Sometimes I See My Momma—Thursday, September 13, 2018

Sometimes (lately) I see my Momma.  It always comes as shock.

At a time when I least expect to see her.

Sometimes it’s just her voice I hear, but it’s loud and clear…like the time I was getting ready to open one of the shed doors and she said, very strongly, like she was standing right next to me: “Linda, Be aware!  Pay Attention”!

It was so strong, so loud, so real, I even answered her—“Of what, Momma?”

As I turned toward her voice—of course, she wasn’t there.

Momma died in 2000.

Or I’m washing my face, or my hair and I look up into the mirror over the bathroom sink and I see Momma…right there her smiling face covering my face, then it fades.

It always startles me.  Then I think, it must be that  I am looking more and more like Momma.

Or I’m doing something, peeling potatoes, washing up the dishes, scrubbing the floors on my hands and knees as my arm and hand move back and forth I suddenly see Momma’s hand(s) as she did those things I am now doing.

It’s rather shocking because my hands have dented and bent knuckles…one caused by a hit from a basketball when I was in high school…Momma’s hand never had knuckles like mine.

Another time I was walking out to the hen house and I could have sworn I saw Momma coming down the long, long lane toward me. I almost ran toward her, then the strange apparition was gone.

Faded away. As if it had never been.

I can’t explain these visions or feelings, or things heard; they are like wind blowing through the treetops, the changing lights in the smiling sky…but last night as I lay down to sleep, I felt Momma kiss my forehead just like she used to do when I was a small child.

Thank you, Momma, I love you too!

From my world to your heart,

Linda

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Corn is Made—Wednesday, September 13, 2017

After much checking and checking and more checking Terry has decided that the corn is now made

All the signs are there

The husks are turning golden

The silks no longer bright and shiny

When the animals try to bite into them the kernels are hard

We made it!

The growing season is done.

Although, we are NOT over yet….

The pinto beans are drying…big fluffy plants

The new fall field is soaking up the water..

The alfalfa is really growing, but it won’t be cut again.  Four cuttings deplete the plant going into winter. (For us anyway)

Slowly, slowly, the summer is dwindling down…sinking into that hugely busy time called harvest!

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,

Linda

 

Our Farm is a Peaceful Place—-Tuesday, September 13, 2016

chilly-mornings

But is also is a very busy place.  I am late posting today because of so many calls upon my time.

just-starting

We stir early, early.  The day is not even waking, when we stir to life and the farm is whirred into action like a freshly wound clock; the cogs and wheels shifting and spinning until the night rises to meet the day.  Then it starts all over again just like magic the next day.

getting-readyWe are working on the mud ditch.  What a huge messy job.  Terry got the a few of the dams out, I helped with the gated pipe—but we still have to pick up all the syphon tubes.  Maybe later this afternoon.

the-day-of-rainWe had several little rain storms move through our place last night.  We were out cutting firewood—still several more days to go—when the downpours occurred.  Not good for the pulled beans, but it is what it is.  We just move on forward.

hay-for-romeoThe little swallows have gone.  My heart feels sad…it means summer is officially over.  I love their pursuit of insects diving and swooping on slender outspread wings. morning-glory-hiddenStill the days are warm, but

small-sundogI saw a sundog while we were cutting firewood… a cool down is on its way.  The oldtimers say in three days.

Your friend on a western Colorado Farm,

Linda