Each day I start with a cup of coffee in my office. I have a window where I observe the outside world waking up with me. Outside of the window is one of two trees. For reasons unknown this tree has the life of the whole yard. The birds nest there. The cats play in this tree, and the dogs nap under the tree.
The office is also where my daily planner is and all other business related items. My daily planner reminds me of the choices I made on the previous Sunday. Each Sunday I sit down and plan out a week.
The plans include what jobs will be done on the place such as fixing fences, training dogs or horses, building things and tearing down things. My planner also holds all the important dates for the sheep farming business, such as breeding dates, lambing dates and when to vaccinate or deworm. I also record when ewes lamb in my planner.
Along with work related reminders, I have planned out our meals. Meal planning helps schedule an easy to make dinner on a really busy day or perhaps just left overs from the day before. The planning of meals assists with grocery shopping, one of my least favorite activities. How can something cost so much and just disappear in a week? It was worse when there were children in the home.
Yes, I start each day, not having to think or schedule, just enjoy. Enjoy the view from my window as I and the world around me wakes up. Today, I say a cat playing in the tree, racing around the branches hoping to catch a bird off guard for a tasty meal.
After his scampering among the branches, he took to watching, just as I was. Yes, the window is dirty.
While pregnant with my second child, I wanted a rocking chair to rock my baby. I searched yard sales to find one. I could not afford to purchase a rocking chair new. Finally I my searching was rewarded with locating a bentwood rocking chair with maroon covered back and seat. There were scratches on the woodwork, and the covering was not plush as when new. But it was sturdy, able to perform the purpose it was created for. And I could afford the price. I took my treasure home.
I placed the rocking chair in the main part of the living room, center of all the family activity. I rocked my baby even before we met each others eyes. In the rocking chair I rocked my second child, third and fourth.
The rocking chair became the place where I read books to the small children while nursing the fourth child. The rocking chair would support the weight of all five of us, as children hang on mom and the chair when I was reading. Them saying, “I need to see the pictures.”
As the children grew, we could not all be supported by the rocking chair. But mom and a child could. The rocking chair was moved to the quiet part of the main living room. There each day, mom and child, would have a quiet time of being held and loved.
Years move on and the child and mom time becomes the catch up on the day time. After school, each child took a turn telling mom about their day. The new kid at school, how they got a perfect score on a test, or sometimes the test score was not so good. We would rock and talk.
Children grow and become teenagers. The talks in the rocking chair became less often. The conversations shifted to friendships that struggled or a heart felt interest, and dreams of after graduation.
Time does not sit still like the rocking chair does in a corner collecting dust. The children have become young adults with jobs and first loves. Not much time to sit with mom and talk about their day.
I do not know what happened with the rocking chair after the children left home. I know it was a little wobbly and covered with scratches. The padded seat had been recovered once with a patterned material.
I did not think the children thought much about the rocking chair and time spent with mom until I received a phone call one day from my second son. He and his wife made a decision to get divorced and he was hurting inside. “Mom I wish I could just sit on your lap in the chair the way we used to when things were not going well. I wish I was with you in the rocking chair.”
Sometimes it is the plain and small things that make such a difference in the lives of children.
Computers are an invention that is to make our work easier and faster than the old fashion method of paper, pen and postal service. We can send a message in seconds instead of weeks.
The internet which requires a computer or smart phone to access allows us to share or gain information across the globe, instead of from our local community. News travels in seconds not months.
I use the computer and internet to write this blog. I research the internet for information regarding my sheep and other interests. I have meet wonderful people on the internet, including my awesome husband.
This week I have been putting the financial information together to file the required taxes in the United States. I worked as a bookkeeper, using pen and paper to records business money transactions for others. I learned to use the awkward and frustrating programs that first appeared with computers being used for record keeping. And I have used a computer program for my personal financial record keeping for the past thirteen years.
