All day long rain has fallen from a grey, depressed sky. Dense waterlogged clouds line the distant, tree lined horizon, Mr. and Mrs. Mallard stand guard over a waterlogged nest and Mr. and Mrs. Goose drift on the churning water of the farm pond. Rivulets of rain water run unchecked down the ranch road, swirling pools of muddy water have eroded the earth around the pasture gates and the gutters above the stalls are overflowing into an almost submerged barnyard. Bella our beautiful Jersey heifer steadfastly refused to leave the warm dry cow barn this morning, stubbornly resisted Bran the Border Collie's over enthusiastic "encouragement" and obstinately rejected the tasty honey and apple cow treat invitingly proffered once she was firmly (and very reluctantly) relocated behind the pasture gate. Sirloin the young red Dexter steer, stood forlornly at her side, rain drops dripping from the end of his bushy tail and little pointed hooves standing in rapidly forming puddles. Not a good day to be a cow.
In the sheep pen, anxious ewes attempted to curtail the enthusiasm of the newly formed "brat pack" who, disregarding the torrential rain skipped and jumped with the sheer joy of being young and alive. Barney the ram, reluctantly living a celibate life, estranged from his harem stood alone in the day long rainstorm, his dense wool coat saturated by the constant drenching. Occasionally his body would shudder, his waterlogged body shaking free of a cloud of raindrops and his black mask a picture of abject, lonely misery.
The chickens, relocated to the old hen house are in virtual fowl heaven. Heavy, persistent rain encourages fat juicy worms to move towards the surface and our egg laying, feathered ladies, eagerly watch, waiting for the slightest movement in the sodden earth, scratching, clucking and squawking in anticipation.
We have an empty horse stall, a harsh reminder that Lady our big Shire Mare has sadly passed away but daily I think to take her grain, fill her water bucket, stuff her hay net or muck out her stable. Lady has moved on to greener pastures (we hope)...but her memory in the farmyard lives on. Quest, our big bay gelding and Lady's son has valiantly managed to remain calm and apparently resigned to a solitary life in the pasture he once shared with mom. Today he stood alone in the rain, who knows what thoughts lie behind his deep brown eyes, what memories he has of the ten years he spent with his big gentle matriarch and how will her sudden demise affect him.
As I write, the rain is still falling, the pond is overflowing and huge puddles are spreading through the pastures. The wind chimes on the deck are echoing through and across the valley and the moon is shrouded behind heavy clouds. The end of another day on the ranch, the dogs are out, watering a tree or three and the kettle is boiling for a cup of hot sweet tea. Take care, keep safe and dry, M
In the sheep pen, anxious ewes attempted to curtail the enthusiasm of the newly formed "brat pack" who, disregarding the torrential rain skipped and jumped with the sheer joy of being young and alive. Barney the ram, reluctantly living a celibate life, estranged from his harem stood alone in the day long rainstorm, his dense wool coat saturated by the constant drenching. Occasionally his body would shudder, his waterlogged body shaking free of a cloud of raindrops and his black mask a picture of abject, lonely misery.
The chickens, relocated to the old hen house are in virtual fowl heaven. Heavy, persistent rain encourages fat juicy worms to move towards the surface and our egg laying, feathered ladies, eagerly watch, waiting for the slightest movement in the sodden earth, scratching, clucking and squawking in anticipation.
We have an empty horse stall, a harsh reminder that Lady our big Shire Mare has sadly passed away but daily I think to take her grain, fill her water bucket, stuff her hay net or muck out her stable. Lady has moved on to greener pastures (we hope)...but her memory in the farmyard lives on. Quest, our big bay gelding and Lady's son has valiantly managed to remain calm and apparently resigned to a solitary life in the pasture he once shared with mom. Today he stood alone in the rain, who knows what thoughts lie behind his deep brown eyes, what memories he has of the ten years he spent with his big gentle matriarch and how will her sudden demise affect him.
As I write, the rain is still falling, the pond is overflowing and huge puddles are spreading through the pastures. The wind chimes on the deck are echoing through and across the valley and the moon is shrouded behind heavy clouds. The end of another day on the ranch, the dogs are out, watering a tree or three and the kettle is boiling for a cup of hot sweet tea. Take care, keep safe and dry, M
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