The leaves on the sugar maple in my front pasture are turning crimson. For years, I've watched this process, noticing that this particular tree changes its leaves directly from green to red
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I think the season might have changed from spring to summer while I wasn't looking. A quiet breath of change that happened maybe while I was grading. Or shearing. Or mourning. Collectively, a lot
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I have thirteen open tabs in Chrome. One is a YouTube video on body language that I want my students to watch before they start job interviews upon graduation. We talk a lot about body language
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I was cleaning my third to last stall of the night, the one where my mamas and babies live, when a text came through. I paused to read it and took a moment to pause in my barn work as well.
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I didn't want to go to the barn this evening. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. <<<>>> It's below freezing out here on the ranch. I woke up to snowflakes meandering to the
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Sunday: It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas... The tune lilts through my head as I look around the house, but while there is probably a tree in the grand hotel, and while friends have been
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I sat down last weekend and made my Christmas lists. Christmas shopping. Christmas goals. Taking some inspiration from a blogger I follow--Karen at The Art of Doing Stuff--I decided
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8:15: Coffee It's after 8:00; I'm still in bed, under covers, and I've only REALLY been awake for about 15 minutes. Over and over, I have to explain this. I don't do early mornings unless I
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Kniggett stood perfectly for shearing. He always had; every shearing since his first, Kniggett stood rooted more than tied. He seemed to enjoy having his hot wool stripped off row by row,
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Sunday... 7:29 am. I'm still curled up in bed, asleep enough to be dreaming, when the phone goes off. I don't check it, letting the caller go to voicemail. I snuggle back into the