We Are In Community Each Time We Find a Place Where We Belong

The title line for this post is a quote from American author and consultant Peter Block.

There's one party I look forward to all year.  Tonight was the night.  Instead of gathering inside the Rustic Ridge Arena for a pray and play with our dogs, the two-legged members of God's Dog Squad gussied up and met at the oh-so charming log home of co-founder Shawna Schuh.  This year's event was all the more special because my daughter, Rosie, came with me.

Holiday parties come in all flavors and they can range in temperature, too -- everything from downright cold to smoking hot.  Squad celebrations are, without question, the most welcoming group of folks I've ever encountered.  Lots of party wags!

It's a potluck, too, so everyone arrives with a specialty dish -- meatballs, spicy chicken, tamari chicken, sweet potatoes, a to-die-for veggie tray, deviled eggs, spectacular salads, mincemeat pie with brandy sauce, and dark chocolate covered coconut candies to name a few.  Once the prayer is said, we dive into the eating and visiting portion of our program. 

Over the years, I've come to appreciate that squad members are superb conversationalists and even better listeners.  It isn't often that you get to know someone's heart, yet I always come away from our monthly meeting or annual party with a greater understanding of someone else.  This connectivity is, in my book of life, an enormous gift.

Usually, we transition from eating and visiting to the ornament exchange.  Everyone pulls a number out of a hat and we set the expectations, things like an item can only be "stolen" three times.  Laughter erupts as these gentle souls select or "steal" ornaments.

Last, we sing.  Our them song, "God and Dog," and Christmas carols -- lots and lots of them.  Together, the squad makes beautiful music.  It's a place I belong, an important part of my community.  Where do you belong?

"One man may hit the mark, another blunder; but heed not these distinctions. Only from the alliance of the one, working with and through the other, are great things born."  ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

May the God of Your Choice Bless You and Onward Through the Fog

The title line for this post is a quote from American novelist, politician, singer, and song writer Kinky Friedman.

December has never looked so good in Oregon.  We've had minimal rain and the temperatures, while cool, haven't been too extreme.  Lots of glorious sunshine, too, after the fog burns off each day.

Nighttime can be a bit perilous.  A deer wandered out onto the road in front of my car a few nights ago.  The fog was thick, but my high beams caught in the deer's eyes soon enough and I had plenty of time to stop and patiently wait as the lovely creature blended back into the woods.  The other three deer, the ones waiting off to the right allowed me to pass.  Last week, a massive and magnificent elk sauntered in front of my Honda.  Thankfully, I was putting along and able to make a "soft" stop.  The elk was at least as large as my gelding, Irish, if not bigger.  Sometimes, I am only aware an elk after I've passed one grazing alongside the road.  An elk's shadowy shape always registers after the fact.

All December, our mornings here at the ranch have been shrouded in mystery as things and animals emerge and disappear into the fog.  I love the changing nature of a foggy vista.  Here's a snapshot I took last week of Gin in his paddock.

"It is not the clear-sighted who rule the world.  Great achievements are accomplished in a blessed, warm fog."  ~Joseph Conrad

The History of Christmas Lights

There's something magic about Christmas lights.  Whether they're clear white or splash-of-color pastels or bold, holiday lights warm the season.

When I was growing up, we always had lights on our Christmas tree.  For my mother, it was candles.  My husband's father always hung lights on their house, a beautiful tradition he brings to our family.

Tonight, as I was admiring the lights here at Sweetgrass Ranch, I wondered who first invented them...  The Internet can be a vast and grand place when it comes to answering questions, so I plugged in a search string and voila!  The history of Christmas lights is no longer a mystery.  Here's a brief summary:

Back in 1882, a fellow named Edward Johnson lit a New York Christmas tree with eighty light bulbs.  Johnson, an inventor who worked under the direction of Thomas Edison, built the very first string of lights.  The design was later improved by Albert Sadacca, who made "safety" lights for Christmas trees in 1917.  Sadacca was also the first to introduce multi-colored lights.
Come see the Christmas lights here at Sweetgrass Ranch by clicking on this video link:
http://youtu.be/Zi2t5Is1Rhc

Sprite's New Coat

At twelve pounds, Sprite is a very small dog.  She also has a short coat and thin skin.  This past weekend, there was a very good sale at Wilco and I couldn't resist this Weatherbeeta dog blanket.  Pretty snazzy, huh?

