Safe Behind a Shining Star

Feeling Okay, Hooman?

our walkway to the driveway

It’s been a cold and snowy winter with lots of barometric changes, which of course affect my health. The most I've been able to manage is some laundry, occasional meals, and taking Heath out in the dark and ice at 9 pm every night to put the sheep inside, as the Maremmas are now spending nights in the house as the boss complained he heard barking. Thank God for Heath's help, even with his untrained herding skills he gets the job done for me quickly. We inherited because TheMan blew a gasket one night, unable to get them to cooperate.

We undertook the 4 hour drive to town yesterday to see a shoulder specialist to find out why injuring my bicep by simply lifting my saddle a few months ago should have gotten increasingly worse until I could no longer use my right arm and having so much pain setting in my shoulder. It looks good so far, it’s soft tissue damage that is in the bicep tendon and created a lot of inflammation all the way up under the ball joint and down my arm, so a shot of cortisone in the joint may solve the problem. If not, a second might. and if that doesn’t do it, then we will look at surgical options but i am banking on the cortisone injections.

I had been able to pay off our credit card and Dr bills early so we went to a dealer and bought me a new car. It’s a little new, blue, Subaru and is just what I was looking for. Great gas mileage, 4 wheel or all wheel drive, a back-seat for the Heathen and room for his crate, my suitcase, and sundry other things so I can go on road trips and get away from the ranch I loved so dearly, but has been holding me prisoner because of my limitations. The incredible man I married isn’t thrilled about staying here alone and working for long periods of time, but he understands how this has affected me both physically, emotionally and spiritually. He could hardly miss the tears that leak out now and then. So now I have a few things to get done, like get my license plates, find my new drivers license, and purchase a few things to keep the Heathen in the back, as stuff coming up and hitting the undercarriage still frightens him badly and he jumps into the front, getting twisted and choked in his harness. Not a good scenerio.

We were talking about this yesterday, what an enormous change he has made in my life. I have always been shy, and always been a ‘loner’. Even when I was younger and in shape, I tended to avoid people, when possible. While showing horses for clients I was found either ringside coaching my kids, or at the barn grooming and warming up, but not socializing and having ‘fun’ like so many others. Perhaps that is why it seemed like such a chore. But hey, that’s me. Since getting sick, I have put on so much weight and aged so badly, that I have been ashamed to be seen, so I retreat to my shell and try not to even go out in front of the house unless I absolutely have to. The woman in the mirror is a stranger to me, and I’d rather keep her under wraps. But when going somewhere with Heath, people notice him instead, and talk about him, and my anxiety tends to melt away. And he does garner a huge amount of attention. I could never even consider doing these things without him.

Just in the 2 days we spent in town, all the folk at the dealership spoke to him, and even let him come on my test drive, in spite of the snow and his somewhat raggedy looking undercoat where dirty snow or water had splashed on his leg and belly feathers. He was of course, perfectly behaved and the salesman was impressed with how he jumped into the cargo hold when I asked and quietly laid there for the trip. After purchasing a different car and agreeing to pick it up the next day, we went to Texas Roadhouse for dinner. The smell of steaks and lots of distractions always make me worry, but I shouldn’t have. Other than wanting to forge ahead of me a little bit to try and meet a youngster passing us (he is absolutely wild about kids) we were seated at a booth across from an elderly couple. I was hoping he would behave like usual, as I was afraid that they might take offense to a dog in the restaurant. Instead, as they got up to leave, the lady tapped me on the shoulder to tell me that he is the best behaved dog she’s ever seen, and they appreciated how he went right under the table and laid quietly when I asked, in spite of all that was going on around us. I really appreciated the compliment to us both.

