An Old Soul

A calf looking in the front door of the ranch house......"where's my mama?"

What inspires us as individuals to "take up" a way of life, a passion...........and why us?

 My passion for "ranching" has long been with me.  For me, it started as a young girl.  Probably, thinking back, from the time I was 7 years old. I think of myself as an "old soul."  I can't remember feeling any other way.  My whole life has been building to this crux...........owning land, livestock, gardening, canning and living "the old ways."

For me, animals are the highlight of my day.  It gives me  "purpose" to care for them, treat them when they get sick, help the "girls" with their lambings should they need me............seems mine always do, for support if nothing else.  If you've never looked into the eyes of a ewe when she's ready to lamb, you can't know the depth of her "want" for you to be there with her.  Even if it's just sitting in the corner of a lambing jug, speaking quietly to her, coaching her through the lambing process.  It's one of the greatest feelings anyone can experience.  When an animal lets you know that it's "o.k." to be there with them during a difficult time, that's the ultimate.  

When your three day old calve sees you as his surrogate mother.  He'll follow you anywhere, nudge you for more milk, suck on your fingers for security..........even sleep on you.  That to, is the reason I do what I do.

I love when I return from a day gone from the ranch, the three dogs greet me at the gate ever excited I've returned to them, and they no longer have to be in charge of the sheep..........they bounce around, howl with joy, expect pets when you get out of the car.

Picking my own heirloom veggies from my garden(veggies now big and grown from seedlings I started back in winter).  Trimming and cleaning them in preparation for the canning process.  Experimenting with recipes and pickling brines............because I have canned for so many years, I have the confidence to "tweak" a recipe.  Washing my full jars after they've set for 24-hours and sealed.  Lining them up on my cellar shelves, knowing that I'll have fresh tasting fruits and veggies for the cold winter months.

Making my own sourdough starter (now over 12 years old) and making homemade artisan loaves of bread for "The Man" and myself.  Nothing is finer than having homemade sourdough biscuits with homemade plum, apricot, peach, blueberry or apple butter jam.............along with fresh eggs from my hens, and homegrown bacon or sausage from our hog.

Having a wonderful clothes line with an incredible view of the mountains, the BEST part of hanging my clothes out to dry.  The gray water from the washer draining into the orchard to water the fruit trees, while also providing drinking water for the many animals that wander through our ranch land.  I make my own cleaning and washing supplies so that I tread a bit lighter on our earth, eliminating many of the harsh chemicals that most "store-bought" supplies have.

My love of reading books rather than watching T.V. (my daddy used to call it the "idiot box!").  Cutting our own firewood for the long winter months, as it's the only source of heat we have........in 85 years, no resident of this ranch house has deemed it necessary to provide heat in any other way...........hmmmm?  I know why, because wood heat is the warmest heat!  My joy of putting on a pot of soup or stew in the winter on the ol' woodstove and simmering it all day.

To many people, this may sound like a lot of hard work, and I'll admit....not always do I want to hang my laundry out to dry, or make our bread, or even can.  But once I get started, push myself to do so, I'm happy.  I just had a "lazy moment" when I wanted to fudge on the task.  Then, from out of nowhere, I think about my ancestors, my "people," and I think.........what if they hadn't done what they needed to do for a day, a week...........?  Maybe none of us would be here.  

GOD gave us each a day to live in fullfillment.  I don't think he intended for us to sit in front of a T.V., a computer, an electonic game, or on our bumms!  He expected us to spend time outdoors everyday, working the soil, breathing the air, walking, working, cooking healthy meals, spending time in quiet respite and reflection............for me, it can only happen in a garden, "one is nearer GODS heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth."

