A thousand tiny minutes and lots of sewing (and taking out)
I got another quilt done. Those terrible corners on the outside band drove me into a whirling, wheeling misery.
But…they are done now. Thank Heavens.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm
Chapter Six
I followed Mom to the kitchen door, she opened the door, held the door opened for me and said: “Do you want to come in, Boomie?” I just looked at her and wagged my tail. Just the tip of my tail. I really didn’t want to come in and I didn’t want her to force me to come in. At the same time, I didn’t want Mom to be mad at me for NOT wanting to come in.
“That’s okay, Boomie. You don’t have to come in.” she shut the door and was gone.
Now, it seems I was doing something before Mom came along.
What was it?
I put my nose to the ground and sniffed around trying to jog my memory.
“OH! YES!” Mindy and I were going to have an adventure together.
“MINDY!” I bayed. “MINDY!”
Nothing.
No Mindy.
I started searching here and there and everywhere.
UP one side of this and down one side of that.
Over to the fences,
down the roads,
up by the grain bins.
No Mindy.
No Mindy anywhere.
This is NOT good.
I think I had better sit down and ponder this problem. What I think I need to do is THINK LIKE A CAT!
OOOOOOO! Now, this is rather hard to do.
Thinking like a cat.
Hummm
OH! There is Dad—Mindy always likes to be with Dad.
I shoved off my old beaglie body, making it trot over to Dad.
Where is Mindy? I looked and Looked and LOOKED!
No, Mindy. Anywhere. No Mindy hiding close by or even far by.
I just sat down in total discouragement.
I really need to figure out where Mindy is-Night is coming on. Night in the winter where hungry predators stalk.
Darn! I have to find Mindy! I got up and started walking to the grain bins to head out onto the farm.
If she isn’t in the farmyard, then she must be out on the farm.
Meanwhile …….
A snowstorm is due in here this evening. This I can understand
For I can see it in the sky, starting to develop, grow and draw closer to us
I don’t really understand numbers—although, Pythagoras, figured out that everything in and of and surrounding the earth is made of numbers (horrors)
So to his knowledge, a snowstorm is a math equation….ICK!
I also don’t understand money (money is numbers really), so, therefore, I don’t understand finance, markets, hedge funds, private equity, venture capital, basis points, bonds —–AAAAAAAAAACK!
But I do like to think, I understand stories. And I like to tell the story I understand to you in photo form with words to help explain.
These things (words and pictures) help me show you the story of each and every day of my life and those who share my life with me.
So as the winter storm develops out of the mists of clouds and air…I share with you a bit of my life devoid of numbers. 🙂
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Since I gave you our sunrise, I thought I might give you the day’s end in this post 🙂 
Where, sometimes, the fat marvelous clouds race over the land, or settle on the top of Grand Mesa,
Or smother the stars, whereby only a crack of the setting sun appears
Still, as night comes on, and the moon rises…I can feel in my heart that God(s) is there and is the same thing to all, even if living with different names. One God, many names, etched there in the darkening or daylight sky.
A blessing for all, for each of us.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Today I am 71 years of age. At times it seems rather shocking to know I’ve traveled this earth for 71 years.
Most of the time I don’t think about my age. I honestly don’t FEEL old. Or elderly, or Ancient, or over-the-hill.
Yet there ARE those times with my bones don’t move the way I want them to move, or my memory seems to suddenly go blank….then I know I’ve turned a corner or two 🙂
This is the age my Momma left this tangible earth—Daddy having gone a few months before her.
If I make it past this year and move into and my 72nd year, I will have lived longer than Momma.
From that point on I will be charting my life without her voice, her experiences, her presence singing her healing song to my heart.
I will have the Daddy’s experience with me until I’m 73, for that is when he left us. So that will warm my life a delightful wee bit more.
So forward I move, with ghostly voices in my mind of those all-important Wisdom Keepers who gave me life
71 years ago.
From my world to your heart,
Linda
Dawn is a slowly growing experience. Always. But more so in the dead of winter
The air actually starts to feel like it is growing lighter, like ripples akin to a stream
The dark of the night leaving, the color of the day creeping upward
Small slivers of pink glide across the horizon
Until the night shadows retreat; color breaking forth to light our active days
The game camera caught me while out taking photos of that amazing beginning of a short winter day.
From my world to your heart,
Linda
On a very cold day, with snow starting to fall
I sat down to my computer to start my morning computer work
(See the moon between the frozen branches of the Forsythia bush? 🙂 )
There in my in-box was a beautiful gift of warmth and green lush grass and four darling
eyes looking around their glittering island home, of Marco Island, Florida.
A huge wonderful gift from Wayne and Carolyn Maxwell, Terry’s sister and brother-in-law (enjoying warm air and sunshine, ocean sunsets in their amazing winter home.)
Thank you so very much!
From my world to your heart,
Linda
Chapter Five
Geez, traveling with Boomer is ever so booooooooring! Boring! I mused as I left Boomer trailing behind Mom with a determined look on his face.
Winter is long, the days are long, the nights are horribly long; all I want to do is get out of the house and explore.
Hum…no one has been here. I don’t even see a raccoon footprint.
Let me see that wild cat hasn’t been by the yard for a long time. I wonder if all the cows chased him away. I think I take a little peek in the canal—sometimes I can catch that mean, wild, thing trying to slip onto the farm and grab some of the mice who hang out by the barn.
Nope, no strange cat prints.
I think I am going to head to the Cross-Over ditch. It’s rather dull here. There are lots of things to see and do way up to the ditch.
Let’s see; let me count the ways:
(I have a feeling the pipes are closed off. It seems Dad does that before the snow comes. —But I will go look anyway)
Okay, before I go, let me head over to the woodpile. I like the woodpile. There are MICE in the woodpile. I’ll just hang out and grab a snack or two. Then head off through the corrals, past Dad working on one the buildings and be on my way to the Cross-Over pipe!
One thing I think I can say is I truly enjoy is using my camera.
It stitches together the beginning of everything, within my very ordinary day
My camera records small details,
Which seem like nothing, but are the foundation and the clouds and the air in-between
The years are flying by, we are aging now
My camera the daily recording of memories — for we never know when our souls are called.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
As the daylight fades, the animals and I try to make the best of the time left before evening, where the next sound will be only of breathing.
Later, much later, on a wee walk-about in the dark of an ice-bound night
We watched the moon illuminate the sky
Then two stars flickering beside the silver moon, in the immense dark heavens.
Blessings so greatly abound—if we just look for them. 🙂
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Life on a Colorado Farm 