My name is Linda Brown. I live on a farm on the western slope of Colorado, in the high mountain desert. I’ve lived here all my life, hailing back four generations on my father’s side. Today I blog about our farm, the everyday activities that keep the farm going. I also write about my thoughts and dreams and goals. On Friday’s I always write about TLC Cai-Cai. Our sweet kitty who helps keep the farm safe. And Boo Berry Betty, a breeder dog learning to be a Farm Dog!
The lovely thing about blogging it opens the world up for all of us to reach out and meet people from many different cultures and different ways of life. You can find me every day (but Saturday) at https://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com/
Your Friend on a Western Colorado Farm,
Linda Brown
Cranes lifting up, flying high into that glorious sunlight of a winter sky
While snow clouds hover over Grand Mesa, lighthearted sunbeams light up our fence line
Then clouds, thick and heavy settle down, suddenly pushing through a ragged-edged cloud a burst of merry sunshine — with Mindy Cat on top of the woodpile
The evening sun bounced and stuttered between the buildings…seeping, carefully and sparkling onto the woodpile and the fence beyond.
Although, I know something Mom really doesn’t know.
Boomer isn’t very far away.
Mom said she wonders if we animals live with the gift of ‘seeing’ and ‘knowing’ the other side.
Because of that knowing it isn’t so very hard for us to slip on over,
although, having to leave our furry bodies can be a tad rough.
Outside, where I truly like to live, it is still winter.
Some days the sun warms everything up nicely, somedays the heavy snow takes the joy from the warm.
Mice are still abundant. Mice are my favorite food. They never really seem to become sparse, although I do work at keeping them thinned out.
The coyotes are terribly brave. They come yipping and yapping in the yard, running down the farm road, they know our farm is just air and darkness, at night.
They know we are dog-less.
I weary of the coyotes, as does Mom.
Still, Life Goes On, the wind continues to blow, sometimes soft, sometimes a gale.
The moonlight filters through the tree branches, making the shadows look like cobwebs.
I feel and know that Boomer is here. Maybe not all the time, maybe not as much as he once was, for sure not like he was before he passed over the Rainbow Bridge, but still here.
Boomer, Mom, and I love you. We really do. Thank you for coming to help me. Your rare gifts of protection have been proof that you are here.
Life on a Colorado Farm 