But truly, my life has always been focused aound my two children.  They ventured into this journey with me from the day they entered this world. This lifestyle I live isn't something new to me, I've been living this way for many years...........by choice.
   I lived in Washington state on a remote five acres, my children grew up there. I grew a large garden, canned, raised animals, shovelled my own snow, dealt with frozen water pipes, dug myself out of the snow when stuck in my ol' truck (I was seven months pregnant on one such occasion)  I also worked, and attended college all the while being a single mom. My children rode a school bus for over three hours daily during the school months.  It was dark when they got off the bus and dark when they got on, they had over a mile walk back into our lil' homestead everyday.  Winter time, I met them out on the county road. They had just enough time to eat a home-cooked meal, shower, do homework and go to bed...........only to start over the next day.  My two children learned my work ethic............work hard, play hard and spent time alone everyday, so you have something to "bring to the table."  They are incredible young people and I love them beyond measure.  They are successful, educated, and productive individuals. They are kind, compassionate, smart, and very loving. We spend time with one another often. I'm a proud mama, I'm glad that my children appreciate how I've raised them.  I'm glad I've left them a legacy, something they can always "fall back on" and know how to.............


On any given day ask my children, "Has she left you a legacy? Has she inspired you to be your best? Are you strong in character and physical being, strong in faith?"  I know that answer..............

"Dreams come a couple sizes too big so you can grow into them."

P.L.O.M. People

Sunday out at the ranch we had a family meal with our kids and grand kids.  It had been over a week since we'd seen our daughter, she had been attending a week long conference in Scottsdale.  There were ten of us, we had a family style meal outdoors at the picnic table, something I always grew up with.

My daughter and I finally got around to talking about her conference, she really learned a lot and enjoyed it.  She especially liked the speaker at the conference who was from Kentucky.  She told me a lil' story about this women, it got me thinking about my family..............all those Southern relatives of mine!

My grand daddy, Grady Henry Noland, was born in Sherman, Texas.  He was the baby out of seven children.  His mother who was originally from Georgia, raised her seven children mostly by herself.  Her husband was a drifter, who would leave her for years at a time and then one day...........just surface again.  The family made their living as sharecroppers.  Traveling where and whenever there was work, so they moved often.

My granny, Bertha Ann Coursey/Noland, was born in Wyatt, Louisiana.  She was the fourth child of twelve children.  Her mama was Cherokee, English and French.  Her father was Irish.  They too were sharecroppers, moving often.

Both families eventually landed in Marked Tree, Arkansas working farms.  That is where my grandparents met and married.  We have a large family cemetary in Jonesboro, Arkansas, not far from Marked Tree.

Eventually my grandparents moved to Arizona. My grand daddy eventually started making his own hard, earned cash by building lil' shotgun houses for the soldiers during the forties.  This eventually earned him enough to buy a small ranch and build a home for the family.  He raised cattle. 

The speaker at the conference, told the group about her mama's favorite word..........it was "P.L.O.M. people"............which stood for, "poor lil' ol' me."  I grew up knowing things like this, it's something that happens when you are raised by Southerners.  Sayings like: "gettin' all the good and plenty out of something," meaning you had to wear it out before you got another.  "Shit fire," which my grand daddy said when something went wrong, the only cuss word I ever heard him use.  I say it now, but tame it a bit with "shoot fire," my middle grandson likes to use it also........frequently!  "Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit," when you couldn't believe something, kinda like "all be."  "Sister," his nickname for his daughter, "Poor lil' ol thing," something usually said when you didn't like someone or were gossiping about them. There were many lil' ol' sayings,  my point being, that life with Southerners is never, ever dull!!!  They certainly keep a conversation full of life and humor.

Now I've met P.L.O.M. people before, you know, the ones that constantly complain about their woes.  Whether is be an illness, a wrongful deed done to them, things just not going right for them............we've all met them. In fact, I have a neighbor that is a P.L.O.M. person, in all honesty, he drives me nuts!!  I can't talk to him for too long, because before you know it, he's rollin' in his own self-pity, I figure he doesn't need me for an audience, he's his own, "one man pity party." Usually when he corners me,  I listen for a wee bit and then tell him I've got somethin' burnin' in the kitchen and quickly depart.

Now I'm a darn positive girl most of the time.  I thank GOD everyday when I wake up, just for the sheer fact that I DID wake up!  Another day to enjoy time with my grand babies, kids, husband and.................our lil' ol' ranch.