Going Plaid -- Supporting Local and Independent Businesses This Holiday Season -- Feels Great!

It was a big day here at Sweetgrass.  Early this morning, farrier Scott Norgaard and his apprentice, Jamie, came by to check a couple of horses for me.  Scott has an excellent understanding of equine physiology and a real knack for identifying potential sources of lameness.   If he doesn't find something readily, I know I'm dealing with some kind of transient soft tissue anomalies.  That was the case with my gelding Irish, although Gin is exhibiting some soreness in his left rear hock.  For now, my follow-up will include some low level pain medication under the direction of my horse veterinarian, Dr. Jennifer Posey.  Next Wednesday, the horses will be receiving their annual vaccines and Dr. Posey and her ace technician, Nikki James, will be on hand with their portable X-Ray machine.  If need be, they can take a look at Irish and Gin then.

By the way, if you are in the market for some awesome custom made farrier tools, Scott is your guy.  He makes everything from scratch, including horseshoes and has successfully competed in American Farrier Association competitions.  When I haul my horses to shows across the region, everyone always wants to know about my farrier because Scott does such a nice job.  You can reach Scott at 503-793-3220.

After we said goodbye to Scott and Jamie, Lorenzo helped me debug some soreness we're seeing in my coming two year-old filly, Jetblue.  Last week, Jetblue battled a tough virus and it seems her digestive tract, while fully functional, is still sore.  Add to this some additional soreness in the poll region -- likely from setting back a couple of times while practicing on the Mountain Trail course -- and you have one cranky pony.  For now, we're dosing Jetblue with a little Equioxx as advised by Dr. Posey and keeping her exercise routine basic with a lot of stretching.

Next, I was off to dermatologist Dr. Sandhya Koppula to have some pre-cancerous sunspots freeze-burned away.  The whole procedure lasted less than sixty seconds and was relatively easy.  I should know in six weeks or so if it was successful.  For now, I'm thinking POSITIVE.

On the way home, I swung into the tiny North Plains post office, where my favorite clerk, Jill from Louisiana, helped me select boxes for my long-distance family ho ho ho's.  Tonight, I spent several hours at the kitchen table, assembling all the goodies I've been collecting and getting notes written and packages labeled.  This is my first Plaid Friday Christmas, meaning our family gifting supported local and independent businesses.  Tonight, I wrapped and packaged Portland musician Lincoln Crockett cd's, our annual holiday note that includes a year-in-review paragraph from each family member, and an Old Tyme Photo studio shot of our clan dressed as three pirates and a pirate Indian chief.  In my notes to family, I explained that upstate New York fiber artist Maria Wulf is creating and shipping some amazing potholders to everyone, too.  To check out Lincoln's sweet melodies and Maria's visionary creations, please visit their respective web sites:

http://www.lincolncrockett.com/

http://www.fullmoonfiberart.com/

As I put the last piece of tape on the very last package tonight, I had a profound sense of accomplishment.  Our hard-earned dollars went to support some very cool, creative independent businesses this year.  Going Plaid feels great!

Answering the Call to Life

One of my favorite blogs is author Jon Katz's Bedlam Farm Journal, which I began following faithfully after reading the book Izzy and Lenore.  Katz writes beautifully about a wide range of topics, but he really shines when it comes to life in the country -- life filled with dogs, a barn cat, chickens, and donkeys.

Last Friday, Katz and his wife, fiber artist Maria Wulf, said goodbye to their beloved Border collie, Rose.  Intelligent, brave, hard-working, and driven, Rose was the perfect stock dog and Katz has the video footage to prove it.  Rose did double duty, serving as the inspiration behind Katz's marvelous book, Rose in a Storm, the story of a farmer, his faithful Border collie, and an epic storm.  On more than one occasion, Rose literally saved Katz's life.  For all this and more, Rose was loved far and wide.

