rainbow on the farm

rainbow on the farm

Spirit moving sheep off the hay field

Thursday, December 4, 2014

"why own a dog"


I read this today. It is my life. OUR life.
For many years I was a single dog owner. Then I brought a Border Collie pup into our home. I lasted a little over three years before I had a second.
Tremendous self control has me currently at six dogs.
I can't imagine life without them. 

Yes sometimes annoying, sometimes aggravating, and the heart ache of them passing is unbearable.

Yet they have enriched my life in ways I never would have thought of, introduced me to people who became friends I never would have met, have made a reason for me to travel to a state I may have never visited otherwise. 
They have made me think, have made me proud and have inspired an awe I never could have felt without them as part of my life.
Now that I think about it,  SIX dogs is not enough!




Why own a dog? There's a danger you know,
You can't own just one, for the craving will grow.
There's no doubt they're addictive, wherein lies the danger.
While living with lots, you'll grow poorer and stranger.
One dog is no trouble, and two are so funny.
The third one is easy, the fourth one's a honey.
The fifth one's delightful, the sixth one's a breeze,
You find you can live with a houseful of ease.
So how 'bout another? Would you really dare?
They're really quite easy but, oh, Lord the hair!
With dogs on the sofa and dogs on the bed,
And crates in the kitchen, it's no bother, you've said.
They're really no trouble, their manners are great.
What's one more dog and just one more crate?
The sofa is hairy, the windows are crusty,
The floor is all footprints, the furniture dusty.
The housekeeping suffers, but what do you care?
Who minds a few noseprints and a little more hair?
So let's keep a puppy, you can always find room,
And a little more time for the dust cloth and broom.
There's hardly a limit to the dogs you can add,
The thought of a cutback sure makes you sad.
Each one is so special, so useful, so funny.
The vet and food bills grows larger, you owe BIG money.
Your folks never visit, few friends come to stay,
Except other "dog folks" who live the same way.
Your lawn has now died, and your shrubs are dead too,
But your weekends are busy, you're off with your crew.
There's dog food and vitamins, training and shots.
And entries and travel and motels which cost lots.
Is it worth it you wonder? Are you caught in a trap?
Then that favorite one comes and climbs in your lap.
His look says you're special and you know that you will
Keep all of the critters in spite of the bill.
Some just for showing and some just to breed.
And some just for loving, they all fill a need.
God, winter's a hassle, the dogs hate it too.
But they must have their walks though they're numb and your blue.
Late evening is awful, you scream and you shout
At the dogs on the sofa who refuse to go out.
The dogs and the dog shows, the travel, the thrills,
The work and the worry, the pressure, the bills.
The whole thing seems worth it, the dogs are your life.
They're charming and funny and offset the strife.
Your life-style has changed. Things won't be the same.
Yes, those dogs are addictive and so is the dog game.
Unknown Poet

Monday, September 1, 2014

Grief

It is hard to believe My Dad has been gone on year . It seems forever in one aspect yet in the same breath hard to take in, one year has passed.

Hard to believe  a year has passed since hearing his voice, listening to his quick wit.

Yesterday I felt sad, drained most of the day.
I went for long walks with the dogs, thinking often of my Father as I walked.

As I stopped at a few of my favorite places on our farm my eye caught something. Something tiny. Something delicate, beautiful. Something that for me had a message to it.

I felt my Father speaking to me.
I felt him say each time my eye happened upon these delicate tiny beautiful things.

 " Be HAPPY "

Blue Bird feathers
 

Sunday, August 10, 2014

make hay while the sun shines




Took this a few days ago when I was helping Rob get our hay ready for baling. Last of standing hay is knocked down and will go up in barn later this afternoon.