Embroidered There Upon the Sky —- Thursday, November 7, 2019

(From Pinterest)

Every frosty evening  the geese come to our farm

Their voices serenade in lovely song on the damp chill air

Magnificent and wonderous; their wings rippling the air, making a huge swooshing sound as they fly overhead

Settling down in the harvested Pinto Beans fields, where their night-time rustling brings contentment to our farm.

From my world to your heart,



The Gentle Art of Being a Hero—Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Mindy was an older feral cat when she decided at her mature age of 5 to come live on the farm with us

We allow her to come and go in the house as she wishes

To sleep wherever she wants in the house

Although, she loves me and the food I magically appear before her

But where Boomer is always with me

Her most favorite person in the whole wide world

Is Terry.

I think the feeling is mutual 🙂

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,







spoke the words slowly, in an ancient tongue come down from the days of the Norsemen. “Say it in English,” I said, seeing from Roger’s face that while he spoke the words, he did not recognize them all. “O Lord, bless the blood and the flesh of this the creature that You gave me,” Jamie said softly. He scooped a pinch of the herbs himself, and rubbed them between thumb and forefinger, in a rain of fragrant dust. “Created by Your hand as You created man,  Life given for life.  That me and mine may eat with thanks for the gift,  That me and mine may give thanks for Your own sacrifice of blood and flesh,

The Bounty of Goodness—-Tuesday, November 7, 2017

I got a package in the mail the other day…a total surprise.  After the walk down the long lane to the mailbox, finding the package—-I skipped and ran, walked and jog, back home to open this surprise addressed to me.

What a thoughtful and wonderous hand-made gift!

Thank you so much, Rita!  You are most kind!

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,


Along a Peaceful Lane—Monday, November 7, 2016

all-of-usWe seems to walk {lots}…here and there…morning, afternoon, evening…and Boomer and I once a night. We go about our business walking in the the fluttering leaves as the slight breeze continues to strip the trees of their summer beauty.

The little shadows from the falling leaving making multiple shadows, as the sun hits them and the ground provides a resting spot.


In the morning the glowing sun throws shadows against the western walls and doors of our sheds.

sammiy-in-the-treeSammy likes to hide in the old, abandoned treehouse checking for little elves who dance in the shade of the leaves and hide in the bark waiting for humans to leave.

min-min-luThe evening light ruffles over the land– dark and wavy in spots and gold where the setting sun catches it.

evening-walkIt’s peaceful along the lanes and our farm roads.  A sort of absolute lacking of humans– when it’s only you and other mortals are miles and miles away.

the-end-of-the-dayWork ends late at harvest time,  Later than the end of Daylight-Savings Time.

WalkStill Boomer and I walk in the moonlight — last night it was of a brilliant half moon.

We go before the moon sets (right now the moon sets way before midnight)  Under a blaze of brilliant stars.  If I don’t wear a coat we walk briskly in the night, if I wear a coat we saunder along.  It just depends on the how the cold has shredded the warmth of the day.


The night time is not still, you know.  The trees click and clack and the leaves rustle and rather roar as they glide down onto the earth.  The Blue Spruce Tree  needles are also not silent, like one would think.

The owl’s call one to another…there are flutterings of startled day birds as I walk by.  Once in awhile you can hear a lonely dog barking and always, always the howls of coyotes upon the land.


From my world to your heart