Over the past few days, Katz's readers have e-mailed  thousands of condolences to Bedlam Farm.  Katz himself has been posting sweet Rose memories, photos, thoughts, and even a short video.  His most recent work, a book titled Going Home, Finding Peace When Pets Die, chronicles the stages of  loss, grief, remembrance, celebration, and moving on.  So, Katz himself is well versed in the process.  His thoughts, taken from a few journal entries:

"Grief is not how my story goes or ends, and it is not the story of Rose, or of Rose and me. All around me I see life, love, beauty and purpose. There are people and animals and light and beauty  waiting for my love and attention, my eye, heart and camera. They will get it." ~Jon Katz

While prominent, Rose wasn't the only character in the Bedlam Farm cast.  Simon, a rescue donkey on the brink of death, was rehabilitated by Katz and Wulf this last summer and is now a shining example of good health.  Each morning, Simon greets Katz and Wulf with a bombastic bray.  Katz loves to call it "Simon's call to life" and I think he's on to something.

Poet Maya Angelou said it best:

"Life loves to be taken by the lapel and told:  "I am with you kid.  Let's go.""  ~Maya Angelou

To read the Bedlam Farm Journal, please click on this link:

 http://www.bedlamfarm.com/blog/

Every Life Needs Its Altar

The title line for this post is part of a quote from Esther B. York.  Here is the entire quote:

“Every life needs its altar.  It may be in a church or quiet nook.  It may be a moment in the day, or a mood of the heart…But somewhere the spiritual life must have its altar.  From there life gains its poise and direction.”

This past couple of days, I've been reading about personal altars and sacred space -- everything from experiments where human intention actually produces more vigorous fruit flies to a measurable difference in the energy signature for a particular place.  Here's my takeaway.

It seems likely that human intention can be converted to a type of ordered coherent energy that exerts a force.  This is why setting positive intentions is so important.  Furthermore, once our energy is put into motion, it can remain present for a very long time.

My dash-of-this-and-that personal altars are located in very public places -- behind my kitchen sink, on a photo board in the barn, etc.  Both locations are places I frequent, most often when I'm spinning around like a top, revolving so fast I can't possibly discern the absence or presence of momentum, let alone direction.

At each alter, I've placed talismans, objects that both ground and connect me to my values, my family, my friends, and my passionate pursuits -- smooth stones and agates collected on beach walks, a Begonia start blooming bright in the dead of winter, a horse tooth, things made and gifted to me by my children.  A couple of deep breaths in the presence of one of my altars and my pulse slows.  My brain clears.  Best of all, my heart is good.

Sacred space is, for me, the ever changing outdoors.  It's found in the late afternoon light when the shadows are long and everything is aglow, the mist that clings to the cow pastures, and the hauntingly lovely bugle of a bull elk.  Sometimes, when I am lucky, I sense the divine in the eye of a fellow creature.

Drifty's Eye

Does your life have an altar, a checkpoint where you connect with the truths you hold dear?  What are your sacred spaces?

“There are four questions of value in life... What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love.”  - Johnny Depp

Your Sacred Space Is Where You Can Find Yourself Again and Again

The title line for this post is a quote from American mythologist, writer, and lecturer Joseph Campbell (1904-1987).  One of Campbell's other notable quotes summarizes his philosophy:  "Follow your bliss."

I hate to dust, so it doesn't often get done.  Sometimes, though, when the dust piles up enough to be doodle-able, I'm forced to do something.  At these times, I'm struck by the many small alters throughout my home, the collection of odds and ends I've strategically left in the places I frequent.  One such sacred space is the area behind my kitchen sink.