Heath lays under the table at Texas Roadhouse. His good behavior didn't go unnotced

Celebrating with steak, mmmm

We stayed at Holiday Inn Express in Boise, which I highly recommend. The staff is always super friendly and its always clean and nice. I was out front grabbing stuff out of the truck while Randy got us a room. I had Heath wipe his feet on the mat when entering, which is NOT his favorite thing to do. The man behind the desk said “Well, I guess I will have to take your word that he really is a service dog since his vest says so, even if you have no certification papers”. I asked if they’d been having dog problems and he said yes. I gave him an ADA card that explained there are NO papers on a service dog, they aren’t required to wear a vest, etc. and the easiest way to tell if they are for real is their behavior. It also informed him how to protect their business from an acclaimed service dog that is causing problems. He was really appreciative and said he was going to post the card in the meeting room so he could inform the rest of the staff. I felt good because there are a lot of people taking advantage which causes not only bad feelings toward real teams but increases problems for real teams as well as it can seriously unsettle and damage the confidence of a service dog, which is not allowed to defend himself, to be faced with a poorly trained, barky, aggressive, rude dog of any size or breed, especially when working.

Once in the room, my calm, reserved, well behaved sheppie turned into a whirling dervish, pleased to have had his boots and vest removed and had the two of us in hysterics with his antics. Other than waiting until I had my pjs on, (shorts and a t-shirt) to tell me he needed to go out and do his business…at 25 degrees F, he was a good boy. Out we went, me in my t shirt and snow boots and he  off leash with his happy on. I was only mildly frostbitten when we came back inside.

Next day at the doctors, several people commented and asked to pet him. I had to turn them down because he gets too distracted and wants to play with everyone. After awhile, a man came in, looked our direction for a moment then turned to the lady behind the admissions desk. She asked if she could do anything for him and he said “Yes, I want to buy that dog!” We laughed and I was again, really proud of Heath.

Next was Costco, where we were stopped several times and asked about his breed, then a man came up and said “It’s so nice to see a service dog BEHAVE like a service dog! I’ve trained dogs for 30 years and it’s not hard to recognize a phony or the real thing.” I was wow-ed. Again, none of the anxiety raised itself, because Heath was the focus of attention and I felt safe in the background behind his shining stardom.

What a dog!!

We were next faced with a 4 hour drive home in the dark, in the snow, in a vehicle I was not familiar with. I had a fair idea where the windshield wipers and defroster were as that was my key concern. I had already put the service dog stickers on the window so if we had a wreck, first responders would know to look for him and not to separate us. My car has one of those On-Star kinda deals so it tells me where I left it in the parking lot, if I forgot to lock it, if it's stolen, where it's at, and gets me help if I am broken down or in a wreck. A good option for me, I think. Now if they will just pass reciprocity so you can Concealed Carry across state lines so I am not vulnerable while driving long distances alone, waiting for help to show up in the event of an incident.


I was following TheMan in our embarrassingly dirty truck, knowing Blu Roo would look much like that when we made it home. It is, after all, a ranch, with 50 miles of dirt road leading there. I was pretty nervous,  unable to figure out how to work the radio or anything, and unable to take my eyes off the road, or my white knuckled fingers off the wheel. Only about 30 minutes out, we had a lot of road debris hitting the undercarriage which was unnerving Heath and throwing stuff onto my windshield. I couldn't find a sprayer for the front windows, so increased the wiper speed hoping to get it off. The defroster was running full blast and my vision was awful. Everytime there was an oncoming truck I had zero visibility as the whole windshield would go white. There was no white line on the side or lane markers in the center for that period of time. I kept praying they wouldn't pass me on a turn. We had to follow a snow plow into Jordon Valley and it didn't get any better. Finally, about 2 hours from home, I managed to signal TheMan to pull over at Rome Station as it was about the only place on the 4 hour trip to do so. It turns out the snow plow had put something down on the road that messed up our windshields on the outside so we could not see. He washed it several times and there was a marked improvement. I think both Heath and I hyperventilating probably didn't help the defroster any. I imagine that will probably be my worst trip in Roo, and I still love him, so it should be a brighter future for us, and no...I repeat...NO driving at night!