I procrastinate. I dislike record keeping, so I put off months of record keeping to do in one or two days. Which works out to recording all the transactions in three settings of two days of work at the computer, instead of doing it daily. At tax time is the final push for getting everything entered and starting on the current year. I run the reports and print off necessary information to file the tax return.
This year inputting the last of the receipts into the program, the computer “crashed”. Yes, years of work gone in the blink of an eye. Computer no longer works or runs correctly. The screen of various neon colors and flashes assorted images. It is an old computer. After working hard for me the past seven years, the computer has gone senile. It will rest in peace somewhere, on a shelf in the closet. As with the computer’s current state of “mind” I will be unable to wipe its memory and dispose of it properly. Yes, my faithful computer has become a dust collector for the top shelf in the closet.
Due to my paranoia of someone obtaining my financial information and using stealing what few finances I possess, I have always kept our financial record keeping on a computer that does not ever get to play with the internet. The one used for the internet searches and information sharing never gets to know my financial records keeping.
I did contemplate returning to my roots of paper and pen to record all my financial expenses and income and miscellaneous records. The thought of how much time and work is required in keeping track of expenses and income is with such a method. I would not have time to do what I enjoy doing. Yes, the computer does make it easier and faster than paper and pen.
A new era has dawned, I only have one computer now. I realized two years ago, my financial information is on the internet. With everything being paid by auto pay, bill pay and other means. The information is out there somewhere in the great expanse of the world wide web.
So, after an hour spent downloading the program, I am set to enter the entire year of financial receipts and deposits a second time.
My husband is visiting his sister, Ms. S, and family. I mention his sister as she is ill, cancer. The doctors have not informed her of how advanced the cancer is. Their sister, Mrs. L, knows, but no one has informed the patient, Ms. S. This is not a happy visit of catching up on family doings.
It is the last visit.
The discussion among the siblings is do we tell Ms. S or do we not tell Ms. S, how advanced the cancer is. A tough decision.
In the movie “The Alamo” produced by John Wayne, a character named Preacher tells a young man, “The good Book says everybody dies. The when and how, only the good Lord knows.”
When faced with death, we reflect on our lives. What regrets do we have? Dreams unfulfilled? Accomplishments? Successes?
I have some regrets, but hindsight is always 20/20, perfect vision. One regret is not spending more time with my children when they were small. My children do not think I neglected spending time or doing things with them. I look back and realize how few years we had together, and selfishly I want more memories.
There are dreams I had as a young person that will not come to pass. As a young person my dream was to be a veterinarian, I wanted to be able to help animals. I did not complete college to get a degree in veterinarian medicine, and I will not ever complete the schooling. However, I do veterinarian work with my own animals. Yesterday, I had to take care of an injured goat. I may not have doctor attached to my name, but I do medical procedures on my own animals, so in a way I am a veterinarian.
My Last Appaloosa Foal, Sparkle Lilly, 6 months age.
As an adult, my big dream was to raise an Appaloosa World Champion. I will not experience raising an Appaloosa World Champion. But daily I enjoy my two Appaloosa horses. I am proud of the horses I raised through my life. Last spring, I saw my last foal come into the world, a beautiful filly. My preferred coloring on an Appaloosa, a bay with a blanket. I asked two of my granddaughters to name her, one said “Sparkle” the other, “Lilly”. I combined the two names, Sparkle Lilly, only to be educated by my youngest granddaughter I named my foal after a “My Little Pony” figure and cartoon character.
I still dream of raising a champion, only it is with my sheep. I work towards the goal with each lambing and every purchase of a new ram or ewe. I still have dreams I am working at each day.
I have touched the lives of others encouraging and inspiring them to reach for their dreams and enjoy the trip. I touched many youth with the horsemanship clinics and lessons through the years. I worked with youth and adults to learn leather craft, ceramics and other activities. Always encouraging them to be the best they can be for themselves, not for others.