This spot has, no matter where I've lived, always been occupied by a small flower pot.  Fifteen years ago, my then first grade daughter painted the pot as part of a class project for Valentine's or Mothers' Day.  At the time, I thought a Purple Velvet plant complimented the red and purple pot with a white heart.  Over the years, I've tended the plant and repotted it when necessary.  Fifteen years is a good long run for a houseplant.  With luck, I'll be able to add many more years to that count.  There are other treasures behind the kitchen sink, too, like my bowl full of beach rocks.

Each rock represents a family walk along our favorite beach, Arcadia, just south of Cannon Beach, Oregon. For me, beach rocks have always been tiny universes unto themselves, but take them out of water and they become muted.  So each week, I wash and re-fill my bowl of rocks with fresh water that amplifies the colors and textures.  As I do so, I dream of long walks punctuated with the sound of surf and seagulls and laughter.  The bowl provides moisture for the plants, including the Begonia start.

My brilliant Begonia is a rescue, a section acidentally busted off the parent plant and stuffed in an intact glass found alongside our road.  Every year, there is some plant or other in need of saving here at the ranch.  Apparently, there's an occasional glass which requires rescue, too.  I can never resist a salvage operation and my reward is usually a vibrant blossom that appears around Christmas time, this particular Begonia's grand version of a thank you.  In front of the Begonia, there are two large rocks.

One is a massive crystal I purchased at a rock show, my way of paying homage to Feng Shui's assertion that house drains can be conduits for good or negative energy.  It's a big crystal, big enough to trap any bad vibes.  Next to my crystal is a large bone shaped agate recovered from Arcadia on one of our many walks there.  Rock always seem to be balanced with wood, so I've included some interestng folk art in my alter, too.

To me, the small wood carving of a pig peeing on a fire hydrant is both whimsical and funny.  A pig in a red chapeau.  When I first saw this piece at the Seaside Christmas Fair years ago, the maker informed me that the pig was a Democrat.  For some reason, this just seems all the funnier to me.  Back then, I had to have this carving.  An aside...  My husband tries to hide this piece when new people come to the ranch.  Usually, I find my pig in time and set the orientation so the pig's action is obvious to visitors.  Most people are amused.  The handcrafted wood is a stark contrast to the modern plastic horse in my window.

Years ago, my nephew Joe made a gift of his McDonald's Happy Meal toy -- a sturdy looking buckskin horse with a glint in his eye.  I was charmed, not because Joe's gift was a horse and he knew I loved horses, but because he thought enough of me to pass along a toy, to share something he valued.  What's not to love about that?  Just down from the pony is a pair of vases.

The cowgirl boot flower holders have different origins:  the small one came from a trip north to see my dad and the other from a Newberg, Oregon store called Farmgro.  My family and I spent many a happy day shopping at Farmgro where proprietor Jean Nilles made a point of getting to know her customers.  This vase reminds me of all of Jean's fine qualities, many of which I strive for in my life.  Just to the right of the boots is a small wooden bird hung on a red ribbon.

The Chickadee was a gift from my son, Nick, many many years ago.  Nick has always understood the things that impress me most, from salmon spawning at Oxbow Park to fine handcrafted art.  He's selected many beautiful, thoughtful gifts over the years, each one a treasure.  Beyond the Chickadee is a very large molar.

All horses lose their baby teeth between the ages of two and five.  The molar or cap sitting in the window is from my gelding, Irish.  Every time I see that tooth, I think of the time and energy spent learning to work together.  It's been a long journey, one that's just beginning to approach synchronicity and joy.  Behnd the Chickadee and Irish's tooth is a dream catcher.

The dream catcher is old, a remnant from a make-it-yourself art project I did with the kids when they were young.  To this day, it reminds me to take time to be open to creativity, to let my muse flow.

Directly above Irish's tooth is an cowgirl ornament suspended on a lovely crystal suncatcher.The ornament was a gift from Lorenzo and Esperanza's little girl, Natalia.  I believe this cowgirl comes from the Toy Story movies, but she reminds me of my Wyoming grandmother's strength, self-reliance, and sheer joy.  She's the cowgirl I want to be.

This is my kitchen window, just one of my sacred places.