Pretty soon we will start travels in the Blu Roo. We’ll start small with a 5 hour drive to my brother and niece’s house, then build up to traveling farther for longer periods until I make it down to see my kids. The long, lonely winter is looking a lot better…now if I can just time it between record snow falls and flash floods….

Through the Storm

The sky is painted in shades of silver, grey and cream, and the shadows of the clouds throw a purple cast upon the mountains which lay on the far side of the valley. The top of the large fault block to the west shimmers white with new snow and deep blue crevasses, the peak pushing up out of the clouds at 10,000 ft while the rest of the mountain is cloaked beneath the haze.

A drizzle falls slowly on the ranch as EmmaLou lays sleepily cudding in the straw under her little shelter. The sheep are out in the back 20 acres nibbling at the young grasses that dare to push their way up out of the soil under the straw colored forage of last season. I pick my way through the downed thistle, following Cletus along the small cattle trail leading down to the grove of trees where the sheep were grazing.

The weather has been taking its toll on me, as well as a wicked chest cold that I can’t seem to get over, so as soon as we reach a spot out of the heavier wind I lay down in the grass to soak up what little sun peeks through the clouds as they scud across the landscape. Cletus comes to make sure I am all right, sticking his great cold nose in my face. I laugh as his lips hang in floppy wrinkles and his big white head hangs down, eyes disappearing and resembling a giant, white Sharpei. His huge fangs are brilliant white, probably from working on the bones and antlers he and Bruno lug home from their nightly patrols, his lips falling away in a grin. He gives me an affectionate nose touch and then goes to check each individual sheep. The lambs follow him around as if he is their hero, which, indeed, he is. 

My nephew and a young lady visiting the ranch are up by the barn in my round pen, working colts. One jumped out of it the other day, crushing one of my panels. I hear their voices on the wind and a wave of sadness rushes over me. I contemplate how many horses I myself, broke and started in that pen before my condition rendered me unable to do what I had spent my whole life loving and doing. I miss it terribly, some days more than others and watching and listening to other people enjoy a life that is lost to me is hard...especially when they are doing it in my space. I wipe a selfish tear from my eye and look back towards Cletus. He seems to sense my sadness and comes to lay down next to me. Burying my face and hands in his fur, I thank God for the life He has preserved for me. If I did not have the animals to keep me company while Randyman is working, I think it would be unbearable. I chide myself for having a bad attitude. I no longer use the roundpen for riding horses, but I could break it down and make smaller pens out of it for my sheep and goats. I decide to see if the boss wants it and if so, maybe we can work something out. At least if its no longer my own, it won’t hurt so much to see it damaged. There was sentimental attachment to it, as it was a gift from someone very important and very dear to me, but that someone is somebody I won’t get to see again. Some memories are better left behind, or they become toxic and eat a hole in your heart like a cancer.

Cider came over with a ‘hand-picked’ cowpie and sets it down next to me, expecting me to throw it. I roll my eyes at him and find a bone, and substitute it instead. He runs and picks it up, then heads off through the grass exploring. He comes back, offering a stick. I throw it and he returns, his body covered in mud. 

I finally pull myself to my feet and head back up the hill to the corral. The sheep and dogs walk slowly with me and we eventually arrive. I leave them behind as I head through the gate with Cider and go back in the house. Still feeling a little desolate and foggy headed, I tell him to stay outside and dry off.

I stumble to the couch to check my email on the laptop,and find that I scored a butterchurn on ebay. That makes me smile, as I have been wanting and needing one for a couple of years. Making butter 3x a week in the Kitchenaid hasn’t been all that bad, but its a good bit of work cleaning up and I also have to use my hands and wrists a lot to wash the butter. I should be able to do a lot more of that in the churn now, so I am excited for it to get here.