My point is that I'm very proud of my roots, I'm very proud of my grand parents for etching out a nice life for themselves when all odds were against them.  I'm proud of the fact that I was able to spend so much time with my grandparents, we were close.  I spent my life eating some of the BEST Southern cuisine ever..............ham hocks and pintos with cast iron cornbread (my granny made the BEST!), fried okra, turnip greens cooked in bacon grease for hours on the stovetop, lima beans and ham, black-eyed peas, fried chicken and fried sunfish, watermelon with salt, homemade ice cream, cornpones, drop biscuits with homemade jams, meringue pies of all types, iced tea by the gallons drunk out of quart jars iced down, homemade mac and cheese, pickled goodies. 

I miss my grand parents, there are so many things I would love to ask them now that I'm older.  One thing is for sure, I'm proud of my "people" and I'm proud to share that Southern gift with my "sister" and "boo"...............Jessi Ann and Jared Thomas (aka J.T.) 

A Spinning Wheel for Katie or Confessions of a Spinning Addict!

This is my newest purchase....a traditional Ashford spinning wheel.  It's a single drive, made in New Zealand, probably a 1960's model.  I think I got a very, very, good deal on this spinning wheel from a very, very, nice lady I know.

I bought this wheel from a "blogger" friend, shepherdess friend, and email friend. It was my first time to actually meet her in person, along with her significant other, and all her beautiful sheep and lambs.  What an education I got that day.  I can't say enough about learning a "new" craft.  I'm a firm believer in keeping the ol' noggin in good working order by always educating self, and learning something new, something that feels good to spirit, that sings out to your soul. Thus my desire to purchase a spinning wheel so the joy of spinning would go a bit faster for me.  You see, I'd always spun fiber with a drop spindle...............now I know that's an art in itself, but what a joke!  Give me a spinning wheel anyday!!!

In my short 2-3 hour visit with K.L. a master spinner herself, I learned sooo much in such a short time.  K.L. is truly a great teacher, a patient woman, a kind soul.  I learned the parts of the spinning wheel, I learned little tricks of the trade so to speak on a wheel, I learned how to spin, how to wash fleece properly, how to oil "the machine," how to thread the machine, how to ply, also knitty knobs and lazy kates, AND.....which way to spin cut fleece!!!  Now I know why she is a Master spinner with the Endowment of Arts, she's phenomenal and I like her a lot.

This is a flyer and a bobbin on a spinning wheel.  Isn't it pretty??  This is a top view to give you an idea of how it works and how the fiber looks once spun.  The flyer goes around wrapping the fleece onto the bobbin as I peddle with my foot.  It's a pretty intricate ordeal if you're not good at multi-tasking, but with time and practice, you too can spin fleece into yarn.The blue rubber band is off a bunch of fresh broccoli, it is used for the tension, I can either tighten or ease up on the tension depending on the fiber and how fast I want to spin.....which isn't fast at the moment, but I'm o.k. with that because right now, I enjoy the feel of the machine as I work the fleece and learn the wheel. Fast is a later date for this spinner.

I also learned that the flyer on the wheel was engineered with the help of Leanardo di Vinci............who knew and isn't that cool?  Also in the washing process of wool, the spinning cycle of the wool is called, "wuzzing."  Washing fleece is called, "scouring."When spinning, you always spin to the right, ply to the left (aka "sinister").  Plying is when you join yarns on your wheel. 

The parts of a wheel: Bobbin, Flyer, Maidens, Mother of All, Tension knob or brake, Wheel and Hub, Footman, Peddle, Leader.......I'm having a blast with this wheel, I'm in love!!!

This morning I pulled up my Farmer's forecast on the weather for our area.....and guess what?  It's going to be really windy on the high plateau today....awww! The garden is watered, the sheep, steer, and chickens are already fed so........... I'm spinning today just for the "shear" (no pun intended) joy of spinning my fleece into yarn!

SONG FOR THE SPINNING WHEEL

Swiftly turn the murmuring wheel!

Night has brought the welcome hour,

When the weary fingers feel

Help, as if from faery power;

Dewy night o'ershades the ground:

Turn the swift wheel round and round!

Now, beneath the starry sky,

Couch the widely-scattered sheep;

Ply the pleasant labour, ply!

For the spindle,while they sleep,

Runs with speed more smooth and fine,

Gathering up a trustier line.

