Terry says our daily reality is all about—
“FLAT TIRES! I can’t believe how many flat tires we’ve had since the start of farm season! This is the sixth flat tire!”
“Well, at least they have been on different pieces of equipment.” I replied
“Hump! trailers, stack wagon, tractor, disk, and now the four-wheeler!” he grumped.
“Oh, well…off to get this fixed. BUT…I’m up for changing this reality. How about you?”
“Okay…No more flat tires.” I agreed!
From your friend on a Colorado Farm.
Linda
My world is small. I realize that. But it’s a small I relish and enjoy.
For instance:
I feel great excitement, and joy, in the contented knowledge the pinto beans are up..sprouting forth into warm (HOT) yellow light
And every field of corn is up!
The green of all leaves coloring the world in brilliance!
We set water early, early morning and late in the evening.
Several times of day we are checking the water, making sure the tubes are still running, the rows getting wet, the plants receiving moisture!
Overhead the sun shimmers, baking every particle of everything…scattering— instantly— gobbling up every morsel of moisture into the air.
The irrigation water pushes up little puffs of dust, as the earth feels the exaltation, of the flowing streams; the gurgles of a song of hope!
Then THERE…in the chaos of rushing water I saw a rainbow!
That little gift bringing an sensation of joy!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
From my world to your heart,
Linda
For two days and two nights we got to have our youngest granddaughter.
She is amazing help.
Always willing to do something; whatever we are doing. Always asking: “is there anything I can do to help you—or can I help you Grandpa”?
She goes with us braving the mosquitoes and deer fly, plus those nasty biting little horse flies.
Taking her little red shovel— helping move the water down the rows– making that big warm farmer’s heart in her grandpa swell with pride.
Jumping carefully over the just sprouting pinto beans, we hear her laughing delightedly.
Then just before the dark closes in completely she and grandpa would go for a fast, breath-catching four-wheeler ride, me following along behind….way behind so Boomer and I didn’t eat dust. Clear to the Rocky Point, then home again.
Today we are back to just ‘ourselves’ and our normal routines.
For a little while, we were young once more filling our days with work and play that only a 9 year can bring.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
My father was not what I would call father. He was Daddy. Always! Until the day he died…very suddenly, an extremely long-way from home. It was a heart attack. Leaving Momma stranded way down south.
Now that is NOT something he would have chosen to do. Leave Momma alone to deal with the biggest disaster of her life, but sometimes we don’t get to choose. He was 72 when he died.
(Thankfully they were visiting our son and then daughter-in-law; so Momma really wasn’t without help.)
It’s been years now (eighteen to be exact), still I feel him hovering over me…just over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of him now and again, and once felt his hand on my back.
I often wonder what his life would have been like if his Daddy hadn’t died very young. (Pete died in 1936—Daddy was just nine (going on ten) years old at the time of his Dad’s death)
Grandma remarried and lived a very long and happy life with her second husband. He brought, into their union three sons; his wife died right after the birth of the youngest boy.
Grandma brought Daddy.
Through the years the ‘family’ photos show the struggle of my Dad’s ‘never feeling like he belonged’.
I I think he never really felt like he ‘fit’ until he met and married Momma. Who came with her all her southern born aunts and uncles. It was at this time he learned to hug and kiss and be swallowed up into a warm, gregarious, fun, outgoing family.
For which I am eternally grateful!
I will always long for them, Momma died just months after Daddy…she missed him too much.
But one thing I know…he really is always with me…I can feel him there—-just beyond my shoulder.
It is a blessing I cherish!
From my world to your heart,
Linda
“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.” – Stephen King
I know this sounds silly…..but sometimes the world, the sky, the very air we breath is so excitingly beautiful!
I give thanks for allowing to be alive, to experience this very existence of such a wonderful earth we live upon.
From my heart to your world,
Linda
The wind has been blowing hot and long for several days now. Starting around 10 in the morning and sighing to nothingness by twilight.
The full moon is shrinking, every night a little bit more toward that dark time without the moon.
Still the evenings are beautiful with the shining path of peaceful radiance we call silver-moon-lit skies.
I love these little spaces of time, whereby it’s just Boomer and I walking in the silence (sometimes Min-Min cat goes along with us) ….which really isn’t silent.
The furnace blast of heat is gone, the night air calm and alive, with an intoxication, of being pleasantly free from huge gusts of heat—hot wind, which whirls my hair into my face and mouth; free from being pelted with tiny bits of dirt.
In the daytime we hear the voice of the wind, but as the evening comes on we feel the night of tranquility!
From my heart to your world,
Linda
All the way from way over there in that wonderful Emerald Isle
Erynne!
I just love your Irish sky, Erynne!
Thank you so much!
Linda
One of life’s little joys (for me, anyway) are the tiny little Hummingbirds, who hover in the air around the feeders. They come mostly in the early morning and the late evening, but I have them off and on throughout the day.
Well, that turned out a little rough, but oh, well there always has to be a first one.
Ahhh, much better!
So I took them outside and attached them to the feeder poles
Which the wind promptly tried to rip off.
Finally I got it figured out so they will stay there. Then last evening at last light, I saw a little hummer resting on one of the swings.
Of course I didn’t have the camera.
Of well!
Maybe (as time goes on) I will get a photo of a Hummingbird sitting on a swing!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
For two afternoons, Evan came and helped plant the pinto beans. Terry was still taking it slow (He is still taking it slow, but not as slow).
But after that Terry began to feel house bound…I don’t know how, he was sitting out there watching Evan and I. He said he wants to feel the tractor under him, to feel the wind fanning the air, watching the soil and the implement working, to smell the fragrance of the plants and the soil.
So promising me he would NOT lift anything, Evan and I hooked up the Mormon Creaser and the Marker Bar on one tractor.
Then we hooked up the fertilizer tank on the other tractor.
Two tractors ready to go. All he has to do is sit there and drive.
Whatever he needs now I can do.
The haystacks are shrinking. I’ve been loading out two to three sometimes four customers a day. So we are making it.
“Please be careful, Terry!” I pled with him.
He just smiled at me and said: “To quote our neighbor, Darrel —‘Farming makes me happy’!” With that he carefully climbed into the tractor and was off.
So while he is out there enjoying himself (with a huge smile–like the sun breaking forth into that golden light we all so love, I might add) I am saying prayers to his guardian angel….a most overworked being.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
The farmer, in the field to our side, is getting his bean ground ready. It is so very dry our whole farm filled up with dust and dust and more dust.
Still—even in the smothering dust I could feel a storm coming in. The air shifted from solid and stale to racing clouds.
Black bottomed clouds holding the promise of moisture!
Still the dirt hung thick and heavy, as the sun started to submerge itself, with the western skyline.
The wind flung particles of dirt into cracks and crevices in a very obtrusive manner, filling my hair and ears—not to mention what it did to the house.
Suddenly a massive roll of thunder followed quickly by a immense flash of light and rain filled the sky.
It didn’t last long…that rain. Moving itself quickly on toward town and other parts of our area. But long enough to clear the air…leaving behind fresh and cool dirt free air.
Plus…a smidge of a rainbow, just as the sun sunk behind a bank of clouds.
A sign of hope!
Every day we are seeing improvement! I am sure…more than sure…I am positive it is because of your prayers, good thoughts and wishes.
Of which Terry and I are eternally grateful!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Life on a Colorado Farm 