In competition, regardless of how many are in the class, there is always only one first place, and always one last place. The placing in the competition is not as important as how you felt about your performance. I would meet with my young riders and ask how they felt about their performance. I wanted to know their thoughts on what they did better than last time, how was the communication with the horse, all the high points they felt they did. Then I would ask, what do you want to work on next and why? The important answer was why.
Today is the only day we have to live. Tomorrow is not here. Each day I let my husband know I love him. I call my children and grandchildren often, I want them to know I love and care for them. I do my chores, care for my animals, do the things that bring me joy, and take care of the necessary things required to live life today (cooking, cleaning and laundry…lol).
Everyday, I ask myself” What do I want to improve on and why?” Why do I want to learn more cooking recipes and techniques? Why do I choose those vegetables to plant? or Why do I want to plant that type of tree?
I want to meet death while living. I have expressed this to my husband and my children. I want to be doing the things I love to do.
Bald Eagles in a tree, parent and fledgling ready to fly.
The bald eagle raises its young in very tall trees. When the fledglings grow they start jumping from one limb to another. Then one day, the parent eagle pushes them out of the tree, they have to learn to fly. While the young eagle is learning to fly, they also start learning to hunt for food. I have seen parent eagles take their young to the lake. The eagle float above the water, then dives, totally submersed below the surface, only through violent splashes of wings gains altitude with a fish in its claws. To a tree branch with their meal, only the parent eagles no longer share with the young, the young must learn to hunt. After several clumsy dives and resurfacing, the young eagles have a fish. They have successfully hunted.
I love motherhood. I would be so excited discovering I was pregnant. This little person developing and growing inside, totally dependent on me, and we are totally connected. I would have what my doctor and I called the “pregnancy flu” as morning sickness was all day and all night for twelve weeks. Then smooth sailing until about month 7 or 8 when their constant “rumbles” would make my ribcage sore. But I truly love being a mother.
Then the day would come, I would go into labor. I choose to deliver without any pain medications at all, nothing. I am over sensitive to medications, any type of pain relief puts me to sleep. I wanted to be awake for the birth of my baby. With each contraction I was one contraction closer to seeing the eyes of the little one I have been cherishing for nine months. Yes, that was my focus during labor.
I would say nothing during the labor, except “I think it is time to push.” My doctor did not like “silent mothers” as he could not tell how close the birth was without examining. He did not like to disturb a mother in labor, unless he had to. When I would say, ” I think it is time to push.” he would get ready to catch the baby. Once the baby was delivered, the doctor placed he or she directly into my arms, “Good job mom, now clean him or her up.” No nurses touched my babies first, I had the joy of being the first person my little one’s eyes saw, the first one to touch and clean them up. The greatest joy and most precious memory is looking into my child’s eyes for the very first time.
They were no longer totally connected to me. Although they were dependent for food and care, they were now in the world and separated from the warmth and protection my body gave them. I had to let go a tiny bit, so they could learn to fly.
I am amused and giggle when I hear a first time parent say, ” I can’t wait for little Sally to learn to walk.” I tell them to cherish the time they are not mobile, as that is the easiest stage of life, you can find them. But babies grow and soon they are mobile, first crawling, then walking and running. I had to search for my busy little children. They loved to learn and explore, as well play their favorite game, hide and make mom seek. I had to let go a little bit more, so they could learn to fly.
When they started kindergarten, I cried for a week. In a blink of an eye they were going to school. Where had the time gone? They were excited going to school, meeting new friends and learning. I had to reluctantly let go some more, so they could learn to fly.
Then came basketball games, volleyball games, band concerts, choir performances and theater productions. Trips won by art contests. A flurry of excitement, and the starting of dating, loves and heart break. With four children, I felt more like a taxi driver than a parent. They spent more time with their interests than they spent with me. Still I had to let go of them a little more, seemed I did not have much left to hold onto, but they needed to learn to fly.
