It rained off and on all day and well into the evening yesterday. Bringing with it a chilly cool down. (Although, it didn’t stop the boys once, or even slow them down on what they were doing.)
Heading into to town to take them to the Rec Center for swimming and basketball
We saw a wonderful site in the sky
Since I was driving Bladen took these for me. He knows how much I love collecting rainbows.
Love,
Linda
There it was — a tiny little rainbow starting to take shape. It was precious, although short lived; the clouds quickly covered the sun taking the beginnings of a rainbow with it.
As we were heading back to the farm yard a rain chute dropped down on to the land, across Highway 348, and the sun dropped passed the dark rain cloud into it’s resting place for the night —
In doing so, the brilliant ending of the sun caused the sky to light up with that special glow; illuminating all the dark corners of the earth, the sky and within the soul.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
We finished up the last set as rain clouds played over the Uncompahgre Plateau, and in the canyons, between us and Grand Junction, Colorado
The air was like walking through a hum of bees…the ozone strong enough to be felt on your skin.
It had rained earlier, creating a slick mud on the earth, but only one layer deep.
When the air is like this it give me a sense of intimacy, as though my soul is flowing out to mingle with sky.
I was thinking how I would love to transport you here with me…sometimes photos are just simply not equal to the experience.
It was then I looked down, walking where I had walked many, many times before, when I saw it…
I took it home, washed all of the dirt off then took a photo for you. (I realize, now, I should have taken a photo of it right there, mud covered and all, but I didn’t)The earth had given me a heartbeat…one to share with you; my friends.
From my world to your heart
Your friend, always
Linda
After a time of warm a new storm arrived on a stiff breeze, almost wind.
The wind was fragrant full of green things growing, moisture in the clouds and the sharp tang of Chico’s and Rabbit Brush.
It’s cold today, with scattered sighting of sunshine. The gift of moisture and life!
Love,
Linda
There is tremendous satisfaction from pulling weeds out of the soil. Backbreaking and endless the chore, but it always gives me a sense of triumph.
My yard is a series of rooms..flung around the edges of the lawn. Tearing the roots of thistles, bind-weed, wild grasses single-minded in the sun and the heat. (I love the sun and the heat. Love it!)
I ripped and tore with tremendous concentration–covering 1/2 acre…stopping only at the end of the day.
feeling the soil give up the stubborn root; the foe lying defeated in my wheelbarrow
The farm yard felt calm and empty as I worked. Pleasant, peaceful, healing!
(some of the above photos were taken previously, as is this one)
I still have the east side of the house to do, but today is Sunday. And it’s trying to rain. 
I played hookey (just this morning) from changing water, letting Terry get the early morning sets! I’ll be back out there at noon and beyond. Right now I’m taking a wee break!
I love the silence of solitude.
Love,
Linda
It’s raining here. Has been for two days. The weather people say it will rain at least until Tuesday.
Today Terry turned the irrigation water off. It’s too muddy to walk on the ditch banks. To turn the irrigation water off is a very strange occurrence once it is turned on.
It’s extremely chilly outside, the air so fresh it will make you cough, if you take a good lungful of it. The trees are dripping, water sits on everything; running in rivulets off the eaves.
We only have four little hummingbirds. This photo is on May 13th a couple of years or so ago. We have aways to go to reach this level of activity.
The sky is still lowering as I write; clouds black in the west and dark grey in the morning east. It’s cold enough I want to start a fire in the fireplace, although we do have the furnace up and going.
Oh well, rain is good for so many things I will just enjoy it. The weather people also say major heat is following these series of cold rain storms.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Yesterday was another chill spring day of damp and moving air.
Terry continued planting the corn, then worked on the pinto bean fields. We are close to starting water on those fields, close, but not yet.
We are still experiencing lots of trash in the canals. It’s a daily job to keep the water ways clear. We will fight this trash until the middle of June. By that time all the fields above us will be planted, all the canals and laterals will be open, and the wind should have died down.
