Each Day a Brilliant Victory—Thursday, August, 17, 2017

Each  day we are moving closer and closer to fall…there is a wee nip in the air come first light, enough to make Boomer, Sam and Mindy curl into balls to keep warm. Those silly furry things still want to sleep outside, but soon they will [all] choose the warmed of the house.

It was 51* f here (10.55 c) when we got up this morning.  Very odd for August.  More like September…late September.

Still the view on the farm is green and gentle; the mild air warming up to a soft and lovely warmth.

Terry is baling hay in the lingering dew…too much and the bales will rot, not enough and the leaves fall off the stem, making the hay useless.  So carefully, at just the right time, the dried alfalfa is gathered by the baler and smashed into bales spreading that fresh hay smell throughout the farm.

Then later in the day we—and yes it is a true ‘we’— have been working on laying steel for the extension to the other building.

And I have begun painting the trim on the house. I want to get it done so I can paint some of the lawn furniture.  I also need to go down to the other place and paint the old chicken house.  I’ve been wanting to do that for several years, but can never seem to get the time.  I’m hoping this is the year I can get it done!

Anyway, not much going on here with the crops…changing water the big thing and the consistent work.

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,


When God Speaks—-Wednesday, August 16, 2017

When asking to have time with the Universe I often walk upon the farm, or sit quietly amongst the flowers in the yard, and, of course, there are those ‘just before sleep’ times when communicating with a Power much higher than I helps me close down my brain and sleep.

But I have found that the answers do not come to you, if you, as the seeker do NOT have time to listen.  So I often seek out solitude — watching — for answers on the land, in the sky, or in the thoughts feeding my mind.

Three days ago Terry and I saw (the first photo) while we were up on the Rocky Point,  a slight sundog in the clouds ––a ‘slight’ cool down is coming in three days, so the old-timers say.  The weather people (for our area) are confirming that today will be slightly cooler than yesterday and the day before.

The announcement made me smile.

From my world to your heart,


When You Set your Life—-August 15, 2017

I have noticed over my years…that those, who seem to grow old are those who set their lives toward one goal

All their life is pointed into that one direction….working hard until the hilltop is reached.  But once there, nothing is left to do.  There isn’t a way to climb higher, the peak is now at hand…there is nothing really to do WITH the goal — maybe polish it a bit is all.  So the flame starts to die out—and age creeps in chilling the body and shrinking the soul.

To stay young…well, at least youthful, the need to keep goals warming your thoughts is a very good thing.

(At a tractor pull one October a few years back)

Our neighbor, who attaches to our farm on the south side, is an amazing example of how to stay young.  He is eighty, or very close to eighty; broke his hip last winter…worked until he could walk again— without aide, and is on oxygen.

(A photo taken awhile back…that junk is cleaned up now 🙂  )


He still farms!


We see him out there on his tractor doing all the things all farmers do…disking, plowing, planting, cultivating, opening rows for water, all those things.  He wife told me he told her:  “Farming makes me happy!”

(Taken one day close to harvest a year or so ago)

I’ve thought of that statement a lot this spring and summer…the nice thing about farming is (to us, Terry and I and to our neighbor) the beacon on the mountain top— the goal is still out there, still attainable, the leaping blood of youth still warming the body, mind and the soul.

Farming IS the goal.

(Current taken this week)

The work is still fun, the days still full of wonder, the evening water checks still something beautiful, the first light of the day a marvel to behold.

So I guess the whole secret to staying youthful is staying happy.  For Terry and I in our ancient years…we can truthfully say, like our neighbor, “Farming make us happy!”

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,





That Wonderful Light and Hollow Feeling—Monday, August 14, 2017

Way back in June I sat about making a couple of Hummingbird swings….

I hung them and waited…and waited…and waited…then last night

As the sun faded quickly from the heavens, and the night air scented with the smell of Four O’clocks and sweet Lilies

Several of those tiny flying jewels tried out the swing!!!

I WAS DELIGHTED!  (to say the least 🙂 )

Then while I watched and waited, for that perfect photo, of a hummingbird on a swing…a little wasp decided to see what all the fuss was about.  I had to laugh-out-loud as the joy that little swing has brought, not just to me, but those creatures living in our yard!

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,


All in a Day’s Work —- Wednesday, August, 9, 2017

The pinto beans are setting on and starting to fill out —harvest will be sometime in September

Since we leave all our windows open day and night, the house smells like fresh mown hay.  Third cutting…  time is passing quickly now

While Terry mowed the hay I mowed my lawn…it was in dire need of my attention! 🙂

Yesterday we hauled in gravel and spread it on the long, long lane from the farmyard to the road….also putting down gravel in the farm yard itself

Then the thing I hate to do worse than anything….is getting Terry out of a tight spot.

