Saturday Night
Well, it's Saturday night. Everyone else has retired to their beds. I would bet sleep will come quickly on account of the cool temperatures tonight. It is a blessing to have a break from the heat. I like to write at times like this, because of the lack of hustle and bustle of farm life.
Today was the Sabbath. A day of rest and reflection. A day most modern men like to take a cooler out to the lake and make a lot of noise for no particular reason. Probably because that's what all the songs they listen to on the radio and all the movies they watch on television say is normal. But I disagree that this is the definition of keeping the Sabbath Holy, as the Lord commands us to do. The Sabbath was given to man as a type of the eternal rest that is with Him. A day to take a step back from the plow and look at God's creation. To see things as they are. To thank and praise our Lord for one more week of fruitful living. And, strangely enough, when Monday comes, it is not a drudgery or burden to take up the reins once again. We have refreshed ourselves with Fellowship and prayer, and take the plow again with renewed spirits. Unlike modern men, who sigh and clock in to another tiresome workweek that will most likely involve angry bosses and miserable coworkers.
This week has been a good one. I have mated all of my rabbits and hope to have litters by the beginning of next month. I have cleaned out my closet, and thrown things out that have been begging to be thrown out for awhile. I have canned 18 pints of peach preserves and 13 pints of peach jam. I opened up a jar of jam tonight, and it got a A+ from the family jam lovers, Jennifer, Robert and Sarah. It was eaten on homemade tortillas from our neighbor and Sister, Ms. Irby.
I have begun reading a book called The Plain Reader. It is a conglomeration of essays written by Plain living people. I will write more on it as I get deeper into the book . Thank you to the Sustaires for purchasing a copy for us.
I had a run-in with Pita, my milk cow. She decided she wasn't going to come in from the pasture to the corral, where I milk. So, after calling her and trying to entice her with goodies and sweet words, I hiked up to the top of the pasture, through waist high weeds to go get her. Angry as a wet hen, I stormed up to her, and she usually just stands there and lets you take her halter. Not today. She just turned around and walked away. Ha. Obviously this cow is under the impression I will just give up and walk away. She does not know me very well. I told her what a bad milk cow she was being, and if she will just come with me, I will give her all kinds of petting and treats. She started trotting further up the pasture. I sigh, plagued by mosquitoes and all matter of flying insects, and with legs stinging from whatever disagreeable plant I stepped in. But I must not be defeated. I called to Sugar, my black mouthed Cur dog, and we made our way up the pasture. Sugar circled around to get ahead of the stubborn cow, and Pita took the action as a threat to her calf. She put up her tail and charged my cattle dog. But Sugar is too quick for her. I called to Pita once more, begging her to come home. She gave me a snide look and continued on her rebellious way. I took it as a sign to forget plan A and move on to plan B. I found a good stick, and started running as fast as I could alongside her. As soon as I was a bit ahead, I cut in front of her, making a wide stroke with my stick close to her nose. She, as I hoped, stopped in her tracks. She turns to go around me, but Sugar is way ahead of her thinking, lunging at her if she dares take a step in the wrong direction. I swung my stick, trying to persuade her to turn around. She took the hint and started running full speed down the pasture towards the corral. Meanwhile, Sugar has gotten confused and is barking at our Bull, Chico. Chico was not very impressed and takes a running swoop at her with his horns. She darted out of the way, just in time. Pita has almost made it to the corral when she remembers her calf, Petra, who was having a bad time of it in the tall weeds. Sugar tries to 'help' by biting Petra on the nose. Bad idea on Sugar's part. Pita takes Sugar by surprise, and pins her to the ground. I took full swing at Pita's nose, landing the strike this time, dead on target. Pita decided it was all a losing battle. She ended up quietly chewing her cud in the corral, while I occupy myself in the house treating some nasty mosquito bites. Stupid cow.
Well, I should probably hit the hay, lest I be groggy and grumpy come breakfast. I will post again on Monday, Lord Willing.