I’ve enjoyed my series of photos of the April full moon. They give me a small bubble of happiness whenever I look at them. What is so delightful is the moon really is tinged with pink. Therefore, the full moon of April is called the Pink Full Moon. Perfect I do believe!
While Terry planted I filled up several buckets, of our saved shelled corn from last year; soaked the corn in water for a couple of hours then took a bucket out to the end of the field (which I will do for every field) and started scattering the seed.
We do this because the pheasants LOVE scratching up the sprouting corn seed and eating them. If I can give them enough soft (easy to get too) corn they will leave the fields alone.
I came across one of the males running along in front of me as I worked. It was blowing a little hard so he thought he could out-run me instead of trying to fly into the wind.
Giving up running he took off; just watching him go gave me a breathless feeling! What a beautiful bird!
Although, it wasn’t raining right on us, huge rain chuts were drenching parts of the Uncompahgre Plateau. (Un-come-pah-gray—accent on the pah)
The sheer ordinariness of the day fills our farmer’s heart with good!
Your friend on a Western Colorado farm,
Linda
Terry planted corn, in another huge wind storm complete with rain. It couldn’t be helped. The ground was just at that ‘perfect place’ — not to wet and not to dry. To wait any longer and the tiny window of opportunity would be gone.
The air was sharp with ozone and wet dirt, extremely cold against my face, when I delivered sacks of seed to him, or to go get him for lunch.
Boomer would be shivering by the time we got back to the house.
It blew and rained off and on all day. Then cleared late in the evening to allow my lovely sour cherries to freeze (?) I sure hope not. I didn’t check the temperature this morning. It was what it was.
But it was cold, so fresh and sharp that it tickled your lungs to breath…by five o’clock I had to start up the woodstove; the heat felt lovely. It’s still going today and it looks like I will be filling the woodbox for at least five or six more days and nights.
Sigh! This spring is very restless; very wet and cold and windy.
We are still creating and setting dams. Two more and we will be done for the year.
This morning I woke the normal silence of the house. House silence isn’t like farm silence– farm silence is full of winds that whisper, the flutter and swish of birds, and the vast sounds of the sky.
Nor is it the disturbed silence of town–the swooshing of tires passing, the slamming of a far away door, a roaming and uneasy always constant movement.
The silence of the house is the dim glow of first light coming through the window…a gradual lighting of the night into day, the feel of slumbering thoughts, of those still sleeping, the pad of Boomer’s feet as he follows me into the kitchen.
The tea kettle’s boiling water signals the day has begun!
From my world to your heart!
Linda
Our air started chilling down on Saturday night…growing thick with mystery and the promise of snow. The gray-pink clouds began enfolding the earth, as the sun set assuring us of a blanket white enchantment.
Sunday the snow started falling; winter’s promise was still alive.
Terry and I spent Sunday warm and safe. Although, a little on the bored side.
Boomer and I took a wee walk in the soft, muffled air. Boomer doesn’t really walk with me, there is always so much more to see and do than stay right by my side. Of course, now that cows are here he tends to not drift TOO far away!
Waking on the farm is to walk to the sound of silence — for even the cows are quiet in the falling snow.
Walking is satisfying, getting outside is delicious.
Monday morning the snow was thick and lush and rich. As I shoveled the snow off the sidewalks there was only my footprints, Boomer’s and the cats! (I enjoyed being the only human foot prints in the yard. 🙂 )
Snow! That gift of water for the spring, summer and fall!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
It rained off and on all day yesterday, and way into the night.
We actually woke up to rain. The air rich with the smell of ozone and the dried leaves, corn stalks and ears; now absorbed with water.
Then there came a feel of snow in the air.
Although, the sky was the same leaded gray the air itself had changed. A heaviness and feeling of something different; colder/sharper.
Silence, no small voices of birds or rustling of little creatures, as the crystals in the clouds changed from water to ice.
Then it came, sudden and hushed, flurries of little tiny noiseless flakes, whirling out of the air.
The sun is out now (as I type), the sounds of water returning, running off our metal roof, the snow is melting adding to the mud, flatting the fallen leaves.
The weather people were right. An early winter storm has arrived.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Life on a Colorado Farm 