tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56657840527872338062024-03-21T11:22:48.390-06:00"Cow On The 855!"Ruminations on living a little north of the correction line, and on the roads that lead us inexorably homeThe Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-38537756404693491712024-03-12T21:12:00.004-06:002024-03-13T01:10:57.040-06:00Pay Day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh339iECqksCZM3lkWmLmDYlER0Fi6DeGHF4dlZFCXjA-HyFQeHxF9_yHLqExsHVVXmVQTapYIQZKDBkvKpTOQpTHe5_jcV2Q66WEjYuqy9GBHXr4Lk2Ubou5go3AN2uKVlHRMrNF8ltMwNv-eXlPXYJkHHnzcncbL8DESzWShCnv898Du9Wl3ybB78I52F/s3396/PXL_20220126_214633017~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2617" data-original-width="3396" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh339iECqksCZM3lkWmLmDYlER0Fi6DeGHF4dlZFCXjA-HyFQeHxF9_yHLqExsHVVXmVQTapYIQZKDBkvKpTOQpTHe5_jcV2Q66WEjYuqy9GBHXr4Lk2Ubou5go3AN2uKVlHRMrNF8ltMwNv-eXlPXYJkHHnzcncbL8DESzWShCnv898Du9Wl3ybB78I52F/s320/PXL_20220126_214633017~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">This is what I posted on Facebook on Wednesday last week during the charmingly mandatory lunch hour at Balog Auction - notice the fantastic country-fried steak and mashed potatoes and corn, blanketed in velvety white gravy:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YkAE_5_iOr3joStDVMnHOoFDMzLx-b4ISQE39bO2TgODkOwk1ftTybe98UTTYkpF2fxpuSCn3Wgkz2c-EohqCJ0VxE7EINTymrZ3OlKi-VhcrqgL7-zdPGdhkcu8yzR-JjntsVqWebDjnTC_J-sN4oA4tdmEbE9c4J5QzCFGYsEM1Ku_6gkEksBsMGEO/s8160/PXL_20240306_191508869.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8160" data-original-width="4590" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YkAE_5_iOr3joStDVMnHOoFDMzLx-b4ISQE39bO2TgODkOwk1ftTybe98UTTYkpF2fxpuSCn3Wgkz2c-EohqCJ0VxE7EINTymrZ3OlKi-VhcrqgL7-zdPGdhkcu8yzR-JjntsVqWebDjnTC_J-sN4oA4tdmEbE9c4J5QzCFGYsEM1Ku_6gkEksBsMGEO/s320/PXL_20240306_191508869.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"The steers arrived in Lethbridge last night during less than optimal driving conditions (thank you Kody, Marvin, Cliff, and Kurt who helped with loading!).</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I had it slightly better and had a wonderful sleep (thank you, Balog Auction!)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And now it's almost here. This is what the Good Rancher has poured his time, energy, thought and resources into for the entire year. This is the result of no holidays, late nights and early mornings, falling asleep on the couch after 9 pm suppers, missing church and family occasions due to bad weather.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The GR regards his cow-calf operation as God's outfit, and he is just a steward.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">He pays attention to the verse in Corinthians that states what is required of a steward is that he is found faithful.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The GR has been faithful to his calling.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Lord, let it be a good sale ..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">*************************************</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuJ9oLxWS-9eBYCgSZKODqplwBAdVKKh2eBqsOhXrMEIpwYVDffu7OQwzg4dFAWGS8sAQqAZ8EYuZmUKRuIuu1eHaHCPZ8dIFzCTEGLJmqXk1qZfOlx_LxPa3xz2jtp-Bi2xIHDJhQfrmczXSnV_js_3e0uo3gWfIXvGelQ5pde6kVZjEjOf8ogOssxQu/s3621/PXL_20220126_011229918.NIGHT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2909" data-original-width="3621" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuJ9oLxWS-9eBYCgSZKODqplwBAdVKKh2eBqsOhXrMEIpwYVDffu7OQwzg4dFAWGS8sAQqAZ8EYuZmUKRuIuu1eHaHCPZ8dIFzCTEGLJmqXk1qZfOlx_LxPa3xz2jtp-Bi2xIHDJhQfrmczXSnV_js_3e0uo3gWfIXvGelQ5pde6kVZjEjOf8ogOssxQu/s320/PXL_20220126_011229918.NIGHT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>On the front of the GR's cattle liner</i></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Due to adverse weather conditions the GR's cattle arrived later than we had hoped last Tuesday evening. The snow storm that blew up from nowhere continued to plague our wonderful drivers going home - at least one arrived back at 1 am, to a wife who had been praying for his safety. Another one, I found out later, got home at 2:00.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The thing about auction houses is that the animals usually go up for auction in the order in which they arrive. So I was prepared for a long wait on Wednesday afternoon, and for getting to the bank after it had closed. <i>Oh well,</i> I thought to myself.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">**********</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Mr. Balog himself ("Mr. Balog was my dad; call me Bob") opens the afternoon auction with the words, "Where's Mark?" Mark is also an extraordinary auctioneer, so if we have both Bob and Mark in the house, it should be a good sale.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Then Bob lays out the the first five in the sale order: there are three ranches from Saskatchewan, one from fairly close by, and the fifth one is the GR!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Mark takes the microphone and it begins. The steers and heifers look big and healthy and the bidding is fast and fierce. Prices are good. As a side note, animals are grouped by weight and often by colour, and the price being bid on is the price per pound. So if you look at line three you see that 13 black steers were in the ring; the average weight of each was 678 lbs; and the per-pound price settled on through the bidding process was "three-ninety-one-and-a-quarTÈRE," as Bob might say. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRudz7HVWIXBk4DBU1KhB6zUeteW0VtyeffbVwfJoM7PFZHvCTEi-tST4VFyHim5jz7KRH1C4DHmCjRddNWbAI_5-ASxWPNE6wzRkn2fY6YbjZ1ce6DFhlHMlI1pscCidLmBziaxuthbR-ixUoxzDgmSvBTrj4ntgNg3sRUgZv6dkvGiIDbGs91aolDUx/s8160/PXL_20240307_182104236.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8160" data-original-width="6144" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRudz7HVWIXBk4DBU1KhB6zUeteW0VtyeffbVwfJoM7PFZHvCTEi-tST4VFyHim5jz7KRH1C4DHmCjRddNWbAI_5-ASxWPNE6wzRkn2fY6YbjZ1ce6DFhlHMlI1pscCidLmBziaxuthbR-ixUoxzDgmSvBTrj4ntgNg3sRUgZv6dkvGiIDbGs91aolDUx/s320/PXL_20240307_182104236.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">(That's three dollars and 91 1/4 cents per pound, to be clear. And that's a really good price! I just want you to know that it's not the producers who are bumping beef prices in the stores ...🤪)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I usually sit on the top row of the gallery; but today the heat is cranked so high in retaliation for the outside frigid temperatures that I know I won't be able to take it for long. I slip into a chair on the back row at the side of the ring, and meet the Thorstensons from Saskatchewan. They are second on the roster. Big, beautiful, strong steers and healthy heifers. Bob himself takes the auction chair for them. There is quite a lot of jollity about James, a new MLA in Saskatchewan and their son. ("I <i>knew</i> Bob would say something!" beams Mrs. T.) They've been coming to Balog's since 2007, she tells me. "Bob always gets it done for us."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Georgine Westgard is sitting with the Thorstensons and they are clearly old pals. Jim and Georgine retired from farming in the Oyen area in 2018. Bob, of course, did the herd dispersal and then the farm auction sale. She is here for a visit today, and she includes me in the conversation. She roots for the Thorstensons throughout their sale; and when it comes time for the GR's cattle to enter the ring, she roots for him just as hard. "You have nothing to worry about - they look GREAT! Such good shape! Don't worry about the buyers pulling out one or two! Sometimes it's legit but sometimes they just want to keep people on their toes."</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZwW3p35n0yg" width="320" youtube-src-id="ZwW3p35n0yg"></iframe></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>M</span><span style="font-size: medium;">ark takes over when it comes time to auction off the GR's herd. He has a pitch and rhythm that lulls you unless you're a buyer; then you better be paying close attention! He fights for quarter of a cent per pound, as does Bob - who, even as Mark auctions, is adding the colour commentary: "One iron! No implants or steroids! Home raised!" And the price goes up a quarter of a cent. Every quarter penny counts! </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKtzIy5l8u9uL16y3hHlOFYEQ_ZeWVp_oq7wjGPEKiyvi7d8CIVR6mxB4TeOsdIzRdcYfhF22CZnuf_FWOW1Svttiq7p3WD0Yw9TLY4S3xn0BAoUXcc4vnVso_UBZdoHGyLMsOx9y-wsaIO3ANCiqJgFeZ2Rm6FZkgzYKeevN5moPNhiym8BzIK4h0Mwhd/s8160/PXL_20240306_212436064.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6144" data-original-width="8160" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKtzIy5l8u9uL16y3hHlOFYEQ_ZeWVp_oq7wjGPEKiyvi7d8CIVR6mxB4TeOsdIzRdcYfhF22CZnuf_FWOW1Svttiq7p3WD0Yw9TLY4S3xn0BAoUXcc4vnVso_UBZdoHGyLMsOx9y-wsaIO3ANCiqJgFeZ2Rm6FZkgzYKeevN5moPNhiym8BzIK4h0Mwhd/s320/PXL_20240306_212436064.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I ask Georgine why she thought two steers are pulled out of a pack to be auctioned separately. "I'll go ask the buyer!" she declares. It seems they look "a little soggy." Sounds legit to me. Slightly lower price the second time around. I would choose crispy over soggy too; wouldn't you?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The GR's charolais-cross steers show up in the ring and they take my breath. A ring full of goldenness. I say to the two ladies, "When I see how gorgeous these steers are, I feel guilty for ever having evil thoughts about the GR not going on holiday or us not doing more as a couple ..."</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfHfpVqXk-ILYcGJnZarmg-nGNpPzucV84OTj-Hc9oWzjfHWXYxfMaCHwRmfqYgWjvVp86Tc4oA4ANPKohGRnE-kO3swSVqw0Go1MMF7k8-vEcUqoqrJK495Rq2F29H-FIHHD5bPdlkt_FBy3paUbknGLrNy3GuqW7_hcEHqXerAvM5VL3AmgSf9nownrp/s8160/PXL_20240306_215048673.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6144" data-original-width="8160" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfHfpVqXk-ILYcGJnZarmg-nGNpPzucV84OTj-Hc9oWzjfHWXYxfMaCHwRmfqYgWjvVp86Tc4oA4ANPKohGRnE-kO3swSVqw0Go1MMF7k8-vEcUqoqrJK495Rq2F29H-FIHHD5bPdlkt_FBy3paUbknGLrNy3GuqW7_hcEHqXerAvM5VL3AmgSf9nownrp/s320/PXL_20240306_215048673.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">They laugh knowingly. "We all feel that way. Don't feel bad. But it's a good day today, isn't it?!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Suddenly, Georgine lets out a little yelp. A steer is down. The other steers run out of the ring through the exit door, and still he sits. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The room falls silent.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyUljbZq2VnYmhi0ZHazBSdFLsKUy-klml6bMDkqhWdxPdVsWNPE9NeOyMl8v4iNWwEwRmLkWMbdfpsmjlscl86v8HWVmFjc3bIqlm3eSxRqvm46998Mpc6MFD2pGk1J4iOnZN6Mr8teZyu4OCp8weiiEZfS8e-7IzwG2I56A280Nht5ud6fI48r14bMF/s8160/PXL_20240306_214402874.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6144" data-original-width="8160" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyUljbZq2VnYmhi0ZHazBSdFLsKUy-klml6bMDkqhWdxPdVsWNPE9NeOyMl8v4iNWwEwRmLkWMbdfpsmjlscl86v8HWVmFjc3bIqlm3eSxRqvm46998Mpc6MFD2pGk1J4iOnZN6Mr8teZyu4OCp8weiiEZfS8e-7IzwG2I56A280Nht5ud6fI48r14bMF/s320/PXL_20240306_214402874.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">I can hardly breathe.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The ring men move in to try to get him up, but Mister Balog takes control. "WAIT. Everybody wait. Give him a minute. Give him another minute ..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And wouldn't you know it, that little steer gets himself up and walks out of his own volition. No limping. No foaming at the mouth. No hesitation. Completely calm.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaH7P0gfng6ntCbaZKvzKKl1yiZWLWpXHg9TsdQ7EyKe0VEUMD9paa0ielpAfemR_KKMM8b-c9t17Uv_nSnQHKrswsCvkmRySlZuBTOycNQ70rpCh-jRdzqovkvtsmPtPG9N76-IoUvg0jbR4v_JubdVjox2cT7g0bXSrF_okwneElycgSuO42EvK4UD2x/s4954/PXL_20240306_214522414.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2957" data-original-width="4954" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaH7P0gfng6ntCbaZKvzKKl1yiZWLWpXHg9TsdQ7EyKe0VEUMD9paa0ielpAfemR_KKMM8b-c9t17Uv_nSnQHKrswsCvkmRySlZuBTOycNQ70rpCh-jRdzqovkvtsmPtPG9N76-IoUvg0jbR4v_JubdVjox2cT7g0bXSrF_okwneElycgSuO42EvK4UD2x/s320/PXL_20240306_214522414.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Bob was standing right beside me by this point. "Just winded," he reassures me. "He'll be okay. We'll claim him on insurance so you don't have to worry. He'll be fine."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Bob Balog cares, not only about the animals but also about their people.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">A small group of mixed colours arrives in the ring. The GR calls them "funny colours." I call them "Joseph's coat." They are so beautiful to me.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEf6pUMdWTdhn0VqHG0yHV1FpM3QOAFPIHNl0vje0DjRJ_Be0nMSfIudhKJ7oJASZFPRsORKSTyyNdqHUSTUlNfKFTE-WxjG3zb5nuvWGxV6u_xQRqFMMNcSuMcYOkViQQPpTp7CZC7-z3bbbFB0BItksmCYa8YAs4S3b27b9EBztXKL2XnTCNKqW3wUyA/s8160/PXL_20240306_215329337.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6144" data-original-width="8160" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEf6pUMdWTdhn0VqHG0yHV1FpM3QOAFPIHNl0vje0DjRJ_Be0nMSfIudhKJ7oJASZFPRsORKSTyyNdqHUSTUlNfKFTE-WxjG3zb5nuvWGxV6u_xQRqFMMNcSuMcYOkViQQPpTp7CZC7-z3bbbFB0BItksmCYa8YAs4S3b27b9EBztXKL2XnTCNKqW3wUyA/s320/PXL_20240306_215329337.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1j_PXtsIHC7o18PO-tY8JIRq9YfOTeYcjBhcp-fMpLjyZ2qRUz2J6vr4mHyFSEmRJ2C4bPB2s0SW8VrpDiC_Yi74poj9c5s1FBqMvanS5v0_wbqQJOZhWc6jrZWqIlB0hLaG9klUWJca449uiISS51JHz9oba4nTOqqNHsizIktG418Om3rq3eIqpVZvf/s8160/PXL_20240306_215407085.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6144" data-original-width="8160" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1j_PXtsIHC7o18PO-tY8JIRq9YfOTeYcjBhcp-fMpLjyZ2qRUz2J6vr4mHyFSEmRJ2C4bPB2s0SW8VrpDiC_Yi74poj9c5s1FBqMvanS5v0_wbqQJOZhWc6jrZWqIlB0hLaG9klUWJca449uiISS51JHz9oba4nTOqqNHsizIktG418Om3rq3eIqpVZvf/s320/PXL_20240306_215407085.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">They sell just as well as everyone else. Take THAT, GR! 💖 </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Across the ring from me are four people very dear to the GR's heart: Justin, Kryston, Clay, and Oaklee, with whom the GR is completely smitten and calls Annie Oakley. The next generation in the family teaching <i>their</i> next generation the ins and outs of ranching life while they figure it out for themselves.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcUSBvonx0uMXQrXKf2SE2pjrYGlTZu-DD9JAQNfI-_GrGZZUff4n8YcPEg3FK2YhD-gslJzmzvfoLDv_K3AXZDIRJsrLl7QhM2W1oVeIGxI7evk608i27KCQWCJdkk87c5-iX15jAo0Vw17ZfYLJjbbmllny1di9zK7Y86CjkQIlgPVib_v_XrPZer4Q/s1600/IMG_20240312_172206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcUSBvonx0uMXQrXKf2SE2pjrYGlTZu-DD9JAQNfI-_GrGZZUff4n8YcPEg3FK2YhD-gslJzmzvfoLDv_K3AXZDIRJsrLl7QhM2W1oVeIGxI7evk608i27KCQWCJdkk87c5-iX15jAo0Vw17ZfYLJjbbmllny1di9zK7Y86CjkQIlgPVib_v_XrPZer4Q/s320/IMG_20240312_172206.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Kryston gives me a recipe for homemade yoghurt - easy and saves money. I have rarely seen someone so industrious. Oaklee has her mama's dimple at the corner of her mouth. Clay wants to be a rancher just like his dad. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Justin bids for and buys some of the GR's steers. He has set up his own feedlot and is starting to build his herd. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWRJQTFZR_GofO7m0aL31f1Kq_ZjwGTF_l0NXPJWZ2qYsIZKlJSLBSG9Sn747MiLLWqFmFzIEvSpuwiXIivtHuvUEOW9Z1ZARtqVRSLWZMCxcjT9SLyt7hq10e8vR_9vL1dAmhsdy3U7EEbHk3VsmAKkog5hQfL4GAT6ZlHgSGRAq9yl8VsOGQCJn0li5/s8160/PXL_20240306_222258702.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8160" data-original-width="6144" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWRJQTFZR_GofO7m0aL31f1Kq_ZjwGTF_l0NXPJWZ2qYsIZKlJSLBSG9Sn747MiLLWqFmFzIEvSpuwiXIivtHuvUEOW9Z1ZARtqVRSLWZMCxcjT9SLyt7hq10e8vR_9vL1dAmhsdy3U7EEbHk3VsmAKkog5hQfL4GAT6ZlHgSGRAq9yl8VsOGQCJn0li5/s320/PXL_20240306_222258702.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAkYEVsa-41GAgvwymFF3lh0mGj8Dl1DcgDSFoLSg85NzzuSamK9MqVwyoEckQPYDS5JDaSA0_XR-GVubPNCykAxJV6kkJc2lE-K9k5l5ckB_3TUkEaCJfBlrA9Gb6PIgsabqdHyJGRO7O-9Qsk_x4DnHHJ68Hyrpb91Cn7nBT-DgnjKrke9PDEjxMzvA/s8160/PXL_20240306_222330752.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8160" data-original-width="6144" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAkYEVsa-41GAgvwymFF3lh0mGj8Dl1DcgDSFoLSg85NzzuSamK9MqVwyoEckQPYDS5JDaSA0_XR-GVubPNCykAxJV6kkJc2lE-K9k5l5ckB_3TUkEaCJfBlrA9Gb6PIgsabqdHyJGRO7O-9Qsk_x4DnHHJ68Hyrpb91Cn7nBT-DgnjKrke9PDEjxMzvA/s320/PXL_20240306_222330752.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;">W</span>hen the GR's sale is over, I deke into the kitchen to retrieve the doughnuts I had picked up from the Prairie Cottage Bake Shop in Brooks, on my way to Lethbridge, just as they were closing on Tuesday. This bakery makes doughnuts the old-fashioned way, and they taste the way most donut people dream of doughnuts tasting nowadays. I had called the bakeshop as I was preparing to leave for Lethbridge to see if I could reserve five or six dozen. </span></p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The owner herself answered the phone. "I have a few left but nowhere near what you need ... Wait a minute - we're pretty caught up here. I could make up a small batch just for you!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I arrived at 4:30. The doughnuts were done. "We just have to box them. You'll have to leave the boxes open so that they can cool!" I listened to the sweet sounds of a cappella hymns in the background as the two ladies finished up the order. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">After the GR's cattle are sold, doughnuts are passed around to everyone in the house who wants one, and every morsel is appreciated. "<i>What's the occasion?"</i> I am asked several times.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"The GR and I just made it to our tenth anniversary. Many people were pretty sure we wouldn't make it to five! So we wanted to celebrate with the folks who understand this way of life. Our people."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>"Happy anniversary. Good sale."</i></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(Prairie Cottage Bake Shop<br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Brooks, Alberta<br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">403-501-0111</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Just saying, in case you find yourself in Brooks!)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKY58GHKj1hdxKry5gZmrKs2kQ8oS6p59I0nIMQaFgSAmEKJvAusjhrCsuqe4cj8T3efdbd6_yvt2wfSJ2StdAulLT0N-ksGDweddtwlp-5L73DWh1X8oGZEC9mj_yMGMtWOdFg7XrwHSWgHhWzZSbwoLkB-h5-pQDXLj5WIXwWcZRxlUV6Tt2EmeHVpI-/s5120/PXL_20240306_232619595~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5073" data-original-width="5120" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKY58GHKj1hdxKry5gZmrKs2kQ8oS6p59I0nIMQaFgSAmEKJvAusjhrCsuqe4cj8T3efdbd6_yvt2wfSJ2StdAulLT0N-ksGDweddtwlp-5L73DWh1X8oGZEC9mj_yMGMtWOdFg7XrwHSWgHhWzZSbwoLkB-h5-pQDXLj5WIXwWcZRxlUV6Tt2EmeHVpI-/s320/PXL_20240306_232619595~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I go to the office to get the cheque and paperwork. As always, here is Maureen, Bob's sister and the person who runs the administration of this place. How she keeps everything straight, especially on sale day, I do not know.</span></span></h3><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">How she keeps the song in her heart, I <i>do</i> know. There next to her is her daughter Shandi, back from maternity leave. "She's all I have," Maureen had told me quietly, numbly, when Shandi encountered difficulties in labour and delivery last year.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Now Shandi's beautiful boy is being cared for by his other grandma for the two days a week that Shandi works next to her mom like she always has. And Maureen's heart circle has expanded. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I write my thankyou cards to the buyers who have purchased the GR's cattle. We are so grateful to them all and pray that the steers will thrive under them and that many people will be nourished through their efforts.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Goodbyes said, I make my way to the truck, start the engine to warm things up, and punch up the number on my phone.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">He answers immediately.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">"It's done. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">How much were you hoping to get from this sale?"</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I say the exact same thing every time I go to a sale. I fear that he might think I'm crazy for asking, because what's done is done. But I fear even more that he might be disappointed, that despite all his hard work we have come up short.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">He gives me his number. "Are we even close?"</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I flash back to all the times we have gone through this, the times we have not met his number. How he immediately reassures me, despite his own disappointment, that all will be well. That God will take care of us.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I look down at the breakdown of the sale given to me from the auction house. I take a deep breath.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">"Honey, we are not close. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Honey, you remember the verse in Ephesians about '... Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think'? </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Honey. That's where we are ..."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Silence.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Even from four hours away I can feel the weight of the past two years start to roll off his shoulders. I hear him draw in a deep breath and slowly exhale.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">"Thank You, dear God," he whispers into the phone.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">"AND I can get to the bank in time before it closes! I had better leave now, though ..." I blink my way down town and pull myself together as I enter the bank's parking lot on my second attempt.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I go into the bank and - happy day! - there is not a line up, AND they are debuting a new BMO commercial. There is something about this guy that I just love. I think it's his inherent tongue-in-cheek joyfulness. I am so fortunate to get called to the teller's station where you sit down to do your banking, so I get to watch it a couple of times. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9NxfmtOR2xg4XzgnKfBrpziTeeCQq1Cmdjv3Vv1cONoD8F3NVWf3FTfpBsjYuwB2HOS0TCLuvewZNcXi-ljNVuyDccaL1ENWyH0CThL1GWeWFdgTyyNNdM9SvZ3OVCm5njZ2aQXBNb6yQu629NWO1sfxz0kgraxymhUphpiMxsCMsiT14MRkFPY8u1Q9/s1920/PXL_20240306_231749218_exported_2049.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9NxfmtOR2xg4XzgnKfBrpziTeeCQq1Cmdjv3Vv1cONoD8F3NVWf3FTfpBsjYuwB2HOS0TCLuvewZNcXi-ljNVuyDccaL1ENWyH0CThL1GWeWFdgTyyNNdM9SvZ3OVCm5njZ2aQXBNb6yQu629NWO1sfxz0kgraxymhUphpiMxsCMsiT14MRkFPY8u1Q9/s320/PXL_20240306_231749218_exported_2049.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The bank teller thinks this is hilarious. She's laughing harder than I am. Only, she's not laughing at the commercial ... </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFf-iYllP0HtHmZNphB1wEaf1MXw7xuPe-YF46yjVinlgKwcBexlXx0AD_BJDwkdfTYwRo0slFmAEbduxDjDeSaicnEBgXrFMl36Aba5ccj31-McvmeG6bA1Iem-MALIO8Nv_q3RUs2xyPmkFVGX4lYLINgtlgQbDO1lrIjRWkU1RH-0g1zq9Bu6ktkm1T/s1080/PXL_20240306_231749218_exported_6615.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="842" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFf-iYllP0HtHmZNphB1wEaf1MXw7xuPe-YF46yjVinlgKwcBexlXx0AD_BJDwkdfTYwRo0slFmAEbduxDjDeSaicnEBgXrFMl36Aba5ccj31-McvmeG6bA1Iem-MALIO8Nv_q3RUs2xyPmkFVGX4lYLINgtlgQbDO1lrIjRWkU1RH-0g1zq9Bu6ktkm1T/s320/PXL_20240306_231749218_exported_6615.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I drive home. As I go through Taber I stop at Taco Time and get two taco salads and a burrito, to go. Beef, of course. And the large Mexifries, please. After all, it's a very special occasion!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I battle through some fog and blowing snow, but nothing like the day before. As I pull into the driveway I see a text from the GR that he had sent at 5:30.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbSm3gZ3FXVvuK6HtaL2I3mzjbytLeVH3DrZ6VKVBXWT0BqlvNgKWlR10WQmYgKEZ3SEtb2P3S_jHzU2yg2R2Yij_CP1OulLpxBtmiSoEpO_paRDFqhD91_qSnhMVlrsfzUikx3bzkglx_rz4E1W7DP3479QC823KME4a2aY62nxi0yXwd3uvRWbT5j46b/s806/Screenshot_20240312-131751.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="806" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbSm3gZ3FXVvuK6HtaL2I3mzjbytLeVH3DrZ6VKVBXWT0BqlvNgKWlR10WQmYgKEZ3SEtb2P3S_jHzU2yg2R2Yij_CP1OulLpxBtmiSoEpO_paRDFqhD91_qSnhMVlrsfzUikx3bzkglx_rz4E1W7DP3479QC823KME4a2aY62nxi0yXwd3uvRWbT5j46b/s320/Screenshot_20240312-131751.png" width="320" /></a></div></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I just have to park on the driveway for a moment to gather my thoughts. Our calving season is supposed to start the last half of April! This calf is not premature. The mother is a cow, not a first calver. Seriously? The whole cycle has started again IMMEDIATELY without even a day's reprieve?! </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">"Will you take me to them?" I ask the GR.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rs55sxuTwf8" width="320" youtube-src-id="rs55sxuTwf8"></iframe></div><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">"What are you going to name her?" he asks me.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">"There really is only one name for her." I reply. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">"PayDay!"</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-40682325432084299612024-02-12T23:39:00.002-07:002024-02-12T23:43:05.731-07:00Writing in the Dark of the Year - The Final Session<p>This, the last week in the course, the prompt was: "Every angel is terrible ..." (Rainer Maria Rilke).</p><p>This is what came into my head:</p><p>------------------------------------</p><div style="text-align: left;">O Lucifer, star of the morning,<br />Have we all been tarred with<br />your gorgeous, careless brush?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />You, the one who enjoyed fellowship<br />with the Almighty!<br />You let it go to your head, did you -<br />as a result you hurtled,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the most magnificent peacock,<br />sapphire and emerald<br />and onyx and gold feathers<br />Tumbling </div><div style="text-align: left;">from the heavens<br />Cascading </div><div style="text-align: left;">through the firmament<br />To land in the mysterious murkiness called<br />"In the beginning."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Your metamorphosis into <br />the loveliest of serpents<br />in the garden </div><div style="text-align: left;">made us who watched<br />from above<br />regard you with fear and awe.<br />Michael, Gabriel trying to fill your sandals<br />shuddered as you were banished<br />and slithered<br />away.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Where did you go?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Would human kind now believe<br />that <i>every angel is terrible?</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i>And so we rallied ourselves.<br />We organized:<br />Battalions<br />Regiments<br />Brigades<br />Divisions -<br />A heavenly host.<br />Seraphim to guard the holy of holies<br />Cherubim to protect humankind from themselves<br />The great princes: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel<br />And one throne now vacant, O Lucifer,<br />Star of the morning.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Guardian angels<br />Earth angels<br />Hark, the herald angels sing.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">An army of goodness. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Thousands upon thousands of us,<br />working tirelessly to protect and defend.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And yet, still they're drawn<br />to you, O Lucifer</div><div style="text-align: left;">Prince of darkness<br />Roaring lion<br />Tempter of God Himself -<br />Terrible, beautiful<br />Star of the morning</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnD2GMT3aP33NEQ27u4TU9e98GuQjlCCHidvG1N5po9dgJgAk-FHpirsqLj0Q1fw7Nwr5j9gXphsqkLIaxtRhusAVzvPVMuieuGFK17EtGHxUL-tHgYjCckrt757KOIzbu7LkcJ4XGWWIxTQZucDPoC2Qq9tcTHs5dSWVInRCDKwPYQ2SUn3kM-1iZGAF/s829/Screenshot_20240212-224256.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="806" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnD2GMT3aP33NEQ27u4TU9e98GuQjlCCHidvG1N5po9dgJgAk-FHpirsqLj0Q1fw7Nwr5j9gXphsqkLIaxtRhusAVzvPVMuieuGFK17EtGHxUL-tHgYjCckrt757KOIzbu7LkcJ4XGWWIxTQZucDPoC2Qq9tcTHs5dSWVInRCDKwPYQ2SUn3kM-1iZGAF/s320/Screenshot_20240212-224256.png" width="311" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The Fallen Angel</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>by</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Alexandre Cabanel</i></div><p>https://www.culturefrontier.com/the-fallen-angel-lucifer-painting/</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-25095253673336425062024-02-07T16:16:00.006-07:002024-02-07T22:33:39.159-07:00Writing in the Dark of the Year: "I Stand on All Fours, My Fur ..."<p> On this fourth week, the writing prompt that hit me between the eyes was this:</p><p>"I stand on all fours, my fur ..."</p><p>I couldn't actually read this piece - or any piece, for that matter - aloud this week. But here's what I wrote:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8vyz78oeA5uwuKj2EZ66UjNDKTfORXDwVfo_vB1L1IaPUj_EmDLYcBaiFYDtOANApiwBTHTPEsYNVnJVkg3KRaSr-2mT3RTUCTGjnDTl_Dc11jx8RmtlKt1bKGeVJQCKeUdFuvEgfkt4rjllmaCxU0YKZ1qvPMDX_D3HpUxsVQH0y9X1bnEojGLW-PQK/s3796/PXL_20240207_173044191~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3796" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8vyz78oeA5uwuKj2EZ66UjNDKTfORXDwVfo_vB1L1IaPUj_EmDLYcBaiFYDtOANApiwBTHTPEsYNVnJVkg3KRaSr-2mT3RTUCTGjnDTl_Dc11jx8RmtlKt1bKGeVJQCKeUdFuvEgfkt4rjllmaCxU0YKZ1qvPMDX_D3HpUxsVQH0y9X1bnEojGLW-PQK/s320/PXL_20240207_173044191~2.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><p>I stand on all fours, my fur rising ever so slightly from my suddenly unfamiliar body. (<i>Is</i> it my body that is unfamiliar, or is it everything else?)</p><p>Last Tuesday night I went to bed, stretched out as usual on the blanket on the floor behind my Friend's bed. She turned out the light, then she said, like she says every night, "Sleep time, SLEEP time, my little Earl Grey. Sleep time, my Faithful Friend. See you in the MORning!" </p><p>But the morning never came. The dark night got blacker and blacker. The Good Rancher got up and made his breakfast and left. My Friend got up and called to me.</p><p>I didn't know where she was. </p><p>I didn't know where <i>I </i>was.</p><p>I bumped into a hard edge and did not know how to get around it so I stopped. I needed water, I needed to go outside, I needed to have my Friend say, "Good MORning, my little Earl Grey!"</p><p>She came back to find me. I almost didn't hear her footsteps. I was so scared that my entire body was shaking. I could hardly breathe.