A heart!!! A Heart! Oh! a Sweet, Wonderful Heart!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
“Forever on Thanksgiving Day, the heart will find the pathway home.”–Wilbur D. Nesbit
We began cleaning out the catchment pond
(this is used to improve the quality of water going onto the farm: the dirt settles to the bottom filling up the pond and not clogging up the siphon tubes)
We worked for ten hours and then stopped. We will begin again later. There is about three days’ worth of hauling there.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Out we went—to the cornfields
We gathered enough ears to run through the moisture meter at Foster Farm (that is where we sell the corn, so our corn needs to meet the moisture content of their meter)
Boo Berry helped. She is a big helper! 🙂
Almost all the ears are pointing to the ground —- 15%, as soon as the moisture drops to 14% we begin!!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
It’s that time of year again
The time to be grateful for our strong and able bodys
To be grateful for our delightful and marvelous friends
To share pleasant times of food and laughter with those we love
To give thanks for crisp autumn soil and blazing sunsets full of color and splendor
To give thanks for friends both near and far.
To give thanks for those wee little breaks, which whisper ease to the body and soul.
Happy Thanksgiving My Dear Friends,
Linda
In a small
silver shaft of silvered moonlight
There in the deepening dark
The night camera captured
The wandering souls
Who live in the emptiness
of the pearl-edged clouds
and the blackness of the farm.
The Wandering souls,
As the world nears the solstice,
who walk in the soft and lovely deepening night.
From my heart to your world,
Linda
One evening this week the sun slid behind the Uncompahgre Plateau painting the sky over Grand Mesa shades of apricot and peach
While Boomer, Romeo, and I took a wee walk
to take Romey back to his barn (I left Mindy in the house toasting by the wood stove.)
Gradually the shadows blanketed the farm and the air started to crisp
On the way back I heard my named whispered faintly in the wind, calling me…calling me
I thought about that…hearing my name in the wind— finally deciding it really wasn’t a very lonely sound, or something to shatter a heart.
Boomer and I walked home in the evening’s silver puffs of air me thinking how much I love this earth we call home.
From my world to your heart,
Linda