A barefoot walk

Cliff and I had to go after one of his prescriptions this morning; which didn't leave us sufficient time to take our walk by the time I fixed dinner and we ate.  After he went to work, I dug a pair of shorts out of a drawer (yes, SHORTS!) and Sadie and I headed out; I decided to walk barefoot.  Oh, it's a fine day here in Missouri.  

Adam's horses haven't been back begging hay at the barn since they left the pen, early this morning.

Bonnie and Sir Loin have stayed out in the big pasture all day, too.  Notice the grass hanging from Bonnie's mouth.  

At almost nine months of age, Sir Loin could be weaned.  Probably should be.  But once he's weaned, I either have to let Bonnie go dry or milk her every day.  I'm really not ready to do either.  When the time comes, we'll either take him to Cliff's brother's place long enough for him to forget his mother's milk, or else haul him straight to the butcher shop.  I'd really like to bring him back here and use him as a heat detecter so I'll know when his mom is in heat; once we called the AI man, we'd take Sir to the butcher.  

   There's still snow in the shady, wooded areas.  

I walked barefoot through a small patch.  Just because it was there.  

Then, back at the house, I walked barefoot through the snow to clean the mud off my feet.  
I'm glad I got out and enjoyed today, because tomorrow's high temperatures aren't supposed to get out of the forties.

Haaaa!!!!

I was poking through the many pictures my cousin has added to our family tree site and came upon this one, a photo I had never seen. I'm glad I now have it, because it reminds me of all the years I milked cows.

It must have been taken in 1991 when Pauline, her husband, and their youngest daughter visited us. That's my mom's pickup truck parked in front of the mobile home in which she lived (our renters live there now).

For years I milked by hand, but by the time this picture was taken I was using bucket milkers. Cliff built that cart for me to transport all my stuff to the barn.

I never, ever wore shoes at home. The only reason I wear shoes these days is the curse of plantar fasciitis.

Yep, that's the real me. In 1991.

Thanks for the laugh, Pauline. When Cliff gets up, he's going to love this!

going barefoot

I have loved going barefoot all my life. People have been amazed to see my barefoot tracks through snow a few times. Mud, cow manure, rocks... nothing stopped me, or really bothered me. Shoes were for wearing to Church, school, shopping, and so forth. The first thing I did when I walked in the door was slip off my shoes. Even as a youngster I was the source of many family jokes, because I refused to wear shoes.

Until a couple of years ago, that is, when I developed plantar fasciitis, known to some as heel spurs. Suddenly, going without shoes hurt like crazy, and I couldn't wait to put on my shoes with specially-made inserts in them. It was the only way to stay pain-free. Later on, both my big toes started hurting too, when I was shoe-less; and the inserts relieved that pain also.

I sure did miss the freedom of going barefoot in the cool grass.

Then this past spring, because it was muddy outside and I didn't want to get my shoes dirty, I went out barefoot. I was taking pictures with my digital camera and also playing with the dog, and after about forty-five minutes, I realized my feet didn't hurt anywhere. Until I came back inside the house, and then within five minutes I was washing my feet so I could hurry and put my shoes-with-inserts on.

I started experimenting, and this is what I've found: As long as I'm walking on grass or dirt, I can go barefoot all day if I choose. I've started leaving my shoes behind when my husband go for our daily walk in the pasture. No pain.

It's like a gift: I can go barefoot again where it really matters... outside.

I really don't understand why, but I'll take any gift I can get. Thank You, God!