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EEeya6NBoXU" width="320" youtube-src-id="EEeya6NBoXU"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>"Come on, my dog! What's going on?" I looked at where I thought her voice was coming from. She cried my name like she never had before - "GRAAAAAAYYY!" </p><p>She pushed me with her legs and put her hand on my head. She got me to where I could feel cool air on my face. So many smells. Birds chirping. Cats meowing. Musket yapping from the porch. I was so confused that I just froze.</p><p>I put out my foot, but there was nothing there. Suddenly I felt her next to me. Her hands on my shoulders. "Step!" she screamed, "Step! Step! Step! Step!"</p><p>I didn't know what to do. She had never raised her voice at me before. Except that time when she saw me with a baby barn kitten in my mouth. Was she angry with me, like then?</p><p>I heard tapping right below me. "Step," she whispered. I could feel her breath on my face. Salt water dripping onto my nose. I leaned toward her and my foot dropped down to reach a spot just below me. "Step," she said again and that same tapping below me. I followed her breath.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsiCypc7nCUsjv00zlj7prJQv49whn6KqmiH1HVYeYwQeu9DANegwu5kJgQY7HtLqlXycx6UEHA5EqABKCuXWTRSJ-t5lzQdjDQdcMjo3FitYWCw1mbsHt5QXcdeU51YiaUYMBTy8zTuEld_y-hNv5lsmCx1OYriTcijINBTNeu9SP0aIDBxYDgw4ayQxm/s4032/PXL_20240104_060321494.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsiCypc7nCUsjv00zlj7prJQv49whn6KqmiH1HVYeYwQeu9DANegwu5kJgQY7HtLqlXycx6UEHA5EqABKCuXWTRSJ-t5lzQdjDQdcMjo3FitYWCw1mbsHt5QXcdeU51YiaUYMBTy8zTuEld_y-hNv5lsmCx1OYriTcijINBTNeu9SP0aIDBxYDgw4ayQxm/s320/PXL_20240104_060321494.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><p>And then I felt the cold bristles of grass beneath me. "Go, on, Earl Grey," she said. I inhaled the scent of previous outside visits, both mine and the other dogs'. Some stronger than others. I took a few steps into this blackness. I had to pee, but I was too scared to lift my leg. </p><p>She called to me and I heard her truck running. Maybe we were going for a ride? But I could not find her or the truck. Suddenly she was in front of meIbumpedintoherlegs. The Good Rancher was there and he picked me up and put me in the truck. She was already sitting right next to me.</p><p>The movement, the noise, the smells. I could hear big trucks coming toward me and I pressed myself low on the seat because I couldn't see them and I was scared they were going to run over me.</p><p>We stopped at the place where the people give me treats, and the girl came out to help my Friend get me out of the truck. They put a noose around my neck and started to pull me, but I did not know where I was going so I sat down.</p><p>And I heard my Friend's voice. "My Faithful Friend," she said. "Come with me, Earl Grey."</p><p>They got me into a small room. I tried to walk around but I kept bumpingbumping into a huge box in the middle of the room. I put my head on my Friend's lap and everything was quiet. </p><p>But not for long. Two other people came into the room and they made my Friend put a muzzle on me. Then they poked me in my foot, and they put something cold near my heart, and I felt whooshing air near my eyes. I started to pant.</p><p>My Friend and that girl got me back into the truck. The truck started and then there was a howling sound, like the coyotes on the hills at home every night. I tried to reach for her hand, which was always there when I put my head on the console, but I fell off the seat.</p><p>The howling stopped. So did the truck. The door next to me opened. She helped me get back up onto the seat.</p><p>We got home. I got onto the floor of the truck but when she tried to get me down I couldn't move. I could only shake and pant. </p><p>She went away and came back and there was somewhere hard to put my foot. It was covered with something soft that smelled like her jacket. "Step," she said quietly. "Step." </p><p>And I was on the blessed ground again.</p><p>This last week has been long. Cold weather. Accidents in the living room. I can't find my food until I am standing in the bowl. I spill the water. My head hurts all the time. I sleep a lot. The dogs avoid me, but those kittens stay close to me now. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9wnSRLP-4wzwwYCHgJaBZ6xM58FCb3f9vdvhgXWrno08ft5UFlinFWk1sZILY9mX2z7VIhwgks0bsWRdNVJ9vfq6_uJoukwnfAfJoyTSoWhgbcz3X_S8XMJTXTXbxfbF2dlNoKlnga9vO9jtkPqyS67oNichqWjtuYZ65G4SGvw-ohLV0-HhN1m8iLWWX/s4080/PXL_20240111_232223231~3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9wnSRLP-4wzwwYCHgJaBZ6xM58FCb3f9vdvhgXWrno08ft5UFlinFWk1sZILY9mX2z7VIhwgks0bsWRdNVJ9vfq6_uJoukwnfAfJoyTSoWhgbcz3X_S8XMJTXTXbxfbF2dlNoKlnga9vO9jtkPqyS67oNichqWjtuYZ65G4SGvw-ohLV0-HhN1m8iLWWX/s320/PXL_20240111_232223231~3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Wav3_dj0pP7m9cFK87uAeVqtaEOH3X64ooUxBgCVnXGfOAAsEqk1oRTlv2lsNQ0S7jnWdN05aioe1XLMt3KEYwNQ1Kw-h4qNhDka3IyfgZBiDAq5nCfDYkb-eP3uHM1ljB6e18CRzp0zkY1rN1f11KFySsrjGW65gOqEb1XauBFoTnqBV8SS3GopB48T/s2584/PXL_20240106_195715166~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2584" data-original-width="1851" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Wav3_dj0pP7m9cFK87uAeVqtaEOH3X64ooUxBgCVnXGfOAAsEqk1oRTlv2lsNQ0S7jnWdN05aioe1XLMt3KEYwNQ1Kw-h4qNhDka3IyfgZBiDAq5nCfDYkb-eP3uHM1ljB6e18CRzp0zkY1rN1f11KFySsrjGW65gOqEb1XauBFoTnqBV8SS3GopB48T/s320/PXL_20240106_195715166~2.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciEZoYolAuHl6BQpzM2Maj-c1FUWf0xvt0NIluZrleE4AL1W4tJnpmGNMa5AYAwYSRT0gpUz7E0wsV2aLf-Z739RUocegdo-JIpuUtVlSDOhWb06loD7DcLTwKmDR7Qw_36t5bZ6XxUdGQ-ETafhJvgIe6BCmQSxPXhtYCiJtnsIpfGv5zOPeVrmYJKX6/s3580/PXL_20240115_005711360~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3580" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciEZoYolAuHl6BQpzM2Maj-c1FUWf0xvt0NIluZrleE4AL1W4tJnpmGNMa5AYAwYSRT0gpUz7E0wsV2aLf-Z739RUocegdo-JIpuUtVlSDOhWb06loD7DcLTwKmDR7Qw_36t5bZ6XxUdGQ-ETafhJvgIe6BCmQSxPXhtYCiJtnsIpfGv5zOPeVrmYJKX6/s320/PXL_20240115_005711360~2.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigmnn6Ej24DtQY5G6Y9g_0IkrONr6fdojdJzuLJvBz8ww3iUorSBru_SEi6dBiMImfhW8kmJDZv-j76TelonnnoE4hQmF7cEv5bVB9rcdgWj1Oa9Mt3ETmNIX3KA_ub3F8As4ywLDMTjRRmd2iHlwysNRs1ZcA4UIwqAEsBh86_IlhnkTDabyv8u67-Pgn/s1233/PXL_20240204_220844587_exported_524_1707331611309~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1233" data-original-width="1008" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigmnn6Ej24DtQY5G6Y9g_0IkrONr6fdojdJzuLJvBz8ww3iUorSBru_SEi6dBiMImfhW8kmJDZv-j76TelonnnoE4hQmF7cEv5bVB9rcdgWj1Oa9Mt3ETmNIX3KA_ub3F8As4ywLDMTjRRmd2iHlwysNRs1ZcA4UIwqAEsBh86_IlhnkTDabyv8u67-Pgn/s320/PXL_20240204_220844587_exported_524_1707331611309~2.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0TqkByoV2ctTMECLYBWV5SylLNg8FNWJOoBWvweAbZH6mOw-AGKSrM1x8DgKHuFtMAMWAHY1VRM2eW79nIfcP6RzoNhyodiCnqdrFjlBNeVLUFXEI8iLdHbktEQuKxhTZQDVQFxIktumD1r4RiRPpZtZsk90sLu3JXm6fkWSOAjpaHN7UGaZXbche-7Jb/s4080/PXL_20240204_221056788_exported_289_1707331404307.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0TqkByoV2ctTMECLYBWV5SylLNg8FNWJOoBWvweAbZH6mOw-AGKSrM1x8DgKHuFtMAMWAHY1VRM2eW79nIfcP6RzoNhyodiCnqdrFjlBNeVLUFXEI8iLdHbktEQuKxhTZQDVQFxIktumD1r4RiRPpZtZsk90sLu3JXm6fkWSOAjpaHN7UGaZXbche-7Jb/s320/PXL_20240204_221056788_exported_289_1707331404307.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_qGtz13hM7Kvj5vx4NuTyevrFf4uZNMTzOISAYGGDXlOl_tutS_8mRv8PbLi5APsD_h3CfiK4Pr_6ovedKcK91MqHeUI7TYds0LB6vJMxY5SpvxWo3fhq5ve73NbOaHZph1m2-SXyFKj1AgK5-OG-YZ8Yn32rxdwxxWq5z7791ZdTwIuKAhSjprceSk0/s3465/PXL_20240116_022949727.NIGHT~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3465" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_qGtz13hM7Kvj5vx4NuTyevrFf4uZNMTzOISAYGGDXlOl_tutS_8mRv8PbLi5APsD_h3CfiK4Pr_6ovedKcK91MqHeUI7TYds0LB6vJMxY5SpvxWo3fhq5ve73NbOaHZph1m2-SXyFKj1AgK5-OG-YZ8Yn32rxdwxxWq5z7791ZdTwIuKAhSjprceSk0/s320/PXL_20240116_022949727.NIGHT~2.jpg" width="284" /></a></div><p>Nothing is the same. </p><p>Except for one thing.</p><p>A long time ago she went away for a night, and when she came back the next afternoon, she smelled of blood and bandages and medicine and sadness. We could not jump up on her, and she did not bend down to give us our milk time, milk time. Something was wrong. </p><p>She lay on the couch and I lay on the floor next to her. When she got up she went to the small room with the loud rushing of water. I felt I needed to go look after her. So I waited for her outside the door. </p><p>And from that day on, whenever she goes to the small room with the loud rushing of water I always lie down, blocking the door, waiting for her, protecting her from the unseen enemy. Now everything is unseen, everything is the enemy.</p><p>Still. I still know when she is in that place, and I have still been able to find the door. And I would still protect her with my whole pitiful being.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwYONBr6vPu_wX-eboX_YgCGo9U7li-yrEvp0jp5mI5U-a_PQe-toBkCVpJ4YbTvtC9fD9jPonZvWFs3FhuHVRyfX_wCbf6l_OcECiJr_z5h8gAE-S_r0VdBxQbPY3QnOL9CYZXYG9aKPBvFm2lqWTFbbOZB6tQ-fZxd2EeMIv6a7mUWUPYDcMgzOPTJ83/s4080/PXL_20240111_224314963~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwYONBr6vPu_wX-eboX_YgCGo9U7li-yrEvp0jp5mI5U-a_PQe-toBkCVpJ4YbTvtC9fD9jPonZvWFs3FhuHVRyfX_wCbf6l_OcECiJr_z5h8gAE-S_r0VdBxQbPY3QnOL9CYZXYG9aKPBvFm2lqWTFbbOZB6tQ-fZxd2EeMIv6a7mUWUPYDcMgzOPTJ83/s320/PXL_20240111_224314963~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>She opens the door.<i> I stand on all fours, my fur</i> turning into shield and breastplate and helmet, and my useless eyes glowing jade green. I stand on guard for her.</p><p>And I hear her say the words she always says as she bends to stroke my back and head:</p><p>"Grey? Are you waiting for me, Grey? Oh Grey, you ALWAYS wait for me. THANK you for waiting for me, Earl Grey. Thank you for being my Faithful Friend. Do you love me, Grey? I think you LOVE me!! From the FIRST time you saw me, you loved me, and you wanted to BE my friend. And now, you are my FAITHful Friend, Earl Grey, and now, you are MY dog."</p><p>Everything has changed, but nothing has changed. I would give my life for her. </p><p>I hope she can see that.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqORnt7slPRAf1dnHsUJR4nIzu2aRFtVYoqJQUe3pSMg8xKJNWPsIzN1WO0F6hRGwHrdy5gI8jeTkmdgA0oS_haTUitOYNiJvsfIwr4x37SAH-qi1B_4DGn5LUpCl8ghYWq_LikhyphenhyphennugeM6sXjvu0kHS177W-VwZlEUkg7MikiqhgtjeBBzX3OX5QzOdaG/s3016/PXL_20240105_214313361.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3016" data-original-width="1798" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqORnt7slPRAf1dnHsUJR4nIzu2aRFtVYoqJQUe3pSMg8xKJNWPsIzN1WO0F6hRGwHrdy5gI8jeTkmdgA0oS_haTUitOYNiJvsfIwr4x37SAH-qi1B_4DGn5LUpCl8ghYWq_LikhyphenhyphennugeM6sXjvu0kHS177W-VwZlEUkg7MikiqhgtjeBBzX3OX5QzOdaG/s320/PXL_20240105_214313361.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-28954900174933729402024-01-30T23:44:00.004-07:002024-01-31T01:02:47.604-07:00Writing in the Dark of the Year: How People Drink Their Tea or Coffee<p> The assignment was simple: "What does the way a person drinks their tea or coffee mean about them?" We had 15 minutes.</p><p>My mind immediately went back to Solly and Erna, two of my favourite people to drink tea and coffee in the little tea house in Three Hills. I don't know if it answered the question of the evening, but I knew I wanted to spend a moment or two with them again. This is what I wrote:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINJa_kAQJiSdvx9iy123Txx3cYk6C4ipiOpZgzsdP8jJ1OylTo14B4OGGtd8t5vHedRbaH-mNFhmZFEEUyreJS8i2_z_BblUkvRC0kUYLMWT64fI7Cnk3xZHoaEG11uao3o5WurWUPBrjc5fPPzh_4H7mwE5WxBBcHEl2HVYQt2VsrghmF-WaJTIVNXLA/s1112/Screenshot_20240131-005947.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1112" data-original-width="806" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINJa_kAQJiSdvx9iy123Txx3cYk6C4ipiOpZgzsdP8jJ1OylTo14B4OGGtd8t5vHedRbaH-mNFhmZFEEUyreJS8i2_z_BblUkvRC0kUYLMWT64fI7Cnk3xZHoaEG11uao3o5WurWUPBrjc5fPPzh_4H7mwE5WxBBcHEl2HVYQt2VsrghmF-WaJTIVNXLA/s320/Screenshot_20240131-005947.png" width="232" /></a></div><p>"Welcome to Nilgiris Tea House. Here's a table for eight, if we just pull these two together ... May I take your order?"</p><p>SOLLY: "Coffee. Black."</p><p>ERNA: "I think I'll have a pot of tea. Now, do I want black tea or ... no ... it might keep me up. What about that Winter Palace Marzipan tea? It reminds me of the sugared almonds my daddy used to give us -"</p><p>SOLLY: "Erna! Just order! Everyone is waiting!"</p><p>The order is taken: five coffees and three teas. Four cinnamon rolls and three scones. Erna won't have anything, she has to watch her sugar.</p><p>Three minutes after all at the table are served:</p><p>THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.</p><p>THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.</p><p>ERNA: "Oh Solly, STOP! She's busy. She'll bring the coffee pot over as soon as she can -"</p><p>SOLLY: "I might die before she gets here."</p><p>ERNA: "Oh Solly, the doctor was just making a joke. Living in town is not going to kill you!</p><p>"Oh thank you, dear. It's his 88th birthday, and -"</p><p>SOLLY: "Erna! She doesn't have time for this! I just want to go back to the farm. Nothing wrong with me. I can still run my tractor. And out there I can pour my own coffee when I want to."</p><p>THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.</p><p>THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.</p><p>ERNA: "Oh Solly, stop!"</p><p>And then the news that he had died. Impatient in life, he was not impatient to leave it when the time came. At the reception following his funeral, Erna said that now she could come to the tea house and not be embarrassed.</p><p>"Welcome to Nilgiris Tea House. Here's a table for four. May I take your order?"</p><p>One coffee and three teas. Two orders of scones, to share.</p><p>Three minutes after all at the table are served:</p><p>THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.</p><p>THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.</p><p>She's sitting there with her empty coffee mug in front of her. Tears are getting caught in the creases of her face. She stares at the mug, stunned.</p><p>ERNA: "I can't believe I did that. I hated when he did that. Oh Solly -"</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_f_XemvXD2CuKCC12zRrXnjfD2V26JYpxCjqNuHv8nVstitZikTex4haqq6S2B01tAbmEyGcCc95zspz_t5V2LSA9SfuKGA5Q2_n9ON7D6o4PnmdwQHY8q-BFjb9ZznLFb9O3m7uXP67iqwoXF7Nwb407PaEJ_5hrfAqsfSh8I45YSJ3cZVcG1Mb7xIm/s454/Screenshot_20240130-215820~2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="454" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_f_XemvXD2CuKCC12zRrXnjfD2V26JYpxCjqNuHv8nVstitZikTex4haqq6S2B01tAbmEyGcCc95zspz_t5V2LSA9SfuKGA5Q2_n9ON7D6o4PnmdwQHY8q-BFjb9ZznLFb9O3m7uXP67iqwoXF7Nwb407PaEJ_5hrfAqsfSh8I45YSJ3cZVcG1Mb7xIm/s320/Screenshot_20240130-215820~2.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-5042118904989661152024-01-23T23:52:00.004-07:002024-02-07T00:17:51.399-07:00Writing In The Dark of the Year: All About Snakes<p>Week 2 of Writing in the Dark of the Year. For the first exercise we read Sylvia Plath's <i>Rhyme</i> and then we were asked to think of a story and give it a twist.</p><p>When we were in Coonoor, India, and going for walks with Mum on the Lamb's Rock road we would have "Snake Drills." Mum would call out, "Snake!" and we would have to freeze in whatever position we were in at that moment.</p><p>I saw my first snake at the ranch in the garden in 2023, a beautiful garter snake. I didn't know whether to freeze so I took a picture and shot it to Ivy and the Good Rancher. They both assured me that this snake wouldn't hurt me!</p><p>All this to say that the writing course I'm taking took a decidedly reptilian turn.</p><p>This is what I wrote:</p><p>Once upon a time in a land far away there was a garden, a garden full of the scent of eucalyptus, the sparkle of cinnamon, the punch of Tellicherry pepper.</p><p>Through the garden ran a river where fish would sparkle silvery in the cool, clear water. </p><p>And the birds would flit and preen and coo. </p><p>It was very good.</p><p>But there was a serpent in that garden, of course there was, hiding in the eucalyptus leaves, lying in wait for the innocent maiden who he knew would pass by him in the heat of the day. Surely she would notice him today. He would wait for her.</p><p>The maiden <i>did</i> come to the eucalyptus grove. She gathered her basket of leaves, piling them high as she breathed in their heady aroma. She paused for a word with her companion; and as she did, the serpent slithered surreptitiously into the basket of leaves, slid to the bottom with the faintest rustle, so soft the maiden never heard him.</p><p>She lifted the basket onto her head. It seemed heavier than usual, somehow. Maybe she was just tired, she thought to herself, as she trudged down the path to the factory.</p><p>She took her place in line, setting her basket down with a sigh.</p><p>From the depths of the basket appeared a sleek head with two obsidian eyes and a forked ruby tongue.</p><p>The maiden, lost in her thoughts, did not notice.</p><p>"Look at me now," the serpent hissed as his tongue flicked against her left heel and he made a loop around her ankle.</p><p>Almost faster than thought he wrapped himself around her, his head curling around about her neck, squeezing her in his vicious embrace.</p><p>The courtyard froze in horrified, helpless silence.</p><p>The girl, choking, petrified, fainted and fell to the ground as one dead. The snake exhaled, a victory hiss. She had noticed him. They all had noticed him. He had triumphed!</p><p>Slowly, slowly he unfurled himself from the maiden's supine body. He began to crawl away on his belly, back to the camouflage of the eucalyptus trees, back to wait for his next victim.</p><p>BOOM! The foreman's gun blew his head to smithereens.</p><p>---------------------------</p><p>For the second exercise we look at a picture the facilitator has selected for that night's work. This is what she had selected for week 2:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhKrWP5Z_VRfNBCPqDlVD6sgVqdetalfzD33gLO5beFPWtYv7pT80_arioJnE4oAekTZkc2CFnUjBlPhimEMWRKXyG0sGn2xfJuzir4FdSdomiVTF9hEmGM7D102Y8N2F3p_S__PX9kDGzsajYNnsco2B3MnmDjCAdikzNOObAFwnmJNtOMgaSC41fSUQG/s806/Screenshot_20240118-095035~2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="806" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhKrWP5Z_VRfNBCPqDlVD6sgVqdetalfzD33gLO5beFPWtYv7pT80_arioJnE4oAekTZkc2CFnUjBlPhimEMWRKXyG0sGn2xfJuzir4FdSdomiVTF9hEmGM7D102Y8N2F3p_S__PX9kDGzsajYNnsco2B3MnmDjCAdikzNOObAFwnmJNtOMgaSC41fSUQG/s320/Screenshot_20240118-095035~2.png" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">(<i>Untitled by Katerina Plotnikova</i>)</p><p>She showed it to us after I had read my piece ... Because of this weird coincidence, I thought I would include the second piece I read to the group that evening. After looking at the picture and gazing at the fresh face of the young woman with the world-weary eyes, my mind was transported to that first garden in the Book of Genesis.</p><p>The first part of the next piece is clearly not my writing, as you can see. My comments start immediately following the old, familiar story:</p><p>Genesis 3:1-7 (The Message)</p><p>"The serpent was clever, more clever than any wild animal God had made. He spoke to the woman: 'Do I understand that God told you not to eat from any tree in the garden?'</p><p>"The woman said to the serpent, 'Not at all. We can eat from the trees in the garden. It's only about the tree in the middle of the garden that God said, 'Don't eat from it; don't even touch it or you'll die.'</p><p>"The serpent told the woman, 'You won't die. God knows that the moment you eat from that tree, you'll see what's really going on. You'll be just like God, knowing everything, ranging all the way from good to evil.'</p><p>"When the woman saw that the tree looked like good eating and realized what she would get out of it - she'd know everything! - she took and ate the fruit and then gave some to her husband, and he ate.</p><p>"Then they understood what they had done. And they realized that they were not wearing any clothes. So they took some leaves from fig trees and sewed them together to cover their nakedness."</p><p>The man went to work, tilling the soil, setting up empires, toiling until he dropped with exhaustion.</p><p>But the woman, with the weight of the serpent's words wrapped around her head, looked down through the generations with knowing, tired eyes.</p><p>And the guns roared and the bombs hissed and the buildings dropped and the mothers wailed, <i>Rachel weeping for her children, unable to be comforted</i>.</p><p>And so it continued for 100 days and counting.</p><p>And the fig trees - unwitting props in the drama between good and evil that began to rage that day in the garden - bowed their heads and withered in Gaza.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-38440356573053739082024-01-16T17:00:00.004-07:002024-01-16T17:13:05.287-07:00Writing in the Dark of the Year<p> I have signed up for a course, encouraged by my friend Susanne, who persuaded our friend Sharalynn and me to join her.</p><p>"Writing in the Dark of the Year" started on Tuesday night when indeed Winter, flying in the teeth of El Nino, showed us who's boss in Alberta.</p><p>I locked myself into my room, away from dogs, away from cats, away from the pandemonium and drudgery of life at -40° on a cow-calf operation.</p><p>Our leader, Kelsey, got the nine of us to introduce ourselves; then she asked us to write a list of things we cannot do.</p><p>THEN she asked us to pick one off the list and address it. It could be a how-to; it could be humourous; it could be whatever we wanted. </p><p>We had ten minutes.</p><p>I reviewed my list and found it somewhat melancholic and a little bit waspish. So I went with the first one: "I can't reach high shelves or the floor of the passenger side of the truck."</p><p>And this is what I wrote:</p><p>Stretch.</p><p>S-T-R-E-T-C-H!</p><div style="text-align: left;">Waggle the tips</div><div style="text-align: left;">of your fingers as if</div><div style="text-align: left;">they are periscopes to the</div><div style="text-align: left;">submarine mass of your body</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One more inch. That's all</div><div style="text-align: left;">you need, ONE</div><div style="text-align: left;">MORE KNUCKLE appended</div><div style="text-align: left;">to your index finger.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Still no?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Step back, then several steps back, and look up:</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's there, the object of your desire,</div><div style="text-align: left;">there in tantalizingly plain view</div><div style="text-align: left;">on the third shelf of the cupboard.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Align yourself again, and this time</div><div style="text-align: left;">Stand on tippy toes, your left hand</div><div style="text-align: left;">on the second shelf for balance</div><div style="text-align: left;">as your right hand flaps vaguely </div><div style="text-align: left;">in the area you remember</div><div style="text-align: left;">the object to be.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's an existence of inches:</div><div style="text-align: left;">Shortest in my family.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Short arms short legs short trunk</div><div style="text-align: left;">short temper short memory -</div><div style="text-align: left;">62 1/2" cohabiting with 75" rancher</div><div style="text-align: left;">who is never on call</div><div style="text-align: left;">except for supper.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's me and the dogs and the cats, all</div><div style="text-align: left;">people shorter than I.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Still no?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I sure could do with a drink</div><div style="text-align: left;">but I just can't reach</div><div style="text-align: left;">that glass ...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgXoba8-UUcYyxelho4SFrviUGXePPGWJ1kmTE4FiMnXGz4AXb8PbwRrpHbmkWgdIhoGuYbjM-T35wsNxTCC9m61369x32DUnEKRzhqmfVb8xddSq_TyhRV0cFEiepDuujsMUo2c5J43RtkoUB_AGtnzkm3HoPboiXCyTGbeMQbYq8seuZ_imk3Xl7Aj7/s3727/PXL_20240111_051332533~2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3727" data-original-width="1492" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgXoba8-UUcYyxelho4SFrviUGXePPGWJ1kmTE4FiMnXGz4AXb8PbwRrpHbmkWgdIhoGuYbjM-T35wsNxTCC9m61369x32DUnEKRzhqmfVb8xddSq_TyhRV0cFEiepDuujsMUo2c5J43RtkoUB_AGtnzkm3HoPboiXCyTGbeMQbYq8seuZ_imk3Xl7Aj7/s320/PXL_20240111_051332533~2.jpg" width="128" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(📷 by the GR)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Two hours more till this evening's class!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-2158889563496434002023-12-08T23:32:00.062-07:002023-12-09T10:13:55.861-07:00On the Anniversary of Pearl Harbour<p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Did you know," he said in a conversational tone, a few days ago, "that Debbie died on the anniversary of Pearl Harbour?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The room seemed very still in that moment. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Good Rancher is also a Good Dancer, light on his feet. I saw him as he led his and Debbie's son's brand new mother-in-law onto the dance floor at the wedding reception. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">He can dance out of the way of bulls charging directly at him.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And from childhood he has mastered the art of dancing deftly around anything that could cause him pain.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">From the outset of our acquaintance the GR has said that the past is the past; there is nothing a person can do to change it and so we need to appreciate the moment and look to the future. This year he has reminded himself more often than most. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So in our household his simple comment that evening was something out of the ordinary, something that gave me pause.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the product of the union of a Baptist and a Brethren; I certainly did not learn the quick-step or the two-step, but I am very practiced at the side-step in an attempt to avert any misstep. I will go out of my way to avoid pushing people's buttons or causing them pain.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I went up to Edmonton for an appointment the next day and came home late on the 6th night. Just before I joined the checkout queue at Costco - a must-stop for people who dwell far away from the purchase of even a jug of milk - I impulsively swung by the florist corner. Every instinct inside me screamed, "Leave it alone. Don't intrude. Respect privacy. Don't be pushy." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I selected a bouquet of two dozen ivory roses and added it to my cart.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I handed them to him when I got home. "These are for you. in honour of. Pearl Harbour. and Debbie."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">We put them in water and took them down to the basement, the only place safe from cats.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">December 7th was a busy day, but not in the way we anticipated. We couldn't process calves because of the snow that hit us sideways, driven by the wind that shaped those flakes into arrows of ice; so the men did some catch-up work and some planning in the shop. That evening the GR and I headed into Hanna to see a couple of people. On our way home he said, "I have to take milk out to the barn cats and then I think I'll run into Endiang." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I heard him going downstairs.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Some time later he came home and enveloped me in a hug. "You are the person I love most in this world," he murmured. He had reconciled us both in his head and his heart. He seemed truly at peace for the first time in a year and a half.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The next day I took coffee and doughnuts over to our gathering place behind the bale stacks. I saw them almost immediately. Twelve ivory roses.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Twelve for her, left tenderly on her final earthly resting place, one for each year she has been gone.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And twelve for him here, one for each year of missing her.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">There is no statute of limitation on how much grief a heart can hold, of how much loss a person can bear. Everyone sorrows in their own way and in their own time. When you're bereaved of the one you love at age 48, the rhythm of your world changes. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And yet you can't stop, even for a day, to process this unspeakable reality. After all, the cows don't know your heart's broken. You barely know it yourself. So you have to keep going: one step after another to take, one orphan calf after another to feed, one water hole after another to chop, one load of hay after another to fork, one bill after another to pay. Repeat until the numbness wears off, until it feels like the new normal is almost normal.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But, as with grief, there is also no limitation on how much love a heart can hold. When the gift of a new love is proffered, it does not cancel out or supersede the old love. Each in its own mysterious way makes the other more precious.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes it just takes time to figure it out, how to weave the strands of the new with the old and make the fabric of a heart even stronger.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes it takes twelve years and twenty-four roses divided by two.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But it's worth it. It's worth it to be able to admit finally that "love <i>is</i> stronger than death."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And that "two are better than one, because ... if either of them falls down, one can help the other up." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And that "love never fails."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And that "the greatest of these is love."</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUusNtvXQ9rNyRR1HBmqH7uISIpLZxeEb5W0N33wSzPTGcSxBnhvNek_QTC-yCoyK6bUh8wo9Vh_igFmFJsFTG9bwjzn2KiiN603g3TbtmywZ8XbAUENgZdm-ehL1M9zjgNJQwRpNFbhyhjzapDrD8mt4j5_E_ysb1hd7tDWzoYN8d4c_gueJ25oL-PRXe/s4032/PXL_20231208_211438285.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUusNtvXQ9rNyRR1HBmqH7uISIpLZxeEb5W0N33wSzPTGcSxBnhvNek_QTC-yCoyK6bUh8wo9Vh_igFmFJsFTG9bwjzn2KiiN603g3TbtmywZ8XbAUENgZdm-ehL1M9zjgNJQwRpNFbhyhjzapDrD8mt4j5_E_ysb1hd7tDWzoYN8d4c_gueJ25oL-PRXe/w225-h400/PXL_20231208_211438285.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-22531373856918008842023-11-22T03:17:00.005-07:002023-11-23T09:18:51.617-07:00The Shoebox Party of 2023<div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Unto us a child is born</i> heralds the Christmas season.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">But that much-lauded child had no material possessions to launch his life. His mother birthed him with the help of her husband under the desultory gaze of the animals who were sharing their shelter with these intruders. His first resting place was a manger, borrowed from the descendants of the animals he had called into being. He was wrapped in strips of cloth. Shortly after his birth his parents would become refugees, fleeing the murderous tyranny of the political leader at the time.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Who knows what could have happened to them in that foreign country had it not been for the strangers who brought gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh for this unknown little child, items that could be traded for food and shelter and tools to try to cobble their lives together again?