Everybody feels a little down sometimes

I've always had the tendency to let cloudy, chilly, rainy days get me down.  We've had a lot of those days recently.  It's good for the gardens and pasture, but not so good for my mood.

Lately this age thing is getting to me.  To those who say, "Age is just a number," a pox upon you!  That aphorism, "Getting old ain't for sissies", may be overused, but it still rings true.  It's easy to laugh it off when you're in your fifties, but it isn't so funny when you get to the point that every step hurts,  your energy level just doesn't rise to the occasion like it used to.  and your teeth, what's left of them, are failing so fast that you know dentures are in the near future (either that, or taking out a loan for $25,000).    

I've learned to embrace the tinnitus in my ears that sounds like cicadas buzzing (like camping in the woods, right?), but I'll never get used to the fact that I can't make gravy in a big cast-iron skillet any more unless Cliff is at hand to help me pour the gravy into a bowl.  Seriously?  I can't lift a skillet without help?  I used to be so strong!  I used to raise calves, a dozen at a time, in separate hutches and every six weeks or so I'd clean each hutch, move it, drive steel t-posts, and bend a cattle panel into a U-shape to make a little yard for each calf.  

Driving posts isn't so easy these days.  

I guess what's really getting me down is that it looks like I'm going to have to get rid of my last two cows.  Hope, the yearling heifer, is now old enough to breed, but I have no way to get her bred.  Every three weeks I shut her in the small lot and hope she doesn't tear down a fence in her desire for a mate; I guess I'm hoping maybe a bull will miraculously come trotting up the road and impregnate her (but not too big a bull, of course).  Yesterday she found her way next door to the neighbor's horses, evidently hoping one of them could be of assistance to her in her needy state.  

Cows make me happy.  Baby calves make me happy.  Even milking a cow makes me happy.  I'm reminded of how Grandma Stevens kept on milking old Patsy until Uncle Leo finally hauled the cow away for Grandma's own good.  I guess I've come to that point, except I'm going to just admit it and take care of the situation myself rather than force Cliff to make the decision for me.  

As I typed this, it struck me that the feelings I'm experiencing are nothing new.  Maybe the cave men and women didn't have the problem, since their life span was so short, but I am now recalling a passage in the Bible, in Ecclesiastes.  It especially rings true in the Message version:

In old age, your body no longer serves you so well.
Muscles slacken, grip weakens, joints stiffen.
The shades are pulled down on the world.
You can’t come and go at will. Things grind to a halt.
The hum of the household fades away.
You are wakened now by bird-song.
Hikes to the mountains are a thing of the past.
Even a stroll down the road has its terrors.
Your hair turns apple-blossom white,
Adorning a fragile and impotent matchstick body.
Yes, you’re well on your way to eternal rest,
While your friends make plans for your funeral.

6-7 Life, lovely while it lasts, is soon over.
Life as we know it, precious and beautiful, ends.
The body is put back in the same ground it came from.
The spirit returns to God, who first breathed it.

Wow.  My life, and welcome to it.  

Don't get me wrong, life is good!  There are many other things besides cows that make me happy.  Perhaps my regular readers have noticed through the years that I normally make every effort to look on the bright side.  When I weigh my circumstances in the balance, the good far outweighs the bad.  I'm so fortunate to still have Cliff at my side ten years after his open heart surgery.  I can walk, I can see, I can hear birds singing over the sound of the cicadas buzzing in my head!  Food still tastes good.  All my needs are met.  I'm relatively healthy, as far as I know. 

Today I feel like whining.  I'm just keepin' it real.   

                   

   

The Very Vigilant Runaway Horse

I've had more than a few horses running through my gardens over the years.  It's almost as if when a horse escapes his pasture or pen, a garden draws him like a magnet.  

Yesterday, neighbor Randy was at the shop visiting with Cliff when Cliff, looking past him, said, "There's a horse running down the road."

"Probably one of mine," Randy said, and ran to look.  Sure enough it was.  Actually, not so much Randy's horse, but his wife's.  Randy, like Cliff, is a tractor man.  He recently bought another old Farmall.  He doesn't seem to have a great fondness for horses.  Neither does Cliff, really.

Horses and cows that are customarily kept in pens and enclosures realize it the minute they are "out", and celebrate by bucking, kicking up their heels, and making sure no human gets close enough to catch them and lead them back to captivity.  Horses, being fast and graceful animals, are especially hard to catch.  

Randy's wife's horses are Tennessee Walkers.  This one was showing off his gait in fine style.  First he headed for the highway.  Randy got in his pickup in order to head him off.  The horse came running up our driveway and straight for my garden.  

Now, there have been many times when this would have concerned me, but not this year.  I've downsized my garden considerably, and there is nothing out there that's all that valuable to me.  I would have been disappointed, of course, if a tomato or pepper plant had gotten stepped on, but still, it would't have been a big deal.  

I didn't watch to see whether he ran through the garden or not, but after the excitement was over, Cliff informed me that the magnificent animal had run straight through the garden lengthwise, tossing chunks of mud into the air each time he lifted a foot.  I'm not sure I appreciate the admiration and hilarity in Cliff's voice when he described this, as though it was a wonderful and comical sight to behold.  

Imagine my surprise when I checked out the garden and found not one iota of damage!

 He went right in through the newly-planted grass on what used to be the south half of my garden.  No real harm done, it's just grass.  

The spinach is fine.

An onion had a close call, but came through unscathed.  

No radishes were harmed.  

A tiny potato plant lived to tell the tale!

The horse even managed to avoid hurting a single strawberry plant, although he appears to have stepped right in the row.  And beyond, the tomatoes are just fine, thankyouverymuch.

Speaking of strawberries, I'm going to have to make my hens stay in the pen and hen house for a month or so.  The horse didn't damage them, but trust me, the hens would take a huge pecked bite out of each strawberry as it turns ripe, if I allowed them their freedom during this time.