Rebuilding the Flock

Jerry and I drove the pick up and stock trailer out east to Manzanola early this morning and picked out new three ewe lambs. When we had decided to sell out that included our little sheep flock. And now that we're staying, well.....we need our sheep. These girls are Warhills (Rambouillet, Columbia, Targhee lineage) out of a Wyoming flock. We've always liked the herding qualities of Rambouillet. There's just something about having sheep around a place. In my mind anyway. The burro is Angel - and she is their guardian angel, literally. We've not had trouble with dogs or coyotes getting into the sheep with Angel watching over them.

It's - dare I say it? - unseasonably mild here on the Front Range this year. La Niña weather pattern, I'm told. Gorgeous but always with a touch of anxiety. What if we don't get our moisture? What if, what if.....who can say?

I'm all packed up and ready to travel north to Denver for a training all next week. My coworkers and I have busted our butts getting ready for the second half of this project that began 6 months ago. One of us is expecting a baby next week and another one is caught in Hurricane Tomas. We've got a huge presentation to give and half of us may be somewhere else....well, just pray for us, okay?

End of the Week Delight

Oh my gosh, it's Friday. How wonderful is that? My man is hunting the bull elk and will be gone for..... well, I don't really know how long he'll be gone. Until he gets tired of his buddy, David, I guess. I used to get jealous of hunting season (he spends more time hunting then we've ever had on a vacation) but now I enjoy having the house to myself. I cook something with lots of vegetables (he is not a fan of "green food"), take a bath, talk on the phone to girlfriends. It's fun until I start to miss him.

The good news is that our new pound puppy, Felicia, is settling in well. She chewed up the wicker loveseat that is on the back deck (the next stage after chewing up the cushions) but is trying real hard to relate to Miss May, our cat (who has returned, yay!). Felicia also took all our mudboots out through the doggie door and I had to spend some time finding them all in the yard when I did chores tonight.

I'm going out east to Lamar tomorrow to visit my baby daughter, Madeline. She's working at a feedlot and the long hours are making an impression on her. There's a great little antique store in town that is fun. I found a small Descoware dutch oven there last visit which I use with delight when mixing up cooked vanilla pudding. It will not stick to the bottom of that pan.

Felicia

I adopted a dog from the pound last week. She was very sweet, responsive, and quiet when I visited her there and seemed like the kind of animal who would fit in anywhere. They called her "Felicia" and we've kept that name because she looks like a Felicia might look. She was abandoned in an alley behind a business in Cañon City, tied to her doghouse. The photo above is Felicia on the first night in her new home. She was tired.

She's still very sweet and responsive. But.....she is always in motion. Always. Miss May, the cat, has been treed a couple of times and now I can't find her. And Felicia ripped up the porch cushions today - totally ripped them up, there is foam stuffing everywhere. She won't let the chihuahua be the Boss and he so loves to be that. He's been pouting. A lot. She took her blanket out through the pet door again, it's lying out in the yard somewhere. And she sleeps on any bed in any room with an open door. We've been used to older dogs who have better manners. Felicia is only seven months old and I guess we'll just have to get used to her energy.

I'm enjoying our walks - me, the chihuahua, and the Felicia. She doesn't tug on the leash and seems so happy to be out and about. She hasn't chased the chickens yet which is very mannerly of her. That probably comes later........

Small and Simple

I am back. That last post of mine was rather bleak, do you agree? I was standing back and judging my little life - and not all that favorably, either. Looking at another way of living and knowing that "This is it, Suzan. It's pretty nice all in all - if you don't let a judgmental attitude trivialize it". It has occurred to me that I like to blog about the smaller, pleasanter events of a life fully lived. It's healing for me.

I work at a mental health center - have for twenty plus years - and much of my work days involve other folks' sorrows. It's honoring work - I'm honored when people trust me with their suffering and allow me to teach them how to turn suffering into mere pain. When I come home I have to teach myself - over and over -how to let go of their pain and return to my own life. Some days I can do this easier than other days. I think maybe that last post was a day when I could just not shake off the day, week, month just past. On those days I wonder what it's all about, whether I'm any "good" at all. It's as if their suffering is somehow my fault - and, truly, I do know better. I know intellectually that I am not responsible - it's the emotional knowing that is more elusive.

It's a fine Fall day here in the southern Rocky Mountains. Worthy of my comment for sure.

The scrub oak are jewels of ruby, rust, and burnt orange. It's that very glorious time of year where the autumn mingles with the season just past. The air is clear and dry, the sky is that incredible blue, and the day is just cool enough to wear long sleeves. No freeze yet, but soon. The wood is stacked on the porch, pumpkins are waiting to turn ghoulish, and herbs in pots still soak up the now, decidely southern, sunshine. Cornstalks by the front door celebrate and boast of our bountiful year. Golden aspen leaves that turn in one short day and glow on the black soil when they fall.