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Those Wise Men blessing a little child in a country far away from where they lived were - at least, to my way of thinking - the founders of Operation Christmas Child!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Saturday was the day of the fourth Operation Christmas Child party the Church at Endiang has hosted for our community.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">People gather things throughout the year and then start dropping their haul off a day or so before. Or if they can't bring their items in early, they might make up a box or two at home and then come to the community party to pack a few more and visit with their neighbours over pizza from the Byemoor Hotel.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Pictures are worth a thousand words, so I will let them speak for themselves, with a comment or two:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">To get the piles of stuff sorted properly, you need a good organiser. Check.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtlLS6PVTKDc5VU8ssUQpN4mJfoO1IKaThdUzfkdCpXngyeb4DrjW3xk7zWmR-OUfxcfohqd3thLmIow7jywmEBn44KjBXb9BG4iw0P5px9oBeXETMu4lQ7Jf0HvW3DwvqN-1SGgx5hNdpo_8kCqBk_P0NBZnbf0NENYSgHUpWtcCx3qUa8PBLq3pPN0y/s4032/PXL_20231118_182015986.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtlLS6PVTKDc5VU8ssUQpN4mJfoO1IKaThdUzfkdCpXngyeb4DrjW3xk7zWmR-OUfxcfohqd3thLmIow7jywmEBn44KjBXb9BG4iw0P5px9oBeXETMu4lQ7Jf0HvW3DwvqN-1SGgx5hNdpo_8kCqBk_P0NBZnbf0NENYSgHUpWtcCx3qUa8PBLq3pPN0y/s320/PXL_20231118_182015986.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">To get the fiddly details set up so that people can grab the essentials they need to place in each shoebox, you have to have someone very practical and able to discern what is universally important for each box to contain. For example, do we have labels and elastic bands? Check.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwy6OsE952nx03pVJ-OrkhLTYbZSBZTuXY-g0FSY1QoSsPO3LDmVZt4K5nJug-FqQejgJrDjH0ShFPuZrFxd3jlhckRRJKxCIMqy51_0dXaUMEMk20cujXA0Wi1OMTOihuKJcHYHH_JYfPZE3LGGy4lJNhCW_eHGOfHVe_0WIFCQakP8upmtMCz7Yf1zJR/s4080/PXL_20231118_191717160.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwy6OsE952nx03pVJ-OrkhLTYbZSBZTuXY-g0FSY1QoSsPO3LDmVZt4K5nJug-FqQejgJrDjH0ShFPuZrFxd3jlhckRRJKxCIMqy51_0dXaUMEMk20cujXA0Wi1OMTOihuKJcHYHH_JYfPZE3LGGy4lJNhCW_eHGOfHVe_0WIFCQakP8upmtMCz7Yf1zJR/s320/PXL_20231118_191717160.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">To get the items inside the boxes we need two people who actually think OUTSIDE the box and can pass their vision and their guidance to kids and first-time packers. Oh, and they need to be willing actually to put together 100 cardboard shoeboxes. Oh, AND be the Welcome Committee. Check.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5sCX-cBM_fjTW425QTqGTYrSAyk5BEic2kIurQSG_e7NvDmINqazRZ28QIdGh_3JhlJHc_Q9rwvjHXG_UXt7WlsKhrbbQI7_Psh5JmeZgvLiQ658d4Emh_y-xifpw8isAPbmsQnDzCjVmadLCM0cykQgyVfPUiPTp0EiKww7G1SOqEJhrUcCsgdeR6ZE/s4080/PXL_20231118_200349425.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5sCX-cBM_fjTW425QTqGTYrSAyk5BEic2kIurQSG_e7NvDmINqazRZ28QIdGh_3JhlJHc_Q9rwvjHXG_UXt7WlsKhrbbQI7_Psh5JmeZgvLiQ658d4Emh_y-xifpw8isAPbmsQnDzCjVmadLCM0cykQgyVfPUiPTp0EiKww7G1SOqEJhrUcCsgdeR6ZE/s320/PXL_20231118_200349425.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxO0uT2qySRLwvhLHx_E_6NnIUBr3Sw67Lg9gDfODPMUe4cF7z2JoC5mUC9n0Ui02dtXG1TKlq0tgwOxzwJWwEqwu-qPnJDlXZvR0MrjlIgJ7ZA5qMh1WfYKwHrckJTL65hNwHIC2EIkgP5i4AkWbyZ5NfaMVJMp54bBrMXG5APekp2ZFXgeVqGY9_HaN/s4080/PXL_20231118_204558337.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxO0uT2qySRLwvhLHx_E_6NnIUBr3Sw67Lg9gDfODPMUe4cF7z2JoC5mUC9n0Ui02dtXG1TKlq0tgwOxzwJWwEqwu-qPnJDlXZvR0MrjlIgJ7ZA5qMh1WfYKwHrckJTL65hNwHIC2EIkgP5i4AkWbyZ5NfaMVJMp54bBrMXG5APekp2ZFXgeVqGY9_HaN/s320/PXL_20231118_204558337.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">But to get it all done, we needed YOU! And you came out in spades.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The first shoebox each year is always a Big Deal. Here is this year's, along with our first donation of the day. It showed up at about 9:30 - we didn't open for business till 2:00! Mr July himself and his biggest fan dropped it off and stayed for a short visit.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ab-_4FzxPZjgDxE8cCXi1nyi8L_4tmnnr3ieDOpdRdvFWnHADuiPLTjGwyQapVsSAOAk-Gp3p4OkNN_5SWYAg2FGZmairhXtDnLW5AXvnSC5UjfTOLV59pwbRZTygP9F2xbYc9kpUu4kDqY3JWzsP9tal6eWugKYZhvfPsYoZvdhyQn0A7QqsaExBNRA/s4080/PXL_20231118_193437595.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ab-_4FzxPZjgDxE8cCXi1nyi8L_4tmnnr3ieDOpdRdvFWnHADuiPLTjGwyQapVsSAOAk-Gp3p4OkNN_5SWYAg2FGZmairhXtDnLW5AXvnSC5UjfTOLV59pwbRZTygP9F2xbYc9kpUu4kDqY3JWzsP9tal6eWugKYZhvfPsYoZvdhyQn0A7QqsaExBNRA/s320/PXL_20231118_193437595.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Then came a fairly steady stream of people who wanted to drop off items or donations toward the processing and shipping of the boxes. Each box takes $10 - this covers the basic boxes and the cartons that all the boxes are transported in; and for each box to go through various checks at the collection centre in Calgary to make sure there is nothing that is on the DO NOT PACK list, and to make sure that each box has enough in it to delight a child's heart. Of course, there's the substantial overseas transport cost itself.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Last year we decided also to make up care bags for needy kids in Stettler. The Stettler Family and Community Support Services distributed them for us. This year we collected lots of things, as well as a small quantity of food items for kids who might need a boost for school lunches or even some cereal in the morning before going to school.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseVnBfX_mUdLjE5DYGm0phpMRjm1ITjmyii_lCzmjrO0oFSYInesktgjeJux-4dO9nCqsZuY8ywoJiMmjh-dzq1rmpjLdgscVb_ZPR6LXVY-UiAygttRWJu9V2OaUQg5yzKmL0AS1qQm7p8ppcTwRyMWK8hZWPNZ-ca9gk8VNqzz4UIFrMj3A7QCF9I_p/s4080/PXL_20231118_195129963.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseVnBfX_mUdLjE5DYGm0phpMRjm1ITjmyii_lCzmjrO0oFSYInesktgjeJux-4dO9nCqsZuY8ywoJiMmjh-dzq1rmpjLdgscVb_ZPR6LXVY-UiAygttRWJu9V2OaUQg5yzKmL0AS1qQm7p8ppcTwRyMWK8hZWPNZ-ca9gk8VNqzz4UIFrMj3A7QCF9I_p/s320/PXL_20231118_195129963.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The first kid arrived and we put her to work. The next thing you know, the animals who had tickets to Stettler were having a party ...</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObWSaSSzpxEmW2mnFQesGWcjWHX_tbt2drd_ShaMwluCTMh23S0s2XgquB6Dre2ajwVsmVTNx4PqHQKYYCUZRGmCa4pXzgOka4xvHmPsrC7OK8o36or6QJvOuvhg600aR4clCnuAVsO6wFUCv8QHubUHq8EXcsYSFCFUnGU2Bc68cxqRmsR9cvxA2gC4E/s4080/PXL_20231118_191911865.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObWSaSSzpxEmW2mnFQesGWcjWHX_tbt2drd_ShaMwluCTMh23S0s2XgquB6Dre2ajwVsmVTNx4PqHQKYYCUZRGmCa4pXzgOka4xvHmPsrC7OK8o36or6QJvOuvhg600aR4clCnuAVsO6wFUCv8QHubUHq8EXcsYSFCFUnGU2Bc68cxqRmsR9cvxA2gC4E/s320/PXL_20231118_191911865.MP.jpg" width="241" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmJcJffd3qfHLme36X_RlBdtS-1k0BPDMJUJbr-oYDOw9NXI_HFwKDf9ijmXaroPMfj-BXvAQp0ZGeAn90djooJg9b1_m-Pn2sptkXdxvTrV18ZQgptxrGQGKn7tEE67Cu3yORGR0DAUfFMGod_53qSZpPIgWGBaT5PeqiAzckKr-Hrw0e1isVU-DjpWc/s4080/PXL_20231118_182841832.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmJcJffd3qfHLme36X_RlBdtS-1k0BPDMJUJbr-oYDOw9NXI_HFwKDf9ijmXaroPMfj-BXvAQp0ZGeAn90djooJg9b1_m-Pn2sptkXdxvTrV18ZQgptxrGQGKn7tEE67Cu3yORGR0DAUfFMGod_53qSZpPIgWGBaT5PeqiAzckKr-Hrw0e1isVU-DjpWc/s320/PXL_20231118_182841832.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Soon the doors opened and the party officially started!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvGNsODr7fa0ffHHLRuxmHGETa75caMw7faduj6UIMOs3VIj5_rcbfZMNqQYahDTBRD1EaZaS7tZAs4ZuZKJyF882if401Sw_f7RLuPBJBd92YzjUfP7IYJjn1-1oqwoROUQsCxRMPF7RrdkDyyzg1lnvDH59Fo4W6PaXf9c7arhLoiBLCe_0mUMg4ozY0/s4080/PXL_20231118_203037564.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvGNsODr7fa0ffHHLRuxmHGETa75caMw7faduj6UIMOs3VIj5_rcbfZMNqQYahDTBRD1EaZaS7tZAs4ZuZKJyF882if401Sw_f7RLuPBJBd92YzjUfP7IYJjn1-1oqwoROUQsCxRMPF7RrdkDyyzg1lnvDH59Fo4W6PaXf9c7arhLoiBLCe_0mUMg4ozY0/s320/PXL_20231118_203037564.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBp7u3mzuL2JmuYNBUxMtgVTZ1Bjc4kDntrahCKJ_bO3rVVE2u4ryrirnwd9EGWTwegi0GPaw111DUJBGUcV4JQEGFSIu-MKrLOQurpAPTUS5MTmRP94tlYN_vXO_6239wHYPs9GccQUAtdseAlb_JgZhU381FepsisDdgF_IiHmvKSNh6T4kYODAyIQBz/s4080/PXL_20231118_205605241.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBp7u3mzuL2JmuYNBUxMtgVTZ1Bjc4kDntrahCKJ_bO3rVVE2u4ryrirnwd9EGWTwegi0GPaw111DUJBGUcV4JQEGFSIu-MKrLOQurpAPTUS5MTmRP94tlYN_vXO_6239wHYPs9GccQUAtdseAlb_JgZhU381FepsisDdgF_IiHmvKSNh6T4kYODAyIQBz/s320/PXL_20231118_205605241.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FWb3-fUxToRJDvWcNscI7e77uyfDYPB3YMkn7KOIQOaTgN_G7XeqMpdeP6SOugqjl2PtY5icet-HAEr1o_NeNwznTuN5CW9ZVTBa5sYbUJGK0X6_MvGlYI8eXspMXQtDORFDOhyphenhyphenjwnVBOWCxM-YfcDXVw-AMK6kWo0T9w5_HXna2P1-V8xR5di8DPsA-/s4080/PXL_20231118_205613214.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FWb3-fUxToRJDvWcNscI7e77uyfDYPB3YMkn7KOIQOaTgN_G7XeqMpdeP6SOugqjl2PtY5icet-HAEr1o_NeNwznTuN5CW9ZVTBa5sYbUJGK0X6_MvGlYI8eXspMXQtDORFDOhyphenhyphenjwnVBOWCxM-YfcDXVw-AMK6kWo0T9w5_HXna2P1-V8xR5di8DPsA-/s320/PXL_20231118_205613214.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp05MmSQKKp9w-nkmAFpf59knj7lED9YsXe2jw9a5w4a4VS_nWcjvH0iCesQXvL0q_EshQbeBhq2Yrb2M9n1SzsQs29TtMHjeInveG2MugI1NMJjTJFNuCv8w0E-bYEN4AMzuvW2GdMI9PXVrnz26iz36_M0f78lvO_cFFKIYLNKhTUJVhpe20lOEvrYHK/s3685/PXL_20231118_205724278~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2435" data-original-width="3685" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp05MmSQKKp9w-nkmAFpf59knj7lED9YsXe2jw9a5w4a4VS_nWcjvH0iCesQXvL0q_EshQbeBhq2Yrb2M9n1SzsQs29TtMHjeInveG2MugI1NMJjTJFNuCv8w0E-bYEN4AMzuvW2GdMI9PXVrnz26iz36_M0f78lvO_cFFKIYLNKhTUJVhpe20lOEvrYHK/s320/PXL_20231118_205724278~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpESXGUj2B-U3rBOO79WtcfdXmuFsuWIGYs3rMO0E2maLVcbcuxHWak9sTk8dl_lmaFNGUe2CO8elM-h84okaZlt17AckaIxKMQK5aOiPyD62tztJY3Os9rWR5Z7O3d4nhEEH22AIvylONFLpBZW4G4kSdhyJybjel-hTW5HQx6YJ-i-UTOkWXJnLdWHfx/s4080/PXL_20231118_213016221.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpESXGUj2B-U3rBOO79WtcfdXmuFsuWIGYs3rMO0E2maLVcbcuxHWak9sTk8dl_lmaFNGUe2CO8elM-h84okaZlt17AckaIxKMQK5aOiPyD62tztJY3Os9rWR5Z7O3d4nhEEH22AIvylONFLpBZW4G4kSdhyJybjel-hTW5HQx6YJ-i-UTOkWXJnLdWHfx/s320/PXL_20231118_213016221.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj44RFqaly5K_2WFgF6pW66oJcO9jfQh2WXvsmn_kmCmiDjxzxNDoFbhGf6XTMMk9zHnsq2AJq_3kOB1E0HTWrwhiABHM5xr6KZpt2rPhqYDAvN6drZN5RahvTybfQpn2KHzqVY9xpKeAWi78l10UgD80soqoKwihL5GV9JlLNBvpOLxX6XwLcVPo-JyPQ3/s4080/PXL_20231118_213142699.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj44RFqaly5K_2WFgF6pW66oJcO9jfQh2WXvsmn_kmCmiDjxzxNDoFbhGf6XTMMk9zHnsq2AJq_3kOB1E0HTWrwhiABHM5xr6KZpt2rPhqYDAvN6drZN5RahvTybfQpn2KHzqVY9xpKeAWi78l10UgD80soqoKwihL5GV9JlLNBvpOLxX6XwLcVPo-JyPQ3/s320/PXL_20231118_213142699.jpg" width="320" /></a>ko</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4DyQZQWY6ByQb4ENrU_REyLuVUNwA2R5naypITZJj8YYQEPUFqIKIfknr_zdZigPMj4ErwQ2AMHEunDugH_y-Gvcdg8kkYbH2gjVbthLksT8cvep2aDyHaAjLmrD-z_rUWzFW2kGS8D5hs10KHAdwXYRpx6ceTHZgR1eFvPjWlBk-oduPiIyOio4FxQF/s3419/PXL_20231118_214632565~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1815" data-original-width="3419" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4DyQZQWY6ByQb4ENrU_REyLuVUNwA2R5naypITZJj8YYQEPUFqIKIfknr_zdZigPMj4ErwQ2AMHEunDugH_y-Gvcdg8kkYbH2gjVbthLksT8cvep2aDyHaAjLmrD-z_rUWzFW2kGS8D5hs10KHAdwXYRpx6ceTHZgR1eFvPjWlBk-oduPiIyOio4FxQF/s320/PXL_20231118_214632565~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1v82R-Rquz8EOzJOGXmIDZZid28Ydt_9s41OVOi4WyW6nvFx9RjDndAguTSytTGbmAWOGpkxdV6kczfDx6IQgS9memUNKRpQFTSDcJB6ECkvARGEFgGVIZQuxhOiMVJmOFoKhVlWNsMCAGQ9MENqSmj_4dcIPyTWkn57H4Am23cUiApU-PqG3r5BPbtCK/s4032/PXL_20231118_215250834.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1v82R-Rquz8EOzJOGXmIDZZid28Ydt_9s41OVOi4WyW6nvFx9RjDndAguTSytTGbmAWOGpkxdV6kczfDx6IQgS9memUNKRpQFTSDcJB6ECkvARGEFgGVIZQuxhOiMVJmOFoKhVlWNsMCAGQ9MENqSmj_4dcIPyTWkn57H4Am23cUiApU-PqG3r5BPbtCK/s320/PXL_20231118_215250834.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">It's always good to see the men do what they do best 🤣🤗 ... There's no denying they missed their friend Lyn this year.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlYoSgWC6FwaZ9gqB0V-0UcMY2HexaDaOHAdDP9_WOaha1U_HRHH5ZKipM_HxDVjBd5rojVrZQQTLP5hqhznpdMyYqrSUR4RzTzXTFpOvv30tKHhexMJYgDqd6W45diV4taWLUXrP2rwQCRus1OzFXBc3xCTm1iYu2kdqOci8eXJZTbbmJnKWqvwAIpXj/s4032/PXL_20231118_222122395.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlYoSgWC6FwaZ9gqB0V-0UcMY2HexaDaOHAdDP9_WOaha1U_HRHH5ZKipM_HxDVjBd5rojVrZQQTLP5hqhznpdMyYqrSUR4RzTzXTFpOvv30tKHhexMJYgDqd6W45diV4taWLUXrP2rwQCRus1OzFXBc3xCTm1iYu2kdqOci8eXJZTbbmJnKWqvwAIpXj/s320/PXL_20231118_222122395.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">I didn't get pictures of everyone, and for that I'm so sorry. It was a joy to see our big-hearted kids trying to picture the kid who would receive the box, and to fill it accordingly.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />The Stettler Tables - thick socks, hoodies, mitts and toques are warmly received:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvTiMzX4SF2AES1nz0c1EKKRcJ9j0ssaKyG9Xcl0o77NmLkfGrkxkWzAKf7KpPc0y4j4LIUsPeIzb92-OqmvACHs7yrayMrEfevldjmalaRnxe-HeFdKhBIYMvdc4cdWLnb6sGQbhCTThe0ZalzRVuLoQMG7MwZRJvANfKTXwFDmZQWAH_Q3s37DYcxg9/s4032/PXL_20231118_215354287.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvTiMzX4SF2AES1nz0c1EKKRcJ9j0ssaKyG9Xcl0o77NmLkfGrkxkWzAKf7KpPc0y4j4LIUsPeIzb92-OqmvACHs7yrayMrEfevldjmalaRnxe-HeFdKhBIYMvdc4cdWLnb6sGQbhCTThe0ZalzRVuLoQMG7MwZRJvANfKTXwFDmZQWAH_Q3s37DYcxg9/s320/PXL_20231118_215354287.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptHOgy19vUeEkabx9c2eTGCs4xkbE9HBXzGvAoLRrRGsYvgLYOWEeM1frxQggg6JdQXK_LsIiZJm_2I08M13s_0p1q1DUFJfxSw4MNa1KJ_TAxU0TzM7ird973F7kDE_jkJIsObdzXj8FjMe8Tk3McvIMDQrBIv-lWG5tuqv1f19KYMSCbQA8StDSR78F/s4032/PXL_20231118_215400910.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptHOgy19vUeEkabx9c2eTGCs4xkbE9HBXzGvAoLRrRGsYvgLYOWEeM1frxQggg6JdQXK_LsIiZJm_2I08M13s_0p1q1DUFJfxSw4MNa1KJ_TAxU0TzM7ird973F7kDE_jkJIsObdzXj8FjMe8Tk3McvIMDQrBIv-lWG5tuqv1f19KYMSCbQA8StDSR78F/s320/PXL_20231118_215400910.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The completed shoebox pile grew rapidly.</span></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Just after 4 o'clock, pizza delivery!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6cOVukvcq65hy-fHjCn6aDx1HsPSyS2HVh5OLeGXUBG8W9ruephtjtWkLIEnJTcsxXfjAqzNfaCUrwQ2x8PtqcQmVqbpL15PXiz75k2CpOVmwVy0N5MO4G5_qhRrgsj_bt-RA_86Y957173ECVSKqnKxu9NSsgRzEprxZVS-mTWQysRQdCnH8034H0qr/s4032/PXL_20231118_230430898.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6cOVukvcq65hy-fHjCn6aDx1HsPSyS2HVh5OLeGXUBG8W9ruephtjtWkLIEnJTcsxXfjAqzNfaCUrwQ2x8PtqcQmVqbpL15PXiz75k2CpOVmwVy0N5MO4G5_qhRrgsj_bt-RA_86Y957173ECVSKqnKxu9NSsgRzEprxZVS-mTWQysRQdCnH8034H0qr/s320/PXL_20231118_230430898.MP.jpg" width="180" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">But first the kids took all the boxes upstairs so that at Sunday night's service we could have a special prayer for them and the children who would receive them.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ZCF_lbYxkheig-aePKNIhDBacht6u03O70GV_2zPn0y6nH8CcZtIUxnLVusAGdzitJR972IrUhj3L8eSMELMWRIJqhIQfaWPaZrJXuDFeaqE6LsIhv_PKoJdwqOq3gRYvMwAK7nZtB_MYPEZJ2_s2QMiWFLk_n_JSjYvoWz2HqmRFZZ87gHi3BMRIVJR/s4032/PXL_20231118_231007638.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ZCF_lbYxkheig-aePKNIhDBacht6u03O70GV_2zPn0y6nH8CcZtIUxnLVusAGdzitJR972IrUhj3L8eSMELMWRIJqhIQfaWPaZrJXuDFeaqE6LsIhv_PKoJdwqOq3gRYvMwAK7nZtB_MYPEZJ2_s2QMiWFLk_n_JSjYvoWz2HqmRFZZ87gHi3BMRIVJR/s320/PXL_20231118_231007638.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTWgRBzV54lyzsZO6Rca7xQjaRS8vuHzLT2z9R-ZKaco1htdg-qYvzjaK2aLUVLHsDtNKGzWZJNWjkHkW0OMEmdbyY2YppJkLdHxTGLpQhk6gOrT8C-wlYVsNr8IOGfrL5cmuRhJyoWRTWOaKcIhS2x_eXsDryXW71KIXZoz25sVgkGvWwRHK0TB51tYW/s4032/PXL_20231118_231018605_exported_841_1700465539897.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTWgRBzV54lyzsZO6Rca7xQjaRS8vuHzLT2z9R-ZKaco1htdg-qYvzjaK2aLUVLHsDtNKGzWZJNWjkHkW0OMEmdbyY2YppJkLdHxTGLpQhk6gOrT8C-wlYVsNr8IOGfrL5cmuRhJyoWRTWOaKcIhS2x_eXsDryXW71KIXZoz25sVgkGvWwRHK0TB51tYW/s320/PXL_20231118_231018605_exported_841_1700465539897.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOV7jLY1gRq6K1PH-uQjldRnTBxN3ueqFJ4bmcv6BTkyz1y2eG7ZdlU7m7vSrOUPnrSYL7VBNo4nJadOFU3ubLai3hQvA4jdRlEuWgVAo4TBW5k1a_2Yk6KchkfUB3mSW-ybyHgQockMpDz3UUXBJVq_RnbDI1hGriAKaO_q0Y47uFWc2_Nb5h0rLFmuv/s4032/PXL_20231118_231424647.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOV7jLY1gRq6K1PH-uQjldRnTBxN3ueqFJ4bmcv6BTkyz1y2eG7ZdlU7m7vSrOUPnrSYL7VBNo4nJadOFU3ubLai3hQvA4jdRlEuWgVAo4TBW5k1a_2Yk6KchkfUB3mSW-ybyHgQockMpDz3UUXBJVq_RnbDI1hGriAKaO_q0Y47uFWc2_Nb5h0rLFmuv/s320/PXL_20231118_231424647.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaPcy5iQXuhBGf_yDYAEn44xk6TPIqVq-JH1yqs25bqmQinyOk8H5RZG2g0WcPp1TUtkj0l2-otyxDFZOnAF-1a7GENcHQ_SU-VEskdUP5YCqkfdJuaNhqDcTtgsgi-mMywxLflK8anscU9ob4TInbPJHTkorbgwwEjOZ4swg_o2-2SEmE7FQa7udDaoN/s4032/PXL_20231118_232833540.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaPcy5iQXuhBGf_yDYAEn44xk6TPIqVq-JH1yqs25bqmQinyOk8H5RZG2g0WcPp1TUtkj0l2-otyxDFZOnAF-1a7GENcHQ_SU-VEskdUP5YCqkfdJuaNhqDcTtgsgi-mMywxLflK8anscU9ob4TInbPJHTkorbgwwEjOZ4swg_o2-2SEmE7FQa7udDaoN/s320/PXL_20231118_232833540.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5zjuz0-mT4rCSsrUL0uZ-D3elWplx2PYnMDBqCopqKnWGvkdx1iplcU018Fobyl-VtI9pNdClEOoCmvysVZiznRoJEcQUbws5t6dzBojCG1n54aX685iXxMHvJ22kqj342Zph9p9JhB7u8TfBUpJ-4QuLDIdPRg8FewkIjeCMGEgEcdAnUgAZ8reVQpF/s4032/PXL_20231118_232844768.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5zjuz0-mT4rCSsrUL0uZ-D3elWplx2PYnMDBqCopqKnWGvkdx1iplcU018Fobyl-VtI9pNdClEOoCmvysVZiznRoJEcQUbws5t6dzBojCG1n54aX685iXxMHvJ22kqj342Zph9p9JhB7u8TfBUpJ-4QuLDIdPRg8FewkIjeCMGEgEcdAnUgAZ8reVQpF/s320/PXL_20231118_232844768.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">A quick calculation told us that we had used one full carton of the red and green cardboard boxes (100 boxes per carton), plus 42 plastic boxes.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">142 boxes!! ❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">That night I counted the donations that had poured in. Thanks to your generosity, we had received $1,390 - only three shoeboxes short!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Shortly after midnight my phone lit up. A message came in from Vancouver, e-transfering $120 to help with postage.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">$1,510! Wow!!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The next night at church Kurt led us in a prayer of blessing for the shoeboxes. Kurt himself has been overseas to deliver shoeboxes and has seen firsthand the joy on kids' faces when they receive their own box.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDAbmpo8FpQwtvAyb54JeBG1URNgpJoPVoRlWoBLgDf93v6RC3qdUdd0A8Lx6JPSykNDQ3XxxahkJtDRy_cAofIl1MfRaupkx6Gn7hgsEUxPyzgjIVQPH14nxG55M2FeJdWtL9xHZ-nmavjYU9954rpci0s1cqWB_o8cc1yDJvdoI6KbWh0Ire8AmGFZhf/s4080/PXL_20231120_011552518.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDAbmpo8FpQwtvAyb54JeBG1URNgpJoPVoRlWoBLgDf93v6RC3qdUdd0A8Lx6JPSykNDQ3XxxahkJtDRy_cAofIl1MfRaupkx6Gn7hgsEUxPyzgjIVQPH14nxG55M2FeJdWtL9xHZ-nmavjYU9954rpci0s1cqWB_o8cc1yDJvdoI6KbWh0Ire8AmGFZhf/s320/PXL_20231120_011552518.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwk5igoJWnGIEMC6qNCtRKiRaNhacvh1U4P5Sq7JhLuCkIDskM3ewUW6itbW04VUQw_WQXRrHafaqzEVrHhOp-TLBlclOqGYgSrcC3G3-GxbwM7GangB2p4s1dPD-HrS67Z9cAebtO7t2-DOU_iYfyTJbb_wlLEFOIQn25KND11e_ljig_KKBVtMuBHgxl/s4080/PXL_20231120_011745548.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwk5igoJWnGIEMC6qNCtRKiRaNhacvh1U4P5Sq7JhLuCkIDskM3ewUW6itbW04VUQw_WQXRrHafaqzEVrHhOp-TLBlclOqGYgSrcC3G3-GxbwM7GangB2p4s1dPD-HrS67Z9cAebtO7t2-DOU_iYfyTJbb_wlLEFOIQn25KND11e_ljig_KKBVtMuBHgxl/s320/PXL_20231120_011745548.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">After the service we put the shoeboxes into larger cartons ready for shipping. This year the boxes from Canada are going to Nicaragua, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Senegal, Gambia, Sierra-Leone, Guinea-Bissau, the Philippines; and certain areas were asked to do boxes for the Ukraine. Last year more than 415,000 shoeboxes were sent from Canada; 10.5 MILLION were sent out globally.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii26gExX-6yqdrfSTa8nBGLdiMEFi3lpNzMtS62Bv_0YvGSKoXu0cF3PNOgkm2l2jNsGqEMdagmpUMU8VTd0MrSbMND5FQgiy2bRc0GT3_zIU60kqDBmXI9YymlNL2QFHkv56LnemBl9Z_W_kOZyIPE8eEh3-vPc7gUzvE34qL8pa85ViTfS5838myxxjW/s2699/PXL_20231120_025332795.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="2699" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii26gExX-6yqdrfSTa8nBGLdiMEFi3lpNzMtS62Bv_0YvGSKoXu0cF3PNOgkm2l2jNsGqEMdagmpUMU8VTd0MrSbMND5FQgiy2bRc0GT3_zIU60kqDBmXI9YymlNL2QFHkv56LnemBl9Z_W_kOZyIPE8eEh3-vPc7gUzvE34qL8pa85ViTfS5838myxxjW/s320/PXL_20231120_025332795.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJ2sCOoem0rxt-IvXN_VKOZkKSQ9Ju95fL0QOJwrsuUf6rISRaBdw9xnm7qZ2oEd-6NO-ytTiea0p6NCS8OR4aMMc6NmjT_IZ057c1ifRsyRT13n0AlbzGJK_cU1RzBTfEqyoKg-jRojiXxxJO88uaacBQpDzoSMW5llGRBhacFszo2oCcFiPZQ-j379b/s4032/PXL_20231120_025125674.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJ2sCOoem0rxt-IvXN_VKOZkKSQ9Ju95fL0QOJwrsuUf6rISRaBdw9xnm7qZ2oEd-6NO-ytTiea0p6NCS8OR4aMMc6NmjT_IZ057c1ifRsyRT13n0AlbzGJK_cU1RzBTfEqyoKg-jRojiXxxJO88uaacBQpDzoSMW5llGRBhacFszo2oCcFiPZQ-j379b/s320/PXL_20231120_025125674.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WFCOLzJ_at8Lh9pvIe7OSflp0rbRUZrnB2-k2N7Wv0BxVxqQHgE4TPV7iNefx1B2RI_usDKl2j-VFeFOulzjMHet69dgtfxFE9qoFg68j26X3v3Ix9IX-bV0oR2Ytk_cvtDlVo22pe0W-ggGfJptYHJ1YgmUFKzHZoalg5Xvz4aZRmTojC3BrL2z6j-F/s4032/PXL_20231120_025229073.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WFCOLzJ_at8Lh9pvIe7OSflp0rbRUZrnB2-k2N7Wv0BxVxqQHgE4TPV7iNefx1B2RI_usDKl2j-VFeFOulzjMHet69dgtfxFE9qoFg68j26X3v3Ix9IX-bV0oR2Ytk_cvtDlVo22pe0W-ggGfJptYHJ1YgmUFKzHZoalg5Xvz4aZRmTojC3BrL2z6j-F/s320/PXL_20231120_025229073.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Pastor Allan had brought five boxes that had missed the cut in Big Valley. The money for these shoeboxes had gotten left behind. "No worries," I said. "We have some extra money!"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Our total was now 147!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">As we loaded we counted. And recounted. And then counted again, just to make sure.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">151. 151. 151.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Then we remembered the four completed boxes that had been brought to the Hall. We hadn't thought of them when we did the quick 100-box count!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">We did a quick calculation. 151 boxes at $10 a box = $1,510.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">$1,510.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">$1,510?!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Is it just me, or did anyone else get goosebumps?! I think Jesus, who loves kids, has got His eye on the shoeboxes from Endmoor, and He will see to it that His little children who receive them will know that someone in Canada loves them; even more importantly, that HE loves them.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Monday afternoon I shot into Stettler with the items for FCSS. Once again, Deanna beat me to it and had brought up all but the two heaviest boxes. The enormous truck cab was full to bursting, and one box had to ride in the back.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Les Stulberg, our Stettler County No. 6 Councilor, met me at the offices at 4 pm. He's on the FCSS Board, and they were going to have a meeting at 4:30, so the timing couldn't be better that both of us could be in Stettler then.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHixJiqTvNskn5BYVYKFKNTt_OfEbVHiP2OxJQC_bzrU9EU6sA9lX2Td33DhBIdRrREoy6kJPOcv5ZdcHzoxiMDzOm1XsUV1nTRcsLySjrPS-2Kyf1MKwA7-Xi8Rui7WReee3NAOw0F3Bt7ifPI-yMCBWUpuON0zuytE2wr7WpNnG7H94rqN9R2PReCSR/s3378/PXL_20231120_230616019~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3378" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHixJiqTvNskn5BYVYKFKNTt_OfEbVHiP2OxJQC_bzrU9EU6sA9lX2Td33DhBIdRrREoy6kJPOcv5ZdcHzoxiMDzOm1XsUV1nTRcsLySjrPS-2Kyf1MKwA7-Xi8Rui7WReee3NAOw0F3Bt7ifPI-yMCBWUpuON0zuytE2wr7WpNnG7H94rqN9R2PReCSR/s320/PXL_20231120_230616019~2.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxEyzomyA6i-W-Qc9IkebXSNmhFNv4NwSkG0zyW0j3vISoltLuEe-wsav1NGHVelv4yk_zpeWU6f1pR4punWdKe6ljLut4bbrwFWCkarfcB6WZY4pQ_H-dfza133us4k0beUtO5BZKSBjQXo4e9BsCBtL8NxVLFINY_M2Hsa6vYKnv4aFRZgsnBn4Neu_W/s4080/PXL_20231120_230627671.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxEyzomyA6i-W-Qc9IkebXSNmhFNv4NwSkG0zyW0j3vISoltLuEe-wsav1NGHVelv4yk_zpeWU6f1pR4punWdKe6ljLut4bbrwFWCkarfcB6WZY4pQ_H-dfza133us4k0beUtO5BZKSBjQXo4e9BsCBtL8NxVLFINY_M2Hsa6vYKnv4aFRZgsnBn4Neu_W/s320/PXL_20231120_230627671.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">While Executive Director Shelly held the door, Les and the staff carried everything in.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEincb9Oa7m_G3AMC24mFirRAumL7DGvNKJwysegPu57v_Xxbs-8laymB4yYTf_7o5YLpq_EzycCDbncVMYjWldMBD8ZDttArSEi0IkGVFs7CIE2AmSHIUhncYpCpinW4vTZhn_YXwVZMWOq5zPJ_8tJbykHp8haXOaYgINTKvLHG6IohBj9Ukw6KF14RsKg/s4032/PXL_20231120_231252486.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEincb9Oa7m_G3AMC24mFirRAumL7DGvNKJwysegPu57v_Xxbs-8laymB4yYTf_7o5YLpq_EzycCDbncVMYjWldMBD8ZDttArSEi0IkGVFs7CIE2AmSHIUhncYpCpinW4vTZhn_YXwVZMWOq5zPJ_8tJbykHp8haXOaYgINTKvLHG6IohBj9Ukw6KF14RsKg/s320/PXL_20231120_231252486.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">It was wonderful to talk with Shelly and Les and see their passion for people right here at home. Les introduced me to his fellow board members; and just before I left he said, "Here's a calendar for you. It's pictures of the people involved with the Stettler Society of Prevention of Family Violence. I'm Mr July."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyjfjrV30jqExnFRnbQLrl-lpPEVs2qotpeb1OMciQPmA3A3NA609zPkwH5m27Ftxe02pluN3mKZjuPhSVEf1V6M7ZX64pDsEIIdAw8mYBxsLhIubtNMbViVDNdy0XI0KWaTZxbs0V2Cj8qKLBdQEq36BKR0Xuf5VYslH9HpDnzQ4PO77av_BgkTyrOUS/s3488/PXL_20231120_232644557.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3488" data-original-width="2192" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyjfjrV30jqExnFRnbQLrl-lpPEVs2qotpeb1OMciQPmA3A3NA609zPkwH5m27Ftxe02pluN3mKZjuPhSVEf1V6M7ZX64pDsEIIdAw8mYBxsLhIubtNMbViVDNdy0XI0KWaTZxbs0V2Cj8qKLBdQEq36BKR0Xuf5VYslH9HpDnzQ4PO77av_BgkTyrOUS/s320/PXL_20231120_232644557.MP.jpg" width="201" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Oh my! How many districts can say they have a calendar boy as their Councilor??!!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">As I drove back to Endiang, I couldn't help think of the words of Jesus: "Truly I say to you, in as much as you [showed kindness] to the least of my brothers and sisters, you did it to me."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">And I wondered if, while He was saying those words, He was thinking of those wise men from so far away who showed such great kindness to an infant on that extraordinary day.</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-81891166266914929892023-07-07T15:44:00.006-06:002023-07-08T09:44:25.955-06:00ScoutyLove<p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">It must have been the temperature, the oppressive waves layering onto their overheated bodies and brains like the prickly winter blankets I took to our boarding school to combat the cool nights of the Nilgiri Hills in South India. I would lie as motionless as I could, hoping I wouldn't get jabbed by the vicious fibres; wondering if I was actually cold or just needed a hug and Mum to bring me my morning cup of tea in my green plastic mug in my own bed; wondering how long before morning broke the chill of the moon. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Every day Musket, Phoebe Snow, Earl Grey, Carly Simon and Gunpowder have been lying motionless in the porch or under the green leafy Virginia creeper, panting slightly, hoping to avoid the spiky fingers of heat that find them no matter where they hide; stirring only for the occasional mouthful of water; wondering how long before evening breaks the grip of the sun.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Not Scout, though: Scout is a dog who was created for this often merciless life; whose greatest joy is charging out in the wake of The Good Rancher and his horse, tail wagging so vigorously that Jack-the-Cat-who-w</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">ishes-he-were-a-dog would go flying if he were following his idol too closely.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKRbK7QWKfCD4DfDCdrozxCThcBBPTke-UMjhjHr82axduf9ZJqLqdQiCAru6R3lHv-VsHID8gDYWMLgvQFKC4iiHTZJvrGnwWRcV8MaTfafogSuUh1sgveyo--PYQFT3l0lvF0l_S6t6zKG48vbz-s5nsC_fBEwxqauoTcj9cSFCpj6CMKkVZzcffVy0W/s2076/PXL_20230621_032652364~4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="2076" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKRbK7QWKfCD4DfDCdrozxCThcBBPTke-UMjhjHr82axduf9ZJqLqdQiCAru6R3lHv-VsHID8gDYWMLgvQFKC4iiHTZJvrGnwWRcV8MaTfafogSuUh1sgveyo--PYQFT3l0lvF0l_S6t6zKG48vbz-s5nsC_fBEwxqauoTcj9cSFCpj6CMKkVZzcffVy0W/s320/PXL_20230621_032652364~4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Scout is the late-arriving baby in this blended dog-family. In human terms, Musket is approaching 60, Phoebe and Grey are 53, Carly and Gunny are 40; and Scouty is an annoying 17 — energetic, friendly, loving, always wanting to be busy. Green balls, orange balls, and balls that light up when you throw them litter the inside of the house. Outside there are sticks of all sizes tucked away in strategic locations so that a quick game of Throw can break out no matter what part of the garden a person and her dog find themselves.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTyr-VSx3-_gzDbtkvoJLm1q_bcK2-fu7VKp9Z8ha1OAX2SaSPNEiLKD7aN399cdh9WiUVrQ3S-mdoMwZPrWI2TME5M2Ern6BvmMa1R_8a_2_Erqgxu3HRzXx9ZRMCoMnWUdkx9gFYc5whvCUcY5RZPHhDy47G2U5lA-i4ValFjzUlUtzglcNNuwWX6yhe/s2410/IMG_20210614_193134~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1841" data-original-width="2410" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTyr-VSx3-_gzDbtkvoJLm1q_bcK2-fu7VKp9Z8ha1OAX2SaSPNEiLKD7aN399cdh9WiUVrQ3S-mdoMwZPrWI2TME5M2Ern6BvmMa1R_8a_2_Erqgxu3HRzXx9ZRMCoMnWUdkx9gFYc5whvCUcY5RZPHhDy47G2U5lA-i4ValFjzUlUtzglcNNuwWX6yhe/s320/IMG_20210614_193134~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Scout was a country boy in a city; I was a city girl in the country. It was an improbable match made in heaven. It was love at first sight for me; for him, he had to mourn the loss of his city family and to establish trust with us, which took a couple of long days after he came to live with us. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR1NCRjUJt3WuvfLPEW4W-IXMQXmref4qlJQP7ZiOh1wl3cYOpY8MANWOoYPGN2Ku8eHd2LIdNfmbouHrSTs8ZlPOj8AM0TLkTHjYXyWP7GhdUcrVJZh1x35_Y16wqPnJNDL1YNxfwZ-VlkZB3XXQcXntA7A6FEPvShs3aqsS5DZeomJcAGucS2aWnHB0F/s2215/Screenshot_20230706-152821~2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2215" data-original-width="1151" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR1NCRjUJt3WuvfLPEW4W-IXMQXmref4qlJQP7ZiOh1wl3cYOpY8MANWOoYPGN2Ku8eHd2LIdNfmbouHrSTs8ZlPOj8AM0TLkTHjYXyWP7GhdUcrVJZh1x35_Y16wqPnJNDL1YNxfwZ-VlkZB3XXQcXntA7A6FEPvShs3aqsS5DZeomJcAGucS2aWnHB0F/s320/Screenshot_20230706-152821~2.png" width="166" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCo1G5hkqL5TsdBF_ZR_cj-etyRS6Sqmjg_8gmUcUO8GTpgYmpVN2wfV0cZIDjFl2r0icOjcZA-yZ1rnNMmEYuW4wGMF-AEAIpNFfDc5toQKiLGkawobxJ-12Y7fP8yZ5xCmYein71PZyqVOMbsX_jbVgRqs1yuQmv70wur7x0wKJiOKg8G_UNsAvTKH5O/s2070/Screenshot_20230706-153032~2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2070" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCo1G5hkqL5TsdBF_ZR_cj-etyRS6Sqmjg_8gmUcUO8GTpgYmpVN2wfV0cZIDjFl2r0icOjcZA-yZ1rnNMmEYuW4wGMF-AEAIpNFfDc5toQKiLGkawobxJ-12Y7fP8yZ5xCmYein71PZyqVOMbsX_jbVgRqs1yuQmv70wur7x0wKJiOKg8G_UNsAvTKH5O/s320/Screenshot_20230706-153032~2.png" width="178" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He declared that I was HIS, however, a few days later, during which time he had been fully instructed as to his status in the canine pecking order. