Back in the saddle

Posted on August 19, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

Got back yesterday afternoon from a four-day trip to vaccinate calves and pregnancy check cattle. In total, we worked nearly 1000 cattle between Friday morning and yesterday evening, and we covered a lot of ground! I drove out to the permit west of Custer with Penny (Jack’s wife) on Thursday night to join the rest of the crew, and we were in the saddle by 7:30 the next morning.

It took a good couple of hours to round up the cattle, with a crew of about ten on horseback, a plane, and a Jeep, and once we had them in the corrals, sorting took another hour, and then four of us had to move about 50 yearlings to another part of the permit. Pretty sure I didn’t climb down off that horse until about 1:30 that afternoon. I haven’t ridden much at all lately, so I rediscovered some muscle groups I’d forgotten that I had…

Everything went quicker than expected Friday, so Saturday was a pretty easy day, packing up camp and heading to Wyoming, where Jack leases from a rancher over there. The heifer group (cows with heifer calves) were all out in Wyoming, 226 pair, and to get things going for Sunday, we brought in the herd Saturday afternoon. It was hot, dry, dusty, and we were ready to be done when we finished, let me tell you. It was a little stormy on the horizon, and we could see smoke from a couple of fires in the distance, from lightning strikes we assumed. But the cattle came in without incident, sorted nicely the next morning, and we were able to finish up another small group of cattle yesterday in the early afternoon. A good weekend’s work.

Working with ranchers and cowboys, I appreciate the gentleness with which they treat God’s creatures. We may just be getting steers ready for the meat market, or getting heifers ready to be bred, or preg checking a bunch of cows, but there is a gentleness and respect for the animals, and a desire to cause them the least trauma or discomfort. Rounding them up, running them through a chute, sticking them with needles, all that causes some level of stress to the animals, but the job is done quickly and efficiently. There is visible distress in the voices and on the faces of the crew when there is an animal suffering–A calf died at the permit, a “respiratory calf” that had a form of pneumonia, and the sober attitude had nothing to do with money lost on the calf, but everything to do with the little creature’s suffering. It is refreshing to see such gentleness towards God’s creatures–That gentleness is, I think, a sign of real strength.

The visit to Wyoming was eye-opening. I’d never been to Wyoming before, and it is some beautiful, desolate country. Green this year, but just so big–So much of it! And so open. The things that seemed to thrive were sunflowers, rattlesnakes, horned toads, and rabbits–Lots and lots of rabbits.

Being on horseback isn’t conducive to taking pictures, but I managed to sneak just a few. I missed one really fantastic photo opportunity, with the sun coming up over the corrals, and the dust rising like mist around the cattle, sifting through the fences, and partially obscuring the cowboys sorting the herd. It was really beautiful. But the dust was really awful.

I leave tomorrow morning around 5:30 to head to Nebraska for more vaccinating and preg checking, and I’ll get back on Thursday evening. Good to be back in the saddle, even if only for a week and a half.

April | In Hindsight

Posted on May 1, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

May has come in with a flurry and flash–With her comes true spring weather, which in turn brings gardening and tourists. April flew by–Too fast almost, but it was a good fast. The close of April welcomes our third month in South Dakota, and closes out the earliest pages of this new life adventure.

Throughout the move and the transition here, God has provided in amazing ways. He’s provided us with a new church home, with families there that are like-minded Believers. He’s provided jobs for each of us girls: Anna has a job at Rushmore Cave, Sarah has a job at Dakota Greens Nursery, and I’ve been working for Jack Dye on his ranch and at the Hill City Mercantile. We’ve been spending lots of time with one another, as well as with our extended family, particularly my grandmother. It has been a delight to be able to just walk up the hill to her house, or to run over in the evening for a movie night. She loves the Little House on the Prairie TV series. She has excellent taste.

Although when we decided to move, I was completely on-board, I had my moments of doubt. Some of those concerns related to being twenty-four years old and completely starting over, being a graduate in music but really wanting to take time to self-search and pursue some other things, traveling forty-five minutes to get to church (the concern that our church community would all be that far away), etc.

It is generally expected that finishing college launches a graduate into a career, that the graduate arrives at the end of their degree with fully formed ambition, and goals for the future that relate directly to the degree. But what if they don’t? What if the graduate arrives at the end of college a little befuddled, unsatisfied with conventional wisdom, and with highly unconventional ideas of the future? Bloom where you’re planted.

The crabapple tree in this picture is a late bloomer. Our little valley stays cooler than other places in the Hills, so our fruit trees and this tree are just beginning to wake up from winter. Other trees in the region are already a blaze of color, their blossoming branches spreading high, full of leaves and the promise of abundant fruit. This little tree is taking its time–Whether circumstance or Providence decreed that this tree would bloom late, it doesn’t matter. The tree will blossom. It took five and a half years of college for me to figure out what my true passions are, and to realize what I truly find thrilling and joy-giving in life, to begin to understand some of the deepest God-given longings of my heart. I expect it will take longer, a lifetime, to figure out how best to use those passions in a manner that brings glory to God, and how to fit them together into a cohesive whole.

I could worry about convention, I could worry about what people will think, and I could spend time feeling silly for “dabbling” when it is expected that I pursue a “career” instead, or at least something within my field of study. I could feel a little foolish for being so eager to do smelly, unappealing cattle work (I’ll mention CIDRs again), when I should logically be doing something different. Or I could desire to pursue things that God has made possible, doors that he has opened, and seek to be useful and productive even while I’m dabbling.