I look up and notice Cider is not outside, but laying on my newly cleaned carpet. I jump up and open the back door and tell him he has to go out. He sneaks around the other side of the kitchen table and heads for the bedroom. I growl at him and he stops, turns around and heads for the service porch, sighing dejectedly as he slumps down on the dog bed. 

I can't help but laugh at him, then I think about my new butter churn again.

Even the most lowly days have their high points.


This is the second day in a row of this strange stormy weather. That said, the weather is always a bit strange in this valley anyway. It can be sunny at our house and snowing at the bottom of the pasture. The dark clouds still cover the sky, but today there is a huge rainbow over the range. Bruno accompanies us as Cider and I go out to visit Cletus and the sheep. Cletus is beside himself to have Bruno there to play with again. I sit on the grass and the pups surround me, clowning around and teasing me unmercifully.

 I move down by the big 'octopus tree'. It's a huge tree with several thick trunks growing like tentacles along the ground. It makes for a handy seat to watch the goings ons and the antics of the 'polar bears'. They play chase and tumble and knock one another over at breakneck speeds, flipping and grabbing throats, legs, or whatever it takes to win the battle. The sheep graze on contentedly, not the least bit worried as the two dogs blaze a trail between them.

They finally wear themselves out and take up stations on opposite sides of the sheep. Bruno is watching from above, close to my observation post and Cletus has gone several hundred yards further down the pasture, beyond the sheep. They both sit quietly, eyes scanning the surrounding area. It has been drizzling for awhile and now it has stopped, so I gather up my things and head back up the hill to the house. 

Rosemary sees me and comes running from way down where the sheep are grazing. She continues to follow on my heels all the way to the corral, across the back yard, up on the porch and into the kitchen. She stands at my side and DEMANDS  a bottle. It's not time for her evening bottle yet, but I can't resist her so I heat up her bottle and allow her to have 1/3 of it early. I hear a vehicle race past the front of the house and as I look out I see both Maremma's racing past. They think I have left. I call their names and they stop, spinning around in surprise to see me behind them. We return to the pasture and resume our places in the grass.

As we lay in the gentle drizzle, I could hear a roaring coming from far away. Living in this valley, under the 10,000 ft. faultblock, our weather can become very turbulent, very quickly. The wind blows often, and blows strongly, but every now and then, it tunnels up the valley, contained by the mountains and charges through like a freight train, and that is exactly what it sounded like.

Cider and I made it to the house just before the first strong gust hit. I could hear it whistling around the little rock house we live in, through the gaps in the doorways and past the rock wall as dirt, tumbleweeds, tin from a building and other things went whirling past. I saw Emma’s shelter begin to heave as if breathing heavily as she stood at her feeder and watched. The wind continued to build and blow. The sheep ran into the corral with the dogs, but I didn’t see Stewie and his mother Madge. I ran out to find them, dirt blinding me temporarily as it blew and scratched its way into my eyes and my long hair whipped about painfully. I fought my way through the dead orchard but didn’t find them. Returning to the corral, I found she had already taken Stewie to shelter under the big cattle panels. EmmaLouMoo continued standing at her feeder, watching her own shelter blowing chaotically in the wind. Normally she takes cover in there every time it rains or snows, or anything disagreeable is taking place.  I drug out what hay I could find and stuffed it down deep into feeders, hoping it would stay long enough for the animals to get some sustenance from it. When I was finished, Emma’s shelter was gone. She was standing in the ruins of it, with her eyes agog, and her tongue hanging out. She was making awful noises, as though she was gagging or choking, and was breathing heavily. The heavy gate panel doorway to the milking shed was bending towards us, the wind beating against the backside of it unrelentingly. I made my way to Em with a halter, and once getting it on her, I realized she wasn’t choking at all, but was just terrified. The tarp which had once protected her was wrapped around her legs, whipping her madly and she had no sanctuary left to turn to. Bruno accompanied me as I led her through the large corrals and out to the old orchard where she and Dolly used to take cover. She ran to the back corner, seeming to find solace there. There is no longer any fence down the side of the orchard but I didn’t think she would be going anyplace, anytime soon. I cried a little for her, knowing how scared and lonesome she felt without Dolly here. As I returned, Randyman had shown up and together we tried to brace up the heavy panels that threatened to blow down and crush anything in their path. It took two of us to close the door after opening it to see if it would let off some of the pressure. It didn’t. We came back to the house, bringing the dogs in with us, as there was nothing they could do out there and having more animals in danger of being hit with flying debris just didn’t make much sense. Surprisingly, we never lost power. Randyman said it was gusting 70-80 mph.