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimh1E7UXGkl82rsnZC9EweKd6IhxYUFra_uUAgPExGxDsNjGwVmKcArmiQQ94nJ-omNee10gBPHQxUPBabfivl6Tq3XoQzNt0gU76h5CcKxUaa8uIi7hCBRmQo31H8al_yHBY8ax55k7pNa1qxWrtYYOf6GIS-rfdNT_-zc53SaYDoyLUw6Q10YUAHcfhb/s1152/Screenshot_20230706-154320~2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1002" data-original-width="1152" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimh1E7UXGkl82rsnZC9EweKd6IhxYUFra_uUAgPExGxDsNjGwVmKcArmiQQ94nJ-omNee10gBPHQxUPBabfivl6Tq3XoQzNt0gU76h5CcKxUaa8uIi7hCBRmQo31H8al_yHBY8ax55k7pNa1qxWrtYYOf6GIS-rfdNT_-zc53SaYDoyLUw6Q10YUAHcfhb/s320/Screenshot_20230706-154320~2.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">That early morning he was cowering behind my bed as I dozed fitfully. Carly decided to jump on the bed, to let me know she wanted to go outside and it had to be with me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Suddenly there was a flurry of black and white dog fur and Scouty launched himself onto my head, staking his claim. It was a brave, rash, foolhardy thing to have done. I lay there praying for no dog bites, for no blood to be spilled.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMZuV8-IuYidZRUo-GO1YlAMhuJbzjPwyKK8IkM0FZZB_voInT8qvgvb4cEXoTmlIIVEsEg9ZrKP0mEdI6F-COhjapgxovLyJ22YBVobjDqdV-ErfTvxZmhsQJH_bFmK98iFXJ1ZcOipM8RmmS9AcyH1uqc91iw8iFXSDXRvuOfzSvkr7ME1Y0TALhslc/s5632/IMG_20210324_073209~4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4224" data-original-width="5632" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMZuV8-IuYidZRUo-GO1YlAMhuJbzjPwyKK8IkM0FZZB_voInT8qvgvb4cEXoTmlIIVEsEg9ZrKP0mEdI6F-COhjapgxovLyJ22YBVobjDqdV-ErfTvxZmhsQJH_bFmK98iFXJ1ZcOipM8RmmS9AcyH1uqc91iw8iFXSDXRvuOfzSvkr7ME1Y0TALhslc/s320/IMG_20210324_073209~4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Fortunately — particularly for me — Carly saw the writing on the wall and backed off. From then on, with very few exceptions, Scout was accepted as part of the canine detachment, a promotion he never took for granted and a position he never took advantage of.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWlgTbe9B8gA1zBCS2cndGfy95jfnM7hdbLrmE13-2PfkVAmS0bwJNbDLr2EbwtwRknXjfGL-1S59efFqqXEH8PCEjq8MDIUZe_LZc4kzxLuyQSu_Of3OCPUCGgn6MAVqcS_qeLDNDC6YMSZL7lwes8AB49LuuhVWoQE1lbj-vBZG-7R_sbTTPx_LdXF2/s3072/PXL_20230612_035709633~3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="2983" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWlgTbe9B8gA1zBCS2cndGfy95jfnM7hdbLrmE13-2PfkVAmS0bwJNbDLr2EbwtwRknXjfGL-1S59efFqqXEH8PCEjq8MDIUZe_LZc4kzxLuyQSu_Of3OCPUCGgn6MAVqcS_qeLDNDC6YMSZL7lwes8AB49LuuhVWoQE1lbj-vBZG-7R_sbTTPx_LdXF2/s320/PXL_20230612_035709633~3.jpg" width="311" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He was in his element, though, with the GR. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He was a natural cow dog. A month after he came to live with us the GR needed to move cows from Ken Keibel's place to the pasture at Mile Corner. There was no one around except for me and my shadow to help him. "If you must bring him, make sure he stays in the side-by-side. I cannot have him spooking these cows."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">The first hundred yards proceeded according to plan. And then a cow took exception to being herded.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Before you could yell, "Get out of the ditch!" little Scouty had leapt over the hood and planted himself firmly in front of the cow, locking his eyes with hers.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The standoff lasted perhaps 45 seconds before that grand old lady, mustering as much dignity as she could, t</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">urned around and rejoined her companions.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyPm7yQtpp5rL_bTB-2G_QBYGB2jqJ5K8xSos5vqsu8q0FCcM7WhCb7bH7P1S4NxnfRqIRS93mzzD5lsbrhvQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">The dog was not even one year old, but he had discovered his raison d'être. It would be like hearing the opening bars of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony (yes, the da-da-da-DUM one) and knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were born to conduct an orchestra.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">There was no turning back. From then on it was a given that when cows were being moved, Scout was at work.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cR7mDOlgAow" width="320" youtube-src-id="cR7mDOlgAow"></iframe></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">People had told me about highly intelligent dogs; my experience was Musket down to Gunny — all five of them lovable and loyal and a couple of them a bit doltish, if the truth be told.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">But then Scout arrived. He could understand almost everything that was said and certainly all that was going on. There was one time when the GR was bringing cows up the side road onto the 855. He was on horseback and a friend was on a quad. I came to guard the intersection, and found Scouty totally rattled by the quad. The GR was too. "Keep your dog in your side-by-side, and you and the quad stay out of the way!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">The cows had been rattled as well, their normal rhythm hopelessly disrupted. The three of us sat there helplessly, watching the GR and his horse work in vain to get them back into some order.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">It was more than Scout could bear. He hopped out and paused, listening to my shrieks that he better get back in Right Now.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He turned toward me, locked eyes with me, dipped his head apologetically, and then ducked under the fence. He gave the cows a wide berth as he ran through the adjacent field in the opposite direction to which they were supposed to be going. He got back to the last one; and in less than five minutes everyone was under control and moving smoothly up the road. When he got up to the side-by-side he hopped in and lay on the floor at my feet, his usual spot, no big deal.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGYO82AKPiSqQ94Q3O5fci-CkkDaEkIFTp62LQwP1Mu332PzictoiP-i7X-tXcNfatxFdh2k3_K_sOdWFwdE0ympbYibMvWzmXumhTlA9Ose3a1mGeJbRhiUjnI7ce7Y3pxpPOVKuP0xkXmiMLBWiG5APx8jL_iYvYIwSCwkmz0bKfhO8U6GqTin3c8Jk/s3648/IMG_20210705_181238~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGYO82AKPiSqQ94Q3O5fci-CkkDaEkIFTp62LQwP1Mu332PzictoiP-i7X-tXcNfatxFdh2k3_K_sOdWFwdE0ympbYibMvWzmXumhTlA9Ose3a1mGeJbRhiUjnI7ce7Y3pxpPOVKuP0xkXmiMLBWiG5APx8jL_iYvYIwSCwkmz0bKfhO8U6GqTin3c8Jk/s320/IMG_20210705_181238~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">The GR was all smiles. "Where's my great dog?" he asked. I swear Scouty winked at me ...</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCggaxF0W-iWRpNosxpMMyfJwJ7vVDuURT6bBijHreUsIDe_Ig51p8fS9VLrwfedu_YVYYUWs5Oz_moGIC8o88iMnSeLVe0kEQOqCuBwm0xKW4Cv0Qw6FfM6oryyw1OPBmnuRvELpKWUbi6C9HswOXBf4mSx7KcGGIT2Dgx5vNDpnMDNOWSQSvcFVG2a5/s2560/PXL_20230522_181843279~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCggaxF0W-iWRpNosxpMMyfJwJ7vVDuURT6bBijHreUsIDe_Ig51p8fS9VLrwfedu_YVYYUWs5Oz_moGIC8o88iMnSeLVe0kEQOqCuBwm0xKW4Cv0Qw6FfM6oryyw1OPBmnuRvELpKWUbi6C9HswOXBf4mSx7KcGGIT2Dgx5vNDpnMDNOWSQSvcFVG2a5/s320/PXL_20230522_181843279~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Scout's life from day one has been about work. The purpose-driven life. If it's not a cattle-moving day, there's always something to do. It might be guarding miniature kittens along with his co-sentry Gunpowder ...</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb96Nz2xlI0r66Y0Yq9IAdFjXMc_8wqEe8dXWyzs-iKR9tUkCaT-GcTtHytk-bnY8LlNTCS7R4R7Y67MDwTjbgXHbHxEJO01aK0YWkIVDRKzv9pVJW_g9R792N5YUpt2bhqkCCWV8K0w6hPv3hV7RZUoQQIRAkvATJ_EZxi-C8nfVTzxhcMQ5a0PmzNYty/s2838/IMG_20211019_195309~3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="2838" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb96Nz2xlI0r66Y0Yq9IAdFjXMc_8wqEe8dXWyzs-iKR9tUkCaT-GcTtHytk-bnY8LlNTCS7R4R7Y67MDwTjbgXHbHxEJO01aK0YWkIVDRKzv9pVJW_g9R792N5YUpt2bhqkCCWV8K0w6hPv3hV7RZUoQQIRAkvATJ_EZxi-C8nfVTzxhcMQ5a0PmzNYty/s320/IMG_20211019_195309~3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">or performing quality control on the calves' milk replacer ... </span><p></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFFX4N67FZvIVKOVGgNg3q1jvpNaWTQ-sQEpCyXGEFr9ignJdj7KMilLR4Btk2-s5dklHWyiH9Wa1X5W6wgT7BJ872-ggX5c_BnlyiPjZITjJpzGCIlk4Gj2Xih4lcWj9Wp1h_PI5wUEjXuAXqsmFNQP7xcq-si1VoQcMoTPI3v-l6Rkzc7EYYZxCfBku/s3648/IMG_20210930_215108~3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2223" data-original-width="3648" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFFX4N67FZvIVKOVGgNg3q1jvpNaWTQ-sQEpCyXGEFr9ignJdj7KMilLR4Btk2-s5dklHWyiH9Wa1X5W6wgT7BJ872-ggX5c_BnlyiPjZITjJpzGCIlk4Gj2Xih4lcWj9Wp1h_PI5wUEjXuAXqsmFNQP7xcq-si1VoQcMoTPI3v-l6Rkzc7EYYZxCfBku/s320/IMG_20210930_215108~3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">or checking the field in hopes of discovering the start of tender green shoots emerging ... </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrA2JnWLw_7WytP1J7jALUnOrDjwZmLynz-gwpprr6xUwR_CbCKrMhj3hVdAu8PY9dBBl-9EWy7QRTLM1c4IiuQXv_9BGHDaqtYWdKiegUe4BdixtzDibCI6R6mCtwqgFt-mL3bbb2k9c9iYNxgyRXK0u4pzjZfPlYIguBAZ3qysD6KVZdJu3i-2v1x3rx/s3648/IMG_20210410_145619~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrA2JnWLw_7WytP1J7jALUnOrDjwZmLynz-gwpprr6xUwR_CbCKrMhj3hVdAu8PY9dBBl-9EWy7QRTLM1c4IiuQXv_9BGHDaqtYWdKiegUe4BdixtzDibCI6R6mCtwqgFt-mL3bbb2k9c9iYNxgyRXK0u4pzjZfPlYIguBAZ3qysD6KVZdJu3i-2v1x3rx/s320/IMG_20210410_145619~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">or chaperoning. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicF_CVuVra-zBNIAarOB_sYbSvGYE80mJL5aHeNPhgCB-InY4W-p8MnDyceAUF1HQ8TvjNmmqQ6cQhPt-sGKD1WzJITwqEd5pB2XdyN5H4hjwtaP-oSXenWjN3VuKLqU-rXXiuBJCaCyIuSXSLgpJEqzzwZgGrkWOGkwp2QZQdnPJmcFbN4OW_Be0elVk1/s5632/IMG_20210410_144134~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4224" data-original-width="5632" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicF_CVuVra-zBNIAarOB_sYbSvGYE80mJL5aHeNPhgCB-InY4W-p8MnDyceAUF1HQ8TvjNmmqQ6cQhPt-sGKD1WzJITwqEd5pB2XdyN5H4hjwtaP-oSXenWjN3VuKLqU-rXXiuBJCaCyIuSXSLgpJEqzzwZgGrkWOGkwp2QZQdnPJmcFbN4OW_Be0elVk1/s320/IMG_20210410_144134~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">If there was nothing else going on, he'd be happy to challenge you to a ball game ... </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Mpi1z3lQyDt9_KM-YiMXYC2LGAGd207eWqWFV-HoH5QMVRS8F5z_5lu3WmrnThpDjC8gBjluqHR0SNl7kANuJHINe7ivfxDEfePRxiA-CniMf_i0kIOSTydb_3FmPrH6DKHBv43TqdZnED6OIbNf8ExXingPLCFIKPwhU0R9BkzEis0Eln8yfWLEsRD-/s2995/IMG_20210329_075623~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2358" data-original-width="2995" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Mpi1z3lQyDt9_KM-YiMXYC2LGAGd207eWqWFV-HoH5QMVRS8F5z_5lu3WmrnThpDjC8gBjluqHR0SNl7kANuJHINe7ivfxDEfePRxiA-CniMf_i0kIOSTydb_3FmPrH6DKHBv43TqdZnED6OIbNf8ExXingPLCFIKPwhU0R9BkzEis0Eln8yfWLEsRD-/s320/IMG_20210329_075623~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Gf9oq3QOwyIZYQgByvE7pH6dM37gcpyRFsLd8WnawDW9Vt73hCl7VJeWcn5xrfjGq1v8wUtbBxf3DsEJGpxUq3TEQuQA-F9F2WTuNgS1e6Fmkj_VduPas2QGMi6ThF-sv8LHQFEj9PJs-8NWYWQhaXnRe1ZbyOCh0DDCAfBDGv_LgdtriOius5rzkTmg/s2946/IMG_20210406_114910~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2946" data-original-width="2736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Gf9oq3QOwyIZYQgByvE7pH6dM37gcpyRFsLd8WnawDW9Vt73hCl7VJeWcn5xrfjGq1v8wUtbBxf3DsEJGpxUq3TEQuQA-F9F2WTuNgS1e6Fmkj_VduPas2QGMi6ThF-sv8LHQFEj9PJs-8NWYWQhaXnRe1ZbyOCh0DDCAfBDGv_LgdtriOius5rzkTmg/s320/IMG_20210406_114910~2.jpg" width="297" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGkUBfa74MY71bDUXdoiGstTezEgwWdQ5-h3xQZHI5MElEEKpH-ru-sYmiBq1CpeS8DqksXXpIqVQCiC1fBVajLZ0HVza19oxrUUO-6ayCgc4opbwcidLBltn8bV2ih282jUp6jN8cO_ECgGwvQcu6-RNVS3mbGkPP5EHN3i2GnBr6A7MAb00FKA0RpeOq/s3648/IMG_20220117_205341~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2168" data-original-width="3648" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGkUBfa74MY71bDUXdoiGstTezEgwWdQ5-h3xQZHI5MElEEKpH-ru-sYmiBq1CpeS8DqksXXpIqVQCiC1fBVajLZ0HVza19oxrUUO-6ayCgc4opbwcidLBltn8bV2ih282jUp6jN8cO_ECgGwvQcu6-RNVS3mbGkPP5EHN3i2GnBr6A7MAb00FKA0RpeOq/s320/IMG_20220117_205341~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZq342knicdcBDdhKfXI1-xKVwY19BSn1h9jMu91q3MlKZahVQDtDUhIX7_dqLkUT4H1Kf66q_UFuOdl9VSqLzoQNMfDreFGBRPWi0Rf9C1KVUVpOH8x5IQuLFr50lGSzdXKMw9g77QB6KaG8Tr5jaHSHRheNxwUk8iJ21i2aS-MtdUlaGv_5I8Jm1UyT/s3648/IMG_20210328_235552~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZq342knicdcBDdhKfXI1-xKVwY19BSn1h9jMu91q3MlKZahVQDtDUhIX7_dqLkUT4H1Kf66q_UFuOdl9VSqLzoQNMfDreFGBRPWi0Rf9C1KVUVpOH8x5IQuLFr50lGSzdXKMw9g77QB6KaG8Tr5jaHSHRheNxwUk8iJ21i2aS-MtdUlaGv_5I8Jm1UyT/s320/IMG_20210328_235552~2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">... regardless of who "you" are, and regardless of the weather! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">A new little game has emerged in the past few months: when I arrive home, the dogs accompany my truck from somewhere between the middle and home cattle gates to the house. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">But not Scout. Scout sits near where I will park, perfectly still, stick in position in front of the driver's door, waiting for me to disembark from the truck. Our eyes lock. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">"Hi, Love," I will always say, and pick up and throw the stick. Then I greet all the others.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">The first time this happened, a couple of the others converged upon him, pinning him to the ground. The second time I said, "Oh ScoutyLove, they're going to come for you — you'd better go round to the front door and wait for me there." </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He went and collected the stick I had thrown and trotted off. Once I had greeted all the dogs and unloaded the truck and gone inside I glanced out of the front door. There he was, in the position. On the step was his stick. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He can speak with just his eyes. The strong, silent type. If I couldn't find his ball, or the precise stick he was using at that particular moment, or if I wanted to know the whereabouts of the GR, I would just ask him. Then I would watch his eyes. He would first look at me and, without moving his head, then look in the direction of the object. If I couldn't locate the item in question, he would remain where he was, looking at me and looking in the direction. Sometimes I would get frustrated. He wouldn't change. He waits me out. I always find it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He has been right 100 per cent of the time. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw4hBVwnMeF4UzpFqv0NqY5FWbsL4Nkp0ixZstqGB02x4sWhLgjvS_bainC9zP_-Q7MsKSolsfuZPLYd3zaXQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He has taught me to listen. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He has taught me patience. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He has taught me to love as much as I can, even those who would act unkindly toward me on occasion. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He has taught me the value of loyalty. Of perseverence. Of playing the long game. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He has taught me that while he is here, I am not alone. He will not leave me. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">The love of God conveyed by Dog. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Halfway through June when the temperature in the house was 28° and the thermometer outside registered 39 and the blistering wind taunted us unceasingly, the dogs with their thick coats could bear it even less than I. Tempers frayed. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">It <i>must</i> have been the temperature, the oppressive waves layering onto their overheated bodies and brains. Two of the five started to gang up on Scout. Where he was, there they would go. Standing over him, threatening him, shoving him. Bullies on the playground. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He never retaliated. He would lie there quietly, waiting for them to be done. He knew that if I was there I would call them off; if I was not, he could wait them out. And then he would carry on about his business — no hard feelings. All he knew is that he loved his brothers and sisters. The rest was up to them. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Last Thursday I was in Brooks when I got the call. A friend had stopped for a visit. He had thrown a Scouty stick many times as he and the GR talked.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">As he left, before he even reached the first cattle gate, the two dogs who had been acting up cornered my ScoutyLove and drove him toward the truck. It was going at only about 1 km / hour; but the way he struck it must have done damage to his heart. He cried out once. The GR, inside the house, recognised that cry and came running out. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Scout stepped back and lurched toward the middle of the lawn. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Our friend had felt the thud and immediately stopped and leapt out. He ran toward my ScoutyLove and held him as he took his last breath. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">It was all over in less than a minute. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">A day and a half later we buried him on top of the hill, our kind neighbour giving up his relaxed camping Saturday morning and making a special trip to dig his grave. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKriR97-iDvwiyCv3A5xvV0cPy4o89Au-Of-A9Lt4g7I0VkeCtv4JH8RvpemaXmtwNlNanRm9ay8EgHfdckqd5UVMdLtTQ5GtgT8SpfOhZvFTh_vI315GkduyOHABevYx0q8nx47mBERvisRabDjcgIBwbtfrBC98hnhdtWkB03s4_eF8Xwz5Q3WeOBPj/s4080/PXL_20230701_160026037~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2399" data-original-width="4080" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKriR97-iDvwiyCv3A5xvV0cPy4o89Au-Of-A9Lt4g7I0VkeCtv4JH8RvpemaXmtwNlNanRm9ay8EgHfdckqd5UVMdLtTQ5GtgT8SpfOhZvFTh_vI315GkduyOHABevYx0q8nx47mBERvisRabDjcgIBwbtfrBC98hnhdtWkB03s4_eF8Xwz5Q3WeOBPj/s320/PXL_20230701_160026037~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">It's a beautiful spot, overlooking the horse pasture, the corrals and the house and yard. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSP5dcH_61HjuRI6e01qsniDwN0I0IjCKqRLSRiXwuf697OrVt2DVELM2HyFwTBq8tf_y0EWmgBsPOCqNV3LXgIJQnG8qU3L6e1VMhk1dxFLw-svdbMAs0xxGml83f_fh4ennxoMpMvQ19yaiRb_fPWGnzFVfhUzgWbtqVYWvMpWP_ZrnPUX0x0pgnFUdI/s4080/PXL_20230701_153528748~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSP5dcH_61HjuRI6e01qsniDwN0I0IjCKqRLSRiXwuf697OrVt2DVELM2HyFwTBq8tf_y0EWmgBsPOCqNV3LXgIJQnG8qU3L6e1VMhk1dxFLw-svdbMAs0xxGml83f_fh4ennxoMpMvQ19yaiRb_fPWGnzFVfhUzgWbtqVYWvMpWP_ZrnPUX0x0pgnFUdI/s320/PXL_20230701_153528748~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I collected some of his sticks — sticks of all shapes and sizes, used for particular games — and placed them with him, along with the toy that had been sent with him when he first arrived at our house.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUqHz1mf3bwMyTc_lR_HUTlWgyQ5fipJvkM3zToBXmZZx98h15BeGgvPzKoSsH0Fq1Maydjne6P95tuF3GH_Z81gUo0tsT6vAy_oeyFXb6XXXQ8_w2D2_o9TgkDhxwjv_eieVsueRTb40Xm9fAxhyxW3fMjOqkahw6zyQCXBkwEDRzaMb36thIHWFZhlc/s4080/PXL_20230701_162751063~3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUqHz1mf3bwMyTc_lR_HUTlWgyQ5fipJvkM3zToBXmZZx98h15BeGgvPzKoSsH0Fq1Maydjne6P95tuF3GH_Z81gUo0tsT6vAy_oeyFXb6XXXQ8_w2D2_o9TgkDhxwjv_eieVsueRTb40Xm9fAxhyxW3fMjOqkahw6zyQCXBkwEDRzaMb36thIHWFZhlc/s320/PXL_20230701_162751063~3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Our neighbour waited while the GR said his last goodbye and we went back down the hill; only then did he fill in the grave. He volunteered to fill it in by hand. I replied, "He's a dog; it's fine to use the backhoe. And thank you for even offering."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqs-o0b4NcAqydXlw0rVNstnil0E5A2LCQmr8BDDolC3HMZcZN9FjApvKeZftjck1RSCftgU4U9yx86V91QFZu01Nob5MNYSQRQVcIEB37ku0B21fEHNunp7UZJahmPDV0XKcTPd4xLwv1Hd2uGpJCqQ7k0oMaiQdYze7MiBpk_Mxskse7zCJR8rPTux6/s3862/PXL_20230701_162803546~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3862" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqs-o0b4NcAqydXlw0rVNstnil0E5A2LCQmr8BDDolC3HMZcZN9FjApvKeZftjck1RSCftgU4U9yx86V91QFZu01Nob5MNYSQRQVcIEB37ku0B21fEHNunp7UZJahmPDV0XKcTPd4xLwv1Hd2uGpJCqQ7k0oMaiQdYze7MiBpk_Mxskse7zCJR8rPTux6/s320/PXL_20230701_162803546~2.jpg" width="255" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">We checked later, and he had carefully made a mound of earth covered by grass on the top. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7dA0iPawMvj8UmRLOt7FfLnEua9EFU_FUXIUr5fsJHOlwKvFY5r8HXaAymnE9l25vTDGVtQNJCZhwB9d2sBSchzHMsY2Y9kCqbjwdodiEey6UxUuiaZ_PXu9yfSTgDRaLuiSjH0MUc5K7RP3eEAwWJ735cJFSYBesiRLzi2Bg2Q0zQy30utxuuzBrqip/s4080/PXL_20230703_022633330~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7dA0iPawMvj8UmRLOt7FfLnEua9EFU_FUXIUr5fsJHOlwKvFY5r8HXaAymnE9l25vTDGVtQNJCZhwB9d2sBSchzHMsY2Y9kCqbjwdodiEey6UxUuiaZ_PXu9yfSTgDRaLuiSjH0MUc5K7RP3eEAwWJ735cJFSYBesiRLzi2Bg2Q0zQy30utxuuzBrqip/s320/PXL_20230703_022633330~2.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I couldn't say anything of importance out loud that morning on that hill. We rarely talked with words. And I couldn't see his eyes. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I will never see his eyes.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">But I think he knew. I think he knew that he was my best friend on the ranch. That we could talk about anything. That I loved him with my whole heart. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Bye, Love. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKo_700AfYwEDEsGac7U33qR_AI5tOQ-60XNo2JzOVs-DCE4M3RBytxKrIa6Hn90Rqzce7ZzgK5qsO4Ovl-OK-1cSGOH471l_SnjIyt-j0R6LxqzRgroX_UXdv_KWIvcEtY0WCH2LA6F_BM75ZLElDTyQ71Jwt8S2rF0nIUGua8MpFQ0MBrlEwtfbg9l9C/s5070/IMG_20210922_075743~4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4224" data-original-width="5070" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKo_700AfYwEDEsGac7U33qR_AI5tOQ-60XNo2JzOVs-DCE4M3RBytxKrIa6Hn90Rqzce7ZzgK5qsO4Ovl-OK-1cSGOH471l_SnjIyt-j0R6LxqzRgroX_UXdv_KWIvcEtY0WCH2LA6F_BM75ZLElDTyQ71Jwt8S2rF0nIUGua8MpFQ0MBrlEwtfbg9l9C/s320/IMG_20210922_075743~4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>But Scouty, it's still sleep time! </i></span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-51078162544059313352023-06-20T01:25:00.002-06:002023-06-20T01:36:29.937-06:00A New Day<p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">How do you celebrate Father's Day when you've been unchilded?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">When your own father and both your fathers-in-law are deceased?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">There's still one father you can turn to, and that's what the Good Rancher did.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He cast himself into the care of his heavenly father, asking Him to show His love to him on this yet another sad day.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">And he was not left unfathered.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">The rain sputtered and spattered indecisively throughout the day; nonetheless, the gauge Sunday morning showed 9/10ths of an inch ... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">And by the evening it had quietly crept u</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">p to 1.4". </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2lLFsAGYbwcSzZhMumdC2VJ7HGEaObWyK5P1aIzlVIWKrkPKFS8mbiQvczJmSgVhIudam8KZFmmtWTu2FKiT4dFCGfFcgF84mOydatMY_zpY9VnQSVavQDzXVoMm2RUjljotLn78j0B5Hyy0smHG59sG_9bGlkHAnCVgK-IhWIu0eiJ5rYMRQ_dXjmAd/s4080/PXL_20230619_033124256.PORTRAIT.ORIGINAL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2lLFsAGYbwcSzZhMumdC2VJ7HGEaObWyK5P1aIzlVIWKrkPKFS8mbiQvczJmSgVhIudam8KZFmmtWTu2FKiT4dFCGfFcgF84mOydatMY_zpY9VnQSVavQDzXVoMm2RUjljotLn78j0B5Hyy0smHG59sG_9bGlkHAnCVgK-IhWIu0eiJ5rYMRQ_dXjmAd/s320/PXL_20230619_033124256.PORTRAIT.ORIGINAL.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">(I have learnt that tenths matter.) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">He went to check the calf who should have died after having been attacked a couple of weeks ago by what the GR assumes was a coyote: he is recovering slowly but steadily each day, and this Father's day he seemed to have taken a giant leap forward. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxFtCwhkzVeB7Fm9ASbvaIuXYLZCCHed8uFr1LU99tcvoRAbTUspVgbIEkNyH0b9cKMdsWTUM8Z2fWmcdcUOR0OYNF_67peGjMVqOqI7J0dHo-_tgiIjzkhan6AauJbxTuRco_2WTIv0GEl_zOzbuvAcLBRoqNrXyXlP2c_yZR7uqhQVyBZhe7Nt2qMsF/s4080/PXL_20230618_004524039.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxFtCwhkzVeB7Fm9ASbvaIuXYLZCCHed8uFr1LU99tcvoRAbTUspVgbIEkNyH0b9cKMdsWTUM8Z2fWmcdcUOR0OYNF_67peGjMVqOqI7J0dHo-_tgiIjzkhan6AauJbxTuRco_2WTIv0GEl_zOzbuvAcLBRoqNrXyXlP2c_yZR7uqhQVyBZhe7Nt2qMsF/s320/PXL_20230618_004524039.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUDBdXqyEGNXz0xhoo0pDZylTnAtT8IH0Mk6nXbp9W6LHZ_n2ytRKpUhKVlPS1jEPmtlq-c9ksZ-pQ3nbMYnx0kb0u53RvJx4nEP3qXjDcFm16S6LQ003lRyqXymg_d1xZYgsS-aBejSOv_iTVibalqeIxF9SWH18W3og_BrzV73MoabzuQr0sOTVMxiC/s4080/PXL_20230617_200709688.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUDBdXqyEGNXz0xhoo0pDZylTnAtT8IH0Mk6nXbp9W6LHZ_n2ytRKpUhKVlPS1jEPmtlq-c9ksZ-pQ3nbMYnx0kb0u53RvJx4nEP3qXjDcFm16S6LQ003lRyqXymg_d1xZYgsS-aBejSOv_iTVibalqeIxF9SWH18W3og_BrzV73MoabzuQr0sOTVMxiC/s320/PXL_20230617_200709688.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">To push his heart to capacity, a beautiful foal was presented to him by Chopper, a horse others had written off as too small and not horse enough. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAy_euzBe_DpyDWziblVYTeOgI-k974LryRTd7ggbgIrPorhmfgSg5ncrtLUWklQ_uAn3-qD2sWuGgRnY0WdnMKgrTHAfY-bprSiLs9AtnezgppvArx1lqUx-EMI3dIUJv_fvDKIrzNjH0x_XKj0nU9D-2yTsyd8aOTdGx6uggGKiG3pf4g4_tudcjqqKu/s2218/PXL_20230616_153204938~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1664" data-original-width="2218" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAy_euzBe_DpyDWziblVYTeOgI-k974LryRTd7ggbgIrPorhmfgSg5ncrtLUWklQ_uAn3-qD2sWuGgRnY0WdnMKgrTHAfY-bprSiLs9AtnezgppvArx1lqUx-EMI3dIUJv_fvDKIrzNjH0x_XKj0nU9D-2yTsyd8aOTdGx6uggGKiG3pf4g4_tudcjqqKu/s320/PXL_20230616_153204938~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwu2VvvBw1_hL8Z6lNA_2KulEdo167xSMCCdDVd3ihDanOXLpvl7cPFY-KQZPpXmFyLuiDzToa__ZlnRabUAzEWBPZJkz2IqmFMbGRTJD4knvR9MsfjsZtqYXjXmGOk1FUPFD9qLE41mHvwf9bO2kAJbrzt1mK3uVGanSIIOnjiONjVzKqyQNaGlAQKkFu/s1736/PXL_20230616_153222194~4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1736" data-original-width="1266" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwu2VvvBw1_hL8Z6lNA_2KulEdo167xSMCCdDVd3ihDanOXLpvl7cPFY-KQZPpXmFyLuiDzToa__ZlnRabUAzEWBPZJkz2IqmFMbGRTJD4knvR9MsfjsZtqYXjXmGOk1FUPFD9qLE41mHvwf9bO2kAJbrzt1mK3uVGanSIIOnjiONjVzKqyQNaGlAQKkFu/s320/PXL_20230616_153222194~4.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAM87xQ-NzH77mgONs_VcDLWFKlsTqm3EHhKLqpFX4WHvllSVt6gVdYqMFhPPWk90UsCsg6yNVVcpI8otl_4QsHJUDyBJnZW4XbqClXC2_nZQuelRwO1Gy2udex_AHQuSrdcleWWG_ZtgwnWaObegzZMhppiogIk0YPNAKiST13whxdf0qvD43UeG_IaSJ/s4080/PXL_20230616_153258544~3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAM87xQ-NzH77mgONs_VcDLWFKlsTqm3EHhKLqpFX4WHvllSVt6gVdYqMFhPPWk90UsCsg6yNVVcpI8otl_4QsHJUDyBJnZW4XbqClXC2_nZQuelRwO1Gy2udex_AHQuSrdcleWWG_ZtgwnWaObegzZMhppiogIk0YPNAKiST13whxdf0qvD43UeG_IaSJ/s320/PXL_20230616_153258544~3.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Trooper is one of the most spectacular little colts in recent memory. His legs are long - almost as long as his mummy's - and yardstick straight. He is silky to the touch, like all newborn babies are. His temperament is calm. He loves his mother, who reciprocates one hundredfold.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-zuixo-mnUfLV3R2E4ORweZwB7RFQT_RvBt7vC71ZJr00rFdN32hpZXVp3mN7hI-3ulhPUUPeeUh4xmD13l8BJwyDueHhWBTKCqh4vSQ0-VDF2cWmFz5xCizcHceFZ9i9on0cBY9jCtxV6bUYGFTEnhVAh06y9OOGxv4uKEBH9GQlCfF8j2nyyXu1DC3/s2050/PXL_20230618_005711756~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2050" data-original-width="2050" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-zuixo-mnUfLV3R2E4ORweZwB7RFQT_RvBt7vC71ZJr00rFdN32hpZXVp3mN7hI-3ulhPUUPeeUh4xmD13l8BJwyDueHhWBTKCqh4vSQ0-VDF2cWmFz5xCizcHceFZ9i9on0cBY9jCtxV6bUYGFTEnhVAh06y9OOGxv4uKEBH9GQlCfF8j2nyyXu1DC3/s320/PXL_20230618_005711756~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5uueFpML-dYULMmNmcFfyIet5kc_E8w0GsHWijIb5EInff7SeuFrT3dgukaeGNlMBmwR6IbJlGOphHKMqRKDhMZjeNBER3TrMS0TtT-GeAd2sUHPbESgvWzDjWhZSJ6SfsBK9Jtnxo8OtET6bDF4zasQ5DTBnZVzNVIl0T03FOO4xyTtOX3kgsAEDfTP/s3366/PXL_20230618_010210021.ACTION_PAN-02.ORIGINAL~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2493" data-original-width="3366" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5uueFpML-dYULMmNmcFfyIet5kc_E8w0GsHWijIb5EInff7SeuFrT3dgukaeGNlMBmwR6IbJlGOphHKMqRKDhMZjeNBER3TrMS0TtT-GeAd2sUHPbESgvWzDjWhZSJ6SfsBK9Jtnxo8OtET6bDF4zasQ5DTBnZVzNVIl0T03FOO4xyTtOX3kgsAEDfTP/s320/PXL_20230618_010210021.ACTION_PAN-02.ORIGINAL~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">After church we went out to lunch with a couple of couples, both of whose kids were not close by. The three men talked of ranching and the fathers from the Bible Pastor Walter had mentioned in his Father's Day Quiz just before the sermon. Some of them had had quite a time of it!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">After the Church @ Endiang service that evening we had an ice cream social: floats, banana splits, sundaes, waffle cones. Coffee and chatting. Celebrating Dads. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDqBtnILd0pzkrJAvVD2hrCQyDV1frELJXslyHr1yN8PCUJ6a4VbX74tvso7S5YouvATal6JmDtNp5zl0CIESX6idAIOAIVUVdYN1RknHftIzG1gVB2BFUWtW7sZajZX8hlRQ8MFXhRceOBwhGo0OZpOuZQ-gr8hOxq9VUczHoZmxQWUB7IhbfrrzgUZ2/s4080/PXL_20230619_011231583.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDqBtnILd0pzkrJAvVD2hrCQyDV1frELJXslyHr1yN8PCUJ6a4VbX74tvso7S5YouvATal6JmDtNp5zl0CIESX6idAIOAIVUVdYN1RknHftIzG1gVB2BFUWtW7sZajZX8hlRQ8MFXhRceOBwhGo0OZpOuZQ-gr8hOxq9VUczHoZmxQWUB7IhbfrrzgUZ2/s320/PXL_20230619_011231583.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2mxCybeTp7DQJmJ3NvzF2TRoboATU0XYZiXocaZPc4BZQp9MTc5Qnj7F4D2IWQbYsl37x4828QbSPLNgCvPYMAgq22KgvAYQyPeiBrsOd-OGXH2xDsagneljuGRz23jrdM-Bil-LnMRv6t9V2Bn8_V50DUPyIgXKI-6cSrF8XJgpz7iU0yQCGlV-kXIS/s4080/PXL_20230619_011402343.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2mxCybeTp7DQJmJ3NvzF2TRoboATU0XYZiXocaZPc4BZQp9MTc5Qnj7F4D2IWQbYsl37x4828QbSPLNgCvPYMAgq22KgvAYQyPeiBrsOd-OGXH2xDsagneljuGRz23jrdM-Bil-LnMRv6t9V2Bn8_V50DUPyIgXKI-6cSrF8XJgpz7iU0yQCGlV-kXIS/s320/PXL_20230619_011402343.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCA_ZqTQzZuRL8vThXbhjnHfmV9NYOMLBOb6SUnqivC4Fm9k9vCnlIQcPgJmgtUiqvUZsVE6qJnzDrSjGaDGNbeLLbP1zzpM3ALIgGA1EVDuZQvSzXKJzK9bjIBwHccnjDqTJ85b0Nb_0E5NCAD9QRQYLxAgqEple8VMrwFAxhQSvXuqPofVZJaP6iqGW-/s4080/PXL_20230619_012112293.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCA_ZqTQzZuRL8vThXbhjnHfmV9NYOMLBOb6SUnqivC4Fm9k9vCnlIQcPgJmgtUiqvUZsVE6qJnzDrSjGaDGNbeLLbP1zzpM3ALIgGA1EVDuZQvSzXKJzK9bjIBwHccnjDqTJ85b0Nb_0E5NCAD9QRQYLxAgqEple8VMrwFAxhQSvXuqPofVZJaP6iqGW-/s320/PXL_20230619_012112293.