Short-lived likings may be bred

By a glance from fickle eyes;

But true love is like the thread

Which the kindly wool supplies,

When the flocks are all at rest

Sleeping on the mountain's breast.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)                 

"The Bean Tree"

This is a "bean tree."  It stands seven foot tall, it's made of green willow, and it's my own creation...........well the idea of a trellis isn't mine, but the "bean tree" is.  I've used these for many years in gardening.  However, when we moved from our home in Show Low to our home in the country...............I left my "bean trees" behind, I've been kickin' myself in the hinny ever since.

Yesterday after getting three lil' grandkids up, fed, and ready for their departure from the ranch, "The Man" asked me what I wanted to do for the day.  I told him I'd think about it while he was returning the lil' chicks back to their parentals.

I knew the garden was getting planted over Memorial week-end (as it has for many years), further my greenhouse is being taken over by my heirloom beans with names like: Ram's Horn, Greasy Grits, Anazazi, & the beloved, Giant Speckled.  The runners on these beans are lovingly embracing my heirloom tomato plants and squash.........boy am I ready to plant!  So it only seemed right that "The Man" and I spend a very windy day, along the rivers edge, cutting willow.  I used the lopers, he used a saw.........pretty soon, we had a  truck-load of fresh, green, willow for my craft.

These "bean trees" are NOT hard to make, we can usually whip one out in about a half-hour.  I need ten by next week-end!!  We strip four branches, lay them on the ground and measure seven foot, then cut. We then stand them upright, get the feel of the willow and it's best fit, then start screwing pieces together at the top (think of a tepee).  Once the top is screwed, we make two layers of bracing at different heights on the "bean tree."  Sometimes we criss-cross, sometimes we square off.  Once these are completed, we sink the legs into the earth by about six inches and I plant the heirloom bean in the middle of the "tree."  Then I hang a homemade device from the upper portion of the "tree" to distract birds from my bean plants. 

These "bean trees" work like a charm and they are good for many, many years.  Once the bean plant has started it's upward climb (to the height of seven foot or more), and blooms.........you have a beautiful, piece of art in the garden.

My next garden art will be a loom.  It's part sculpture, part loom, part wildlife attractor and is six foot high and three foot wide  The vertical strings (the warp) are garden jute  The horizontal threads (the weft) are woven in from any materials you want........mine will be wool fibers combined with grasses, flowers, and stalks from my garden. I will weave willow, amaranth, echinacea, and sunflower stalks, dill, zinnias, and black-eyed Susans.  Friends, family and grandkids are all welcome to gather to weave rows on the sculpture. 

The spark of love, the joy of connection, and the knowledge that we are a tiny part of the whole tapestry is amazingly powerful. 

So.............get your creative juices flowing and share your ideas!"When we are motivated by goals that have deep meaning, by dreams that need completion, by pure love that needs expressing............then we truly live life."---Greg Anderson

"Because Kindness Matters"

There are times when people do something unexpected and you're blown away by their insight and kindness.

Last Monday while driving home from Phoenix, "The Man" and myself stopped at a convenience market to purchase some water and candy.  It just happened to be on the reservation.  As we pulled in, a young cowdog was in the parking lot, completely stressed, obviously nursing some young pups somewhere, and she had this very worried look on her face.  I hopped out of the vehicle and said, "hi pooch, where are your babies?"  "The Man" looked over at her and said, "you need to get along and go feed your babies."  This particular convenience market is a busy market.  Cars were pulling in one after another to gas up and head to wherever...........no one really paid any mind to the lil' bitch, but it was obvious she wanted something from someone, anyone!

As I approached the check-out line, I asked the cashier what the deal was with the dog.  He said, "she's a stray, feral, animal control has already hauled her off, but then they realized she had a litter of pups somewhere so they had to bring her back and let her go, you know, she has to nurse those pups."  I asked him, "does anyone know where the pups are?"  He said "yes, they're right over yonder near the creek, out in the desert." 

 We finished our transaction, I turned to head out the door, when "The Man" grabbed by shoulder and said, "head on out to the truck, I'll be out in a minute."  I stopped on my way out to the truck and called the dog, she was so frightened, and headset on her mission. About that time, "The Man" comes out of the market with a big, fat, juicy hot dog in a bunn.  He blows on it, the lil' cowdog is salivating, pacing, hungry.  One at a time, he pinches off lil' pieces and cools them, then tosses them to her.  She is terrified to get too close to him, but the temptation is too much for her, she is hungry.  She gobbles the last of the hot dog and bunn down and backs up a pace, looks at the man and decides he's o.k.................she comes over to him, rubs up against his leg and walks away to beg from others coming and going. 