I prayed for Emma and the animals and we settled down for the night, with popcorn, 4 big dogs in the house, and the wind howling outside.

I woke up at midnite to a sudden stillness. The wind had finally spent its fury. I let the dogs out and donning a sweatshirt and flashlight went to the orchard to find Em. I moved her into the big hay corral where she could safely spend the rest of the night, and let the dogs patrol. All the sheep seemed fine, as did the goats. Grateful for no injuries and minimum damage I headed back to the house.

The sun rose high and the air was crisp with a blue sky. After milking EmmaLou, I put the calves in the hay corral and set about to rebuilding and repairing her little tent shelter. I sandwiched the big tarp between cattle panels which I then wired together so the next time the wind blows, there is nowhere for the tarps to go. Of course, the likely scenerio is that everything will flip over but in a wind as strong as last night's there just isn’t a defense. This will do for normal weather.

I let the goats in with the sheep but Peebody the buck and Ray the Ram got into a terrible tussle and as Peebody has horns, he was not just butting, but hooking. I got ahold of his horns and front legs and with his front legs on either side of me, I towed him back to the goat pen alone. Ray felt the two doe goats were intruders and has been valiantly defending his little flock from them. They are fairly evenly matched weight wise, all weighing about 150 lb each so I let them be. As they butted heads at the top of the pasture, the pups were down with the ewes and lambs by the Octopus tree. I looked up and saw one of the visitor’s dogs in the pasture by the corral. Bruno and Cletus saw it too. They took off running and stopped, about 100 ft apart and 100 ft short of it. There was no way it was going to be able to get past them to the sheep. The dog paid little attention to them, so they advanced again, this time with a warning bark. This time the dog looked at them. Not seeming to be of a disposition to leave, they charged the dog a third time and the dog turned tail and ran, taking the shortest route back into the horse corral. The pups stopped where they were, satisfied that justice had been served and after checking the area where the dog had been thoroughly, they went back to the sheep. I hugged them and told them how proud I was of them, as they not only removed the intruder, but they didn’t  use anymore force than was necessary. They ramped it up each time they had to, but they used good discretion. I laid down in the sun, with my arms around Bruno, and I thought I felt Cletus laying on the other side of me. Now and then he would nuzzle me, but I was too weary to roll over yet. Finally, I turned my head and saw that it wasn’t Cletus at all, but Rosemary. She had snuggled up with us and stretched her neck out in ecstasy as I scratched her under the chin.

I looked up to see Randyman at the fence. He was laughing at the antics of Ray and the goats. Prissy, the evil doe, bit Ray and came up with a mouth full of wool. That’s what she gets for biting a hair sheep, it comes out!!

We headed back to the house with Rosemary at our heels and I made her a bottle while Randyman made lunch.

Afterwards, Rosemary followed us back out to the corral and Randy put all the huge gates back where they had been before the wind. He left and I went to check on Emma, who was laying down, sunning herself. She’s been very itchy lately, so I found a stiff brush, and laying with her, scratched her neck and chin for her. She lolled her head with her eyes closed and then wrapped her neck back around me as if to show her appreciation.

It was really my pleasure.

It always seems so serene after a storm. 

I think the rest of the day, we will all just rest in the quiet warmth of the sun, under the watchful eye of our Protector.

