Thoughts & Day 175 CJSM

 

Colorado-Mornin’ High!

 

 

I reckon that “You can take the boy out of the farm---but…?

 

Seven a.m. on a Sunday morning and I’m out the door to our

30’ X 40’ “shed on the property to visit Mr. Timothy, our

(actually the granddaughters) black Mini-Rex rabbit waiting

“patiently” for his morning carrot-breakfast. A fine “Hello!” to

Timmy and Lady Candy’s turtle doves and---chores…Done!

 

A whole lot easier than all those years on the “real” farm

Herding cattle and horses, sheep, chickens, ducks and one

Lone turkey name of “Tilley” rescued from the humane society.

 

Exhilarating! And, what a “perfect” morning, better than most.

 

The wee hours of the morning thunderstorms had washed out the

humid atmosphere of yesterday scrubbing away the torture. Now,

Colorado cerulean skies greeted me with a whisper-wind cool as

freshness sliding off the emerald mountain slopes in the Rockies.

 

Breathing deeply, my mind fantasized visions of the mountains.

 

Life is “sure enough” what you make it!

 

Ah! Colorado Rocky Mountain Mornin’ High!

Amen!

 

 Plus:

 

 

 

 

 

Day 175

 

 

Lady on the porch at the front door looking

In the window & waiting at the garage door

on the day she died.

 

 

Ole Lady was our first horse; Boy! Was she ever a good one! Great!

She taught us all to ride---once we caught her. She did not like to be caught.

She moved with us on several occasions; our last stop with her was the Maeystown farm; we had grown to a herd of seven critters, by then. She sure enough held her own with the “youngsters”; and, she got to pretty much “retire” from being ridden with all that horseflesh available. We had us some time; like when Becky was three and we went on a trail ride at Easter down to the spring below our property. (I wrote about that adventure in this volume a bit ago).

As near as we can figure, based on our “limited” knowledge and the expertise of the local vet, Ole Lady was about 32 years old the year of her passing; that’ a dozen years above the average!

She had a good life and provided us with many hours of enjoyment.

I would cut her out of the herd in the pasture and allow her to free-graze in the front yard which was about 3 acres of grass. The little (14.2 hands---about58-inches at the withers) was a pure white Welsh-pony with thick mane and tail. Lady obeyed pretty good and at the end of the day I would return her to the herd in the pasture; she’s just follow along and go in nicely.

But, beginning about three days before she died, Lady insisted on trying to get into our house.

She would stand on the front porch looking in the window, or, if the garage door was open, she would go in and stand by the house door or lay down on the concrete floor and sleep.

One morning I got up and looked out the bedroom window to the pasture and Lady was laying in the pasture by the creek, gone to “horse”-heaven. She was a good ole girl. I miss her.

 

Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Little Lady” Memories!