The Dogs of Sweetgrass Ranch

Most people have a single dog.  Some have two, usually a senior dog and an upcoming pup.  There are the two-plus dog owners, the crazies like me who attempt to ride roughshod over a pack of three or more canines.

Few folks are bold enough or nuts enough to go where I've been this past year --three dogs, three years-old and under.  Add to that an elderly, nineteen years young Beagle/Whippet pound puppy and you have a diverse pack.

The senior member of our dog clan, Princess, is a lovely soul who has been part of our family since we found her at the Bonnie Hays Small Animal Shelter  some thirteen years back.  These days, much of Princess's time is spent napping and enjoying home cooked meals.

Next in line is Sombra, an eighty-pound King shepherd.  A purebred, Sombra has the distinction of being way more complex than the rest of our pack.  Her big dog digestive system is temperamental and she has several behavioral quirks which require us to be more dog saavy than usual.  On occasion, I've enlisted the help of a canine behaviorist to decode Sombra -- everything from resource guarding to fear-based aggression.  On the flip side, Sombra can be exceptionally expressive, tender, and loving.  Like I said, complex.

Thankfully, Sombra's out there behavior is tempered by a twenty-four pound bright spot in our lives, the dog we call Soleil or Lei Lei.  Technically this by-your-side twenty-four-seven companion isn't my pooch.  She belongs to my daughter, Rosie, who is away at college and has been so for much of Lei Lei's life.  I guess that makes me a surrogate dog mama.  Sigh.  Rosie's bundle-of-love two year-old Foxador, a Fox terrier/Labrador cross came to her by way of the McMinnville, Oregon animal shelter.  Lei Lei is the kind of dog I hope to own one day.  For now, I've got her on loan.

Last and certainly not least, there's Sprite, a comical twelve-pound Rat terrier/Miniature Pinscher cross more reminiscent of a small baby than a dog.  Sprite is a little like a late life baby -- unplanned yet so gosh darned overwhelmingly cute that you don't mind too terribly much.  She first appeared at Sweetgrass in the pick-up truck of a man I hired to wash windows.  He had banded all the pup's tails and none too well, so short that Sprite has no more than a tiny stub left.  The man pestered me incessantly and I finally relented with one condition.  Sprite's purchase price was to be used to spay her mama.

So that's the dogs of Sweetgrass.  Princess gets along fine with Lei Lei and Sprite, but is definitely locked in a struggle for alpha position with Sombra.  At forty pounds and nineteen years of age, the old girl isn't much of a match for Sombra, so the two are usually kept separated using different rooms, a covered dog run, or a crate.  We usually integrate each dog into family life in shifts and everyone gets all the love and attention they can handle.

In return, our pack of pooches gives us unconditional love and lots of laughter.  Come watch Sombra, Lei Lei, and Sprite at play:

http://youtu.be/reYX_rAp9a0

"I am joy in a wooly coat, come to dance into your life, to make you laugh!" ~Julie Church

Who Can Believe That There Is No Soul Behind Those Luminous Eyes!

The title line for this post is a quote from French poet, dramatist, novelist, journalist, art critic and literary critic Theophile Gautier (1811-1872).

Tonight, as I was sorting through my photos from this past year, I came across a snapshot of Shadow.  For many fine years, Shadow was the scourge of small creatures who dared to enter a wide zone surrounding the horse barn.  I've no doubt that for many a mouse, snake, vole, mole, and even chipmunk, Shadow's lovely, luminous green eyes were the last thing they saw.

Shadow and her two siblings, Bear and Hoodoo, came to live with us when they were tiny kittens.  Raising them was such a delight and somewhere, I have a snapshot of all three sitting on our first horse, Summer's, back.  When our barn kitties were ten months-old, Hoodoo disappeared.  For many years, Shadow and Bear cooperatively hunted and kept each other company, spending their nights in the safe, warm tack room.  This past August, we humanely euthanized Shadow as her kidneys were failing rapidly.  Our veterinarian, Dr. Tom Tsui of North Plains Veterinary, gently put Shadow to sleep here at home, with Bear and the rest of the family present.  She's burried in our pet cemetary and recently, I planted many colorful bulbs over her grave.