Contented

There have been some nasty low temperatures recently, down to -25 F with windchill, and a bit of snow. With the very cold temperatures on the mountain, our snow is scant, as it falls very finely and doesn’t build up to much most of the time, unlike the warm, wet snows we used to get at our  old home in the Tehachapi Mtn range of California where it wasn’t unusual to get 2 foot of fresh snow overnight.

Most of the snow that was here melted off yesterday, so we slogged thru the mud in our boots, moving calves and heavy, pregnant goats into the barn, relocating sheep, filling waters, and piling bedding in the animal shelters before the next storm.

We very NEARLY got a shelter put up for the weaned orphan calves I am keeping as future nurse cows. I had to find the particular 3 calves I wanted, out of 350 that were being moved from the large sheep pasture behind our house to a larger field a couple of miles away.

The three calves were a boogered up from being pushed into the corral with all the others by the cowboys but luckily, they remembered my bottle-feeding them last winter and I was able to pick them out of the herd after 15 or 20 minutes of searching and they followed me into a ‘safe’ corral. The cowboys offered to put eartags on them, so I could leave them with the other calves and find them easily, but the big and unwieldy tags make them all look like Elton John to me, and I am not a fan. I opted to bring them into one of our corrals and care for them by hand again.

 Of the three, one was our first orphan of last February, “Chewy”; another, the calf delivered C-section by the kids with a pocket knife, from a dead cow, “Rio”; and the third was the first leppie (orphan calf) we brought back from last Cowcamp, “Cholula”.

Cowcamp is a two week long affair camping out in the desert in early spring, to find all the cows who have wintered out there and bring them back to the main ranch. It is only 30 miles to Wildcat Canyon, where Cow Camp takes place but it takes 1 ½ hours to drive there as it is pretty rugged. It takes about a month or so to get all the cows pushed back home again, but the bulk of the gathering is done during the 2 weeks we stay there. Last year was tough, we were still bringing cows home in June.

Cowcamp accommodations are extremely rustic, but everyone looks forward to it. It can be hot, dry, windy, wet, or a blinding white blizzard all the same week…in fact on the same day, so lots of layers, gloves, slickers and hats are recommended. It’s ALWAYS cold at night and in the old drafty shacks we sleep in. There is a wooden outhouse that faces away from camp, as it has no door. A semi-trailer has been fashioned as a cook shack and is hauled out there and hooked to a propane tank and a generator and we pile in there after hours of long, hard riding to warm up by a propane stove and eat whatever can be prepared over a burner. There is an absence of luxury items we often take for granted… like showers… but its cold enough not to notice. On a nice day, one can get a 5-gallon bucket of water and warm it up to wash with.

I made soup and French bread yesterday and invited the ranch hands to dinner. I didn’t realize at the time that the work crew from across the state had returned, so I wound up with 9 mouths to feed. I figured there was enough soup…just barely, and I was short on both ingredients and time to increase the batch, so I threw together 2 more loaves of French bread. This should have been easily done, but the oven I use to rise the bread already had bread baking in it, so I carried the bowl of half risen bread into the other room by the new heat stove. It slipped from my hands and with a jarring halt, hit the floor, right-side-up. The dough however, was now flat as a pancake. I turned a small heating fan on it and it eventually re-rose to ¾ of its intended height and I baked it. It came out well, exactly as the 9 walked in the front door. There was 4 ounces of soup left over after everyone had eaten their second helpings and headed home.

Waking up this morning, I looked out the window onto a pristine white snowfall. This little old rock house is cozy when the wind doesn’t blow, and it’s much like living inside one of those little snowglobes. Snow is falling in large, heavy flakes and building on the walls and fences outside. Dolly’s fancy outfit has a 2” covering of white across the top of her back as she and Emma contentedly work the molasses lick. They are predicting 6 inches today.