He went over to make a ditch, got stuck…I had to come over and pull him out…

When he is in a ditch like this I’m always afraid I will pull him ‘wrong’ and cause the tractor to tip over.

When I was young our neighbor did tip over and it killed him.   Then (when our kids were grown) Terry’s good friend was working on one of his ditches when his tractor tipped over and killed him.

Scary stuff…working on wet ditches!

Finally we made it to the end of the day…the water changed for the last time until first light.


It was time to watch a little TV, rest a spell before bed. to relax.

Boomer lay down beside my chair, while I worked on a needlepoint canvas.

The day finally …. finally coming to an end.

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,


The Story Begins Again and Again—-Tuesday, August 8, 2017

“Home is where our story begins, again and again.”—Christiane Belfaur

We finally got the time, the energy and the money together to start the new building we’ve been wanting since last fall.

Humberto and he crew arrived BRIGHT and early yesterday morning (6:30 to be exact)  Humberto owns the company!

The three guys who stayed here and worked for us were




extremely capable, and very, very good.

Mindy-Lou decided she had to help!

About 11:00 a.m they broke for lunch.

By 5:30 we had the fuel tank pad

And the new floor, of the new building (Terry and I will build—mostly Terry—you do understand) finished, sealed and drying.

They even dated it for us!

Wednesday they will remove the forms and cut the cement…then it is up to Terry and I for the rest of the story!

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,


The Perfect Stillness—-Monday, August 7, 2017

There….patiently waiting in my email was this lovely little note from Charlotte

Found in our garden in (Burgundy) France. Just out in the yard among the thousands of rocks in the courtyard.
X Charlotte

There…for her a perfect stillness, just waiting to be noticed.

Then for me…the solitude of a heart in nature.

Now…for you to share with us!

From my world to your heart,





In My Dreams—-Sunday, August 6, 2017

Yesterday was my Momma’s birthday.  If she were alive today she would have turned 88.

Saturday, August 5th, we woke to a world full of low, dark clouds, following a night of gusting wind and hard heavy rain.  Although, the clouds started to thin, my thoughts still remained heavy…sadly I was missing Momma.  ( I know that many of you can relate to this type of sorrow…the swirl of memories of that one person, whose heart beat alongside yours…right from the beginning.)

Ruth LaVerne Thomas

Often times throughout my life I was told that I looked like my Momma.


Looking back over old photos — at certain times and in certain ages I can see the similarities.  But I must confess I didn’t while I was growing up.  

Momma was one of those ‘good souls’.  She was gentle and kind and given to helping every animal who came within her reach. Maybe in today’s world she would have been a Veterinarian.

Often times ‘people’ would say of her Daddy…”He would give his shirt off his back to help you.”  Momma followed in his footsteps.

Momma gave all the little children who followed the fruit (people who came to pick fruit) clothes from our own closets, often times their very first (and only) birthday cake and a small party…those children remembering her kindly wrote to her for years and years…letters telling her about their marriages, the birth of their children…that first real job.   She treasured those letters.

She always, always told me life was full of turbulence and cares, which can make a heart heavy….we, as human beings, do not need to add to sorrows of another’s soul.

(My maternal grandparents and my parents had fruit orchards, which is where my brother and I grew up)

Her smile is the same as a older woman, as when she was a grade school child)

Ah, well, memories are wonderful! But they do have a tendency to cause my eyes to blur with tears — misting the day…even though the sun broke forth from the clouds.

Momma died August 10, 2000…her heart stopped; cutting her life’s threads, which bound her to this earth.

But the thing that gives me the most peace, about that most ordinary day, that wasn’t ordinary after all….was Momma was ready to go.

A few days before she died—- she had just returned from a long and wonderful trip to Ireland.  My brother took her.  They saw everything possible, spent a night in a castle, walked on that green, green Isle she dreamed of walking on all her life.

An old old dream of her heart.

She told me: “I am finally at peace, Linda. There is nothing more I want to see or do.  It is the most amazing, but odd feeling, to have nothing forward to accomplish.”

Hours later I was rushing to the hospital, following the ambulance…time passes slow when you NEED to GET THERE.

But finally I made it—Momma waited for me.  She also waited for my Brother…although she was in a coma. Then in the night’s heart she left.

I miss her still.  I always will.  I love you, Momma. I love you.

I know each of you understand.

From my heart to your world,