Until this evening, I didn't recall taking this snapshot but I'm sure glad I did.  Everything about Shadow was a masterpiece, from her white ear tufts and snazzy tuxedo, to her designer boots.  Just as she seems to be doing in this photo, Shadow was fond of collecting me when it was time for her dinner.

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight." ~Kahlil Gibran

A Surprise Flock & Bringing In the Heifers

Late this afternoon, as I was headed down to help bring the Black Angus heifers in for the night, I stopped to make this exposure.

At the time, I didn't see the flock of birds in front of the sun.  You can bet I'll be watching for them the next couple of days.

Lorenzo has done a great job of halter breaking and training Libbey and Tove, our Black Angus heifers.  About the same time every day, the duo are waiting at the gate, ready to be taken to their pen in the small covered arena.

Cold, Foggy Days

When one of the horses is feeling ill, it's common for the horse in the adjacent paddock to stand nearby.  That was the case yesterday when Jetblue (at left) was fighting a virus that sent her temperature spiking to 105.7 degrees.  Irish was always nearby, seemingly comforting the filly.  Thankfully, Jetblue is feeling much better today.

We've been in a fog much of this week, with more of the stuff forecast for tomorrow.  Yesterday's freezing fog produced some gorgeous spider webs encrusted with tiny ice crystals.  The following snapshot is a dazzling display of old-world "web" and "net" courtesy of spiders and the basketball hoop we have here at the ranch.

A Freezing Fog

Last night, a freezing fog moved into our area.  By morning, ice-encrusted spider webs hung from trees, glistening icicles.  On the drive into the ranch, the last of the 2011 roses were similarly adorned.

Not So Colic, Night Three

Jetblue's colic isn't a colic after all.  Usually, I can turn a gas or minor impaction colic in short order.  So, yesterday morning, when Jetblue didn't seem to be responding to all the usual tricks, I put her in the horse trailer and hauled her to Pacific Crest Sporthorse.  It was Dr. Jennifer Posey's day off, but ace technician Nikki James was there with Dr. Amanda Johnson.  The duo assessed Jetblue and recommended drawing blood to check for infection and organ function.  The results came back this morning.

My filly has a virus, a nasty gnarly virus that sent her temperature soaring all the way to 105.7 degrees late today.  Doctors Posey and Johnson have checked in frequently and we've used measured doses of Banamine and cold rag baths to help reduce Jetblue's fever.  Using what we know, we're supporting the filly's system and hoping she'll fight the virus off by Thursday.

Until then, it's going to be another short, watchful night.  Prayers for Jetblue would be appreciated.

Colic Watch, Night Two

Last night was unusual and tonight isn't looking any different.  My filly, Jetblue, has been running a fever.  One-hundred-four at last check.  The poor girl has a horse-sized tummy ache, a tympanic colic that arrived on the coattails of freezing weather.  Thankfully, Jetblue is still drinking water and producing road apples, albeit far fewer than usual.

Any kind of colic is a serious business.  It can be life-threatening.  So I've been checking on the filly every few hours:  taking her temperature, listening to her wide ranging gut sounds, checking her capillary refill and hydration, her pulse, and respiration.  My veterinarian is on speed dial and we talk.  Frequently.  At the vet's direction, I give Jetblue Banamine to reduce her fever and quell the abdominal pain.

To keep the filly's system moving, she and I have walked and trotted up and down the asphalt into the wee hours.  We've done so to owl hootenannies and dogs barking in the distance.  We've marched before the wild things' watchful eyes, their presence a whisper to my spider senses.

Throughout Jetblue's colic, I've come to realize there are times when my "to do" list is truly immaterial.  When nothing but the task at hand matters.  Plans and appointments go out the window as I work to bring my favorite filly back into balance.  This is my cowgirl version of a firefight -- a cold barn, a warm kissable nose, a shared quest.