With a glisten of a tear in his eye, we head out to the truck, get in and resume our trip back up the mountain.  I don't say a word.  When we get home, check on our own animals and head into the house, I turn to "The Man" and tell him, "these are the things you think of and do, unconditionally, that make me love you so very much."  We kiss, hug and head off to retire for the night, it's been a long day.

I love you very much!  You are a special human being and I'm thankful everyday for you.

"The Cycle"

This is sweet "Kitchi" minutes after birth.  His name is Algonquin for, "brave one."  Brave he was, as was his mother, "Gracie."  He was 11# at birth.  He is a Jacob/Churro lamb.  He has very curly, jet black fleece, with dapplings of white.  He will have horns as it's in his genetics.

At 10 a.m. last Friday, "The Man" came into the house and told me to come check our ewe "Gracie."  We knew she was soon to lamb but weren't quite sure when.  When I approached the lambing jug she had chosen, she was in obvious signs of labor.  I assumed she was in the first stage of labor and would present a bag of water soon.  "The Man" and myself stayed in the jug with "Gracie."  We timed a half hour, cooing and speaking softly to "Gracie" giving her words of encouragement, this was her first lambing.  About fifteen minutes into the labor, I realized something was amiss................a thought that had plagued me for most of her pregnancy.  Another push from the ewe and I saw................one hoof! 

I quickly scrubbed up, went back outside and did a check on her.  The lamb was crossed up, what shepherds call "dystocia," meaning an abnormal or difficult birth...........little did we know, it would be both.  As I reached further into the ewe to locate the position of the other leg, she went down on me.  It's so much easier to correct and manipulate a "crossed" lamb when the ewe remains upright.  I did finally locate the other leg, which was further in her and bent.  Once freed and pulled down to meet the other hoove, I reached back in to locate the head.  It was stuck............BIG time.  Everytime I let go of the hooves to try and free the forehead, the lambs legs contracted back inside her.  This is the point in time that "The Man" gets his first experience with helping "birth a babe."

I had "The Man" hold onto the legs (which were a smidgen of the way out), while I further tried to help the ewe with her delivery.  Try as we might, the lamb was stuck!  We are both getting nervous as "Gracie" now isn't responding to a whole lot.........I'm fearing shock as we have worked on her now for approximately 10 minutes.  Finally, I ask "The Man" to let me have the legs, I push the lamb further inside, rotate a quarter turn and let him have the legs back.  Re-entry tells me we can now start pulling slowly.  We are both, literally sweating now, pulling and finally, out pops the head of a very sweet lamb..............he's moving..............thank you GOD.  Another moment and he is fully delivered.  I quickly place the lamb at the mouth and nose of the ewe......to no avail.  The ewe is "spent" and unresponsive!

The lamb is covered in meconium so I realize he's been in the womb too long.  I turn him over to "The Man" for clean-up and resume with my ewe.  I'm cooing her, checking her respirations, telling her to "get up."  Finally, "The Man" who is emotionally spent now, moves over and gently pushes her telling her to "get up."  She does...........oh thank GOD once again.  She is super weak.  She doesn't want anything to do with her lil' boy lamb.  We are worried.

After interminable hours, we get the ewes energy back up to snuff, give shots of penicillan, vitamins, molasses water.............she then finally takes a "sniff" of the lamb..................then a "lick" of the lamb...............then a "nuzzle" of the lamb..............longer than should have transpired, she finally let's her babe nuzzle her breast................colostrum finally in his belly, tired from his entry into the world..............they lie together and sleep. 

After four days in a lambing jug with her son, "Gracie" has turned out to be a very good mother.  She's attentive, let's him nurse as often as he wants, and will stave off other jealous ewes to protect. Fortunately for "The Man," myself, "Gracie" and "Kitchi," no signs of infection are present, he is now bouncing around although very shy with the other lambs (who are much bigger than him at this point).  He's eating alfalfa, sleeping and thriving.