Graduation, when did they get that old? The time flew by making the years feel like a few days. Off to college or starting a life of their own. I had to fight myself to let them totally go, as they had learned to fly. Where they soar to is their choice, their destination and their destiny.
As parents, we have a few short years to guide and teach our children to make wise and good choices. Each accomplishment we celebrate with joy, but we also are letting go a little more, as they are learning to fly.
All my children have flown. We are still connected by heart bond, so I am not totally alone. I now watch as my children learn to let their children go, as my grandchildren learn to fly.
My cousin, Melba, and I talked last night about our parents. Her nephews are asking their grandmother questions about their grandfather of family history. Melba mentioned to them, they needed to ask about their grandmother’s history as it is very different and interesting. Melba’s mother and my father were siblings. They were born into a very poor family at the beginning of the Great Depression.
My dad told me a story he thought was humorous about when he was a small child. His family was picking fruit or vegetables in southern Texas. He heard on the radio the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and the men in charge were worried and upset. He ran to his dad, “Dad, we need to hide the Japanese are coming!” His dad told him to calm down, and asked a few questions, then started laughing. “Son, the Japanese are not going to bomb us, Texas is a very long way from Pearl Harbor.” My dad thought the planes were going to bomb him and his family at any moment.
Melba shared when her mom was little she loved to go grocery shopping with her mother as she picked out the flour, based on the color pattern of the sack. Her dresses were made from flour sacks. As a teenager, her mom no longer wanted to go shopping with her family, as they were really poor and she was embarrassed to be seen with them.
Melba could not understand her mother being embarrassed to be with her family. I reminded Melba to look at the situation from her mother’s perspective. Young ladies future was in who they would marry. There were not job opportunities as today. Her mom and my mom were restricted to being a teacher, nurse, or secretary as jobs for descent respectable women. If her mother wanted to get out of poverty, the best way was to marry a man with more money than her family. If she was seen with her poor family, her chances of getting a young man from a middle class or higher economic status to look at her as a potential wife would be less to zero.
Our mothers had very different pressures on them, than we did and our children have. The primary goal for our mothers was to find a man to be a husband, someone to provide a comfortable life for them and to have children for the man. Our mothers told us that was what was expected of them when they graduated from high school.
My father started working at age 12 to help support the family. He and his older brother would work in the crop fields and orchards in California up to Washington. Her mother would watch the young brother while her mother worked in the fields. In the winter they would return to New Mexico, and attend school. My dad and his brother would miss half of the school year to work logging or hunting or some other day labor type job to assist in supporting the family. Her mom was allowed to attend school daily.
My mom received piano lessons, not for cultural education, but for monetary reasons. Her dad and brother were a country band and they needed a piano player. After a few lessons, mom learned to play by ear. She was playing in the band at age 12 years every weekend. Her younger sister at age 9 years was singing. The money the band playing brought in helped support the family. The family band did start a family history of music through the grandchildren and great grandchildren. A legacy of my mother’s father.
My parents were adults when they bought their first televisions and have a telephone in the house. I grew up with a black and white television and a telephone attached to the wall with the receiver was connected by a short cord and party lines with four or six other families. On party lines you had to count long and short rings to determine if the call was for you or someone else. Long distant calls cost money, you could only call friends who lived in your small area of the town you lived in. I was an adult with children when we could walk around the house with a telephone in hand and you could call within the state before it was long distance. Today, I have a cell phone, with no long distance charges except out of country.
Grandparents are an important key in the history and genealogy of families. Grandparents remember the family stories, family history and have life experiences with actual historical events. My Uncle recorded some of their dad’s life experiences and songs he used to sing on a cassette. Unfortunately, none of us are able to listen to the tapes, as we do not have cassette players, but the tapes are still cherished. Today, we can record videos on our cellphones, saving the history and stories in digital form for future generations.
February is when people focus on their love for others and themselves. At the end of every year, I do a self reflection of the year and my life. I have thirteen grandchildren, with one on the way and one in planning.