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezwKnvI7ivHjUeCmyjuFw7xE18MVP1zPnlhHzNxjAoQrlnq-VNOvdG2ILqcVOzABUr6HoldAr5Eo5RVCXj36GAigFNyicNDA3x010FCv7osHhCJhIC6ppFNP-y_rFV_CrwrQdYxA47_XIEctY3NejC7KrrGiaaNdYwczQl3r4Sb_r7CTC5QdOYeh5OKWk/s4080/PXL_20230619_011545248.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezwKnvI7ivHjUeCmyjuFw7xE18MVP1zPnlhHzNxjAoQrlnq-VNOvdG2ILqcVOzABUr6HoldAr5Eo5RVCXj36GAigFNyicNDA3x010FCv7osHhCJhIC6ppFNP-y_rFV_CrwrQdYxA47_XIEctY3NejC7KrrGiaaNdYwczQl3r4Sb_r7CTC5QdOYeh5OKWk/s320/PXL_20230619_011545248.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">It's not always easy being a dad these days, Pastor Allan had commented. And yet kids of all ages need good dads more than ever. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">So to the GR and to all those men out there who are dads or who are about to become dads, don't be discouraged; don't lose heart. Your job is to love your kids and trust God for the rest. Keep letting your light shine... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">And happy Father's Day! </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/l67pbRzuxHI" width="320" youtube-src-id="l67pbRzuxHI"></iframe></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-48727070658947437002023-06-16T01:11:00.004-06:002023-06-16T17:20:23.376-06:00It's Raining, It's Pouring! <p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I spent Wednesday away from the ranch; when I left, the sky was overcast but there was not so much as a spatter of raindrops.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I checked in by phone periodically. Any rain?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">No. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">What about now?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">No. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">And then at 11:34 I received this picture from DJ, along with the words "Finally getting some rain!"</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChCZW4jIu2VRMlUdT40iy9rKkWyePBJ6HZD8fWrcdkGic4HaMu5rfBspCx00yXiyZsMzmQOYZ-f-b2hxm4KGges_Au-msfYNAbEqR3RiHfbnFPSb9fa59QCBkaa8jsqHDdxrqXe6YIjpBRZjCaaPWzh1J7ZTujoMz8RpGLLDjG-IcTqpTexgB9PxJvg/s1024/IMG_20230615_113954.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChCZW4jIu2VRMlUdT40iy9rKkWyePBJ6HZD8fWrcdkGic4HaMu5rfBspCx00yXiyZsMzmQOYZ-f-b2hxm4KGges_Au-msfYNAbEqR3RiHfbnFPSb9fa59QCBkaa8jsqHDdxrqXe6YIjpBRZjCaaPWzh1J7ZTujoMz8RpGLLDjG-IcTqpTexgB9PxJvg/s320/IMG_20230615_113954.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">As my friend and I went about our tasks in Calgary we were almost blown over by some of the wind gusts. We heard of the tornado warnings and thought about the Good Rancher, who was making his way back from Lethbridge.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Finally, at about 8 pm, I was home. The first thing I did was check the rain gauge:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7CZ8l9gZVIkMuF136vIrVR71yn_PCqANlO0lJZ15VdwIUIyl_jQujoHvx3UPRdElhMzBJD3pByzvEqKWQBx6AvTthYYGB69S1iu7i2Fxbor8Skf9yz5DnkUGxie-bJWv1Hm1C871RX6rKUpRUZDmbFOGq04G8I72uElCcyEJsH8ZpsS0ID8SwRcyzVg/s4080/PXL_20230615_014932637.PORTRAIT.ORIGINAL~3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7CZ8l9gZVIkMuF136vIrVR71yn_PCqANlO0lJZ15VdwIUIyl_jQujoHvx3UPRdElhMzBJD3pByzvEqKWQBx6AvTthYYGB69S1iu7i2Fxbor8Skf9yz5DnkUGxie-bJWv1Hm1C871RX6rKUpRUZDmbFOGq04G8I72uElCcyEJsH8ZpsS0ID8SwRcyzVg/s320/PXL_20230615_014932637.PORTRAIT.ORIGINAL~3.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Half an inch! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I was so excited. The air smelled clean. As I hauled groceries into the house the three cats clawed at the door, wanting to get into the brisk outdoors. Olivia decided that discretion was the better part of valour in this unknown weather pattern. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcX0KuqSwEnVB2p6lZwJmx9xfXC9OnAdsOiailkKh2OAZ7mxTXxTixiNHoSifJ3PDYLP8aWbMFk_himrJGYdHkAkXnkrvu3foOe4SP6bcZCkUK3l9nyVILCnTcPOIiyEdnLmEuiQo-b44QjgAtYU_NKThmCcJ5wqRbb15EX7YolJnH8YaGkr4nELQww/s4080/PXL_20230615_021347735.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcX0KuqSwEnVB2p6lZwJmx9xfXC9OnAdsOiailkKh2OAZ7mxTXxTixiNHoSifJ3PDYLP8aWbMFk_himrJGYdHkAkXnkrvu3foOe4SP6bcZCkUK3l9nyVILCnTcPOIiyEdnLmEuiQo-b44QjgAtYU_NKThmCcJ5wqRbb15EX7YolJnH8YaGkr4nELQww/s320/PXL_20230615_021347735.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Jack and Charlie, however, swooped out and hurtled around the corner, to be brought up short by the overflowing rainwater tank - I must confess that I was brought up short by it too. How <i>does</i> a mere half an inch fill a bone-dry water trough like that?!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsPy5fUE2oPa1bK7bVQAPbPROcaLuTBWWPOb5Rp-3L2R_Wx9rXNb5Ngiic1qBVpT48JG4QpGZhd2aAN8UEDzQSfDfsHWAPui-_sH88AppKGQC7vIXKbgQjgYOowhr0HP4U8rBE_g3W8SXRZVHyTyEGJlUP1VtVQAH6RuLD7T2OwzPNHhrcFkzB5HdrQ/s2585/PXL_20230615_020945376.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2585" data-original-width="1939" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsPy5fUE2oPa1bK7bVQAPbPROcaLuTBWWPOb5Rp-3L2R_Wx9rXNb5Ngiic1qBVpT48JG4QpGZhd2aAN8UEDzQSfDfsHWAPui-_sH88AppKGQC7vIXKbgQjgYOowhr0HP4U8rBE_g3W8SXRZVHyTyEGJlUP1VtVQAH6RuLD7T2OwzPNHhrcFkzB5HdrQ/s320/PXL_20230615_020945376.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLpL78RTSA7XJhuB0hzlkyGydCbHBrJH71KvICNLbVs0v4ZfzFNv0jHiABxtGY_wUStSZ7DCWJN12v6THWBUThDBIQ438sxIZ3SSGqKareom6QKjDuMYNIDbVn9X0gYoy9et2P_68vPqspbcA1ZGDVduPdbydcapblRDlBm4drZ4uofBtXTpjHeZnuQ/s1958/PXL_20230615_020810496.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1958" data-original-width="1468" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLpL78RTSA7XJhuB0hzlkyGydCbHBrJH71KvICNLbVs0v4ZfzFNv0jHiABxtGY_wUStSZ7DCWJN12v6THWBUThDBIQ438sxIZ3SSGqKareom6QKjDuMYNIDbVn9X0gYoy9et2P_68vPqspbcA1ZGDVduPdbydcapblRDlBm4drZ4uofBtXTpjHeZnuQ/s320/PXL_20230615_020810496.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YWbwIPICLMVpSnPXB43V07ZSp7IrxoD0gwKF4oTFvRSojddNZJcn6mNpT3Qlk8BBN2y7dVdSmXzxgPsfqjBoLp8rvU0TXcuHLXlfygPO7vz6jrx5s-12FWh1kl__mb8m6SavHwjbeBGvIuPrB54aAdCw7jswcN7bridpzcEaM3Yh3WlqYpzdCvo6lQ/s2091/PXL_20230615_020944031.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2091" data-original-width="1568" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YWbwIPICLMVpSnPXB43V07ZSp7IrxoD0gwKF4oTFvRSojddNZJcn6mNpT3Qlk8BBN2y7dVdSmXzxgPsfqjBoLp8rvU0TXcuHLXlfygPO7vz6jrx5s-12FWh1kl__mb8m6SavHwjbeBGvIuPrB54aAdCw7jswcN7bridpzcEaM3Yh3WlqYpzdCvo6lQ/s320/PXL_20230615_020944031.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQYLc0pHexr3C-iqVPE1dG6gmbmrUk9x-Ia7Pi8cPo9F0yUZUT8N94c_oAXcZIiId56bB7ysG8SVRtP9N2VqM0AqiDYpoVUtL3XEKpOhV9EuB2Sc0qyi98migfasm4KOm9nTbC8s2ajkcPHpqB_v3xg7PrKGsmoqwnlWWbCm4oQFmmtUAcYhaCXZ08g/s2123/PXL_20230615_020811255.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2123" data-original-width="1592" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQYLc0pHexr3C-iqVPE1dG6gmbmrUk9x-Ia7Pi8cPo9F0yUZUT8N94c_oAXcZIiId56bB7ysG8SVRtP9N2VqM0AqiDYpoVUtL3XEKpOhV9EuB2Sc0qyi98migfasm4KOm9nTbC8s2ajkcPHpqB_v3xg7PrKGsmoqwnlWWbCm4oQFmmtUAcYhaCXZ08g/s320/PXL_20230615_020811255.PORTRAIT~2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>When the excitement subsided, we all went back indoors. The GR joined us shortly thereafter; as he started to eat his belated dinner, he heard the first pattering on the roof. Food was forgotten as he jumped up and peered out of the window.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">That half inch earlier was merely a teaser. The rain had arrived in earnest now!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">All through that evening and into the night it tapped out its persistent percussion on the tin roof drum above our heads.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I was getting ready to settle The Nine in for the night, and I didn't see the GR at one of his regular evening dozing spots in the living room. But as I went down the hall the light showed me a glimpse of that man lying relaxed for the first time in many months.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">"I'm just listening to the beautiful music," he murmured.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDbzxyISRmBt6aB5IdC6YcDx12Q06gHhbJo4tgXwdOdZcaxEscYWq3PdJZkMY9EYDvrjIVHv_NM7uxNdQFMc5XfChidNOUNTlwDVF4vKRaagwtHEMO6bZJLj6RtlAp7X5mmXKaqEvvN0_32xOUbBKFhWNgVtauTLLsIGwp5VkYVhN2XbI6RIwQvy7Xw/s1920/PXL_20230615_052658968_exported_0~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDbzxyISRmBt6aB5IdC6YcDx12Q06gHhbJo4tgXwdOdZcaxEscYWq3PdJZkMY9EYDvrjIVHv_NM7uxNdQFMc5XfChidNOUNTlwDVF4vKRaagwtHEMO6bZJLj6RtlAp7X5mmXKaqEvvN0_32xOUbBKFhWNgVtauTLLsIGwp5VkYVhN2XbI6RIwQvy7Xw/s320/PXL_20230615_052658968_exported_0~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I thought about the time I took him to a performance of Handel's Messiah by the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra and Chorus. I never sensed in him the depth of awe and joy I experience when I hear the magnificent old masterpiece. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">But this night, I finally got it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i>This</i> was the GR's Hallelujah Chorus.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Finally the household occupants were all tucked in for the night. I filled the electric kettle and flicked on the switch. As the water started to shift and heat in preparation for my hot water bottle, I was propelled toward the front door. Opening it, I stepped onto the top step and felt the immediate impact of water and wind.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">And in it I heard the still, small voice, a whisper, a caress in my ear:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="background-color: white; font-size: 22.4px;"><i>This is what God does. He gives his best—the sun to warm and the rain to nourish—to everyone, regardless: the good and bad, the nice and nasty. (Matthew 5:45, the Message) </i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I stayed there for long moments trying to take it all in - the wind weaving through the rain, the scorched grass tentatively stretching its blades upward again, the certain knowledge that God loves us all.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">And finally, I could breathe. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DK4OKs0-X7I" width="320" youtube-src-id="DK4OKs0-X7I"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Listen to the rain with me! </i></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">I went inside to enjoy the deepest sleep I have had in a long time.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">But the next morning I was awakened by a shout: "Check out the rain gauge!"</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihj6NPgUvRWUyYSZqt6Xvraj2gqfOsIRMJtVS2uM0mMLlq9G1wEcyquKl8XUL6787W1GNG3Yo6q_VVSWcwVAwHKtLOcWqEM8bY52Ymy2_dCFGPnTGGrwB8QTTrWDzjN5c5kP5Ni8cynGpHFVbigmgnVBTkN8rf4HNwECGAUFwMg4Olpz4qsMXIzPHqPg/s4080/PXL_20230615_182155621.PORTRAIT.ORIGINAL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihj6NPgUvRWUyYSZqt6Xvraj2gqfOsIRMJtVS2uM0mMLlq9G1wEcyquKl8XUL6787W1GNG3Yo6q_VVSWcwVAwHKtLOcWqEM8bY52Ymy2_dCFGPnTGGrwB8QTTrWDzjN5c5kP5Ni8cynGpHFVbigmgnVBTkN8rf4HNwECGAUFwMg4Olpz4qsMXIzPHqPg/s320/PXL_20230615_182155621.PORTRAIT.ORIGINAL.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">(This includes the half inch from the previous day's afternoon showers.) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">The wonder of it all!</span></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-85911095461984891872023-06-14T01:40:00.006-06:002023-06-14T05:57:22.649-06:00A Cloud the Size of a Man's Hand<p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i> </i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It's past time to get to bed. </span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Now I lay me down to sleep - I pray the Lord my soul to keep...</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">This evening I was watering the scant flowers I had bothered to plant in the Round-up Corral, some of them so scorched by another brutally hot day that as the spray from the watering can touched their petals they spat at me like water hitting a hot frying pan.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">As I lugged watering can after watering can around this beautiful, desolate place, I couldn't stop thinking about Elijah. Elijah was the prophet of the Lord who took on the most evil of the kings of Israel to date, Ahab: the Old Testament book of 1 Kings chapter 16, verse 33 actually says, "... Ahab did more to provoke the Lord God of Israel to anger than all the Kings of Israel who were before him." In desperation for his nation to turn back to God, Elijah had declared that there would be no rain until he gave the word.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">And now it had been three years.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">All of that backstory to get to the part I was pondering, the part where God gave the word to Elijah that it was going to rain.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">After some other pretty dramatic moments, recorded in chapter 18, Elijah sent his servant to study the sky and see if there was any cloud in it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">No. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Check again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">No. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Check again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">No. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">No. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">On the seventh trip outside, the assistant reported that he saw a small cloud the size of a man's hand in the sky.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">That was enough for Elijah! He sent his servant to tell the King to hasten home or he would be caught in the deluge that was about to hit.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">And it was so. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPG6jdpFkgMc-drUq7tR1UsyxdseAxJ6N5264fZZAHBHMo1tvtP2Y_itz3xTLDcvseIto6HvKruEefExGlBvjoJEZD_HQvq8t3X9351nlCOUkYB9zFBrksYb-KGDzOq9oVhxlUr0F1BCN0gI4Qa6_OL7CtBVEGRihjLLvMlMLhIg_zojQOVx1WOD1Ng/s4080/PXL_20230614_051406815.NIGHT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPG6jdpFkgMc-drUq7tR1UsyxdseAxJ6N5264fZZAHBHMo1tvtP2Y_itz3xTLDcvseIto6HvKruEefExGlBvjoJEZD_HQvq8t3X9351nlCOUkYB9zFBrksYb-KGDzOq9oVhxlUr0F1BCN0gI4Qa6_OL7CtBVEGRihjLLvMlMLhIg_zojQOVx1WOD1Ng/s320/PXL_20230614_051406815.NIGHT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">D</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">ear Lord, tonight we have clouds in the sky over the Round-up Corral - angry, roiling clouds reluctant to release their contents, ready to punch anyone who dares challenge their authority.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Clouds bigger than a man's hand. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The wind is throwing small objects up into the air in a blustering show of false bravado. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7JS3i8RGrz3tEg8cJmcOZwA3u37lpjG8BdXxcWCU1qhukm6g2Q09fy783P39K3Sns89mv2_GjUVlAlRyuRXVOTSg2IojqmwCg2h1_og0A-a6ZL0aur2jCobdG0k7wDIjH5Xh2eQ-l6TCxZ24cDqY8JE9Vu9quxOugMTUDOQlqNpsEUnr7PD5ihH4ZA/s4080/PXL_20230614_050818870.NIGHT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7JS3i8RGrz3tEg8cJmcOZwA3u37lpjG8BdXxcWCU1qhukm6g2Q09fy783P39K3Sns89mv2_GjUVlAlRyuRXVOTSg2IojqmwCg2h1_og0A-a6ZL0aur2jCobdG0k7wDIjH5Xh2eQ-l6TCxZ24cDqY8JE9Vu9quxOugMTUDOQlqNpsEUnr7PD5ihH4ZA/s320/PXL_20230614_050818870.NIGHT.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The miniature pond in Jane's Nook has a waterfall that is clattering onto the rocks below, and the beautiful old stained glass window above it trembles slightly between its sturdy chain supports. The Good Rancher does his best to secure it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">We have had 2/10ths of an inch so far this year. We have been hauling water for a month already. The livestock is hot and thirsty, looking for reprieve from this relentless heat. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNbtPIYcVn2N1fvketZlWnkxAMeyYhImqk15FjPP4hNsB5YO-lz2AcvlUgrueEOyU1bAe45fKx1mMbrxALWB6YfoXbFDfm3C0aYPqIP_9YyFoMfwc6ex8zGXX9xPtsziMA9aFoVQymbxcK9uKTxXutQHiocd1TMOjGajpvNzFZFCzRTOJjzNuGygmWg/s2495/Screenshot_20230614-005742.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2495" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNbtPIYcVn2N1fvketZlWnkxAMeyYhImqk15FjPP4hNsB5YO-lz2AcvlUgrueEOyU1bAe45fKx1mMbrxALWB6YfoXbFDfm3C0aYPqIP_9YyFoMfwc6ex8zGXX9xPtsziMA9aFoVQymbxcK9uKTxXutQHiocd1TMOjGajpvNzFZFCzRTOJjzNuGygmWg/s320/Screenshot_20230614-005742.png" width="148" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>The forecast holds out hope for tomorrow; but it's been teasing us like a shiny object jerked repeatedly out of our grasp so many times in the past 30 days.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The GR waits and so I must go. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><i>If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord that He will make the clouds to shed a tear ...</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><i>Amen.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWk9pBXsYeJW_oNZpsydtCy20omGLx2jX8pjbNllEKgOx4T642jXy-NBuC2cdR-GbgWSn8wzY-mxOgVPHQpMVL18cqBp9J6eR-WcIpfPgOmi-6-OGDTnKqna9K_aOQZ_YDQdUdgoGrqQcZr4wesyp_LSYTDeU5RGr3onVSlXhKptEB7a_CwlVE1zKKBA/s4080/PXL_20230614_051446764.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWk9pBXsYeJW_oNZpsydtCy20omGLx2jX8pjbNllEKgOx4T642jXy-NBuC2cdR-GbgWSn8wzY-mxOgVPHQpMVL18cqBp9J6eR-WcIpfPgOmi-6-OGDTnKqna9K_aOQZ_YDQdUdgoGrqQcZr4wesyp_LSYTDeU5RGr3onVSlXhKptEB7a_CwlVE1zKKBA/s320/PXL_20230614_051446764.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-21557566065670400022022-11-11T16:14:00.004-07:002022-11-11T16:32:32.290-07:00Remembrance Day<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM81nixbJL97xh3LJRrr4PCQf_CR1_jjt3TcrREARScShd9AGFL6YXemKXZs9F0PdMQnun-piWdeSo02Rr2FelVCbu23SxnFIC-DxttHpM15vBXWqcDNYn76elA8ZdV5VSf96bQu9ht6mU8Ts0WuFk22dRg0Z-wUn8ZtrejnlXdreFXL_s6I1yK64Ukg/s1373/PXL_20221111_212433595~4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1373" data-original-width="813" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM81nixbJL97xh3LJRrr4PCQf_CR1_jjt3TcrREARScShd9AGFL6YXemKXZs9F0PdMQnun-piWdeSo02Rr2FelVCbu23SxnFIC-DxttHpM15vBXWqcDNYn76elA8ZdV5VSf96bQu9ht6mU8Ts0WuFk22dRg0Z-wUn8ZtrejnlXdreFXL_s6I1yK64Ukg/s320/PXL_20221111_212433595~4.jpg" width="189" /></a></div><p>Today the Hanna Lodge hymn sing was canceled. It was a stat, I was told. No activities were scheduled. </p><p>I attended no service. Driving by myself to Hanna last night in the cold and the dark and the unknown had wrung me out.</p><p>At exactly 11:00 a.m. this morning I stood at attention for two minutes, a silence broken only by the stertorous breathing of Gunpowder, the dog born with misaligned hips, who dozed at peace on the sofa.</p><p>And I thought about Maynard, as I often do on this day. His birthday is November 16; I remember him on the 11th, and I think of those who never quite made it to serve their country.</p><p>Maynard went to high school with me. We became friends in standard 8, and he was unfailingly kind to me. I was short, stout and self-righteous. I earned some nicknames. Maynard never called me them. He called me Tinhead, a play on Ironside. He chose "head", he said, because my head was smart and pretty and could hear the music. He told me to listen just to the music.</p><p>As happens when you go to boarding school in another country, we graduated and went our separate ways. I enrolled in university; he enrolled in his Uncle S's navy.</p><p>It wasn't a good match for him. He was a TCK - a Third Culture Kid - a strong, gentle, young man who was somewhat adrift and was looking for a place to call home, for people to call family.</p><p>The navy proved not to be that place.</p><p>And one day he just showed up at my university.</p><p>I was attending a spiritually and socially conservative university, and this was in the early '80s. Visits from friends of the opposite sex had to be pre-arranged and approved in writing by parents. My parents and his parents were in India.</p><p>With trepidation we approached the Dean of Women. We explained the circumstances to her, and she kindly gave Maynard a permission slip for meals and a place to stay in the men's dorm for five days. He attended classes with me, lunches and dinners, and he walked me back to my dorm in the evenings. We got caught up on the two-plus years we had not seen each other since graduation. He told me how tough the navy was for him, how he had made a mistake, how he was afraid to go back.</p><p>On the fourth evening we attended a basketball game, and the team I was cheering for won. In his exuberance, he flung his arms around me and hugged me.</p><p>Hugged me at a no-physical-contact-between-men-and-women university, in front of everyone I knew there.</p><p>We were summoned by the Dean of Women that very night.</p><p>I was given a stern lecture and put on social probation. No talking to boys for a month.</p><p>Then she turned to Maynard. She asked him more about his leave of absence from the navy; to my shock, he confessed that he had gone AWOL. He told her something of his childhood, of his experience as a frightened cadet. Something had snapped in his brain and the only thought he had was if he could reach a friend, maybe he would be able to get his bearings again.</p><p>The Dean of Women was silent for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was husky. "Young man, this school takes loyalty to our military very seriously. Your duty is to report back to your base and to bear your punishment like a man. You will need to leave here now. May God give you strength."</p><p>He threw his arms around me again and we clung together for a moment while she gazed at a painting on the wall.</p><p>And then he was gone into the night and I crept back to my room. Everyone was silent; but Michelle squeezed my hand.</p><p>I heard from him a few years later. He had indeed returned. He had been courtmartialled and thrown in the brig. What happened there was so awful for him that he spoke of it to me only once. And then he was dishonourably discharged.</p><p>He had spent time as a day labourer, picking up odd jobs. He had spent time on the streets. His arsenal of alcohol and drugs helped combat the pain. </p><p>And so his story went. A couple of marriages, a pretty little kid. She had his eyes. </p><p>Jail time.</p><p>Rehab.</p><p>Still searching to belong.</p><p>He checked in with me every so often. </p><p>We saw each other for an afternoon in the late '80s when a friend and I were driving me back to Canada from the States. And he came to visit me once for a fortnight in Calgary in the mid '90s in the bleak midwinter. </p><p>In 2005 I got the email from his brother. He had been found in a cheap motel room, the kind you pay for by the day. Apparent overdose.</p><p>Two days earlier he had called me and said he had completed the latest stint at rehab and had saved some money and was wondering if he could get on a Greyhound to Alberta for a visit. He was desperate to see a friend from a time when life was easier. </p><p>I demurred. Things were tough right now. It wasn't a good time. Besides, he should go see his family, his little girl, his pregnant wife. They needed him. Maybe another time? </p><p>"Maybe another time," he echoed, and his voice caught in his throat. </p><p>"Always your friend, Tinhead."</p><p>https://youtu.be/tsX7Gv1GhTc<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9Hsg6cfO7E4UsgZMJsrSJq9HM9CzO144Z2DT2F2BstHgQCgExYoocF3562wcM6yaEHSXOpe5be5_EW3a5MbzxwqoV0nM1raADe81WnbCbGTdCUGQqrOw-X9rvyQRO0_P-a2ySjpBgjjimZ0w9AlCQOX2FSho_R3kzFWgPazUqi1DZmw2VZFyeuQ80w/s2385/PXL_20221109_225744862~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1839" data-original-width="2385" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9Hsg6cfO7E4UsgZMJsrSJq9HM9CzO144Z2DT2F2BstHgQCgExYoocF3562wcM6yaEHSXOpe5be5_EW3a5MbzxwqoV0nM1raADe81WnbCbGTdCUGQqrOw-X9rvyQRO0_P-a2ySjpBgjjimZ0w9AlCQOX2FSho_R3kzFWgPazUqi1DZmw2VZFyeuQ80w/s320/PXL_20221109_225744862~2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-73439552278185465482021-11-18T02:17:00.002-07:002021-11-21T00:37:50.227-07:00The Girl with the Vaseline Glass Eyes<p>The Good Rancher is usually very deliberate in purchasing for his operation. So when he bought a large new bag of milk replacer, I raised my eyebrows.</p><p>"You just finished weaning Silver and Dominion and Mighty Mouse and Dougie! What's this about?" </p><p>"It's for the barn cats," he explained. And you never know when you might need milk replacer... "</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXS-FzBy_H18YkV7qaIyOfVT-e37kQAXjbcnAKyzCbytvrOEfNfeK_M5cUaGQ8duvSmIrjCgdUB8zTA5k2P9mhisTG8RQfGuUo0KvVZ_aoQQZODYsDaLoF1m9JoGhRPou1qYJBX31SVJb9/s2048/IMG_20211117_131110.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1798" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXS-FzBy_H18YkV7qaIyOfVT-e37kQAXjbcnAKyzCbytvrOEfNfeK_M5cUaGQ8duvSmIrjCgdUB8zTA5k2P9mhisTG8RQfGuUo0KvVZ_aoQQZODYsDaLoF1m9JoGhRPou1qYJBX31SVJb9/s320/IMG_20211117_131110.jpg" width="281" /></a></div><p>So, knowing how the GR and God are in cahoots many times, it came as no real surprise to me when I got this message the following Tuesday:</p><p>"How you doing ? Hope well. I don't know if you are interested in this, but we have a calf that was born blind last week. It is sadly enough no good for us and I'd like to give it away. I am not sure if you can do anything with it, but if you want to give it a try you can."</p><p>Remember Mabel and her triplets, Wynken, Blynken and Nod? Remember the kind hearts of their first caregivers, Elize and Theo? </p><p>Elize was the one who wrote me. In further chatting, she had been bottle feeding this week-old little mite for a week — despite the fact that they run an extremely busy <a href="https://albertamilk.com/welcome-to-the-van-der-gun-dairy-2018-v2/" target="_blank">dairy operation! </a> </p><p>But it was Elize with the tender heart who could not bear the thought of disposing of this sweet little calf without giving her a fighting chance. </p><p>I had met this woman only once, but I love her. I saw her pragmatism and compassion woven together and also manifesting in her daughters.</p><p>I see them in an uphill battle with formidable odds in their sector of the Ag industry, but they don't give up.</p><p>Of course she would not give up on this baby! </p><p>I told her how the GR had just finished weaning for the year, but that I would ask him.</p><p>(You already know what the answer would be, don't you?) </p><p>So on the Wednesday evening, after all the work of the day was done, we drove the almost two hours to the dairy farm. We were greeted by Elize and her daughter Aimee, and together we went to see the baby calf. </p><p>It turned out this baby had worked her way into Aimee's heart too.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uDDOUD5p_3sUj9d-TqW5JseRhOXmmj-DVyoCRNCbnJ8dFdBSNn032ZsRj5kXp__H1qXJ-jy-JHEyQYCuMvYw0ivgCWcdf6B9iQ5927OVAkO9MAnq_xHR4bkngrrce2CigLf1lz7p02VJ/s2048/IMG_20211117_131536.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1461" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uDDOUD5p_3sUj9d-TqW5JseRhOXmmj-DVyoCRNCbnJ8dFdBSNn032ZsRj5kXp__H1qXJ-jy-JHEyQYCuMvYw0ivgCWcdf6B9iQ5927OVAkO9MAnq_xHR4bkngrrce2CigLf1lz7p02VJ/s320/IMG_20211117_131536.jpg" width="228" /></a></div><p>I had not expected to see eyes like this little calf had. Aimee commented, "I bet if you put her under a black light, her eyes would glow!" </p><p>Each pupil — if pupils there even were — was completely covered by an eerily glowing disc, almost like a cataract. </p><p>They reminded me of Vaseline glass, otherworldly beautiful. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqfJemH7sJ53JegK-eTTqvPYwXpHWMSjyLvhAOiOc5SqFFKP06bCT5WDconIeS_Hnc4uaCwFbIyJh4p0Q8y8X5qMB_aFaJL2dmK530F0HhA2tCu0WtJL6VZa4eyG_P4EnhoyVHl_mnFYgw/s2048/IMG_20211116_202732.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1286" data-original-width="2048" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqfJemH7sJ53JegK-eTTqvPYwXpHWMSjyLvhAOiOc5SqFFKP06bCT5WDconIeS_Hnc4uaCwFbIyJh4p0Q8y8X5qMB_aFaJL2dmK530F0HhA2tCu0WtJL6VZa4eyG_P4EnhoyVHl_mnFYgw/s320/IMG_20211116_202732.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Yet they couldn't see a thing.</p><p>This baby was going to have to depend on her ears and her nose and her intelligence if she had a hope of making it. </p><p>I had planned on calling the calf "October" for the month in which she had been born. Now, after meeting Aimee and the calf, I asked her if she thought Liesl would be a good name.</p><p>Liesl. Because of The Sound of Music. </p><p>Because of "I'll take care of you." </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhM2CxuZX45cxFuOz1DZXNw36TR_Dyd1si_JrO7b1LJOOGvyd5lbqoeDqVkqCnN0AIWacqfHm7Licc7izbIoWK7orARi63shaqcerihfVuVo1kY3Z6ngwjGeW76attOqbKKwHgtgVJ1DT/s2048/IMG_20211117_130110.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhM2CxuZX45cxFuOz1DZXNw36TR_Dyd1si_JrO7b1LJOOGvyd5lbqoeDqVkqCnN0AIWacqfHm7Licc7izbIoWK7orARi63shaqcerihfVuVo1kY3Z6ngwjGeW76attOqbKKwHgtgVJ1DT/s320/IMG_20211117_130110.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>Aimee thought it was a good name, and so it was settled. The GR loaded up Liesl into the calf warmer strapped into the truck box and off we set, back through the dark night but with a slight detour for a DQ dipped cone. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yo8_XgV1bcJJ0j6Mu20rvP-HpyPjIIZDuM-I_TozNjQgTuR_rEhmeFNTOJ3Ezp9CiCzZxwepZq5HXu_x9al-f6xFYficoS87MPQhD4O71KKCvUwNlE5VFHKPHZ09MDnfjr2ugw-EC0p5/s1953/IMG_20211117_131355.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1470" data-original-width="1953" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yo8_XgV1bcJJ0j6Mu20rvP-HpyPjIIZDuM-I_TozNjQgTuR_rEhmeFNTOJ3Ezp9CiCzZxwepZq5HXu_x9al-f6xFYficoS87MPQhD4O71KKCvUwNlE5VFHKPHZ09MDnfjr2ugw-EC0p5/s320/IMG_20211117_131355.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>We went straight to the shop. You know this shop by now. The GR got Ironside Contracting Inc. to renovate Ken Keibel's old shop; and when they were done we had an addition big enough to house two tractors attached to feeding equipment. </p><p>We also had enough room, it seemed, to house a little calf named Angel, born in February, the first in a series of Shop Calves. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5_tSIpDCwp805g5keuBZsK-_NJQIcoFsfUMTh7c45UraodW__g2aH52pjTkf0p-D5d6jgJaVCjy2XrExfh-C2PwlkTM3efS-V0Jle4y9vAHW_2V5vUjO5hGf0US7m1b97LJrVXoI7m0w3/s2048/IMG_20190914_170434.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5_tSIpDCwp805g5keuBZsK-_NJQIcoFsfUMTh7c45UraodW__g2aH52pjTkf0p-D5d6jgJaVCjy2XrExfh-C2PwlkTM3efS-V0Jle4y9vAHW_2V5vUjO5hGf0US7m1b97LJrVXoI7m0w3/s320/IMG_20190914_170434.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>The next winter there was Gabriel, born December 23 ... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyMPE7XxIJSg7KfO1dY_wEtsis15JFApq-T6AKW-pa0zFnPDNWdA4TCHQ1d9bSE6LzRjJkKPEXjWIn287FGWg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><p>Then Jean and Grace and Brownie ... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqHxavGYC_uhQyQhDWnx5v3gDoHajczS1iTNxtgst2ukZQsLcdfcdRDluokW4THVeWEEMEc6CMGbxXdQZLAlSyE1SxNxsmT_kwkBjfurATzpetwJccDSPzC0AgomexYxMQnzFeyyFi9vZC/s2048/IMG_20200415_231632%257E2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqHxavGYC_uhQyQhDWnx5v3gDoHajczS1iTNxtgst2ukZQsLcdfcdRDluokW4THVeWEEMEc6CMGbxXdQZLAlSyE1SxNxsmT_kwkBjfurATzpetwJccDSPzC0AgomexYxMQnzFeyyFi9vZC/s320/IMG_20200415_231632%257E2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Then Blind Bartimaeus ... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjrWeGQWi4sog2mqs7856SlvM3oBAW_oDf45roVkn1Jyq2Dm61N42z_gETZ8OSK7paeO4AKhE1lsZgtYvMHNZ7wovp5fz0Iucu0WKpvVx5OKF013WV4RyMXfMrw_gtDD-QednK514Wup0/s2048/IMG_20211117_093011.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjrWeGQWi4sog2mqs7856SlvM3oBAW_oDf45roVkn1Jyq2Dm61N42z_gETZ8OSK7paeO4AKhE1lsZgtYvMHNZ7wovp5fz0Iucu0WKpvVx5OKF013WV4RyMXfMrw_gtDD-QednK514Wup0/s320/IMG_20211117_093011.