Starry Sky Ranch

 

A shepherd may be a very able, trusty, and good shepherd, without a sweetheart - better, perhaps, than with one. But what is he without his dog?

- James Hogg

We watched with rapt attention one evening as the shepherd took his dog to the pasture to doctor two of the sheep who were slightly lame.  I have never seen a dog work a herd of sheep in person before.  It was really nothing short of amazing. The dog followed voice and hand commands, watching both handler and sheep.  It had the sheep under complete control, allowing the shepherd to isolate the two he needed and making sure the others were still and collected in the meantime. 

We visited with the shepherd a while that night.  He knew we had an accent but couldn't place it exactly, he said. <g>  We were the very first Americans to have ever stayed at his home.  When we told him we had most recently lived in Colorado he remarked that a local he knew had moved there to teach at a university.  But, he added, the man returned here to this coastal spot for his holidays.  

Smart man, I say, with all due respect to our beloved Colorado.

These sheep are primarily raised for meat.  It seems that on this island which was built in large part on the wool industry, wool is nearly worthless today. The market is saturated with cheaper synthetics. This made me sad.  It actually made me want to go purchase a thick, scratchy fisherman's sweater on principle. Even though it is July. 

Our landlord later confirmed this wool market assessment.  He, of course, blames the Irish.  If you talk long enough you learn that many of the world's ills can probably be traced over westward way.  (said firmly tongue in cheek by this very Irish woman ; )) 

At any rate, be it the Irish, the EU, or the darned scratchy wool itself, rayon may be cornering the market but the sheepdogs are still cornering the sheep.  And doing a fine job at it.  I wish we had such a capable dog when we were chasing goats and cows. 

A little bit of family history my children may not know.  When I was growing up my grandmother went through a 'sheep phase' on the farm.  The family business was actually a riding stable where they bred Quarter Horses but my grandmother had lots of incarnations as she created herself anew time after time.  I particularly loved her as shepherdess. She attended courses at the local extension agency and bought a few ewes which later grew to a herd which overwhelmed my grampa. (we didn't have an awesome dog remember) I think I have written that part here before.  

This picture is me (left) returning the orphan lamb I had convinced my mother to allow me to keep in the basement in town while I bottle fed it that summer.  boo-yah! He looks great.  I look pretty peppy too despite many night time feedings.  Not sure why I am mid-flight here....

So with this newfound fascination with all things wooly and wonderful, the children have found our Floss books and are reading them over again with new eyes now that they have a real life dog to compare. Good fun. 

If you'd like to have a Kim Lewis feast with us here are some titles to look for:

Floss

Just Like Floss

Days on the Farm

The Shepherd Boy

Emma's Lamb

 

Fruit Salad

 

yummy, yummy : ) 

Summer reading - family style

"...she discovered that I was literate and looked at me with more than faint distaste. Miss Caroline told me to tell my father not to teach me any more, it would interfere with my reading.

“Ma’am?”

“Your father does not know how to teach. You can have a seat now.”

I mumbled that I was sorry and retired meditating upon my crime. I never deliberately learned to read, but somehow I had been wallowing illicitly in the daily papers. In the long hours of church—was it then I learned? I could not remember not being able to read hymns. Now that I was compelled to think about it, reading was something that just came to me, as learning to fasten the seat of my union suit without looking around, or achieving two bows from a snarl of shoelaces. I could not remember when the lines above Atticus’s moving finger separated into words, but I had stared at them all the evenings in my memory, listening to the news of the day, Bills to Be Enacted into Laws, the diaries of Lorenzo Dow—anything Atticus happened to be reading when I crawled into his lap every night. Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing." 

Summer reading for the older (teen +) crowd courtesy of Asher who has organized those who have not yet read To Kill a Mockingbird to do so.  He has Farenheit 451 scheduled after. We sent him the first of Michael O'Brien's Children of the Last Days novels. The younger set has now seen Odysseus safely home and we are choosing our next lunch time read aloud.

I have never really had the time nor energy to join a book club.  That's ok though. One sprang up right under my nose. Just as naturally as breathing. : ) It's been a blessing of later motherhood.  There were many earlier years when I was too tired from daily work to dig into classic novels.  So, just letting you know, if you find yourself there, that fog does clear. I am taking time daily to turn off screens and vacuums both and continue my own classical education.  

There is always another great book to read.  Now, there are whole bunch of people handy to discuss them. 

just living is not enough

 

 

"Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."

- Hans Christian Andersen

 

 

 

 

 

I can think of no greater blessing to wish for than that one has wind in their hair and a fistful of wildflowers in a jar on the kitchen windowsill.  