The sad part is I live so far away from my children and grandchildren. There are times, I feel I do not know my grandchildren, but mostly they do not know me.
On resolution I made for 2022 was to write letters to my grandchildren. To share with them stories of the parents’ childhood and mine. The share memories.
I realize we have email and texting, but that is not the same as getting a letter, just for them in the mail. Think, what do people usually get in the mail? We pay our bills online, very few get paper statements. I get advertisements, credit card and insurance sales pitches, nothing personal.
I remember when my children would get a birthday invitation from a friend in the mail. They were so excited and that was back in the day when mailing something was common. How much more exciting would it be today for a child to get a handwritten letter from their grandmother who lives far away?
I decided to hand write the letters. Hand written letters are not seen with the common use of computers. The easy pecking of the keys to put thoughts on a screen, make a mistake just delete or the computer automatically fills in the words for you.
A hand written letter takes thought to compose the idea and artfully draw the letters on to the paper. The action of writing the letters, words and thoughts is time consuming, but special when received. Each person has a distinct way of moving the pen or pencil to create lines, letters and words forming thoughts. Hand written letters will be giving an actual piece of myself to my grandchildren.
Perhaps I am old fashion, I am definitely older. I remember writing letters and receiving letters from my grandparents. I felt so grown up and special when I opened the letter addressed to me.
Perhaps, some old fashion ways of doing things should not be taken away due to technology and advancements.
I am a sheep farmer. I enjoy being a sheep farmer. I raise Dorper sheep which originated in South Africa and were introduced into the United States in 1993. Dorper sheep are a hair sheep breed raised for meat. Hair sheep do not need to be sheared as they shed off their winter coat. In my day to day chores, my helper is my dog, MHT Hank, registered border collie. I just call him Hank and he has become my best ranch hand.
Today, Hank did an awesome job assisting with the sorting or pulling of lambs off of the ewes. Once he understands the job at hand, I give very few commands. He and I work as a team. Now I could use alleys and chutes and a sorting gate, but I do not own a sorting gate. Hank and I go into the pen, separate some lambs, and herd them through the gate into another pen. Team work at its best.
MHT Hank holding sheep in a corner while I look them over.
I spent six months searching the internet and talking with people on locating a herding border collie puppy. I found a cattleman and horse trainer who only has one litter a year located in Colorado. I know nothing about bloodlines of border collies, but I really like the videos showing the parents working and the man’s philosophy on training horses on his website
I purchased MHT Hank at six weeks of age. When he was eight weeks he arrived from Colorado to Dallas, Texas by airplane. Puppies have to grow up before they can start learning to herd, but there are lessons they can learn as puppies.
If you want to learn to use herding dogs, have someone teach you first with a trained dog, before attempting to train one yourself. I did not do that, Hank and I learned together. I did however find a herding dog trainer that is extremely good at training and teaching, Faansie Basson. I paid for two lessons with Faansie Basson.
With two lesson and a DVD, I set about to train my first border collie to work. Thankfully Hank possesses enormous amount of natural ability and instinct for herding. I learned from me and I learned from Hank. His trainability is super, and when I figured I did something wrong, he would change to do things correctly.
People ask me how long does it take to train a border collie to herd. It takes six to eight months to teach a dog the commands. The dog has to work two years to gain experience and solidify the commands to work as a real team, with few commands. And a few dogs will learn their job so well, hardly any commands are needed, these are an exception and MHT Hank is one of those dogs.
Today, we sorted off lambs from the ewes as it was weaning time. The work is so much easier with a great ranch hand working with you. Good working border collies sale for $5,000 to $7,000 USD, and some well above that. For me, no amount of money can purchase by partner, MHT Hank.
amtolle
P.S. One year, hoping for 2023, MHT Hank and I will compete at the Meeker Classic Sheep Dog Herding Trial.