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><p>The GR has said on occasion, rolling his eyes, "Why don't we just take the tractors out so the calves will have more room?!"</p><p>The GR carried Liesl into the shop and set her down. I stood close to her and held her lightly while he quickly assembled pallets into a little pen, and got her situated. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJn0ZL4-xucSd6OfQOUvO535tjOuBNdzEtyDzMLD3RDavBXYj57nIoyP9vyh_C1xRzTST9oMYghgnPCShyphenhyphen-ks7EYB8rUUjkBWkt722_r42VAGh-vERUCCpJZOWtaBXqph5PB9qRu1xzju/s2048/IMG_20211117_230217.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1620" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJn0ZL4-xucSd6OfQOUvO535tjOuBNdzEtyDzMLD3RDavBXYj57nIoyP9vyh_C1xRzTST9oMYghgnPCShyphenhyphen-ks7EYB8rUUjkBWkt722_r42VAGh-vERUCCpJZOWtaBXqph5PB9qRu1xzju/s320/IMG_20211117_230217.jpg" width="253" /></a></p><p>She was shaking and panting a little. I gave her her milk, which she gulped down; right then the shop heater clattered loudly to life, and Liesl started gasping and shuddering, throwing her head from side to side. </p><p>One of the things I was taught in therapy was tapping to try to still my anxiety. I used it on my dog Musket after he was temporarily blinded as a result of a hit-and-run accident. It would always stop him from shaking. </p><p>Prince Harry has been a vocal proponent of it. And if it works for Haz, surely it might work for Liesl, I thought. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivww9vEqcF32YfmP9lB7BusQgB7szlLa9JHiZJG4efYsX4UuQ3ToDtaoG2ewR3oJrHDA18225ourr7EIag8A25BPJ7s_THMZlHM6ZyukSM0fMug6XI0SawOy22lX61GQIxxXS23vI24Bgr/s2048/IMG_20211117_132234.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1711" data-original-width="2048" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivww9vEqcF32YfmP9lB7BusQgB7szlLa9JHiZJG4efYsX4UuQ3ToDtaoG2ewR3oJrHDA18225ourr7EIag8A25BPJ7s_THMZlHM6ZyukSM0fMug6XI0SawOy22lX61GQIxxXS23vI24Bgr/s320/IMG_20211117_132234.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>I whispered "Shhhh," over and over, and tapped slowly, rhythmically, on her right shoulder and her brisket. And in a few minutes she calmed down. </p><p>The GR was watching all of this and then he said, "Call them and see if they have any calves for sale. This one needs a friend if she's going to make it." </p><p>The next morning Liesl started to take tentative steps around her new home. Don and Ivy came over to check her out and gave me some pointers, along with the loan of a halter.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_fCIU_-G32f5W_ly3hCdt-w-boU0jGPkODaj2XkNAD7YIZZdPUVsdHWn0uDyBcRTokoh6WtwuX5RZaD_8lTUATVGZ6or8FUPOmDF60ZPj5K5sTVHxjU7pwBdI2Q3eroofDs8NQZrNBCsh/s1952/IMG_20211117_131033.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1952" data-original-width="1205" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_fCIU_-G32f5W_ly3hCdt-w-boU0jGPkODaj2XkNAD7YIZZdPUVsdHWn0uDyBcRTokoh6WtwuX5RZaD_8lTUATVGZ6or8FUPOmDF60ZPj5K5sTVHxjU7pwBdI2Q3eroofDs8NQZrNBCsh/s320/IMG_20211117_131033.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><p>My heart was full when she even managed a little skip! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyhUC6Gyi3fKZQ0tZ3DJS5KxFMD8TSX0S_d5k56VjAGmknR_Wx8imV0zjryZNhNlDyGnonex2Jrk1u8VDNqJA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><p>Over the next few days she calmed down and started to relax in her new freedom. The GR made a bigger, more open pen with gates at both ends. She always gravitated toward the white door at the end of the shop. If it looked like she was about to hit her head anywhere I would call out, "Oh, oh, oh!" and she would stop immediately. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwS4avYrgMuqBGL6q_3tew9aAgzkEGgTP6r0Hr9qakYtBr88sQoongu23mW_GBsTG-mI7p56d1HmCTVoWBfK4Jv7zOWep46GfTZZ1WmAcki5mSIE74B_Uf8fhRIGtwNKFEOBLhTK73plP/s2048/IMG_20211118_020645.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwS4avYrgMuqBGL6q_3tew9aAgzkEGgTP6r0Hr9qakYtBr88sQoongu23mW_GBsTG-mI7p56d1HmCTVoWBfK4Jv7zOWep46GfTZZ1WmAcki5mSIE74B_Uf8fhRIGtwNKFEOBLhTK73plP/s320/IMG_20211118_020645.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>And then Gretyl and Marta (the younger sisters of Liesl, natch) came home on Sunday evening. The Right Hand and the GifT were over at the shop when we arrived back. "I have a surprise!" the GR called out to the RH. "Actually, two surprises. Can you give me a hand?!" </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40w3o9V9UE18vnetCYS10P38tL8hEgMRHIRet3orhysuZVjDyrhhdQQv7qru9IPJUzSwLkVT24lWfy_h4RJDS0OVtQ7DILCmmhLfAZG0FKY7BNUQva4lqk6QvOViijXfNYZYkwR_7O_MT/s2048/IMG_20211117_222659.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40w3o9V9UE18vnetCYS10P38tL8hEgMRHIRet3orhysuZVjDyrhhdQQv7qru9IPJUzSwLkVT24lWfy_h4RJDS0OVtQ7DILCmmhLfAZG0FKY7BNUQva4lqk6QvOViijXfNYZYkwR_7O_MT/s320/IMG_20211117_222659.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVCuXDYgXdm_OBWoRdIWHE0Goe8DKeyhCQ78UU5_pIO4qO8vAlhftdPB4t0tyV4CXkPnojDkgm4i7xGkmecXjGLLetIcQrbjD4oTCUyKmyFIW7v1DTGAmOOn5HL1R0p28t4fvTUHm2sqh/s2048/IMG_20211117_222729.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVCuXDYgXdm_OBWoRdIWHE0Goe8DKeyhCQ78UU5_pIO4qO8vAlhftdPB4t0tyV4CXkPnojDkgm4i7xGkmecXjGLLetIcQrbjD4oTCUyKmyFIW7v1DTGAmOOn5HL1R0p28t4fvTUHm2sqh/s320/IMG_20211117_222729.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>The next day Liesl was stressed and I was distressed as these two much stronger little heifers galloped around her, adding to her disoriented confusion. </p><p>Two days in she was more calm. Now the three calves nuzzle each other when they are resting and squabble for rights to the first bottle at each feeding. Liesl had been left out, bewildered, as the two younger ones ripped from one end of the shop to the other... but this morning I do believe she is starting to hold her own! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dznGpVmoi9lyxmLyInUa-a3CcostWA-WJVApl2TylKCIe6W9m4UKyC8ySDejB4x0xNCFwAzLCpHRQqh2DKpBg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><p>Liesl has other troubles besides her eyes, I fear. One of her front legs is a bit off kilter. Her stomach is not strong. She is the smallest of the three, and she was born over a week earlier. </p><p>But she's still with us! She loves her bottle and reaches her neck toward me, telling me it's time for a scratch along her jawline. She comes toward the sound of my voice. </p><p>And every now and then, I think she sees a shadow — something — out of her left eye. </p><p>Her beautiful eyes. </p><p>Maybe it's going to be okay.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxBEI6aRuJES0TrdADkmBt6SK-hg5HKayBs9uYRt6XXGHp8ZgV50SVuNe__QGvYHT4ltIRuDDL62XhpXJLw2Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwAzHaMzDeO0tjUceL7ZV1P87OWPqkBxn09_Z7tKdLe5smYSP91Q6gauOlEqQGlmQdsjWYzutD7_ZFnNsGlJ7Y3EE36AL-0WWSlXxYGSB0bU75bFze_hn0utm0v9ViOVVihtc3Lki5x5yB/s2048/IMG_20211117_230420.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1608" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwAzHaMzDeO0tjUceL7ZV1P87OWPqkBxn09_Z7tKdLe5smYSP91Q6gauOlEqQGlmQdsjWYzutD7_ZFnNsGlJ7Y3EE36AL-0WWSlXxYGSB0bU75bFze_hn0utm0v9ViOVVihtc3Lki5x5yB/s320/IMG_20211117_230420.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-22991204951572069572021-10-13T23:39:00.017-06:002021-10-14T02:38:12.734-06:00To the Place I Belong - A Thanksgiving Song<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">It started with a picture.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">We were out for dinner to celebrate the Good Rancher's birthday, and also for one last hurrah before calving started and all <i>that</i> entails.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">On the wall in the restaurant just above our heads was a picture of a horse, with his rider holding an apple behind his back. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"That sums up what I want to see in a ranch hand," the GR mused. "Someone who loves their animals and who treats them — horses, cows, dogs, cats — with affection and respect."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">We had gone through a series of hands since the GR's son had made his move to the Yukon, but none really fit the bill.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">One had to leave because of a family situation.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">One returned to the rigs.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">One returned to his wife!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">One was a butterfly, flitting from job to job.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">One left to have a baby.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">One had a driver's abstract that made him uninsurable.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">One moved in and then never quite started working.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">One started working but never quite moved in.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">One even threatened the GR's life; the RCMP got involved.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Each time the GR got more and more discouraged. "I never want to hire anyone again!" he finally exclaimed after interviewing someone who had been the manager of his family's ranch before parting ways with the family, and who wanted the same position, accommodations and paycheque he had made while stating that he needed to work half as many hours as he had been working at home.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The GR had not spent a night away from this place in over three years. He had missed weddings and funerals, holiday celebrations, cattle sales.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">He had pretty much missed Covid! Apart from the times he helped me deliver treats in the neighbourhood, he worked and went to church. (Even there, he was invariably late, poor guy ...)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And when the last hand — a Fine Hand, who had seemed fairly promising — suddenly quit with no notice for a Finer Opportunity and left us in a Fine Mess, the GR found himself stuck with me as his sidekick.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Oh. My. Word.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Things took twice as long in the field, and nothing was done in the house. McDonalds and Joyce at the Byemoor Bar fed us 60 per cent of the time. Tempers and blood pressures rose.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Friends and neighbours gave us a hand, often without even being asked — Don and Ivy, Bud, Brian, Jenelle and Cliff, Kiersten, Luke, BethAnne, Caite, Jean, Ben, Maureen and Jim, Kody, Stephen, Rhonda, Deanna, Kyle, Winnie and Eldon, Shalene, Kevin, Marv and Dianne, Walter, Marilyn, Hudson - and their help seemed to come right when we needed a little boost to keep us going another day. Hank and Mabel were always there with a listening ear and a caring heart. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">But when evening fell, <i>we</i> fell — asleep at the supper table, more often than not!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJ7bGk-oB7y56XLVbLAYtQJ6sBEQbVd60dTRB-Decf_tKeMbNEJa_-55BDNr49LRC1vL-w2uEXD4d0efVqTqWYKoQxtWTdylrOKvxHt89_iIrDx5JG1oLJswy1_X5elxDJo4FcrVynqud/s2048/IMG_20211014_015639.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1726" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJ7bGk-oB7y56XLVbLAYtQJ6sBEQbVd60dTRB-Decf_tKeMbNEJa_-55BDNr49LRC1vL-w2uEXD4d0efVqTqWYKoQxtWTdylrOKvxHt89_iIrDx5JG1oLJswy1_X5elxDJo4FcrVynqud/s320/IMG_20211014_015639.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I was so grateful we had had that dinner at the <a href="http://ranchhouserestaurant.ca" target="_blank">Ranch House</a> on April 7th. I ordered him a print of the picture for his birthday and got it framed for him for Father's day, something new crowning our "new" piano.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQifoKKTypAcocbnz-bfF4X8h0nR5DNqnKmhLEJ-AgiSRlzl53-r5Zm8tNwTZlEfm0qfrN5EKlv0cA6A5dC5unTROCaJqu7yvqrInw2JqZ-E4BeGEGVFyDoU10Od8fIhcCIiDyxGJAEuSi/s2048/IMG_20211010_231004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQifoKKTypAcocbnz-bfF4X8h0nR5DNqnKmhLEJ-AgiSRlzl53-r5Zm8tNwTZlEfm0qfrN5EKlv0cA6A5dC5unTROCaJqu7yvqrInw2JqZ-E4BeGEGVFyDoU10Od8fIhcCIiDyxGJAEuSi/s320/IMG_20211010_231004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And then, on his lowest day, a phone call.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">He didn't know what to think; when he shared the conversation with me, neither did I.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The GR's son had phoned. They wanted to come back to Alberta.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">They wanted to come to the ranch.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">They had been here last year during calving season, which happened to coincide with job losses due to the start of the pandemic, so it was a win-win — on a temporary basis.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">But before that, before they moved away, things had been, well, a bit tense.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">It is no easy thing to lose a spouse, to lose a mother.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">When two grieving men are left to work things out, to figure out a new normal, to bridge the years-long habits of pain and distance and misunderstanding suddenly exposed in the wake of the departure of their beloved, it is a balancing act requiring more dexterity than a tightrope walker possesses. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Then when a widower takes a new spouse, it does not replace the prior one. And no one can ever replace a mother.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">So it was that there came a parting of the ways: the younger left to explore his options and the elder was left to carry on. Both took stock, separately. Both came to different conclusions.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I wrote my farewell letter to the younger <a href="https://cowonthe855.blogspot.com/2017/08/letter-to-my.html" target="_blank">here</a>. My heart ached for each of them. For both of them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">And then, in 2018, the younger took a spouse himself. She seemed like the antithesis of the ranch. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">But she had ambition and determination. She was hard working and creative. And she had a smile like no other.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Like one other.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">All these strong traits could be found in his mother, from all reports. The day we witnessed their wedding and I saw him looking at his new bride I thought of the old Bible story of Abraham's son Isaac. His mother had passed away when he was still quite young and he grieved her desperately. Back in those days, marriages were often arranged, and so it was for Isaac. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">But when Isaac saw Rebekah and they were married, this is what it says, in Genesis chapter 24 and verse 67:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><i>Then Isaac brought her into his mother's tent; and he took Rebekah and she became his wife, and he loved her. So Isaac was comforted after his mother's death.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSmIvI2Eqvyo2K4nMKax-Y6s20KAf_cncskrJtk6ZVroaEgKAKCQQ6HP9uClsnfpILqCxcjRM7BgqmuFvfRWiHZZL6AvE2N-egbrjV0HttawzPyO1OkJ4niocfeoCvMIe05txk8CK-0CL/s1080/FB_IMG_1634188985908.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSmIvI2Eqvyo2K4nMKax-Y6s20KAf_cncskrJtk6ZVroaEgKAKCQQ6HP9uClsnfpILqCxcjRM7BgqmuFvfRWiHZZL6AvE2N-egbrjV0HttawzPyO1OkJ4niocfeoCvMIe05txk8CK-0CL/s320/FB_IMG_1634188985908.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(from the album of </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Carly Tateson) </span></div></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">And then they went north. True North. Communication was sparse as they carved out a new life for themselves. They blossomed and grew, two already gorgeous people truly coming into their own.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">We missed them but rejoiced for them.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2rEZcXtTuhlkkVBO11aIh64yDjrZVbw3gTdW4Q9egNQ-sYvORlyIk50OKdKJgkKnj3BFALsCfmagc5ra0ZpJFEei9V3lWOV2v33iTHBw1FXwzxyItUMQQFu2pjHp49CctKEYXliyWTVJk/s1350/FB_IMG_1634189174511.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2rEZcXtTuhlkkVBO11aIh64yDjrZVbw3gTdW4Q9egNQ-sYvORlyIk50OKdKJgkKnj3BFALsCfmagc5ra0ZpJFEei9V3lWOV2v33iTHBw1FXwzxyItUMQQFu2pjHp49CctKEYXliyWTVJk/s320/FB_IMG_1634189174511.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;">(<i>from the album of </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Carly Tateson) </i></div></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Until the phone call. "What do you think?" the GR asked.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"Well, let's see if they really do show," I suggested. "They still have a couple of months to change their minds ..."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">In the next weeks I often found myself gazing at a picture I have always kept on my piano. It captures three riders: the GR and his mother, Alice, and his tiny son, obviously sitting on his own mother's horse. I have no doubt it was she who took the picture.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyeelV3rj4xMCiA8Yahf_ZZ9vkFXctDL4nuyzlmDknNhWCUqpIgijJ3M4VCcXC9-QTcBPMcDFYcKtGGrsXa7uWTGeegon7fnaj_qRlOfBjixryaxsqmmjl2rOaVMuH-SXvIX9veweLz9Y/s2048/IMG_20211013_234958.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyeelV3rj4xMCiA8Yahf_ZZ9vkFXctDL4nuyzlmDknNhWCUqpIgijJ3M4VCcXC9-QTcBPMcDFYcKtGGrsXa7uWTGeegon7fnaj_qRlOfBjixryaxsqmmjl2rOaVMuH-SXvIX9veweLz9Y/s320/IMG_20211013_234958.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">It is one of my favourites. <i>Dear God, please undertake. Please let this work, if it is Your will,</i> I prayed several times a day. <i>Please prepare each of our hearts ...</i> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">On August 31 their vehicles pulled in, and on September 1 he reported for work.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">On September 2 evening, the four of us sat down together at our kitchen table to chat.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">They seemed different somehow, settled, happy. Together.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">They seemed to have grown up.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">And maybe we had too? Because it was pretty easy, that first visit. There was laughter. Questions asked and answered. Each person had a seat at the table, had a voice in the conversation. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Finally the GR asked The Question. "How long?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The son looked the father straight in the eyes. "I want to keep this place going. We're here. We have no Plan B. We're here."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">My heart just leapt. I thought of my dad, who once was on an ordination committee that had just finished interviewing the candidate, David, on his suitability to be a pastor. Everyone seemed to have run out of questions.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Then Dad spoke up. "I have just one more question. If we deny you ordination, what will you do with your life?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">There was silence. Then David responded, passionately, "I have no Plan B! I HAVE to preach!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"That was the answer I wanted to hear," replied Dad. And David was ordained.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">That evening, <i>I</i> had the answer I wanted to hear.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Sometimes a person has a calling too insistent for a Plan B.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And every day since then the two men have answered the dawn, going their separate ways while feeding the herd and then coming together to move cattle, sort, wean, vaccinate, talk.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"There's so much I don't know," he had said to his Dad that first evening. "So much I need to learn from you."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And so they discuss and plan and grow together, grow the operation and the relationship.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The ranch's brand is TTT, an enduring tribute to father, mother and son. After one left this world, and after one left the ranch, it seemed like the remaining T, left to carry the triple load, would collapse under the weight of it. I did my best; but I will never be able to ride out and work cattle with anything except a quad or a side-by-side and a pack of semi-unruly dogs. I am the furthest thing from athletic — I can fill a gap, and I can coax baby cows up the chute; but I would never be a match against feisty heifers, arrogant bulls, knowing cows, hollering yearlings.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">But he's back! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And o</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">ften she joins them, the golden girl on a golden horse. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQyYcDywJK1WdFcx1b6Wz2p1vYbET_nqehHyAk5GqoyXykIre1fx5_FiUCY5a_Ckh9f90ZVoVZiGY2ZSQKRuDTl5Q9R8JYEZzZFdATnHrin7TNvuGgnRuLqhdV6I1x-d_FVaMS_OgoiI6/s2048/IMG_20211014_003229.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1516" data-original-width="2048" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQyYcDywJK1WdFcx1b6Wz2p1vYbET_nqehHyAk5GqoyXykIre1fx5_FiUCY5a_Ckh9f90ZVoVZiGY2ZSQKRuDTl5Q9R8JYEZzZFdATnHrin7TNvuGgnRuLqhdV6I1x-d_FVaMS_OgoiI6/s320/IMG_20211014_003229.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I think of her as the "GifT" (Girl Inhabiting the Final T) to this place at this time, the person who has all the makings of being able to pick up and carry forward the third T in the brand.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlx-LQpekt_v3ArxMA7dS0AXzBarZjharQ0R2KBP2AsO1oXOE4o2r2jvk9bhJYEhfVi6x0tyN1HXj4emX1PDsLdkeQvTQXVTuSMT7RFfcwEK_3EnN87AhyCoOxs-jTqZ-4QDK7BkKKAck/s2048/IMG_20211014_003320.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlx-LQpekt_v3ArxMA7dS0AXzBarZjharQ0R2KBP2AsO1oXOE4o2r2jvk9bhJYEhfVi6x0tyN1HXj4emX1PDsLdkeQvTQXVTuSMT7RFfcwEK_3EnN87AhyCoOxs-jTqZ-4QDK7BkKKAck/s320/IMG_20211014_003320.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p>One day the two of us had a short electronic exchange:</p></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpunQIT5BAR0fLzW1o6YBbud8cNIUVASGtbSnq9NPeU0k4V3dYPTnWuvDoSoZTRWZogSnY0eE1_4hl0baU7Y-AGsXvjhlgDpv_SB9zaIWOhjpo12MUxW9kx17zpEjX7w9e1oN_b-Hd9yRU/s1080/Screenshot_20211013_223516.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1074" data-original-width="1080" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpunQIT5BAR0fLzW1o6YBbud8cNIUVASGtbSnq9NPeU0k4V3dYPTnWuvDoSoZTRWZogSnY0eE1_4hl0baU7Y-AGsXvjhlgDpv_SB9zaIWOhjpo12MUxW9kx17zpEjX7w9e1oN_b-Hd9yRU/s320/Screenshot_20211013_223516.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">My heart was full. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">On days that she is occupied at her own job, I try to get out to help as best I can. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I watch the two of them, these two men whom I love more than all the cattle on all those hills, and I see how they work the field, work a herd, without any words needed. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGNcrkmXFzHArAE02abZ7Pl4_4hyQAFzytXcNTKOQuktzy5HpAwDU66qsYQ_THHIQK_CXnbx-g4bTzPusKF1U_H6is8u9wx6_Byr9EgQsCFHm7xRKBMItCCLCBo5hj5I626_7bO9zgImNL/s2048/IMG_20211014_000510.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGNcrkmXFzHArAE02abZ7Pl4_4hyQAFzytXcNTKOQuktzy5HpAwDU66qsYQ_THHIQK_CXnbx-g4bTzPusKF1U_H6is8u9wx6_Byr9EgQsCFHm7xRKBMItCCLCBo5hj5I626_7bO9zgImNL/s320/IMG_20211014_000510.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">They both know this land and they know their herd, generational cows who also know the rancher and the hand and know the routine. It is a dance of synchronicity that brings tears to my eyes.</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyxiaUxmlsdOCwfArm4GcUWmuGh1_nBPK9dnl5DIN4NYN2_5bGxzO4UhRojgOUtw9KsKDVNZUdK8vgUdZ-Z-g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">And when the cattle work is done, they ride home together, the father with the son close by on his right hand. They chat quietly together about what went well, what could be improved on, what is up next for the afternoon and the week.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpH3zBj45AoN3KVxbFG_3_pKdFECO52I6p8pwmNrxfgMo9H9C1xnOzH8BmDemcuOfmV9-THRQ4Z8O16jtWlAFwezBr9BkZJ7m7fOVOle5Da3i5sWWpsHQG67PcH7UyeC6m_OdaPxV1yRmJ/s2048/IMG_20211014_004405.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpH3zBj45AoN3KVxbFG_3_pKdFECO52I6p8pwmNrxfgMo9H9C1xnOzH8BmDemcuOfmV9-THRQ4Z8O16jtWlAFwezBr9BkZJ7m7fOVOle5Da3i5sWWpsHQG67PcH7UyeC6m_OdaPxV1yRmJ/s320/IMG_20211014_004405.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-large;">They laugh together. They lead their horses in and out of the barn together. They ride out together and no one returns alone, one of the mantras of TTT. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvO-Xp16vyDT3_bvKyKSBjdgbR_m6h7NsQky9Y2KeP_745DJvJsiK50DI4IT9Zp77BaMFhXw3kkh7sHVjQibYmCdFn4r1PC2PpmZALhWQxKc3WRRXAV7TPyFHd9Im3Ms53jBVdtFmTfJex/s1957/IMG_20211014_002558.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1467" data-original-width="1957" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvO-Xp16vyDT3_bvKyKSBjdgbR_m6h7NsQky9Y2KeP_745DJvJsiK50DI4IT9Zp77BaMFhXw3kkh7sHVjQibYmCdFn4r1PC2PpmZALhWQxKc3WRRXAV7TPyFHd9Im3Ms53jBVdtFmTfJex/s320/IMG_20211014_002558.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-large;">And I have seen both of them sneak a little treat into an equine mouth when they think no one is looking ...</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">They discuss feed and cattle rotation; they train horses (the son, a farrier by trade, is taking the lead on this part of the operation right now); they check water and herd health; they direct / put up with my Six Pack, who gambol around in attempts at being helpful while moving cattle; they feed the bottle calves; and the younger has taken over the care and feeding of old Ripper, the horse the GR and Debbie got the same year their son was born 29 years ago.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">He has his Class 1, and so the two of them haul feed bales together after all the chores are done. They strategise about next year, about the future.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">They truly are the man in the <a href="https://www.art.com/products/p10034086-sa-i1253348/tom-ryan-sharing-an-apple.htm?upi=E82BI0&sOrigID=19051" target="_blank">picture</a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">There is a saying that a load shared is a load halved. I am here to tell you that this is TRUE! The hours are still long; but the GR and I often eat supper together and sometimes he even makes it to bed before he falls asleep these days. We just celebrated the wedding of one of my nephews. The GR was able to leave the ranch, for the first time since I have known him, with not a worry in his mind. "No — I know he can handle everything," was his response when I asked him if he had any apprehension.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinulAmrFkKeOFPtYLEDfiPQM3il8bQHJSeCICgEaO3tzTbu2CLkj8eFmOKUzS5IPnc85w7m669BKJZqy_ZQr5x2MN0LeiRaCRWUAFTOdG-an9ODZ8tjaF4xj7L1rdixx1y9G3tJf8JulQ4/s2048/IMG_20211014_003756.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinulAmrFkKeOFPtYLEDfiPQM3il8bQHJSeCICgEaO3tzTbu2CLkj8eFmOKUzS5IPnc85w7m669BKJZqy_ZQr5x2MN0LeiRaCRWUAFTOdG-an9ODZ8tjaF4xj7L1rdixx1y9G3tJf8JulQ4/s320/IMG_20211014_003756.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">This year we invited them to come for Thanksgiving dinner on Monday evening, and they accepted. The GifT brought roasted vegetables, dressing and homemade buns. She helped me in the kitchen and with the washing up. It felt so easy. So right.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0bWiiBmJOzIPUkHoXuZFu8uQc3Ds-r84j4iu3yf_Ppvi7MI2CkeoeW35XRi9N-PnPdiSinhFFrW2UMG1IkVI5pwC4U7sYN-h6EqQsz24T4emuMe3_kXRNPebr7z5N9y2bxh_VG193q_3/s2048/IMG_20211014_005041.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="2048" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0bWiiBmJOzIPUkHoXuZFu8uQc3Ds-r84j4iu3yf_Ppvi7MI2CkeoeW35XRi9N-PnPdiSinhFFrW2UMG1IkVI5pwC4U7sYN-h6EqQsz24T4emuMe3_kXRNPebr7z5N9y2bxh_VG193q_3/s320/IMG_20211014_005041.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">As I was laying the table in preparation for dinner, I thought back through the difficulties of the past couple of years; and I contrasted those troubled times with comments the GR has been making fairly often over the past month and a half:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"It was another great day ... Everything just seems so <i>right ... </i>He <i>knows</i> how things work around here ... That girl is gold. She is always in the right place at the right time ... I feel good. Things just feel <i>right</i> these days ... I hope I never have to hire anyone again ... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"We can finally start thinking about the future, and it feels so right with him here."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">And as I set the place cards on top of the napkins, the napkins that his son had given me for my second Christmas out here, I got it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I know what his name is.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Thinking back to the list of hands that started this piece and finishing up with the GR's prayers of thanksgiving for the gift of his son, of his new reliance on him, there can be only one name.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The Right Hand. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">In every sense of the words.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Welcome Home.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1AmkBHipc-9H0EBuuk-4PJrO14Pxb6ggcdUhOxbWq3TqFY-zc9iMwvJOiUJ3Fn83Hwi2G_pZuL2I82fjoW36c10alfizsvAnzwATGqywJovBdHTHlM6uhAQ0Tsvvcvpdmmh52o4GN23X/s2048/IMG_20211014_005142.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1704" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1AmkBHipc-9H0EBuuk-4PJrO14Pxb6ggcdUhOxbWq3TqFY-zc9iMwvJOiUJ3Fn83Hwi2G_pZuL2I82fjoW36c10alfizsvAnzwATGqywJovBdHTHlM6uhAQ0Tsvvcvpdmmh52o4GN23X/s320/IMG_20211014_005142.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPFUAkomf2c3d4nCvqNgxpMapbdt-7MOt0tThdT6DWFiGx-72K7zQAhvdV6lmBO4w_hP-9NES_LeSWxJoDAeOKTRDqxBGbOfM5N4Qy-LXmZgmMjV3LxYz8mS9iqtbOOZ_TTvJD7u0Hl6m/s2048/IMG_20211014_020113.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1527" data-original-width="2048" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPFUAkomf2c3d4nCvqNgxpMapbdt-7MOt0tThdT6DWFiGx-72K7zQAhvdV6lmBO4w_hP-9NES_LeSWxJoDAeOKTRDqxBGbOfM5N4Qy-LXmZgmMjV3LxYz8mS9iqtbOOZ_TTvJD7u0Hl6m/s320/IMG_20211014_020113.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-42822776539877161012021-07-02T04:31:00.002-06:002021-07-02T05:05:32.062-06:00O Canada<p> O Canada! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQTwXZsc8sMYlRsUvoKA3XoHYvm7e2mIs1GM67yaECbdNxGT9BV-ns19BF6ZVAzCjmmIGVZFWKjR7Cb7ayrzBBhXe1vOjZkshZkGvQETnYiLBSLo-744t0w3W4qq_mCF45vzSVdRB2Zn5/s5184/IMG_3876+%25282%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQTwXZsc8sMYlRsUvoKA3XoHYvm7e2mIs1GM67yaECbdNxGT9BV-ns19BF6ZVAzCjmmIGVZFWKjR7Cb7ayrzBBhXe1vOjZkshZkGvQETnYiLBSLo-744t0w3W4qq_mCF45vzSVdRB2Zn5/s320/IMG_3876+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><p>O<span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">ur home and native land!