The pups are off ‘who-knows-where’, likely having a good time. They brought home an enormous leg bone last night. We don’t mind, as they are always from “dead stock” and coyote kills. It helps deter the predators as the pups make their presence known and steal the bounty. We have the biggest bone yard in Harney County, I believe. My pups are diligent workers.

I filled calf bottles and headed to the big barn to feed the two baby calves that are in there, along with the goats. It’s time to start working with the goats on getting into the milking stanchion and allowing me to handle them. Placing grain in a little bucket and letting them out one at a time, they happily pop up onto the platform and I close the head-catch. I slowly rub my hand down their hind legs and around their udder, which they are very ticklish about, kicking and squatting and doing all manner of gymnastics to escape my hand, but the love of sweet feed wins out and they continue eating while arguing with me. I love a greedy animal. It makes life so much easier! Eventually they will settle down and ignore me and milking will be much easier this January, when they finally kid. They are both ‘first fresheners’ so I will be keeping a close eye on them in case they have trouble.

I head back to check the sheep. We nearly took the ram back to town, to the lady we borrowed him from, but I noticed some serious romancing going on, so clearly the girls didn’t conceive after the first breeding. It looks like he will be here through New Years. I am looking forward to spring lambs, baby goats, and calves, but for now, with the warmth of the house, the smell of blackberry vanilla soap curing on my racks and the beauty of the winter white world outside, I am content.

Winterized

The temperatures have dropped, the green grass is gone and replaced with wheaten stalks. Trees and fences are dressed with ice crystals and our breath hangs in the frost heavy air. The ranch hands are decked out with their silk "wild rags" and thick gloves and jackets, while the animals all have an extra layer of thick hair and hopefully, an extra layer of fat to help them work their way through the long winter ahead.

Having gone to California to visit family over the Thanksgiving holiday, it seems winter crept in the backdoor at the ranch. While we were chuckling at unforgettable toddler phrases like "Guess what everybody??? I have to go poop!!!" delivered with gleeful self satisfaction, and causing Randyman to flee to the far end of the house, the temperatures dipped to sub zero with the wind chill bringing it close to minus 20's degree Farenheit. Our ranch family thoughtfully dragged all the goats, sheep, orphan calves and my two Jersey milk cows into the barn under heatlamps. Many animals can withstand the harsh temperatures, but my milk cows are overly thin from feeding calves too long and too well, and the goats...well...they are just sissies.

This of course, means I returned home to a mountain of poop that had to be shoveled out of the barn. If there is one thing cows can do, its produce poop. Lots of it.  After shoveling for a couple of hours, my back was painfully suggesting I go lay down for a bit.  Knowing that there was no way I would be able to keep Dollymoo cow in for the winter, I found an old horse blanket which fit her perfectly. She had no objections to my putting it on her, indeed, she was as tickled as a teen in her first prom dress, so I led her to her pasture and turned her loose with a ration of hay and grain. I returned to get EmmaLou cow, her yearling heifer, and put her out as well. I turned Emma loose and she went bucking and cavorting across the pasture until she saw Dolly. She came to a screeching halt and began running backwards, as much as a cow is able to. She snorted and spooked and kept turning her head back at Dolly like she just couldn't believe what she was seeing. Dolly had sure enough gotten so cold, she'd turned blue all over. At least that was Emma's perception. It took some time before she dared approach her mother in that dark blue frock. Once resigned to the fact it was still Dolly, she attempted to wipe the outfit off of her with her tongue, to no avail.

I brought the sheep and goats back to the house and bedded  down their shelters with straw, and checked on the 'polar bears'. ( the 2 Maremma puppies, now 8 months old and over 100 lb) They are for sure fluffier than when we left, probably because of the cold. The snow doesn't seem to affect them at all.

  I returned to the house for a much needed rest for my back, only to find the bed already occupied.

"Visions of grandeur in his sleep"

 

Apparently, Cider did not sleep well in California.

So, instead I resumed making soap and reminisced about our family visit, and the loved ones we had to leave behind until next trip.