Children are a joy and a blessing, but they also teach adults a few things. Adults think children are to be guided and taught. When my children were at home, life was very busy, school, work and after school programs. I did not want to hinder my children learning who they were and what they wanted to become. They participated in sports, choir and theatre as well as 4-H and horse activities. Added to the mix of activities was animals.
One fall day, their aunt brought over a gift for the kids, two tarantula spiders, she found crossing her driveway. We had an empty aquarium from the time we had fish. We set up the aquarium to be a home for the tarantulas. Next was a stop at the library to learn how to care for their new pets. We studied the books as a family, learning some interesting facts, like tarantulas are the oldest species of spiders, their fangs do not come together they have to stab them into their victim by raising up and pouncing on them. Tarantulas do not eat dead bugs, the bugs have to be alive.
Challenge number one, it is fall and freezing nightly temperatures, there are no bugs to catch to feed the tarantulas. We called the local pet store to find bugs, they did not carry crickets or any type of bug to feed to our new pets. The kids started reading because of them said they read where you can feed hamburger to tarantulas instead of bugs. Information was found, the person has to get the hamburger to stay on a string and drag the hamburger in front of the spider until it pounces on the meat. The kids and I learned patience in developing the skill of attaching the hamburger to the string, then dragging it to make it act like a living bug so the spiders would eat.
We also learned our tarantulas were males. Once a year, when the male tarantulas are mature they go on a march to find females in their dens. Only the males go wandering around. About three months of feeding the tarantulas one was found dead. Why did it die? It was eating, it had water and was warm. Back to the library to recheck out the books. Through no fault of our own the spider died, and two weeks later the other one died. When the male tarantula matures, he searches for a mate. When he does find a mate, after courtship she kills him. If he does not find a mate, he will die anyway.
The adventure with the tarantulas taught me to not say “Yes” to the request of a new pet until we as a family learned about the animal first.
The following fall, my oldest daughter’s class had iguanas for classroom pets. She wanted an iguana and said mom they are vegetarian, they only eat vegetables we will not have to put hamburger on a string to feed them. To the library again. We learned iguanas use their tails as a weapon and adult iguanas can cause physical harm with their tails and claws. The answer to my daughter’s request was “No”.
We had fun learning about the different animals my children thought they wanted for pets. Several times, after reading and learning, they made the choice to not have the animal as a pet. I learned from our experience with the tarantulas, not to accept a free pet no matter how small.
I share these stories with my grandchildren. Sometimes they are upset because mom and dad will not let them have an animal for a pet. I take them to the library and let them learn about the animal first. Most of the time, the grandchildren learn the reason their parents said no, without having bad feelings towards their parents. Another plus, the grandchildren are reading and learning, and not watching television or video games.
amtolle
P.S. I was terrified of spiders until we had the tarantulas. I still do not like spiders, but I can tolerate their presence.
It is cold outside. The storm arrives on schedule yesterday, according to the weather person. We had rain, slow, drizzly cold rain. After the sun set behind the clouds and temperatures started dropping, the rain turned to sleet. The rain and sleet froze to everything, coating our little world in ice.
Sometime during the night, the snow started falling and has continued through the day.
The Pasture covered in snow, trees covered in ice.
Chores took longer. Covered head to toe in warm layers of clothing hinders my movements creating a need for more effort even to walk. Breaking the ice covered water troughs so the animals can drink adds to the work load.
Ewes and Lamb in the shelter waiting for feed.
I watch the weather daily to keep informed of incoming storms. I like to be prepared to take care of my sheep and other animals. All the animals are handling the storm well. Providing a dry place located out of the wind with plenty of feed to keep them warm.
During and after chores, some of my helpers wanted to play.
Livestock Guard Dog, Sis, wanting to play.
It is cold and slippery for me. I go inside to warm up
amtolle
P.S. All photos I took. I wish the sun was brighter or shining to really show the clear ice on the trees and bushes.
Me, Myself and I 