Good Night,
Tracy Bunker
Today was the Sabbath. A day of rest and reflection. A day most modern men like to take a cooler out to the lake and make a lot of noise for no particular reason. Probably because that's what all the songs they listen to on the radio and all the movies they watch on television say is normal. But I disagree that this is the definition of keeping the Sabbath Holy, as the Lord commands us to do. The Sabbath was given to man as a type of the eternal rest that is with Him. A day to take a step back from the plow and look at God's creation. To see things as they are. To thank and praise our Lord for one more week of fruitful living. And, strangely enough, when Monday comes, it is not a drudgery or burden to take up the reins once again. We have refreshed ourselves with Fellowship and prayer, and take the plow again with renewed spirits. Unlike modern men, who sigh and clock in to another tiresome workweek that will most likely involve angry bosses and miserable coworkers.
This week has been a good one. I have mated all of my rabbits and hope to have litters by the beginning of next month. I have cleaned out my closet, and thrown things out that have been begging to be thrown out for awhile. I have canned 18 pints of peach preserves and 13 pints of peach jam. I opened up a jar of jam tonight, and it got a A+ from the family jam lovers, Jennifer, Robert and Sarah. It was eaten on homemade tortillas from our neighbor and Sister, Ms. Irby.
I have begun reading a book called The Plain Reader. It is a conglomeration of essays written by Plain living people. I will write more on it as I get deeper into the book . Thank you to the Sustaires for purchasing a copy for us.
I had a run-in with Pita, my milk cow. She decided she wasn't going to come in from the pasture to the corral, where I milk. So, after calling her and trying to entice her with goodies and sweet words, I hiked up to the top of the pasture, through waist high weeds to go get her. Angry as a wet hen, I stormed up to her, and she usually just stands there and lets you take her halter. Not today. She just turned around and walked away. Ha. Obviously this cow is under the impression I will just give up and walk away. She does not know me very well. I told her what a bad milk cow she was being, and if she will just come with me, I will give her all kinds of petting and treats. She started trotting further up the pasture. I sigh, plagued by mosquitoes and all matter of flying insects, and with legs stinging from whatever disagreeable plant I stepped in. But I must not be defeated. I called to Sugar, my black mouthed Cur dog, and we made our way up the pasture. Sugar circled around to get ahead of the stubborn cow, and Pita took the action as a threat to her calf. She put up her tail and charged my cattle dog. But Sugar is too quick for her. I called to Pita once more, begging her to come home. She gave me a snide look and continued on her rebellious way. I took it as a sign to forget plan A and move on to plan B. I found a good stick, and started running as fast as I could alongside her. As soon as I was a bit ahead, I cut in front of her, making a wide stroke with my stick close to her nose. She, as I hoped, stopped in her tracks. She turns to go around me, but Sugar is way ahead of her thinking, lunging at her if she dares take a step in the wrong direction. I swung my stick, trying to persuade her to turn around. She took the hint and started running full speed down the pasture towards the corral. Meanwhile, Sugar has gotten confused and is barking at our Bull, Chico. Chico was not very impressed and takes a running swoop at her with his horns. She darted out of the way, just in time. Pita has almost made it to the corral when she remembers her calf, Petra, who was having a bad time of it in the tall weeds. Sugar tries to 'help' by biting Petra on the nose. Bad idea on Sugar's part. Pita takes Sugar by surprise, and pins her to the ground. I took full swing at Pita's nose, landing the strike this time, dead on target. Pita decided it was all a losing battle. She ended up quietly chewing her cud in the corral, while I occupy myself in the house treating some nasty mosquito bites. Stupid cow.
Well, I should probably hit the hay, lest I be groggy and grumpy come breakfast. I will post again on Monday, Lord Willing.
Good Night,
Tracy Bunker
Good job showing Pita who's boss, Tracy. Sounds like Sugar did a pretty good herding job too, until Chico that is! You work so hard, Tracy; and I appreciate your sharing all you do, your determination and Spiritually submissive heart! Sounds like lotsa potential rabbits on their way too! Am enjoying your new blog!
ReplyDeleteGod bless you in your endeavors.
Beth
Thank you, Mrs. Haggerty.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I don't know what I'm going to do with that ol' cow. Lol
Tracy