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtRHDWoafjPZ0J1ZeDmjsF-vUvmmna_4T_e84mEUAOyJviTJ7r87F4hWQmZg-Ju2qLSVNv16OSK-VLMsh4LQU4XZsAp4szRwbpMR_1WAB0DzlPWiQmE6LoiPyCPV-eFa-RXszt4_vOju5/s2048/IMG_20200807_210258.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtRHDWoafjPZ0J1ZeDmjsF-vUvmmna_4T_e84mEUAOyJviTJ7r87F4hWQmZg-Ju2qLSVNv16OSK-VLMsh4LQU4XZsAp4szRwbpMR_1WAB0DzlPWiQmE6LoiPyCPV-eFa-RXszt4_vOju5/s320/IMG_20200807_210258.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: large;">True patriot love in all of us command.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXm23uhfc2JpG93DEKBKNbo8NwhOgNm4lb349noJzePnfvyhbyPx0NRJc6FjfUV847xyfNqwE3s2SgIfxzS660M18J5pOf9MMLX8Be7LMlNDcL36cHSBuMrIEZ7lnoWUDJ9chKkAkcp44/s2048/IMG_20200915_180848.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXm23uhfc2JpG93DEKBKNbo8NwhOgNm4lb349noJzePnfvyhbyPx0NRJc6FjfUV847xyfNqwE3s2SgIfxzS660M18J5pOf9MMLX8Be7LMlNDcL36cHSBuMrIEZ7lnoWUDJ9chKkAkcp44/s320/IMG_20200915_180848.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;">With glowing hearts we see thee rise,</span></span><p></p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhub93TiDdJ8XnhIXV8RyCHERfCXkGoUBugsh1GngbqpCv9RKnunvyZ4ve4hJvK0vJj5v7tg7qhiKa1eesoTUU1o7nbfbFjQe_8c6xaZDOSfodbA8ZRLZNDN0_YG_w6AOVES1DkHeZIC79X/s1080/Screenshot_20210702_013101.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="944" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhub93TiDdJ8XnhIXV8RyCHERfCXkGoUBugsh1GngbqpCv9RKnunvyZ4ve4hJvK0vJj5v7tg7qhiKa1eesoTUU1o7nbfbFjQe_8c6xaZDOSfodbA8ZRLZNDN0_YG_w6AOVES1DkHeZIC79X/s320/Screenshot_20210702_013101.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>The True North strong and free!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyr884_dv-DNOrcGtOiAwwmgSU6B1VreYkOu-8yZx965VDcUCOxZ9kpdQPgPpAc6KKW91aKCdxCHsWdi0W4JA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /></div><div>From far and wide,</div></span><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.</span></span><div><span style="color: #202122; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ybPCDutPd1Oe36A7D5CF8Zoc7r9E5zv3ra0kdDpW7B3N6NM1GITgEyg1LOB7ADyxrnvEfTEdK9mxTFslZHVkUd-IZ0nUoDOVmMIuRu1Q12J6AVCUZlfreMR3LorGMipf-YJm8W1fjyfB/s2048/IMG_20210701_155634.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1871" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ybPCDutPd1Oe36A7D5CF8Zoc7r9E5zv3ra0kdDpW7B3N6NM1GITgEyg1LOB7ADyxrnvEfTEdK9mxTFslZHVkUd-IZ0nUoDOVmMIuRu1Q12J6AVCUZlfreMR3LorGMipf-YJm8W1fjyfB/s320/IMG_20210701_155634.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><br /></span></span><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: medium;">REFRAIN:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">God keep our land glorious and free!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiPp46lWGC6Sz2tmTcVseKUQgLewLbdN6O_5OppYChoJr5N6pgnvvLEKC1w30SDJQgrLkPrRqOhJRl2vAmgt61Gq63DfNsd7hkkCgd1c9MTMAgZH1t7hGZcpRRUaKTvbHPQp9Dicm4c7aC/s1361/Screenshot_20210702_022509.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1361" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiPp46lWGC6Sz2tmTcVseKUQgLewLbdN6O_5OppYChoJr5N6pgnvvLEKC1w30SDJQgrLkPrRqOhJRl2vAmgt61Gq63DfNsd7hkkCgd1c9MTMAgZH1t7hGZcpRRUaKTvbHPQp9Dicm4c7aC/s320/Screenshot_20210702_022509.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #202122; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrM6ALcRCYI3ar1-RHK0biqPQq1r4gvOyE1Mx5gPWMz7erM0k7KiECbsAHoyzHIqVZb8twsHm0W6-iOn6JpTt4jG76MSLmnyV9PJlH1rkmKBWepD8H3aFUpph70sPknimJK2pvmxEMErLI/s1152/Remembrance+Day+2017+-+Colour+Guard+1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="1152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrM6ALcRCYI3ar1-RHK0biqPQq1r4gvOyE1Mx5gPWMz7erM0k7KiECbsAHoyzHIqVZb8twsHm0W6-iOn6JpTt4jG76MSLmnyV9PJlH1rkmKBWepD8H3aFUpph70sPknimJK2pvmxEMErLI/s320/Remembrance+Day+2017+-+Colour+Guard+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">O </span><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">Canada! Where pines and maples grow,</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRyF0IMtKjhIX_ReKdnptkL7SXYPCmJyEuTf2_n_QMrQ-juAP1R3xBC7tAnqruYDtWOCT6RkusQRuJ7lE2OTa96X5TKM9cI_SRPoPdhHisWqo-IAqfMNjjLkvgFKc5nTjrGMmv4HDKoGia/s2048/IMG_20200923_134949.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRyF0IMtKjhIX_ReKdnptkL7SXYPCmJyEuTf2_n_QMrQ-juAP1R3xBC7tAnqruYDtWOCT6RkusQRuJ7lE2OTa96X5TKM9cI_SRPoPdhHisWqo-IAqfMNjjLkvgFKc5nTjrGMmv4HDKoGia/s320/IMG_20200923_134949.jpg" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><br /></span></span></div>Great prairies spread and lordly rivers flow,</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBuw5kUdnjV8O_SQ-gYGYvFOZTkJkVP-zH0C_cLAV0K2W49PUHbs-EJMiGnN_O3zTUeTV2vA0tcTz2sGPucsaaFdgUELIq29k2T-RxmWxoyZKKjFs930XSfhyl9WKOg1qDTGulBMBH_mM/s2048/IMG_20210702_023423.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBuw5kUdnjV8O_SQ-gYGYvFOZTkJkVP-zH0C_cLAV0K2W49PUHbs-EJMiGnN_O3zTUeTV2vA0tcTz2sGPucsaaFdgUELIq29k2T-RxmWxoyZKKjFs930XSfhyl9WKOg1qDTGulBMBH_mM/s320/IMG_20210702_023423.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">How dear to us thy broad domains, </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEBtN2fD8ACGtPr98xcCu80G4CoCFVIhhUSs-xSfpVklQxyLF0egndqEUfWM-7zZ_4t3iXqbsc8_jz1Zy0J6rVnMpvKFyXiPubTwAfMKUPwmigexyNtJ037j0mXj1RQWHUS0zUkKzUlbf/s2048/IMG_20210702_023929.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1379" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEBtN2fD8ACGtPr98xcCu80G4CoCFVIhhUSs-xSfpVklQxyLF0egndqEUfWM-7zZ_4t3iXqbsc8_jz1Zy0J6rVnMpvKFyXiPubTwAfMKUPwmigexyNtJ037j0mXj1RQWHUS0zUkKzUlbf/s320/IMG_20210702_023929.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">From East to Western sea!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwD-Yy3Nsw7hCHgBNTxNE7tn05U2aA-RdVl8KKsqzYRpXinfYPZoWmx8qCyMSrENfYYnBATA30XF6ZrwnEUBIgQlS2kO42WsYuVPflHicYxSiZzsgmjd8FSobws0juN5pq3rWQdZQEhJI/s2048/IMG_20190810_151654.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1293" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwD-Yy3Nsw7hCHgBNTxNE7tn05U2aA-RdVl8KKsqzYRpXinfYPZoWmx8qCyMSrENfYYnBATA30XF6ZrwnEUBIgQlS2kO42WsYuVPflHicYxSiZzsgmjd8FSobws0juN5pq3rWQdZQEhJI/s320/IMG_20190810_151654.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">Thou land of hope for all who toil!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrBu5YN09xiPDvb9M2Oh9Q-hnzGhP841KmrrYIVupJByoWX0vjpaOsBiVZ78PFu5ps6YNxVvMatMVHhEE1S1nzypUqyOUrDDPQ3lGrG92zPBt4ODrDPfZQNT3qFhGBcgVywqJpYahc7ua/s2048/IMG_20210702_032115.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1714" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrBu5YN09xiPDvb9M2Oh9Q-hnzGhP841KmrrYIVupJByoWX0vjpaOsBiVZ78PFu5ps6YNxVvMatMVHhEE1S1nzypUqyOUrDDPQ3lGrG92zPBt4ODrDPfZQNT3qFhGBcgVywqJpYahc7ua/s320/IMG_20210702_032115.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">Thou True North, strong and free!</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOyIZEruc_0cqL0Gz_qMOfniZN9U1Y67usG1YgYIaAPCbUKEKRxRgjtkstT6kss2Mc4Xme2GhBZjhp8UXt2gTtjuEkM2xzFzaQkdUIQF44qjRSkTlxYZRHjV6cE7VrunTKDjYK5j6xjTYV/s2048/IMG_20210702_050131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOyIZEruc_0cqL0Gz_qMOfniZN9U1Y67usG1YgYIaAPCbUKEKRxRgjtkstT6kss2Mc4Xme2GhBZjhp8UXt2gTtjuEkM2xzFzaQkdUIQF44qjRSkTlxYZRHjV6cE7VrunTKDjYK5j6xjTYV/s320/IMG_20210702_050131.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">(Refrain)</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">O Canada! Beneath thy shining skies</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ypyhIZ9iuYEnzGlngBHa1cRAvBDjqlh_i9H0Oype-o7OjVrYLQxPLzEeVdW-S-249wIFhiSqO_4sVOTjS9IlU4oztyLJ_U9ovTvYxlhRs2OuFptIbmu_S5Kq2MYKtrhrdeB4SubbR_8N/s2048/IMG_20210702_033534.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ypyhIZ9iuYEnzGlngBHa1cRAvBDjqlh_i9H0Oype-o7OjVrYLQxPLzEeVdW-S-249wIFhiSqO_4sVOTjS9IlU4oztyLJ_U9ovTvYxlhRs2OuFptIbmu_S5Kq2MYKtrhrdeB4SubbR_8N/s320/IMG_20210702_033534.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">May stalwart</span><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"> sons and gentle maidens rise,</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQbnhPE2kJDFj1SEr8_5NEHggEy2e5SIN_fMN1KZD45WAIFLH5bXbNomn0JO0MbIBsWoHWbDVsJmYP82SJENvyAtnoYc7tajiMMFq3uc2ooZQ6tpbQNSDTLzlNvCJuRU6fzJYu5doMovg/s1085/Screenshot_20210702_025323.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQbnhPE2kJDFj1SEr8_5NEHggEy2e5SIN_fMN1KZD45WAIFLH5bXbNomn0JO0MbIBsWoHWbDVsJmYP82SJENvyAtnoYc7tajiMMFq3uc2ooZQ6tpbQNSDTLzlNvCJuRU6fzJYu5doMovg/s320/Screenshot_20210702_025323.jpg" /></a></div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZdWaUGaIg106iEyniRBWERXqBWjIdrR6_9e8XUG_Th5Ad3K_xaVzxPmAsjNLpUhzPG40i9E3pySjj3jplGaRufwGT3uPIgUH_gFSy03H-3BwVm5PypRcLRoTA1eM5Efquwwqn7Q65jzz/s1603/Screenshot_20210702_024925.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1603" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZdWaUGaIg106iEyniRBWERXqBWjIdrR6_9e8XUG_Th5Ad3K_xaVzxPmAsjNLpUhzPG40i9E3pySjj3jplGaRufwGT3uPIgUH_gFSy03H-3BwVm5PypRcLRoTA1eM5Efquwwqn7Q65jzz/s320/Screenshot_20210702_024925.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">To keep thee steadfast through the years</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKa6xTeQzEEbycQuNEXIUkwRdm-1qUoOnpnJrLT23Kioo_zi8Mn0tje26AS41sRFq0yMRT6c25hgv_Ny6nDayfltGs9lxKsdCLMdHOWucgI1q1Ys3glOoJPlosSQ2lDPGvbOMogJb1XSJq/s2048/Remembrance+Day+2017+-+Charlie+Fielding+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKa6xTeQzEEbycQuNEXIUkwRdm-1qUoOnpnJrLT23Kioo_zi8Mn0tje26AS41sRFq0yMRT6c25hgv_Ny6nDayfltGs9lxKsdCLMdHOWucgI1q1Ys3glOoJPlosSQ2lDPGvbOMogJb1XSJq/s320/Remembrance+Day+2017+-+Charlie+Fielding+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">From East to Western sea,</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYksAoPFjLdH-83zWu20R0sOemKchdw8Q-D05VaNjhGSM1oB_5g-JPKeA6_nff8cbqwvYeH-j3YQL4_7LUZaUECCuAvnWcwk4NZtO7PhubT3b3Zkpw4zJwq9qA338IDhofzqP6QCVkE2ZH/s2048/IMG_20210702_033158.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1624" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYksAoPFjLdH-83zWu20R0sOemKchdw8Q-D05VaNjhGSM1oB_5g-JPKeA6_nff8cbqwvYeH-j3YQL4_7LUZaUECCuAvnWcwk4NZtO7PhubT3b3Zkpw4zJwq9qA338IDhofzqP6QCVkE2ZH/s320/IMG_20210702_033158.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">Our own beloved native land,</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Cm48SSiS0XK4FTLV7zqHK3iQEIEPNUyl8ZpdEEh9WxTNE58LwNX6EqRHDh_poOm7x3wnrzBGH3MD6HxOsnC-0PYwlhfPn3Dva5IVGc6CTxd7VoWx80pMpMRDopFM7BwXnsLd9CL3qz_E/s2048/IMG_20210702_031831.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1675" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Cm48SSiS0XK4FTLV7zqHK3iQEIEPNUyl8ZpdEEh9WxTNE58LwNX6EqRHDh_poOm7x3wnrzBGH3MD6HxOsnC-0PYwlhfPn3Dva5IVGc6CTxd7VoWx80pMpMRDopFM7BwXnsLd9CL3qz_E/s320/IMG_20210702_031831.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">Our True North, strong and free!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyygnZO9dLnnF1OSmT_rVHzzzPIb7wFZLr6O_ckHU0fFoGL_DjknMJV_4o60zTOgvzG9rQbDT9ojOlmbPNMB1MW2RL2P8wOxJUpP6b8A2UwTca5ybeRw5vm6iVCI4GgSW9LqGYDP2lMIKc/s1937/IMG_20210702_041427.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1937" data-original-width="933" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyygnZO9dLnnF1OSmT_rVHzzzPIb7wFZLr6O_ckHU0fFoGL_DjknMJV_4o60zTOgvzG9rQbDT9ojOlmbPNMB1MW2RL2P8wOxJUpP6b8A2UwTca5ybeRw5vm6iVCI4GgSW9LqGYDP2lMIKc/s320/IMG_20210702_041427.jpg" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">(Refrain)</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">Ruler Supreme, Who hearest humble prayer,</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwJMojnl3uEqY76UUsI2xe7KL7482kLeB8ivwdPZ8mL7cCl6rH1I7TqWzsu3LJs9FK7FVi94fYV6aHK-tPPcw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">Hold our dominion within Thy loving care.</span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7TFVCxD8nbw-Ty5f6Jb-JO7R5gHqu61X017hhTHoqy8NKM1sH2tIIu27W8n46GyHJgA3HsCKmQis4DdTWD-P59ZsLRY28MFJ1gJ2I0RRTOV7IW-XM-vmF6ChZY4L-0cJkRFgpx9srr_9/s551/Screenshot_20210702_034816.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="551" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7TFVCxD8nbw-Ty5f6Jb-JO7R5gHqu61X017hhTHoqy8NKM1sH2tIIu27W8n46GyHJgA3HsCKmQis4DdTWD-P59ZsLRY28MFJ1gJ2I0RRTOV7IW-XM-vmF6ChZY4L-0cJkRFgpx9srr_9/s320/Screenshot_20210702_034816.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">(Justin Tang / The Canadian Press) </div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">Help us to find, O God, in Thee</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">A lasting, rich reward,</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUxgCYnixCy8XErnn-RFVauWUjdGtbQc1aZJEnq7tb0G6jSzqE-jrQeNbbbWGU48lHdFsSZKQPPD3S9exneQvEdgoD_AindMhMRUCb4SZTyrzssC1zxRdSuY4LZwAysXb7xV-LXg7ubXU/s2048/IMG_20210702_041844.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUxgCYnixCy8XErnn-RFVauWUjdGtbQc1aZJEnq7tb0G6jSzqE-jrQeNbbbWGU48lHdFsSZKQPPD3S9exneQvEdgoD_AindMhMRUCb4SZTyrzssC1zxRdSuY4LZwAysXb7xV-LXg7ubXU/s320/IMG_20210702_041844.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">As waiting for the Better Day,</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WY4m_i7koClz4b_Hrk9pqZdOcQx0i8Fy48xVVlMLT3QeoRlUpeDC4ySOlbNQi2rBGQHffr_DyyymMbOy-nk9yn2FLlyYcbwDLKVS6RkytGAsu7RA96yx-9XszftqVGJHknB2edOgjoAP/s2048/IMG_20210702_020615.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WY4m_i7koClz4b_Hrk9pqZdOcQx0i8Fy48xVVlMLT3QeoRlUpeDC4ySOlbNQi2rBGQHffr_DyyymMbOy-nk9yn2FLlyYcbwDLKVS6RkytGAsu7RA96yx-9XszftqVGJHknB2edOgjoAP/s320/IMG_20210702_020615.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-size: large;">We ever stand on guard</span></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbEYd25vjt5UNJOX-kBd3ZOsnMwMzmNNWsZ3h3upfRUNxpwUndJRLh0GlKLjKVkNI2Sxdqej4zSMxFcu2yoKOT6VoNC6P7O-QZdHCG9Eslz4jDPaDKXG06zbywZi17R1NluUEwErXiW2O/s2048/IMG_20210702_042454.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1903" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbEYd25vjt5UNJOX-kBd3ZOsnMwMzmNNWsZ3h3upfRUNxpwUndJRLh0GlKLjKVkNI2Sxdqej4zSMxFcu2yoKOT6VoNC6P7O-QZdHCG9Eslz4jDPaDKXG06zbywZi17R1NluUEwErXiW2O/s320/IMG_20210702_042454.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">God keep our land glorious and free!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxtzKCMl0so9swe1pdauihPp_xOyAZDLUj02I936NjwhGARZ0ms6m5rQ5lc51am-m4T4FKz2vtvhNrJ3l_yca2nhKwTea1tHrLqcvLYyYbRqDjNXFLugHi2MA7ikdNCs5rcUat8PU3m9Fi/s2048/IMG_20210702_042728.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1841" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxtzKCMl0so9swe1pdauihPp_xOyAZDLUj02I936NjwhGARZ0ms6m5rQ5lc51am-m4T4FKz2vtvhNrJ3l_yca2nhKwTea1tHrLqcvLYyYbRqDjNXFLugHi2MA7ikdNCs5rcUat8PU3m9Fi/s320/IMG_20210702_042728.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.</span></span></div></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-grmJCXXmi7tmZp7C5rO7SFuTJl-s9ey85Tw4Wqn8Cp-kg-CWO-Z1u6TkeOwDfIisOWAzGhrgMd8uNKzY2qlwlmC7tjIXHyDd785wHT_LQ5ErmNMy9vpMg1bmVm9d3VnFv6I9wOcDf8E/s2048/IMG_20210702_043009.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1571" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-grmJCXXmi7tmZp7C5rO7SFuTJl-s9ey85Tw4Wqn8Cp-kg-CWO-Z1u6TkeOwDfIisOWAzGhrgMd8uNKzY2qlwlmC7tjIXHyDd785wHT_LQ5ErmNMy9vpMg1bmVm9d3VnFv6I9wOcDf8E/s320/IMG_20210702_043009.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-8797628065505614802021-06-11T01:13:00.006-06:002021-06-12T00:32:26.381-06:00Dear Mum and Dad<p> June 10 would have been your 60th wedding anniversary.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHCbPBXgU7J9bA6fw4IAkt72jKhvE5m1b1SARQOAQyThY93G-81ODQP7awtR8hKW2eXFUpxa-v7AyipWh0E7R0dZ_Uqm5xQRUJI-LdGqJG7chPzsAy9eVB_jJs22XSMjzN986JBdCFbP5/s1067/IMG_20210610_202705.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="776" data-original-width="1067" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHCbPBXgU7J9bA6fw4IAkt72jKhvE5m1b1SARQOAQyThY93G-81ODQP7awtR8hKW2eXFUpxa-v7AyipWh0E7R0dZ_Uqm5xQRUJI-LdGqJG7chPzsAy9eVB_jJs22XSMjzN986JBdCFbP5/s320/IMG_20210610_202705.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>How striking you both looked on June 10, 1961, ready to take on the world, "striving together" - your inscription inside your wedding bands. </p><p>And for 46 years you did just that. You both worked diligently and without complaint, a true team even when you weren't physically together in the same city. </p><p>Our home was filled with laughter, with singing, with conversation. With people. </p><p>With love. </p><p>You raised the six of us to love each other. You instilled into us that old acrostic for JOY:</p><p> Jesus first</p><p> Others next</p><p> Yourself last</p><p>And you walked the talk. There are many people in many parts of the world who can attest to your love for God, your love for each other, your love for your kids (both us and the many others whom you also loved and prayed for faithfully), and your love for pretty much anyone with whom you came into contact. </p><p>You both enjoyed teaching and you were good at it, investing into your students' lives. </p><p>You lived life to the fullest, with integrity, curiosity and enthusiasm. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On what should have been your 50th anniversary, Dad prepared a crown roast banquet for us, complete with fine china and the antique silverware he lovingly polished because "that's what Mum would have liked." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgit-isX7hLy7A-0wBPu-QHwobNNnBiMi_8kMzqeQrYN98sODkYSqmZ_xv-gnSTq8MvqD-l_F7Upg1x4sIi_YHOu1pjwKF2ka9g6LWZ7Omu6j6a4vocy4C9tsA639m5iHXlOma1C-hZgCXJ/s1405/Screenshot_20210611_005417.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1405" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgit-isX7hLy7A-0wBPu-QHwobNNnBiMi_8kMzqeQrYN98sODkYSqmZ_xv-gnSTq8MvqD-l_F7Upg1x4sIi_YHOu1pjwKF2ka9g6LWZ7Omu6j6a4vocy4C9tsA639m5iHXlOma1C-hZgCXJ/s320/Screenshot_20210611_005417.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After the feast, we all went out to the graveyard and we sang some of the mighty old hymns: "Amazing Grace" and "Great is Thy Faithfulness" and "Because He Lives I Can Face Tomorrow". Even though one of you was in heaven and the other still on earth, it didn't seem like you were that far apart. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And now, for your 60th anniversary - even though I am not sure how it all plays out up there - I imagine you are together, even closer than you were down here. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We are all doing okay, for the most part. You wouldn't have liked the last 15 months if you had still been with us: your deepest earthly joy was to be together as a family. But the vicissitudes of life without you have kept us close to each other, and nothing can take away that bond. That is something you both prayed for, I know. Thank you for teaching us that the greatest of all is love. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We would never wish you back; but, oh, how we miss you! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can just hear you singing to us ... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Goodnight, our God is watching o'er you</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Goodnight, His mercies go before you</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Goodnight, and we'll be praying for you</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>So goodnight, may God bless you. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiAgQcMr9TFcDnoIRPLYcu0pIok5ud1IZbDfq4HuxU_4nkZe6LaS265KwNdjWLS0H3AOfWUSTgT9yGXuAKzIdQO1iEtW_9syRWYhd7dJ56ERtJfIOTpw40ZLCD83uTyhfau1WFQV4ndboY/s1280/IMG_20210610_203208.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiAgQcMr9TFcDnoIRPLYcu0pIok5ud1IZbDfq4HuxU_4nkZe6LaS265KwNdjWLS0H3AOfWUSTgT9yGXuAKzIdQO1iEtW_9syRWYhd7dJ56ERtJfIOTpw40ZLCD83uTyhfau1WFQV4ndboY/s320/IMG_20210610_203208.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qT_4sbpiUibzsEiuuCldEP1udwZnD5PHvc3GJhqg0aLOm-9DFBKuvEwejddEv04Asrgax4rsCF-IojXMTdvtWle-JXlmgFJOvjTPyWxe5tCEeYq7fIETB_oeLHk066vCv_7XntgDFQSM/s375/IMG_20210611_014207_959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qT_4sbpiUibzsEiuuCldEP1udwZnD5PHvc3GJhqg0aLOm-9DFBKuvEwejddEv04Asrgax4rsCF-IojXMTdvtWle-JXlmgFJOvjTPyWxe5tCEeYq7fIETB_oeLHk066vCv_7XntgDFQSM/s320/IMG_20210611_014207_959.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com62tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-25988777265370566902021-06-08T21:29:00.008-06:002021-06-08T23:23:47.739-06:00A Picture of Me Without You<p> Sunday did not start off well.</p><p>I was leading the singing at church, and we also had a couple of my sisters as well as friends from Calgary who were going to be attending at the 11 o'clock service.</p><p>"It is so important for me to know that you will be there," I said to the Good Rancher as I got ready for the day. </p><p>"Don't worry; I will be," he reassured me as he pulled on his jeans and his jacket and prepared to do chores. </p><p>I called him from the 855 as I left for the first service at 10:00. "Yup, everything's going even better than normal. I'll be heading in to shower and change in just a few minutes." </p><p>The first service was beautiful, with my friend Sharalynn singing with me from the piano and the congregation singing heartily from behind their masks and carefully spaced two rows apart. </p><p>Our friends arrived for the second service. One of them, who has a splendid voice, agreed to sing with me; the music improved exponentially with his contribution! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcH6lR65l33F7MEh5fZ4ql0Nwm6snZ3Hki7anh6kP9Tu54-cs5I4KTeFdG7lJp2sO-GonzKpM73EqP3tzrP1x9oGi_5s8LqkK0i_VbbQYcMLrpcCV22HNOHYOHnnvvxwqeQSUbnl3ifaY-/s1024/IMG_20210608_111948.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcH6lR65l33F7MEh5fZ4ql0Nwm6snZ3Hki7anh6kP9Tu54-cs5I4KTeFdG7lJp2sO-GonzKpM73EqP3tzrP1x9oGi_5s8LqkK0i_VbbQYcMLrpcCV22HNOHYOHnnvvxwqeQSUbnl3ifaY-/s320/IMG_20210608_111948.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>The GR had not shown up by the time we had finished the first set of songs. </p><p>Then it was Communion, the time when Christians commemorate the Lord Jesus Christ's death on the cross to take away the sins of the world. To take away my sins. </p><p>At the end of that, it was time for another song. Still no GR. </p><p>The message wrapped up, a powerful exhortation on the topic of unforgiveness. The text was from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 7, verses 36-50, and Pastor Walter talked in particular about the two debtors, one who owed a lot and one who owed a little. Who was more grateful when the creditor forgave their debts? “God has forgiven us us all of our sins - can't we forgive those who have done us wrong? " Pastor Walter mused. He then went to the gospel of Matthew chapter 18, verses 21-35, the famous" 70x7" passage. "Don't hold on to injuries you have received from other people," he urged us. "Release them, and you yourself will be free." </p><p>At the end of the service I looked for the GR. Maybe he had come so late he sat in the lobby? </p><p>No one had seen him. </p><p>I was crushed. </p><p>A few weeks ago after church I was talking to my friend Rick, who was on usher duty. The GR hadn't made it to church that Sunday either, and Rick remarked that it would be great if the GR and I could actually ride together for a change. </p><p>I remembered the morning last year when the GR was talking to a guy who was trying very hard to get the job done around here, but who was very easily distracted. The three of us were sitting at the table having coffee. "I hate to say this in front of Karyn, but the cows come first, even over her," the GR told the guy, who glanced over at me with wide eyes. I just shrugged and smiled. What was there to say?! </p><p>I repeated this incident to Rick, wryly smiling again. "I guess that means I come second!" </p><p>Rick was shocked. "Karyn, I do not agree!" he replied. </p><p>"Really?" I interjected, hopefully.</p><p>"Absolutely not," Rick went on. "He loves his horses more than he loves his cows!" He couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye. </p><p>This Sunday morning I certainly felt third-rate. I called him as I was driving home. </p><p>"I wanted to be there, but the last heifer calved. I had to pull it. Another big calf. But, apart from Oracene, we're officially done calving!"</p><p>Of course I was happy for that, but I was hurt and resentful that once again my priorities took second place. It's not logical, I know. You can't tell the hef to hold off for a couple of hours! Nevertheless, I pouted and muttered to myself the entire 44-km drive. </p><p>And I had <i>just</i> listened to a sermon on the impact unforgiveness and bitterness has on a person! </p><p>That afternoon the GR and his Calgary friend - a physician who the GR says should have been a cowboy - went for a ride, and got to see a mama moose with twin babies! (Of course, neither of them took pictures...)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYITDYHUI3FWlqBh68wSbkQSJnuq_5dK2G89JTb4T5oR_KZFySLj3qiHwE0neZMJocYhoamvbr17AwQ_NJUsRENd0nY3Ijag-f48ReYiKGkC7kRT1_nvMLIbpHWpE5JyHQB_EfKuNbuS90/s2048/IMG_20210608_115817.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1483" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYITDYHUI3FWlqBh68wSbkQSJnuq_5dK2G89JTb4T5oR_KZFySLj3qiHwE0neZMJocYhoamvbr17AwQ_NJUsRENd0nY3Ijag-f48ReYiKGkC7kRT1_nvMLIbpHWpE5JyHQB_EfKuNbuS90/s320/IMG_20210608_115817.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXhnk7sSwWzv78g2xILtGZfR2NUf85WBYl9SNMnO9frYr_FjNqCHrbOtMXRItSwyGV2s4Nj7jebz7v-RvZipokmMVxampVnE6cgBK6WCJYfv5xKmHO8G0cCDfR5MsmfN2Wuaom9M8G9-be/s2048/IMG_20210608_115443.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1441" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXhnk7sSwWzv78g2xILtGZfR2NUf85WBYl9SNMnO9frYr_FjNqCHrbOtMXRItSwyGV2s4Nj7jebz7v-RvZipokmMVxampVnE6cgBK6WCJYfv5xKmHO8G0cCDfR5MsmfN2Wuaom9M8G9-be/s320/IMG_20210608_115443.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifD0b24Kut5oxd8cayH1Lqbv1zl1mDptHf1oW9eCeTcXqkBmcyuDjjD7IwIS4tw-GwD4OBS9wLt6fvnRtDL0Kw0BQQpDBQbtDkb2nmJ1_qN3pqG_qwg7cu-bIndCp5r7Cax4pubIgg65V2/s2048/IMG_20210608_115401.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1602" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifD0b24Kut5oxd8cayH1Lqbv1zl1mDptHf1oW9eCeTcXqkBmcyuDjjD7IwIS4tw-GwD4OBS9wLt6fvnRtDL0Kw0BQQpDBQbtDkb2nmJ1_qN3pqG_qwg7cu-bIndCp5r7Cax4pubIgg65V2/s320/IMG_20210608_115401.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>His wife, one of my sisters and I planted pretty things in the Round-up Corral. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cftxsv6Mc28gj2chy5dXKChvZjh6HoihhToY-MT4VcFs68YPfz3jdyWRlEtxrw3ZK1oIdlThyphenhyphenwrsbw35ZWv7tPt72Nz1G8Km8KqfZLqPYTo2Ep-IIKsorboAAvzm5j0LXPirqd8hryzS/s2048/IMG_20210606_170325.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cftxsv6Mc28gj2chy5dXKChvZjh6HoihhToY-MT4VcFs68YPfz3jdyWRlEtxrw3ZK1oIdlThyphenhyphenwrsbw35ZWv7tPt72Nz1G8Km8KqfZLqPYTo2Ep-IIKsorboAAvzm5j0LXPirqd8hryzS/s320/IMG_20210606_170325.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6p79XQEpMux_8xtC8aPVrdsz7zlQPEHRHq2lvC7fjuGuBww7BmPVtbhL_hZM2WWxHuHx73-qLoAe2c0CgUZKWrsK6FGMMM6Dz2FJ3fm6dvD-ek9Q8UFoSLweozkP6aHiHfj1saCBtGQg/s2048/IMG_20210606_170647.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6p79XQEpMux_8xtC8aPVrdsz7zlQPEHRHq2lvC7fjuGuBww7BmPVtbhL_hZM2WWxHuHx73-qLoAe2c0CgUZKWrsK6FGMMM6Dz2FJ3fm6dvD-ek9Q8UFoSLweozkP6aHiHfj1saCBtGQg/s320/IMG_20210606_170647.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24O5NUPVybe_4JzSn9dz3KBWbVuS_VcVVRPQogaA3YMDYzqk4ztaHfGQzjd7GQ9MfDWn__V3wJ7RTmDMIrickvYQ-9jSomqZ0ZBFPaII58xCg20zW0m1YWK_LHorbt1f_yILqQDhbJwSe/s2048/IMG_20210606_181013.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24O5NUPVybe_4JzSn9dz3KBWbVuS_VcVVRPQogaA3YMDYzqk4ztaHfGQzjd7GQ9MfDWn__V3wJ7RTmDMIrickvYQ-9jSomqZ0ZBFPaII58xCg20zW0m1YWK_LHorbt1f_yILqQDhbJwSe/s320/IMG_20210606_181013.jpg" /></a></div><p>After they left, the GR went to The Palace to do barn chores. I stayed to water the plants. When he was finished, he came back to help me. </p><p>Suddenly the lightning flashed pink in the clouds and the rain started to flow, tears caressing the hard face of the ground. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjupDh_XMtveRFpcYwA6jduC6-BFdIQoB6P1izaMw8kia2eLSo1gXoXVr66XRRC8OIOV26LtQJjvSTi7MdoV5babgqtyzKPW-KW2L0XA1dx_LeiovgJsffb2GxzAeBkURYo6e6g_f4UtJIU/s2048/IMG_20210606_213341.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjupDh_XMtveRFpcYwA6jduC6-BFdIQoB6P1izaMw8kia2eLSo1gXoXVr66XRRC8OIOV26LtQJjvSTi7MdoV5babgqtyzKPW-KW2L0XA1dx_LeiovgJsffb2GxzAeBkURYo6e6g_f4UtJIU/s320/IMG_20210606_213341.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>In the house that evening, I was polite but distant. Even the dogs suffered from my seething: no Milk Time, Milk Time tonight! Certainly no individual bedtime story ritual. I took myself off for a long soak in the tub.</p><p>The next morning, like every morning, before he went to do chores we prayed together, and he thanked God for the rain - 4/10ths of an inch - and for getting us through calving season. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnY3EBMEggYqQwn_38MoOdW2l3x9nCgNbiFLtmHvHlNazWNt54rOGgwYZ_t0nRI866grnOFPhsl-PcT5lVkryCReT9cHRgw5HGsPouBD0O9wMlo63-iKJrRNs0rsh6hvEyWBeRxYDzOd8j/s2048/IMG_20210607_095901.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnY3EBMEggYqQwn_38MoOdW2l3x9nCgNbiFLtmHvHlNazWNt54rOGgwYZ_t0nRI866grnOFPhsl-PcT5lVkryCReT9cHRgw5HGsPouBD0O9wMlo63-iKJrRNs0rsh6hvEyWBeRxYDzOd8j/s320/IMG_20210607_095901.jpg" /></a></div><p>He looked so tired. He said, "Stay in bed for a while longer. Get some rest."</p><p>I eventually got up and got ready for my revived regular Monday morning socially distanced coffee date. Gunpowder hopped into the truck with me. The rain was faint on the driveway. As I turned south on the 855, it grew a little stronger.</p><p>I saw him up ahead, next to his quad, talking to a neighbour in his truck. As I pulled over, the neighbour waved and drove on. "One of our cows and her calf got in with his herd. We'll get it out this afternoon. I just need to finish fixing the fence here. Have a good visit with Jean!" </p><p>Why was he so kind when I wanted to be cantankerous?! </p><p>As I continued driving, suddenly the sky opened and tipped a flash downpour of pounding rain combined with steely hail onto that part of the countryside. I felt the need to turn around, to make sure he was okay. </p><p>He wasn't at the spot I had seen him minutes earlier. I continued north, me and my truck and my dog in the rain, George Jones singing to me about the sadness. </p><p>And then I spotted him: steers had escaped from the field across the road from where he was fencing, and he had to drop everything and get them back in. </p><p>Right then, George started singing this song:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw9q13IgEwxB6N_r3WOY5AaZHKFa43r6liiZldlTNwPTR5n3WVE6sQJ1I5kq9KM2dMVtJJbjKtB6OTUmsPM2g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7SdZgmk--4w" width="320" youtube-src-id="7SdZgmk--4w"></iframe></div><p>And all my resentment left me, washed away by the song and the rain and the previous day's message that finally penetrated the crust of my hard heart. </p><p>This faithful, hard-working, uncomplaining man. What would I do without him? </p><p>That afternoon, we went together to bring in the rogue cow and calf. </p><p>I took pictures until my phone died. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgek0VjYnqu8dOrBYh3tIpngzElXjybxlVrLUZSwk25-yUOPop-RlSwGOGQB3kcWDPwCiyOT4XB-Kq3tQQGYZhRTA-PRYDnUdY8N6bn3ltMQ4kZitER9YmR9hdhHKyJkM3BVMgA9HiwMpD5/s2048/IMG_20210607_150056.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgek0VjYnqu8dOrBYh3tIpngzElXjybxlVrLUZSwk25-yUOPop-RlSwGOGQB3kcWDPwCiyOT4XB-Kq3tQQGYZhRTA-PRYDnUdY8N6bn3ltMQ4kZitER9YmR9hdhHKyJkM3BVMgA9HiwMpD5/s320/IMG_20210607_150056.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOwND2OnO2NDrO81fWMWpF-jgIeiApH32ugv5fHcMNjAaR72cwYSaPrV5Z6fUJCAzTVFkHhwXL8KqIRyFX4gXKBu6_ukvnzBDfLfwxcn0hecR28osoGx6KdenxfAmQFJE88wssGLrIrih/s2048/IMG_20210607_151727.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOwND2OnO2NDrO81fWMWpF-jgIeiApH32ugv5fHcMNjAaR72cwYSaPrV5Z6fUJCAzTVFkHhwXL8KqIRyFX4gXKBu6_ukvnzBDfLfwxcn0hecR28osoGx6KdenxfAmQFJE88wssGLrIrih/s320/IMG_20210607_151727.