out where it was coming from. I grafted four TSC chicks onto a broody hen and she took to them readily, only to have my nasty rooster (who is no more) kill three of them a week or two later. Those frustrating defeats.
And then days like today, when this is the bountiful harvest reaped, reset things a little. Eggs from my chickens, tomatoes and jalapeños from my greenhouse, and succulent wild plums from the road ditch.
Isn’t this a beautiful sight?
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Sometimes I just have to pause for a minute and think about everything that is going on, and going on well. Just taking a few steps outside and seeing all the green – incredible green! – is reminder enough of how blessed this summer is. It has been wonderful. It couldn’t be more different than last year, where the grass was basically done growing by the end of June, and we ate dust all summer long. The grasshopper infestation was unreal and our stackyards stood empty of hay. The only reason the garden survived at all is because of the amount of time I spent watering it.
What a different year it has been!
The garden is gorgeous, really just thanks to the heavenly weather. My perennials are thriving, as well as some annuals I started from seed this year, and I’m already scheming to dig up another part of the yard to start planting volunteers and babies, and to rehome plants when I divide them up. A well-kept garden is almost a thing of the past, and I think that is such a loss. Beebalm and catmint and verbena and coneflowers, cosmos and zinnias and poppies…I love the color they add! Taking pride in one’s home and in beautifying the home and yard is a valuable pursuit!
The vegetable garden, though…Oh my. Every few days I’m able to harvest wonderful quantities of greens and herbs – kale, chard, arugula, spinach, lettuce, cilantro, dill, basil…We’ve been eating the most delicious steak salads! But for some reason I didn’t ever write about my greenhouse, when we first built it a couple of months ago. Maybe because I was afraid it would just be a disaster, possibly due to the fact that it blew down within three hours of initially setting it up. It really was quite heartbreaking.
But after my handy husband did a lot of head scratching and dirt work, he designed and executed a frame made out of old railroad ties from a corral my grandpa built, sank the railroad ties in the ground about four feet, and the greenhouse cover (from the one that blew down) perfectly fit over this frame. A lot of 2x4s and screws later and plenty of redneck flair, this greenhouse isn’t going anywhere. It has withstood some pretty heavy winds, a significant hailstorm or three, and the vegetables in it are absolutely thriving. Weekly fertilizing of the entire greenhouse, weekly strip-pruning of the tomatoes, and it is doing better than I ever anticipated. My tomatoes are taller than I am, and I’ve been having to tie the branches to the roof of the greenhouse as they’ve outgrown the cages. The branches are loaded with green fruit and yesterday we ate the first tomatoes of what should be an abundant harvest!
Gardening is so fun when it works the way it is supposed to!
The pullets started laying a few days ago, and it makes me chuckle how much I enjoy finding white eggs from my Leghorns! I am sad and not sad to say that Bernard the rooster got voted off the island a week or so ago, leaving my hens (and myself) much happier and more peaceful, with Big Boy doing all his roosterly duties in a much more respectable and respectful manner. However, Bernard may be joined shortly by Peewee, the jerk of a Leghorn rooster that was supposed to be a pullet. He is tiny, fast, and just mean. Bernard was a jerk, but he never chased me down. Peewee is a whole different story, and he’s only four months old. Yikes.
So we are finally eating meals again entirely produced on this ranch, from the beef to the eggs to the veggies and greens, and how satisfying that is! At any given time I have about a gallon of kombucha brewing, and a half pint to a pint of milk kefir. Bread baking happens on a weekly basis, give or take, whether it is a quick loaf of machine-baked whole wheat, or a carefully tended four-loaf batch of sourdough.
The hay crop is almost entirely rolled up, our fat steer is getting fatter on his daily grain ration, and in short this is just a good summer. They aren’t all like this, and it didn’t take me long being married to a rancher to figure that out…They aren’t all like this, so when we do have a great year, I will savor it. And savor it. And savor it some more. Sometimes I think a little more savoring of the good things would help get all of us through the tough times.
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One year we’re praying for rain and fruitful pastures, then simply praying for sustenance until the next spring. The next year we’re smiling ear to ear and praying for a window of dry weather to get the hay crop in.
One minute, Brad and Dave are racing like mad to get hay baled, the next minute we’re camping out in the calving shed while a hailstorm wears itself out overhead.
One hour I’m cleaning up the damage done to my garden from the golf-ball-sized hail, though thankful it wasn’t worse. The next, I’m finding a beautiful egg from my new flock of pullets, and candling an egg my broody hen is working on to find it is viable and developing!
One hour I find out that my beautiful Amelia-cat died overnight for no known reason. The next, I see twin antelope babies out along our driveway while on my morning run.
It just does that sometimes. Life and death paired. Struggle and blessing. Fruitfulness and failure. Fear and peace. Sadness and gladness. A chaotic intermingling of things that feel like contradictions.
The struggles are a reminder of our sin. “Cursed is the ground” because of our inherited sin, and natural disasters, whether small or large in scale, are a reminder of that first storm, the one that covered the earth in a flood of judgement. Death is likewise a reminder of our sin, that we don’t live in a perfect world, and this isn’t where we ultimately belong.
But at the same time, the storms are a reminder of God’s mercy, how He protects and that it is He who provides, especially when the hailstorm like we had two days ago leaves relatively little damage. And the fruit of our cultivating – be it flocks of chickens or herds of cows or a fruitful garden – are a reminder also of God’s grace and mercy and providence. And life – wild or tame – is also a reminder of God’s goodness and kindness to us, and His love for His creatures, human and animal.
“It’s just what it does.”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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