This will be "Gracies" one and only babe.  She is too tiny (due to her own crippling as a lamb) to ever bare another.  I can't nor won't put her through another ordeal like this one.  Do I get rid of her, do I keep her?  I don't know the answer to that question yet................however, I will follow "my heart" when that decision needs to be made.

Welcome to the world, "Kitchi," you are a "brave one!" But then, your mama beat all odds in her own life!!!! 

"Cattle Dot Helps Shepherdess Kat!!"

This is my beautiful mother, I won't tell you how "young" she is but most would not believe me, she looks phenomenal for her age!  She is holding our youngest grandson Chase and her youngest great-grandchild (she has six).

Tuesday, April 13th "The Man" has to leave the ranch during the peak of lambing season, he's headed over to Kirkland Air Force base to survey a new facility.  I'm just a tad bit nervous as I have one ewe in particular that usually has multiples and I don't want to be by myself on this lambing.  "The Man" suggests I call my mama and ask her to come stay with me until his return in a couple of days.  I call, and "Cattle Dot" comes without question, I love her for her selfless acts of kindness.

We get up first thing in the morning and check on the ewe, she appears to be fine but she is sleeping a lot and standing guard in one particular "lambing jug."  This jug has always been the jug she lambs in and NO one else gets to step foot in it when she's ready to lamb!  Throughout the day we check on her, usually hourly checks as I can see she's progressing in labor.........I call this the "silent stage of labor."  The ewe is restless, tired, pawing the ground, isolating herself from the rest of the flock, and generally, just kinda miserable. 

After an entire day of keeping vigil, it's now feeding time for the sheep.  I call each pregnant or nursing ewe to me after the hay has been bucked into the feed bunker, they must come for their grain.  Each one comes as called to snarf up their grain...........except one..........."Freckles."  Often but NOT always, a ewe will refuse her grain feeding just prior to lambing...........a rumen full of grain fermenting isn't an "iddy" way to go into full blown labor.  I know she will lamb soon.

After the nightly feeding, "Cattle Dot" suggests we sit in the barn at the table and have a glass of wine, that way we can "kinda watch the ewe."  I oblige and we enjoy the last of the late afternoon with another glass of wine.  I'm beginning to see the ewe getting more and more agitated so I suggest we mosey into the ol' ranch house and have dinner. 

I've already made up two wonderful arugula/spinach salads with the works, one steamed artichoke (we can split with my wonderful lime aioli), and a batch of roasted asparagus..........that will be our dinner this evening............before sitting down, I make one last check on the ewe and realize that this dinner will be put on hold!

I walk out to the barn leaving "Cattle Dot" to set up the table, only to find a lil' white head standing in the lambing jug...............Miss "Freckles" has decided to start the rodeo without us!  I run back indoors and tell "Cattle Dot" to, "suit up and head out to the barn, she's birthin' babies."  Now "Cattle Dot" has never seen lambs born, she's tried on numerous occasions but to no avail, it's taken four years and she finally gets to assist with a lambing.  She cleans their lil' noses as they arrive, she dips the umbilical, she dries them off, she fills a drench syringe three times for me so I can give them a energy booster............the temperature outdoors is plummeting, we're wet from sheep fluids, we don't have on our proper coats...........and when we think we'll head into the house to get them, another lamb is making it's entrance into the world.  By midnight, we have helped the ewe with her lambing, she's tired, we're tired, but the lambs are doing well, nursing and sleeping, nice and warm under the jug lights. The temperature outdoors is now 33 F.  We pick up our lambing kit, the dirty, wet towels, and head into the house.  We strip down...........do a quick wash over, put PJ's on and eat our meal in silence.

We both stagger off to bed lightly saying our inaudible "goodnights" and drop off into a deep slumber.  "Cattle Dot" has finally seen the lil' lambs born, she's happy, tired, and say's she "wouldn't have missed it for the world." I'm more than thankful that "Cattle Dot" has helped "Shepherdess Kat" this cold, Spring night in April. 

Thank you mama, I'm ever thankful............AND, I'm glad your daddy raised cattle and you are a nurse!  Both bits of your knowledge helped tremendously!!  "Hey............what do ya say we do it again next year?"