In this past month (or two months–I’ll lump March in for this “Hindsight” musing), I’ve learned more about horses and cattle than I ever knew, I’ve been introduced to the fascinating work of artificial insemination, I’ve ridden horses more than I’ve ever ridden in my life, I’ve learned how to run a cash register, I’ve learned what a fat quarter is (a quilting term!) and how to assemble them, I’ve hiked a mountain, began learning how to drive stick, and my list could go on. Those fears I had have been relieved. I’ve found work that I love, we have church friends just seven miles away, and the chance to start over and reevaluate seems less daunting than it did. Never would I have thought that I’d be riding horses and herding cows a couple of months after graduating in music, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. We judged the homeschool Speech and Debate tournament a week or so ago, and went to the Volunteer Fire Department chili feed. We went to a wild game potluck at Rainbow Bible Ranch, hosted by the Reinholds, another homeschool family. We’ve spent time with cousins on both sides of the family, relishing having family so close. We’ve gotten plugged in with a church and have begun the work of putting down roots. God is good.

Here’s a beautiful passage of Matthew 6 to ponder:

²⁵“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? ²⁶Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? ²⁷Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

²⁸“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. ²⁹Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. ³⁰If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? ³¹So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ ³²For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. ³³But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. ³⁴Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Music?

Posted on April 29, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

Not that it has been terribly difficult or anything, but there are two answers to questions I’ve been getting used to giving. The first is “No, I’m actually a lot older than I look,” and the second is “I studied music in college.”

The first answer usually extracts some sort of puzzled or embarrassed stare, accompanied by (if it is a woman) “You’ll be thankful in twenty years.” To which I respond mentally, “Maybe, but men in my age bracket must assume I’m in middle school.” Whatever.

The second answer can actually encourage some interesting conversation. I’ve noticed that in this region of the country there is a great degree of open-mindedness about how you choose to use your college degree, if at all. Philosophy majors becoming sheep shearers. Professors of funeral services retiring to own fabric stores in tourist towns.

Yesterday evening I was with two guys I work with, and we had just finished riding heat on a herd of cattle for breeding purposes. Because our boss is in Alliance this week breeding for his brother, a breeder from another outfit was coming by to breed the three cattle that had come into heat yesterday morning. He arrived and within probably fifteen minutes had bred the cows. He’s efficient. I’d seen him around but hadn’t ever talked to him.

He peeled the shoulder-length, manure-covered glove off his left arm and threw it in the trash barrel, and put out his right hand. “I’m David.”

I smiled back. “I’m Laura.”

“Will you be around all summer?”

“On and off–It kind of depends on the hay crop, but I’ll be around here on and off this summer. I live pretty close.”

He nodded. “Going to school in Rapid?”

I laughed. “No, I’m actually quite a bit older than I look. I just graduated college.” I could have given him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he meant at the School of Mines–But last time I did the like, the person I was talking to became very confused later on.

“Oh–Okay. What did you study?”

I grinned, maybe a little sheepishly. “Music.”

“Music?” He shook with a laugh. “Boy, I bet you didn’t see much of this studying music.”

Men up to the shoulder inside a cow, all of us covered in dust, manure everywhere? You probably don’t even want to know what a CIDR is, and did you know that bull semen is kept frozen in nitrogen? You’d better wear gloves when handling it or you’ll get frostbite on your fingers. And what in the world is a gomer bull? I’d never herd of such a thing. Not studying music, that’s for sure!

David then launched into a conversation with Sean about how he got a little carried away on his four-wheeler chasing cows, and bowled one over twice. Cows are surprisingly resilient. Turns out you can drive a four-wheeler right over one and not even hurt it.

But the question remains: Music? I’ve wondered about my choices so far–Why did I pursue university studies for five and a half years, in music of all things, to then end up herding cattle and cutting fabric out in the Black Hills? Was it short-sightedness on my part? Were those five and a half years wasted?

Sure, I could be cynical and answer “yes” to those last questions. But I could also be faithful–While studying at the university, I believed God had put me there for a reason. Perhaps I’ll never know the answer, but whatever the reason was, he chose to open certain doors, provide certain financial support, and ordered circumstances that allowed me to develop a skill and talent that I really love. Do I want to pursue it full-time? No. Do I want to pursue it professionally? No. Was my time then wasted? Again, no. I was able to spend five and a half years pursuing the arts, music, singing, composition–What a privilege! That can never be taken away, regardless of how I use the slip of paper in the future. And now I’m herding cattle and cutting fabric in the place that is dearest to my heart of any place in the world, and I can honestly say I’ve never been more content. God is good.

God doesn’t always reveal to us the whys of our lives. Probably a good thing that he doesn’t. If he did, it wouldn’t take any faith to trust him.

A Little Rain

Posted on April 28, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

Every time I drive to work, whether to work in the foothills herding cattle or to work in the heart of the Hills cutting fabric, I’m thankful for being here. But today, the drive was really a joy. The wet and mist and the low hanging clouds cast a spell over the Hills. Familiar landscape was shrouded and obscured, and the breath of clouds was heavy in the trees.

Unfortunately, South Dakota sort of lives in a perpetual drought. Maybe there have been a few years of plentiful moisture (last year, for instance), but drought is nothing new to this region. You’ll know that if you’re familiar with Laura Ingalls and her family’s struggles in the eastern part of the state. Up until this weekend, we’d gotten very little moisture this year. My uncle said that Rapid City is currently about two inches short on precipitation. However, this weekend has brought at least enough moisture to green things up. Ranchers had been getting worried about hay production and summer pastures for their cattle–Hopefully this is putting us on the right track.

But regardless of how much precipitation we have gotten over the past few days, the scenery has been more brilliant, and the low-hanging clouds are mesmerizing, thanks to what little rain we’ve gotten. The damp brings out the richness of the greens and browns and greys, and the frogs were singing loudly in this little pond when I drove by today. I’ve always loved fog–this is simply haunting.