Over the fence

 

summer in a bottle

 

I keep thinking I am going to write down some of the thoughts that have wafted past lately.  These summer days have been medititave and largely spent outdoors. There are books strewn on the garden table and bikes on the lawn.  Sticks are collected in a bag for the fire. Meals are taken open air.  Far from the computer. So the big thoughts rest gently on mind where I mull and consider.  I tap out one or two on my silly little phone to my boys so far away. Then, these moments float away before there is time to commit any more of them to writing. 

Maybe that is best.  

I am learning to embrace 'fleeting.' 

 

(some bubble books and recipes if you're so inclined)

Sunset on a Coastal Farm

 

 

“If I can put one touch of rosy sunset into the life of any man or woman, I shall feel that I have worked with God.”

- GK Chesterton

The holiday hire

 

Our holiday hire in the Lake District was an old converted brewery.  What it lacked in interior design - it was a mish mash of 70's era patterned carpeting, ultra plush velour upholstery, and lots and lots of wallpaper which happened a good decade later - it more than made up for in location.  There was us and the owners who lived in the tower side of the building.  And the sheep.  Perfect. : ) 

We had full days of sightseeing and hiking but evenings were spent on the farm, eating the food we brought from town out on the lawn while the littles put on impromptu shows on the low garden wall. When it got too dark to play outside and the cool ocean breezes blew in, we started a fire inside.  The children fell asleep there and were carried  up to bed. Early mornings I scoured the shelf of old Reader's Digest Condensed books, reading in the kitchen til they stumbled down one by one.  

The guest book yielded some really funny entries. I copied down this one:

"5 hrs from the City of Smoke

 is a wonderful place full of very nice folk

As we weaved down the lanes, surrounded by sheep,

The hills on both sides were snow capped and steep.

We stopped off in Tesco to stock up on wine,

And what joy! The chablis was £5.99!

To the brewery we headed, our holiday hire,

With horses and donkey, and a nice roaring fire. 

We climbed hills and waterfalls, we were living the dream

'till the kids slipped while jumping and fell in the stream.

 3 loads of washing was just the thing. 

So we headed to Piel Island to meet the King.

The wind was too strong. There were no ferries at the pier. 

So we tried plan B and went to Lake Windemere.

We were hoping to get there in time for lunch. 

But the car hit a pothole and the wheel went crunch.

4 hrs were spent at the side of the lake

with the car jacked up oh for goodness sake!

The man at the garage said the bill would be whopping.

There was only one thing to do, go souvenir shopping. 

We stocked up on mint cake 'til the hire car was ready

then to Millom we drove, but taking it steady.

Our last night was quiet compared to the rest.

But as holidays go, this was one of the best."

Our stay was mercifully free of mishaps, but I totally concur with the last sentiment.  As holidays go, this was one of the best.  

 

a quiet minute

 

 

"Rachel Hammond sat by the open window with her Bible on her knee. The muslin curtains did not blow with the breeze, for there was no breeze that hot morning in June. The air seemed breathless. Rachel had put her pretty room in order, finished all her little morning duties, and now had sat down for a quiet minute with her Bible before she began the day."

- Lone Point, Grace Livingston Hill

My quiet morning minutes are spent here in this room, made a little prettier with vintage linens sent by Rebecca. 

summer learning - it's elemental

 

Although there was absolutely no forethought given to it, I realized this afternoon that we have fallen into some very hands-on learning about the four elements this summer. It made me think of a song on an old cassette from my crunchier days about the earth, the air, the fire, and so on. (I was pretty darned crunchy before crunchy was cool let's just say ; ))  It was a tenet of wholistic education that learning be as multisensory as possible as well as incorporating lots of natural elements. I can't say that I worked very intentionally on that beyond what our faith already wove into our lives - candles, incense, baptismal water, Easter fire etc. 

Somehow without trying (in the sense of not have a 'program') I realized that all those earthy things are filling our days. There are fires for roasting around, tidepools to wade in, gardens for digging, sand to dig toes into, wind to whip your hair every which way. We are gone alot finding wild places.  When we are back home we have had many discussions like why did the forest fire burn faster and longer than the prairie fires did? What does drowning look like? Which way should you stand so the bubbles blow away instead of popping in your hair? Why does the dirt blow in great clouds over the fields when the rains stops falling? What is inside a shell? What is growing on the rocks?  Why do we need more water in the summer? Why does the sunscreen work?

So many questions. So many talks. So many afternoons out under the sky. 

This whole outdoor thing pushes a mom out of her comfort zone.  The elements can be dirty and dangerous, but also lifegiving and sustaining.  They are to be used and channeled not avoided in a healthy life.  This is the messy world we were born into.  It's wild and wonderful. We are happier out in it. We sleep better.  We all smile more.

Ok,  we wash more clothes and shoes too.  But it's worth it. 

 

I should add the disclaimer that there have been other summers with new babies or illness that confined us to more backyard adventures.  The four elements are found there too. Sand and water tables, sparklers, pinwheels, windowboxes. Even on a smaller scale they have made for happy kids.