Small, simple pleasures for sure. And today I treasure them.

Purpose

I think a blog should have a point, don't you? The fact of the matter is that my blog seems to have no point. In other words, who really cares what I made for supper or what I saw on my walk? Or how 'bout what I've knitted? THAT should be interesting reading. Whoo whoo! And those things pretty much sum up my days. Wait.....how about what I'm gathering in my garden??? That's a real turn on, isn't it??? Ahhh, come on. Don't you want to know??

I gotta think about this. It seems important to me that I write a blog that has meaning, imparts knowledge and wisdom. If I can't think of anything to write in those veins, does it mean that my life....has.....no......point? No wisdom? Egads. Mustn't go in that direction. No sir. Stay away from that.

Chop wood, carry water. Life's purpose. I mean, those little things that we do - and that so many of us, me included, have blogged on and on about with photos - really are the events of a lifetime. Somehow, all those short days of doing what we must do make up our lives. And somehow along the way we become wise to this. It's always been good enough for me. I dig knitting and garden produce. I just don't want to blog about it anymore.

Well, I'll think of something to write. What do you think? What's your life's purpose?

Squash Soup and Bettas

It's windier here today and I do hope that means some cooler, wetter, more Fall-ish weather. My garden is almost done and it's hard to keep enough water on it for the straggling zukes and carrots. There are three surprise cantaloupe growing, too. We have no idea how they got there because we've never grown cantaloupe in this high altitude garden. Gift cantaloupe. The seed must have come in with the butternut squash.

Jerry's bringing up some corn stalks and pumpkins this evening for porch decoration. Just to get into the autumnal spirit. And I've got butternut squash soup on the menu. It's a luscious, creamy concoction that is totally satisfying. I've thought of the creation of it from time to time today at work and it makes me happy. Kind of goofy, I know. But small delights make up a life, don't they? It's a fairly simple little recipe and adapts to however you like it. My daughter, Madeline, gets the credit for this version:

Squash Soup

2 cups of cooked squash

1 onion, chopped fine

3-4 cloves of garlic, minced

2 cups of vegetable or chicken broth

Marjoram, red pepper, nutmeg to taste

Salt and pepper, as you like

Saute the onion and garlic in a heavy pan. Add squash, broth, seasonings. Simmer gently for 15 or so minutes. Use food processor to puree'. Return to heavy pot and simmer for 10 more minutes. Add cream and more broth to get the consistency you prefer. Easy peasy! (It's especially good with cinnamon raisin toast on the side)

The little betta fish that I keep in my office is dying. It's his Time and now he is just languishing on the bottom of the tank. His brilliant blue body is faded to gray and he has been gasping a bit. Oh, the stories he has heard in his life here at the mental health clinic. My coworkers have been stopping in all day to pay their respects to Tick Tock. He has become a part of this passing harvest season, I think.

Full Sleeves for the Aged

So lately I've been having trouble with my forearms. They bruise and tear with the slightest of stress on them. Fishing on Hardscrabble Creek this past summer with all the attending willow brush has just been really hard on them. I've been going to work with bandaids on the rips and people are always focusing on the rather large, bright purple bruises. I keep assuring them that I do not have a blood disorder. Doc told me that it's common among older folks and that it is the result of years of sun damage. Well, these poor old forearms have really been nice to me all these years - and have I thanked them at all? I have tried to keep them covered in sunscreen for my adult life - but when I was a kid it hadn't been invented yet. All those sunburns playing in Lake Huron. Tsk, tsk.

Last Sunday night I looked around the 'Net for a solution. I googled "arm protectors" and found that they are called "Geri-Sleeves" - you know, like for the "geriatric" crowd? I have to admit that I was quite stunned. It floored me, knocked me for a loop...whatever. That Monday at work I felt like I was running, running from something quite horrible until the thought of those Geri-Sleeves popped into my awareness. Now I realize that there are parts of me that at 56 don't work as well as they used to and I'm getting quite comfortable with losing my waistline, my hair color, my teeth (on occasion I have dreams that I've lost them all and the last time this occurred it was all right by golly). But.....good God! How much of this degradation can a person tolerate??? Somehow I think the forearm thing is just the beginning.

So....I checked out Etsy.com and found an artist who makes "arm warmers" . I ordered the "Namaste" pair and a turquoise pair. Very cool, not at all geriatric. I might even go for the full sleeve tattoo look. I'm not running, I'm adapting.