Each and every day, two to three times a day
This is what we have been doing
The pile is growing smaller
and smaller and the wood piles at everyone’s homes are growing larger and larger.
Life is good.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Chapter Six
After my horrible scare.
And a long, long, long nap in the house.
I decided it was time to get busy on the farm.
I meowed at the door until Mom came and let me out.
Then I headed to the corrals.
Mice…Yum. I need to find mice.
So, I searched here and there and everywhere.
Shoot.
Nothing.
Hummm
But there ARE birds!
BIRDS!
I have to be careful because, if MOM FINDS OUT she will yell at me.
I have to be very, very, sneaky…
S.n.e.a.k.y—-
“Mindy! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Mom yelled at me.
When Mom yelled all the birds flew off.
Mom left and went into the house and left me outside. Well, to be honest, I didn’t want to go inside.
I — and it’s cold.
Oh. This feels nice. Sunshine on the garage door.
Purrrrrr I’ll hang out here for a while.
PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
Just as I was about to slip into a deep, deep sleep
“MINDY! WAKE-UP!”
My eyes jerked awake, but my mind didn’t.
I saw a squirrel, no I saw TWO squirrels.
Once I realized I saw TWO squirrels my mind woke-up.
“Stewart, Stanley, what’s up?”
“Come to the woodpile and play with us,” Stewart exclaimed.
“Boomer isn’t here,
but you are –let’s go scamper all over the woodpile together. Don’t you think it’s time you had fun instead of always patrolling the farmyard?” Stanley asked me.
I pondered for a spell, a little spell.
“YES! Let’s go.” I replied.
Off we went, around the corner of the barn, passed the fenced off equipment, (to keep the cows from rubbing on them), and On to the WOOD PILE.
We ran, we jumped, we hid and then chased each other…up down, under around.
We were just getting a tad tired when DAD showed up.
Scram! The squirrel brothers were gone!
I also scrammed running toward Dad so I could get a pet or two.
Purrrr, roll in the dirt, purr, happiness.
Thankfully we got all the wood cut and piled. Our youngest daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren came and helped us finished up the wood. We are set now for at least a couple of years, depending on the weather.
The signs of spring are here, they are in the air, on the earth, in the fading sun or the rising sun, in the lighting shadows and the lengthening day.
I still feed the Red-Winged Blackbirds, although I’m seeing more and more Song birds in the yard and on the farm
I love their songs and strive to keep them here, as long as they will stay. But as soon as the Upper End and the Back Forty green up…they will be gone to sing and mate in that special wonderland they call home.
Then once they are gone—the hummingbirds come so my little bird kitchen stays steady with the joy of winged-friends.
Everyday now is a call to the land, where work is not drudgery, but jubilation—we are adding to the chorus called Spring.
From my world to your heart,
Linda
Mom and Dad finished stacking all the firewood this week. We have firewood in Mom’s pile by the old basketball hoop, by the machine shed for Dad’s stove, and out by the hay stacks—just in case.
The cats and I always know that the wood pile means MICE!!! It also means Stewart and Stanley have a cool place to hide from me! (That part I don’t like so much.)
Then Dad took out the hay swather for the very last time this year.
(Dad keeps saying this is the last year he is farming-if he can find someone else to farm this place he is re-tir-ing from farming. He says if he can’t find someone he is just going to let it sit idle.—-Hummm I wonder if he really is going to retire from farming!?)
Then Dad and Mom and I…I go EVERYWHERE with Mom! Everywhere!
Went out to take care of the ends on the hay…Dad raked and Mom and I gathered the scattered ends.
After that we ate supper—and changed the water.
Mom always gives me the talk when we get to the water—“No rolling in anything dead, smelly or stinky, Boomer! Don’t run off. You can sniff around, but you come right back when you hear the four-wheelers start”. Then she gives me a kiss on the nose and we are off! Mom and Dad down the ditch bank and me INTO the corn field!
It’s cooler now, much cooler, out on the ditch banks. Also the grasshoppers are BIG and thick and nasty…they like to jump on us as we walk through the weeds, makes my hide twitch. I can hear Mom say things like: “Ew get off me you big ugly thing”! When I turn around I can see a grasshopper stuck on her shirt, or pants, even once in her hair. Dad always laughs about it. Mom not so much.
We are only watering the corn now. The pinto beans are close to being pulled so Dad doesn’t want the ground muddy.
There will be one more irrigation, after the hay is hauled and stacked, then this irrigation season is DONE!
Fall has arrived!
Boomer
Fuzzy and
I have been busy gathering the smells from around Mom’s old wood, woodpile.
Sam-Sammy-Sam has been also. Actually he has be stalking the old woodpile area; pacing here and there with that ‘I’m going to find you’ look in his eye.
Monkey (a nine-year-old, almost ALWAYS a house cat) was hanging out with us, as we were helping Mom sort the woodpile—Monkey got extremely nervous and hid –just waiting for Mom to head to house so she could beat Mom there and peel inside quickly.
The Little Buff Hen, who does NOT spend the night in the chicken house anymore, (because Mom only has ONE chicken and the chicken house is too lonely for a 6-year-old hen) acted like there was really nothing to worry about.
She said she was hanging out with Mom so she will always be safe. (You are safe, Little Hen, because Fuzzy and I are with you!)
Cluck, cluck, purr, yummy, lots of good bugs under the old wood, she cooed.
Since Fuzzy and I have been hanging out here lots; day and night, Mom got to wondering why, so she moved the night camera to find out—
“Oh”, said Mom. “I see we have more cats.”
“Two more cats. They must be wild/feral as I have never seen them in the daytime.” She mused.
“No wonder you have that look in your eye, Sammy-Sam. You need to be careful, Kitty, you aren’t a young cat anymore, you turned 13 this January.”
Harrumph! Sam growled as he turned tail and stalked over to the ditch bank. I can still hold my own! Hummm…
this grass is rather nice, I think I’ll just roll around here for a spell and scratch my back…those other cats only come at night, right now isn’t night. Besides, I usually spend most of my nights in the house next to fireplace…she doesn’t need to be such a worrywart.
“Ahhh, I see the fox is a regular little guest here. Good thing you are well protected at night little Buff Hen,” Mom said as she bent down a petted the little buff hen.
“You boys keep a sharp look out for the fox; they travel around day or night. Which, reminds me,” pondered Mom “I’m surprised we even have feral cats with the fox and the coyotes around.”
“UGH! Now this is one nasty cat, an ‘ol polecat, you need to stay far, far away from this cat all of you! That means you also, Little Buff Hen!”
You don’t have to worry about that Mom…Fuzzy and I just watch that skunk move through the yard, that’s one cat we do not want to tangle with ever again!
I agree, yelled Fuzzy as he tried to whap his tiny little bobbed tail in the air.
“Well, it’s starting to get evening and I’m getting tired. Let’s head back to the house and see what I can come up with for supper! Come on, Little Buff Hen. It’s your bedtime.”
Cats…I guess Mom knows now, Fuzzy…we have lots of cats!
Just as long as they don’t get near the house, Boomer, we don’t have to do anything about them!
That’s good, Fuzzy, real good!
Oh, look…Yummy canned dog food!
You are right, Boomer…I hate that dry as cardboard crunchy kibble stuff. I’m glad Mom has moved over to this nicer to chew (swallow, slurp, gulp) food!
Night Everyone!
Boomer
Life on a Colorado Farm 