Seasons

By the Gentleman Rancher...

The Valley

Winter is coming, and I think this quote by Ruth Stout sums up my feelings about winter the best....

"There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you... In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself."

- Ruth Stout

My amazing wife, Terri, thinks I am a little nuts in this regard. As a native of Texas, I think she always has a little apprehension about what winter will bring. For me, winter is a time of quiet, stillness, and reflection. Of course, at Mesta Meadows that still means there is a ton of work to be done. In some ways more work. We have about 100 head of livestock, five working livestock dogs, and roughly 40 fowl (chickens, chicks and ducks) to feed, water, and care for each day. And we will be lambing and finishing calving over the next three months so we should have at least 70 newborn lambs, calves, and goat kids hitting the ground during this time. So we will be incredibly busy. And we will also start milking again as the dairy ewes lamb, so that adds to the daily task list in a significant way. Thank goodness for our full time intern (Jack Lawlor) who is quickly becoming an indispensable member of the team, and for our milking expert, Tessah Dowd. Our dairy ewes are a little lost without having their 'Tessah time" each day during the brief period when they are dry.

So you must be asking yourself, okay if the team is that busy - how can this be a time of quiet, stillness, and reflection for Ed. Well, it's simple really. When I walk out after dark to do a lambing check it is perfectly still. In my headlamp, I watch my breath float in front of me like a cloud, the cold air turning my warm breath into a semi transparent cloud of steam. The sky is absolutely clear, a dark black canvas dotted with thousands upon thousands of points of light of all sizes and intensity.

It is quiet, except for the occasional bark as one of our Great Pyrenees guardians hears a sound, or catches a scent that causes them to bark - warning the bobcats, coyotes, occasional bear, and even more occasional mountain lion to stay away. This is utter peace and tranquility. The stillness is calming. Almost as if the world is holding it's breath, waiting for something to happen. It's even better if there is a nice cover of snow on the ground. Then most sounds are absorbed, there is an added stillness to the air. And the air is so crisp, it smells so clean, and pure - it is almost a religious experience.

During these nightly walks to check the animals, I truly feel at peace and at ease with the world. My mind grows quiet, and I can listen. Listen to the creator who made us. No I don't hear a voice. But I sense his presence on the ranch. In the newborn pups that are attempting to be impressive despite their small size by making miniature yelps and growls that are more endearing than threatening. In the gentle mooing of a cow that is nuzzling her newborn calf, or watching the newborn lambs finding their mom among the groups of ewes based on the unique baa that each ewe has. Or in the gentle nuzzle against my hand from the warm snout of Princess, our newest great Pyrenees matriarch who accompanies on my walks as she refuses to stay at the house when I am anywhere on the farm. I think she senses that I still miss Delilah, my former walking companion for nine years who we lost earlier this year. It's like she is saying.. "It's okay, she is watching us and she says it's my turn to watch the farm with you..."

As we walk from the valley onto the ridge fields, the smell of the smoke from our wood burning furnace falls behind us as we walk up the lane. The Scottish Highland Cattle great me at the top ridge field. With their massive horns, long wooly outer coat, and their short stocky frame, the Coos look perfectly at home and in their element. If it has been snowing their hair does such a good job of insulating their body that the snow doesn't melt. So they will stand there, chewing their cud, covered in snow, looking like they couldn't be happier.

As Princess and I turn to walk back down the lane, our farm house and the barns in the middle of the valley are like a glowing island of warmth and light in the middle of the calm, clear night. By this point in the walk, I have let go of the constant thoughts about the challenges of financing a growing ranch operation, or the many tasks and challenges associated with a university teaching career, the responsibilities of board roles, and the never ending task of trying to find a way to be a positive influence on kids and grandkids who are far more influenced by the 'noise' of everyday life than an old crazy grandpa on the ranch! At this point I am just at peace with the rhythms of nature, the awe inspiring beauty of this valley God has created and we are blessed to live in and be stewards of, and thankful for the warm embrace of the amazing lady I am married to which awaits me when I get back to our warm house in the valley.

Yes, I love the winter and the peace it brings to my soul. And that is why I like Ruth's poem.. here it is again....

"There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you... In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself."

- Ruth Stout