A few years back, I lost a horse to a rare type of colic, a torsion of the liver.  The whole event ran less than twenty-four hours start to finish -- healthy horse to no horse.  I did everything I could possibly do and more, but it was never enough.  There simply was no enough.  At the time, finding value and meaning in Jack's passing was a tall, impossible order.  Now, I understand.  Every second of life, even the tough times, is a gift.  As my dad says, "It beats the alternative."

So, fully dressed and bundled in my coat and stocking cap, I set my alarm and stretch out in my favorite chair, savoring the warmth of the fire and hoping to catch a few hours of sleep.  Jetblue's counting on me and so am I.

"Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out." ~ Art Linkletter

La Nina Delivers the Start of a December to Love

Just a quick reminder about the photos at this site.  While I hope you enjoy viewing my work, please don't copy or use my images without permission.  Each of my photos contains a digital watermark, so I'm able to track use.  If you see something at this site, something you'd really like to incorporate into a project or advertising, please contact me by leaving a comment.  I'd be happy to visit with you.  On to today's post...

According to the Farmers' Almanac, La Nina or "the little girl" typically magnifies the weather conditions in any given area.  Areas that receive heavy snowfall typically receive way more, making for brutal winters.  Here in the Pacific Northwest, the long range forecasts have anticipated an excess of the usual heavy rainfall.  So what happened?

For the past several days, we've basked in the rare glow of December sunlight and it's been -- let me find the right word or words -- heavenly, divine, exquisite, and all so rare.  The weather folks are reporting this to be the driest December on record.  Amazingly, Don and Nick put up the ranch Christmas lights in sweatshirts and even managed a wee bit o' tan.  It's starting to feel a bit tropical.

And...  I was able to work on finishing my Shadows photo essay.  This past year, I've photographed my shadow in combination with that of horses, a duck, dogs, and cat.  While I've had my sights set on a cow shadow, getting one proves to be a bit more difficult than I had anticipated.  Cattle, it seems, are bashful about their shadows.  Late this afternoon, Don helped me snag our Black Angus heifers and I snapped a few photos with my favorite, Libbey.  Here's my pick...

I'm still playing with variations on this image -- I can definitely see it as a black & white or infared.
As I was walking up from the cow pasture, the late afternoon sun was streaming through the paddocks.  Seeing an opportunity, I snapped this shot of Irish and our Christmas barn star, the one Don and I made using ranch-grown red Dogwood branchees.  Having holiday lights up sure makes everything festive.

La Nina's gifts were plenty as I continued to work with the low late afternoon light.  I'm really pleased with the following photos of Jetblue and Irish.

On my way to the house, I managed to catch the following shot of Don as he finished lighting the gate.  Beautiful.

To top off a darn near perfect day, we made the decision to send each of our family members the Lincoln Crockett compact disc, Angels and Devils Alike.  It's our contribution to a Plaid Friday kind of Christmas, one where we support local and independent businesses and artists.  Part of our gifting will include fiber artist Maria Wulf's amazing "functional art" potholders, too.  This year, we're supporting a local musician and an artist from upstate New York.  Doing so sure feels good.  Ho! Ho! Ho!

Life is Always a Rich and Steady Time When You are Waiting for Something to Happen or to Hatch

The title line for today's post is a quote from American writer E.B. White (1899-1985), who is best known for his books:  Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little, and The Elements of Style.

It's confirmed.  Daisy, our Charolais heifer, is going to be a mama sometime between the very end of March and the first week of April.  This will be our second baby at the ranch, the last being our filly, Jetblue, who was born in April of 2010.  The calf will be our first venture into raising cattle, so we have to rely on experts like Dr. Steve Vredenburg of Banks Veterinary Service, 503-324-6060.

Earlier today, Dr. Vredenburg swung by the ranch and checked both Daisy and Libbey -- the girls were artificially inseminated with semen from a Black Angus bull this past June.  Libbey didn't take and will be bred again this coming April along with our other Black Angus heifer, Tove.  Any kind of birth is always cause for celebration and today's good news was, too.  Here's a snapshot of our mama cow to be.

Here's a photo of Libbey and Tove.