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
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"Don't let it be too long before you call again, honey." "I won't. Love you, Nana. Have a good night." "Love you too, darlin.'" We hadn't talked very long. She was tired. She had been