Blogs

It’s almost time. Any day now you’ll start receiving Christmas letters from friends and family. You’ll inwardly groan when it’s more than half-a-typed-page long and will automatically start skimming the highlights.

We weaned our calves in October. It’s a transition period for the farm, a literal metamorphism as the juvenile animals prove themselves to be an independent entity. They were weaned, branded and weighed, and they entered the record as the baseline of our future herd. We are always hopeful that these animals will thrive, but like anything, there is no guarantee no matter how well we attempt to manage the variables.

There’s a lot I like about fall. You know, the typical stuff like gathering cows off the mountain, beautiful fall colors and mornings cool enough to slow the flies down and keep the gnats at bay for the first part of the day.

Late last summer, we had a pair of stray dogs show up. Big dogs. With paws almost as big as my hand. One had husky or malamute markings in mostly white and a head size and shape showing some Great Pyrenees characteristics; the other was a beautiful tan and brown-and-white fellow of the same size whose markings were similar to a German shepherd, with the head also showing some Great Pyrenees.

With all the craziness 2020 has brought, it feels only appropriate to end the year with one of the most divisive events in our country: a presidential election.

My front window faces south, toward the highway. Between the house and the highway is a field they just chopped for corn silage. It was a strange year with a cold June and an early frost, and the corn didn’t yield as well as expected. I am sad about that, but I am glad to have my view back.