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPQDZqmKxgkJTOv65ioslMR_4vO4ye-adcaKr5S3T86XO0zTeO1XZH45-ugmIei2mrFpg0dHb6jt73RARg9UDR3PxWytm2Hyek1lgoTVyfxgUkI3ftKCkqDOalj8X90CDo23RQYqjkEiL/s2048/IMG_20210607_150953.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPQDZqmKxgkJTOv65ioslMR_4vO4ye-adcaKr5S3T86XO0zTeO1XZH45-ugmIei2mrFpg0dHb6jt73RARg9UDR3PxWytm2Hyek1lgoTVyfxgUkI3ftKCkqDOalj8X90CDo23RQYqjkEiL/s320/IMG_20210607_150953.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs9xZ54NBmlutsKw_eoKysQIuHLiX78A4Ir3Z7WI7Fc2kwjucEhyphenhyphensZ4ONEQjgsQLlAp9q7wNO6c5fL4Sd8d4xNNe22bnqBXTTGH1MJscG5P2qAgQmWxZEcmAX_lVdqqoy4t-QXOddJB0Q_/s2048/IMG_20210607_151314.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs9xZ54NBmlutsKw_eoKysQIuHLiX78A4Ir3Z7WI7Fc2kwjucEhyphenhyphensZ4ONEQjgsQLlAp9q7wNO6c5fL4Sd8d4xNNe22bnqBXTTGH1MJscG5P2qAgQmWxZEcmAX_lVdqqoy4t-QXOddJB0Q_/s320/IMG_20210607_151314.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Not 30 seconds later he called out, "There's your moose! And one of her babies!" <p></p><p>Of course, no pictures... </p><p>But something that will last longer, a picture of me with him, striving together toward the same goal, regardless of where we happen to be. </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-78234982123144407382021-05-28T12:17:00.003-06:002021-05-28T18:39:34.086-06:00Dutch Lullaby<p> <span style="font-family: verdana;">I heard a song quite some years ago, performed by Carly Simon and her sister Lucy. "Wynken, Blynken and Nod" is a simple, catchy ditty harkening back to a more innocent time where little people could sail off to the land of dreams in a wooden shoe.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On Tuesday night the Good Rancher was checking out cow-calf pairs on Kijiji (because when caring for cattle sunup to sundown is not enough, one can always browse the cattle for sale on Kijiji, the updated version of the Eatons and Sears wish books...). He came across this listing; his exclamation drew me over:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9y6vrF56CwuOEn5zB1X5_9kA5610K9d0XrjwSDaQ3DeuefTx51Xgk6LzYM7KjxpOxEDSQp_4NEOXFMlAPwR1gWMemgBBafbC0kGa2ySP3YEzcAlM9OBNwO4xTjQydDNKFXI1BYKcfPfen/s1491/Screenshot_20210528_002352.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1491" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9y6vrF56CwuOEn5zB1X5_9kA5610K9d0XrjwSDaQ3DeuefTx51Xgk6LzYM7KjxpOxEDSQp_4NEOXFMlAPwR1gWMemgBBafbC0kGa2ySP3YEzcAlM9OBNwO4xTjQydDNKFXI1BYKcfPfen/s320/Screenshot_20210528_002352.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEO3fa6aOcGyL9E35xNuLCHdYPVJN3jvRg-fAohPNni1bunqqT8MdOqw4gpXwU33Lqma6AFEIDFybhkxn1m01eMMsxKODNn9-AWalwnF2gx_3CFFUpSY8xTmf1wCYeapYkXiG5zov0cwG/s1493/Screenshot_20210528_002439.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1493" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEO3fa6aOcGyL9E35xNuLCHdYPVJN3jvRg-fAohPNni1bunqqT8MdOqw4gpXwU33Lqma6AFEIDFybhkxn1m01eMMsxKODNn9-AWalwnF2gx_3CFFUpSY8xTmf1wCYeapYkXiG5zov0cwG/s320/Screenshot_20210528_002439.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oh my. It couldn't hurt, could it, just to find out why they were selling? </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"We are a dairy farm and it doesn't fit in our operation. The calves are walking every where and are trying to suck our dry cows..." </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Those poor babies. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We looked at each other. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">A few more messages were exchanged. Then Wednesday morning: </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">"See if we can pick them up this afternoon," the GR said.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <i>"</i></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>We are away today, but are home tomorrow" </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thursday morning, as he was about to leave for barn chores in the newly-crowned Palace, the GR glanced back at me and said, "See if they are still available and if we could get there after 1 pm."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As we drove down the road we spotted the snow caps of the Rockies on the horizon. It was a beautiful, clear day. "What should we call them?" I mused. "Wynken, Blynken and Nod keeps coming to my head." I played him the Doobie Brothers version and the Simon Sisters version, but he couldn't really make out the words or the tune with all the air rushing around us from the open windows... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We arrived at the dairy farm shortly after 2 pm, and Elize and Theo were there in the yard to meet us. Right away they took us to see their daughters' 4H steers, which had been shown the previous day." This is what the calves will grow up to look like!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then they showed us their heifers, who were clearly loved because they came up to us for head scratches and pats. "Our girls spend a lot of time with them," Theo commented wryly. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After that we got to see the baby pail bunters, who will be used for 4H next year; from there it was on to the milking barns. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This family farm doesn't use the high-tech, hands-off approach. Theo and his hired hands milk for two hours starting at 5 a.m., and again at 4 p.m. Their cows are healthy and well treated. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We came across one noble red cow in her own large pen. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Remember the one red heifer you saw in the middle of all the blues?" asked Elize. "She is our one and only replacement heifer for this old red cow of ours... She has been a fantastic cow, and will get to live out her days here. She's our friend."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We went one barn over and were greeted by a frisky little "blue" calf. I cannot be sure why, but some black and white or grey speckledy cattle are called blue. They are invariably beautiful. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Here's the mum. She's a little distressed this afternoon. She knows something's up," commented Theo, patting her gently. "And now, here are the triplets!" </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mRIuPdCUiINA8xj4Bi7Uu9TDtC4gAi2ep5m6pP-1tpA6edNpJmFER50m4u9TZ4m6u76JAldBss4i1O46035n3oE00lFCrUyP5_HSGAcXWTpc03rcv0s6eyXhEyOifpeiiAmmEaj-kqcQ/s2048/IMG_20210528_011347.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mRIuPdCUiINA8xj4Bi7Uu9TDtC4gAi2ep5m6pP-1tpA6edNpJmFER50m4u9TZ4m6u76JAldBss4i1O46035n3oE00lFCrUyP5_HSGAcXWTpc03rcv0s6eyXhEyOifpeiiAmmEaj-kqcQ/s320/IMG_20210528_011347.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first one we had met came trotting back into his mother's huge pen to see what was going on. The littlest one lay close to her mummy. The third had snuck into the neighbour's pen and was snoozing.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"The two bigger ones are the bull calves and the little one is the girl, most likely a <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freemartin" target="_blank">freemartin</a> as I mentioned to you while we were discussing them." He got his cow over to the side of the pen and knelt in front of her to take off her collar and to say goodbye. "She's one of our best cows..." His voice trailed off. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lMehjdD_BaiQH5wFOCTasA0_Xqp7acXm-qp71LFGNKLMXVuVxOZTu_yM9PO0Yb5eDUbpFoqSs76JZ5eoixP9g0HNMy3t1unt3oruy0Brwncdc58a3DsJvz6dV482BUeWvlPFGYFRcXuo/s2048/IMG_20210527_143611.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lMehjdD_BaiQH5wFOCTasA0_Xqp7acXm-qp71LFGNKLMXVuVxOZTu_yM9PO0Yb5eDUbpFoqSs76JZ5eoixP9g0HNMy3t1unt3oruy0Brwncdc58a3DsJvz6dV482BUeWvlPFGYFRcXuo/s320/IMG_20210527_143611.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was heartbroken for this man. I turned to Elize, standing next to me. "Why doesn't he just sell the calves and keep the cow?" </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">She looked back at me, pain in her face too, and slowly she explained. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"This is the second set of triplets we have had in the whole time we have had our operation. They are very special to us. They are all healthy. She loves all three of them and they all love each other. How could we possibly separate them? If we kept them here, the boys would end up in a feed lot. The girl would be no good to us. The cow would have no one. We want them to be together for as long as possible."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Immediately my mind went to that Bible story of old, of wise King Solomon who had to adjudicate in the case of the two mothers, one of whose baby had died. You know the story. The two devastated women stood in front of him, each claiming that the live baby was hers. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Give me my sword," said Solomon. "We will cut this live baby in half and each of you will get half."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">One immediately agreed to the pronouncement as being fair and equitable. The other, sobbing, asked the king to reconsider and please give the baby to her rival. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The king had his answer. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Theo and Elize, in their own way, were doing the same thing as that mother: for love of their cow and her happiness, they were willing to give her up.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My eyes filled with tears and Elize was blinking hard.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Theo went to the office and brought back a piece of paper, carefully protected in a clear plastic sleeve. "Here are her papers," he said. "You had better have them now."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And suddenly we were the owners of a purebred Holstein cow and her three Belgian blue babies! Wynken and Blynken would be the boys' names and Nod the sweet little girl's. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We loaded them into the GR's stock trailer, mum in the first compartment and three protesting babies into the middle compartment. One last pause to hand Elize a box of doughnuts we had picked up for them from Bloke's Bakery in Stettler - after all, dairy farmers should have the joy of tasting a cream john, shouldn't they?! - and we were on the road home.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As the GR drove, I started talking about a name for the mum. My connection to Holland, home of the dairy farmers, is that my Aunt Mabel married Henk and cares for him and their two Canadian-Dutch children and grandchildren with every fibre of her being.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"I think her name is Mabel," I suggested to the GR.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Oh man," he replied with a grin. Henk is one of his favourite people anywhere.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"I wish that Wynken, Blynken and Nod could be connected to Holland in some way too. Maybe I should find better names," I fretted. I googled the names to discover their origin and picked Wikipedia as my source for the answer:</span></p><p><i><b style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #202122; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Wynken, Blynken, and Nod </b><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;">is a popular poem for children written by American writer and poet </span><a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eugene_Field" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #3366cc; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Eugene Field">Eugene Field</a><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;"> and published on March 9, 1889. The original title was "Dutch Lullaby". The poem is a fantasy bed-time story about three children sailing and fishing among the stars from a boat which is a wooden shoe. The names suggest a sleepy child's blinking eyes and nodding head. The spelling of the names, and the "wooden shoe," suggest Dutch language and names, as hinted in the original title</span></i></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: verdana; font-size: 16px;">"I guess your first instincts for their names were right!" the GR laughed. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: verdana; font-size: 16px;">And look at the name of the person who created a statue in their honour! " I shrieked.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: verdana; font-size: 16px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupDgCDWh4kSYprCkxf7zYVQDKhYyXGUqiMzeA0l6kiWSKVDDe0o7B-f8YNjhnxkL_Ak6POtqDgyWLZZ0tPkmdhgdH0dkLx7dVzBTb7-Ib-pReZotV5YCwY5q2k7cCNoTbfe8zwzuDhMoA/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="220" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupDgCDWh4kSYprCkxf7zYVQDKhYyXGUqiMzeA0l6kiWSKVDDe0o7B-f8YNjhnxkL_Ak6POtqDgyWLZZ0tPkmdhgdH0dkLx7dVzBTb7-Ib-pReZotV5YCwY5q2k7cCNoTbfe8zwzuDhMoA/" width="160" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(Wynken, Blynken and Nod by Mabel Landrum Torrey, 1918, formerly a fountain in Washington Park, Denver)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He crinkled his eyes at me. "I guess she's Mabel then!"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnE2nHQvyARyXF7dQESIpSMKjLm9gS9Lnoo99emNRqYSLWo0nJRbwEZmPG90XnkVil9OCM83uyYCdie2zd4f8gL8omaVmZUB35sh-Fcb-dOA-xd6TXS6zK7k7sAz9WWTmU_o7TK1i8R-D/s2048/IMG_20210527_184652.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1531" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnE2nHQvyARyXF7dQESIpSMKjLm9gS9Lnoo99emNRqYSLWo0nJRbwEZmPG90XnkVil9OCM83uyYCdie2zd4f8gL8omaVmZUB35sh-Fcb-dOA-xd6TXS6zK7k7sAz9WWTmU_o7TK1i8R-D/s320/IMG_20210527_184652.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">When we got home we ran the babies out, and Mabel followed, a bit shell-shocked by the ride, no doubt. The GR got W,B&N into the Palace with their new royal playmates, and led Mabel over to where there was hay and fresh water.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then it was supper time at the Palace. We wondered how our four newest residents would do. The GR got all the babies sorted into their normal dining rooms, and put the three newbies into a vacant one. First he sent up good old Horns, mother of Princess Anne and adoptive mother of Phil. I closed the gate behind her.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the pen next to them stood the three babies, unsure of themselves and their new surroundings.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyqR5s4sqh-adDsZEZpjYXETrVvSkftBhkyextjlYnfM4d2cGjrf0UI2KDWeBGGwNx4XR1GJXFKSvYWqMnuaGbzarrrqgiE0Y831oDQ1EZMX2AOoAM9VgFVGeAL1JobDfFKgFFL-grDV-/s2048/IMG_20210527_182853.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1386" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyqR5s4sqh-adDsZEZpjYXETrVvSkftBhkyextjlYnfM4d2cGjrf0UI2KDWeBGGwNx4XR1GJXFKSvYWqMnuaGbzarrrqgiE0Y831oDQ1EZMX2AOoAM9VgFVGeAL1JobDfFKgFFL-grDV-/s320/IMG_20210527_182853.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Here comes Mabel!" And up walked this beautiful, stately mother, straight into the middle of her little tribe.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She indulged herself with just one mouthful of dairy ration; and when her babies had still not moved, gave them a sharp, one-word command. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">They hustled then! </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyVI8ywU-oKxedplvIUdyxgMidrGx-Cm9EamLGiQrriWoaEWem2jhVt9vqBDKejCLInJ2GW6AIJ6cYkhZIPlQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The three of them crowded to one side, but with a little hip checking she got Nod out of the way of her big brothers. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Two particularly sweet moments occurred: the first was a brief exchange between Horns and Mabel, a sort of "You're not alone in this" look.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-MkU435AjVeLVqezk1o9BzG8ANqCiZWQ6i2rFybPF7XvsUbzOfHXbuKtMlN9SYnRxzxNrsWXCNAsu2yhgKC-iFxhtcewKMc2LVKERmGonGcT6uWBOkOdI1ptV_hqTYqaIfJryux3JpMK/s2048/IMG_20210527_174831.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-MkU435AjVeLVqezk1o9BzG8ANqCiZWQ6i2rFybPF7XvsUbzOfHXbuKtMlN9SYnRxzxNrsWXCNAsu2yhgKC-iFxhtcewKMc2LVKERmGonGcT6uWBOkOdI1ptV_hqTYqaIfJryux3JpMK/s320/IMG_20210527_174831.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: verdana;">The second was when Nod went over to her mummy's head after she had finished eating.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoI8ezxPDJaKhiTC_GSCVhnIAMYzHh8Yxhlqn32F9CS6pY7CVsIlC7TrWrbpJAXsj1MWfikxd2xlzxVMQHgaEm7X73SPi7LTu8I0oGqcykgexMsp13lpdbgqCbTtXHZhtn86uonCaUrUI/s2048/IMG_20210527_174541.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoI8ezxPDJaKhiTC_GSCVhnIAMYzHh8Yxhlqn32F9CS6pY7CVsIlC7TrWrbpJAXsj1MWfikxd2xlzxVMQHgaEm7X73SPi7LTu8I0oGqcykgexMsp13lpdbgqCbTtXHZhtn86uonCaUrUI/s320/IMG_20210527_174541.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mabel tucked her girl under her chin and they stood there, quietly, while the boys scampered around them. </span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLob9r39X99v_bs4uvIn3wcq4HGE8rqkSo4fJuuUiO4mGkZL2AR8n2T0e9qNsMs_KEWdISUPxh6d8N4Y4sZiGt-97yQf2Jib5StQ1CDMfGczyFcqMAvKAbAqlscKfyoWwp40VHah7nIrOF/s1742/IMG_20210527_181550.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1742" data-original-width="1244" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLob9r39X99v_bs4uvIn3wcq4HGE8rqkSo4fJuuUiO4mGkZL2AR8n2T0e9qNsMs_KEWdISUPxh6d8N4Y4sZiGt-97yQf2Jib5StQ1CDMfGczyFcqMAvKAbAqlscKfyoWwp40VHah7nIrOF/s320/IMG_20210527_181550.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Later that night, before we went to bed, we went to check on the Palace. All the residents were getting along well together. Mabel, Horns and Goldie were nearby, lowing softly at their babies. W,B&N were together.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5dP13adDYd-nfk1iGd40-Rv_pXMstH4xP1VJ9E5VR3MMvtRInNGyQ24ya1SQ5rz4GFizVchQBO0Maxc2CUHthMWSrA_TsldbfzvMl-fFqj2-wh_-BdLFJnzMmB5x7MGWfUscXW3M38ad/s2048/IMG_20210527_175517.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5dP13adDYd-nfk1iGd40-Rv_pXMstH4xP1VJ9E5VR3MMvtRInNGyQ24ya1SQ5rz4GFizVchQBO0Maxc2CUHthMWSrA_TsldbfzvMl-fFqj2-wh_-BdLFJnzMmB5x7MGWfUscXW3M38ad/s320/IMG_20210527_175517.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This morning, look who was waiting to greet Mabel for breakfast! </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRYsgw-TiT4I4EjHQX_ZI0Qfzy0IHd4wNB-Vha7-KKOfO1mPKoEE9lj_MewhIoPkaeWCveCykZu6r-rjSMoQiTsRRLsokPDLv555sjL9g8kyqhJAASSUtFLBneM3SJU-M6azWU9iTZjn0/s2048/IMG_20210528_081348.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRYsgw-TiT4I4EjHQX_ZI0Qfzy0IHd4wNB-Vha7-KKOfO1mPKoEE9lj_MewhIoPkaeWCveCykZu6r-rjSMoQiTsRRLsokPDLv555sjL9g8kyqhJAASSUtFLBneM3SJU-M6azWU9iTZjn0/s320/IMG_20210528_081348.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In a few days, when everyone is homed in and fully comfortable, mothers and babies will all be taken out to enjoy fresh, green grass. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And - just like Elize and Theo hoped - Mabel, along with her triplets Wynken, Blynken and Nod, will be together for as long as they possibly can. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEaclHzvuOVYpj1ChitsjXTN8ApjulQvSAg3wH1jiwEAGzMcYFUP1glb88fDvtAGa8WhqqeEgXL7b-iZD4q5CHtZ_4Q7CUyLh8miEbvCanFEodJCd7oaR_d2t0sJryr5fpxnb_aocDynf/s2048/IMG_20210527_174336.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEaclHzvuOVYpj1ChitsjXTN8ApjulQvSAg3wH1jiwEAGzMcYFUP1glb88fDvtAGa8WhqqeEgXL7b-iZD4q5CHtZ_4Q7CUyLh8miEbvCanFEodJCd7oaR_d2t0sJryr5fpxnb_aocDynf/s320/IMG_20210527_174336.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8tTQaibBUloRTXOtOCSBjiAmUum9bkQP2V2xqG5ojp3YjGgawBl095mACaff0vFVr2Km8QfuHunMVNnEtNbMEbx5Ga_19Za-quknYswyAKur-ezJ-LWPwOzF3FtXw0VHQoIICGEFO_-xS/s2048/IMG_20210527_175004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8tTQaibBUloRTXOtOCSBjiAmUum9bkQP2V2xqG5ojp3YjGgawBl095mACaff0vFVr2Km8QfuHunMVNnEtNbMEbx5Ga_19Za-quknYswyAKur-ezJ-LWPwOzF3FtXw0VHQoIICGEFO_-xS/s320/IMG_20210527_175004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Welcome to your new home! </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZgmKcbLJVxg" width="320" youtube-src-id="ZgmKcbLJVxg"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZgmKcbLJVxg" width="320" youtube-src-id="ZgmKcbLJVxg"></iframe></div><br /></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-55292106401703452142021-02-22T23:24:00.002-07:002021-02-24T13:10:03.027-07:00Filling a Cavity<p>Had it seriously been five years?!</p><p>As I walked through the doors of my dentist's office, it hit me that the last time I was here I had brought my Dad in for some dental work. </p><p>I think that my Dad actually didn't mind having not great teeth, because it gave him the opportunity to see one of the people his heart loved: Brian. </p><p>Brian was drawn into Dad's tribe when he was around 16 or 17 and, once ensconced in his heart, Dad didn't let him go.</p><p>I checked in with Jen at the front desk - she has had a child since I last saw her; imagine! </p><p>Then I sat in the waiting room and drew in a deep breath. </p><p>On some days I feel the void his absence has left more than on others. I didn't know that this day would be one of those days. </p><p>Before I could become completely maudlin, Jo came to take me back to the room. Jo has worked with Brian for over 20 years, and she forgave me for not remembering. She did x-rays and got me ready for Dr Brian to fix my broken tooth. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhuICbKjxJiDsbc1HsgePgwTh0mLvkoe6kNp61KUnfzhQj-mC7rMueFC8uk6u-6lVm25k_xXXYB-iEzTe3-KUgd8xG3RKN4SlloDMM8QS2tajHKknERgdf0Jd3uwN0OxXXp1IllQc_0Mz/s2048/IMG_20210222_231403.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhuICbKjxJiDsbc1HsgePgwTh0mLvkoe6kNp61KUnfzhQj-mC7rMueFC8uk6u-6lVm25k_xXXYB-iEzTe3-KUgd8xG3RKN4SlloDMM8QS2tajHKknERgdf0Jd3uwN0OxXXp1IllQc_0Mz/s320/IMG_20210222_231403.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>"Did I mention to you that you're one of my oldest friends?" he began. </p><p>"As long as you don't say I'm one of your eldest friends," I replied, and everything was as it always was.</p><p>My broken tooth contained an old silver-type filling that had to be drilled out and replaced, and then Brian built back the broken tooth so smoothly that I can't differentiate between the original and the artificial. </p><p>While this was going on, Jo and Brian chatted over my head, their familiar voices almost like, well, family. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsLqIqtojKNPAAbyYvjhauhjzGYkABgix2UhwMvMlXKAH1vCbRmZcDM05OE9LfYsWlMadNUNCzfuqefYA4-GhZoEwBSb5xzeXBiV06qkaOz1AXoR0wsaQaDon8Miqs0SzM7g8vOEptGy6/s2048/IMG_20210222_231430.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsLqIqtojKNPAAbyYvjhauhjzGYkABgix2UhwMvMlXKAH1vCbRmZcDM05OE9LfYsWlMadNUNCzfuqefYA4-GhZoEwBSb5xzeXBiV06qkaOz1AXoR0wsaQaDon8Miqs0SzM7g8vOEptGy6/s320/IMG_20210222_231430.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Then as he was preparing to head to his next patient, he paused and — almost like it was out of thin air — he said, "Sometimes your Dad would say to me, 'You are precious to me'..." </p><p>He looked at me. "You are precious to me," he said softly. </p><p>A few minutes later he came up to the reception desk where I had bumped into my sister, who had booked an appointment six months ago for this very time! “You are precious to me," he said to her. </p><p>"You were very precious to him," I replied. </p><p>What a benediction, a bene dictum, for two daughters who had both been wanting a word from their Dad that day! </p><p>Words ... they have so much power. They have the power of life and of death. A friend of mine who knows me gave me a splendid book not long ago, Peter H. Reynolds' <i>The Word Collector. </i>This book is the book I wish I had written. It is simple yet profound. I have it on my piano to remind me to use words wisely and well. There is a proverb in the Bible which says, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver." A more modern translation reads, "The right word spoken at the right time is as beautiful as gold apples in a silver bowl" (Proverbs 25:11, KJV and NCV).</p><p>That is what Brian's words were to us last Thursday. </p><p>Today, February 22, would have been my Mum's 84th birthday. She loved words, as did Dad. So in honour of her I have something to give away: a box set of three of Peter H. Reynolds' books. It contains <i>Say Something, Happy Dreamer, </i>and, of course,<i> The Word Collector. </i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvmff8NS779nUIhfqIde5laMU8cfZfO9TCTJ7xLCplA9D6ijcoGNZg4grKfgo-Gnv9EiIiCVVDi7z-vVV1p7sbln2FHtU8dN7_fPlHCS2aDcJcQw64HoafHTAosHYa5Kmt67_FM9KaLDd/s2048/IMG_20210222_230817.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvmff8NS779nUIhfqIde5laMU8cfZfO9TCTJ7xLCplA9D6ijcoGNZg4grKfgo-Gnv9EiIiCVVDi7z-vVV1p7sbln2FHtU8dN7_fPlHCS2aDcJcQw64HoafHTAosHYa5Kmt67_FM9KaLDd/s320/IMG_20210222_230817.jpg" /></a></div><i><br /></i><p></p><p>To have a chance at winning this collection, all you have to do is write a comment - either at the end of this blog post, or on Facebook or Instagram, telling about someone whose words changed your life / outlook / day for the better. The Good Rancher himself is going to be the judge! I will read him the comments, minus the author's name, and he will choose the winner. </p><p>Happy birthday, Mum. </p><p>We love you, Dad. </p><p>And from all six of Dad's children I say, You are precious to us, Brian. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rtYDQDOLvRMKCN7vdr6hoydaYWlR-1oPaT6BV3SZDZGxwbc-G6V02XSdqt9YXFtUvKTx7Aj5SO0V-3k2Nblk4T6VUuVEEU7eMpE_MPi4Ca_vP4lvkXJix49KipjN9PgsvLpvK3qNJHfS/s2048/IMG_20210222_231133.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2047" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rtYDQDOLvRMKCN7vdr6hoydaYWlR-1oPaT6BV3SZDZGxwbc-G6V02XSdqt9YXFtUvKTx7Aj5SO0V-3k2Nblk4T6VUuVEEU7eMpE_MPi4Ca_vP4lvkXJix49KipjN9PgsvLpvK3qNJHfS/s320/IMG_20210222_231133.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyh5ULMd44qCz2E-DQm4wt02hQK_z6RV3kP0UQPFjNnvuLOlcXCYkx7xgmEnz1XghbZtrmiYmPjDAl90yElVoEXRC3XCLHIst1VWmwdQKNAQnkfC5O6Rp_n31Ap4irZBPvivWAcRn3EtI/s2048/IMG_20210222_231155.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2047" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyh5ULMd44qCz2E-DQm4wt02hQK_z6RV3kP0UQPFjNnvuLOlcXCYkx7xgmEnz1XghbZtrmiYmPjDAl90yElVoEXRC3XCLHIst1VWmwdQKNAQnkfC5O6Rp_n31Ap4irZBPvivWAcRn3EtI/s320/IMG_20210222_231155.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-73851976566867108102021-02-15T00:56:00.006-07:002021-02-15T08:23:07.333-07:00Because I Choose To<p>It's getting close to midnight on this coldest of Valentine's days. The Good Rancher is out defrosting a frozen up waterer that his horses use. This morning he was up before the sun - all the waterers were frozen, and he had to do extra feeding today. Then came bedding - in weather like this, everyone gets straw to snuggle down into, even the grand old matriarchs of the herd. </p><p>It has been like this all week. The weather was supposed to break a couple of days ago. Now the weather forecasters are talking maybe tomorrow, just like they have said since Thursday.</p><p>I went to church by myself and Pastor Walt and Roxie sang my song, accompanied by Sharalynn on the piano, her fingers weaving some of the sweetest harmonies I have ever heard:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1frO9BEvmNgTXvgKesfMaMn6pldeYlPmKWUQyJfy7_Vg3ErJM0K_6818N7Vuvfw8ATtB6TF-fDrko6Zald8ZETE3YkwT8rocPOA0-VbA_i_d378erPeccjtJ6loNJqs-0XUGWSxyLxRqy/s2048/IMG_20210214_230506.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1278" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1frO9BEvmNgTXvgKesfMaMn6pldeYlPmKWUQyJfy7_Vg3ErJM0K_6818N7Vuvfw8ATtB6TF-fDrko6Zald8ZETE3YkwT8rocPOA0-VbA_i_d378erPeccjtJ6loNJqs-0XUGWSxyLxRqy/s320/IMG_20210214_230506.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After both services I headed home, fortified with a box of goodies from Roxie. The sky was bright blue, and you would be forgiven for thinking that the outside *must* have warmed up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yup: -29 with a wind chill of -41. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He didn't get in until just before 4 o'clock, his face burnt by the wind. I had asked him a couple of days earlier if we could go for brunch. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Sorry. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But it's our anniversary! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>The cows don't know it's our anniversary. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ahhhh...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was eating leftovers from last night's quiet celebratory steak dinner. He had coffee and salad. Then he got up and handed me a bag from Lawlor's Jewelers in Stettler. It was the same bag I had picked up for him last week when I had to run in, the bag that had a stern warning on it, DO NOT OPEN BEFORE VALENTINE'S. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Inside was a heart cradling an icy diamond and floating precariously on the most delicate chain.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He had taken the time, in the middle of the night, to go online and choose this for me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He had remembered our anniversary this year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It didn't feel so precarious this year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A couple of months ago, when the familiar terror of not-being-good-enough threatened to swallow me, when the why-is-the-garbage-not-taken-out riff started to play in my head, when the why-can-he-not-stay-awake-for-a-conversation refrain started to repeat itself, God impressed upon my heart that I could control none of that. All I could control was me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A friend of mine was asked how he had kept his marriage together through three-plus decades shaped by illness and turmoil. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"Because every morning, I choose to love," was his quiet response. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so I asked God to make me more sensitive to the Good Rancher, to seek out ways I could make his life easier. To choose, each day, to love. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One week later, everything I had been fulminating about seemed to be resolving. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Conversation ✔️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Inadequacy ✔️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Even garbage! ✔️</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We were laughing together. He was starting my truck before he left for chores. We began drinking tea together in the evening as we watched the news. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And it dawned on me that for the past seven years, when I have been so broken, so ragged, the Good Rancher has also been choosing all this time - in the midst of all his other responsibilities - to love. To love me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I recognised it when the little white gold heart, burnished through fiery trials, settled sideways into the hollow at the base of my throat like it had found its home. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmbG2os6wHm0q7r7VhtEhjX7AJuO5z2bXIx120_DZyeCvfGMvahD9wyu8GHxjRylgADc-oh0eI_ry_pQYPT4FEz-JyDvlg9JCi61CZ5rc29HnuZqL9eikAqLY_M7iWCmR9vrpvBnlP3uk/s2048/IMG_20210214_224923.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmbG2os6wHm0q7r7VhtEhjX7AJuO5z2bXIx120_DZyeCvfGMvahD9wyu8GHxjRylgADc-oh0eI_ry_pQYPT4FEz-JyDvlg9JCi61CZ5rc29HnuZqL9eikAqLY_M7iWCmR9vrpvBnlP3uk/s320/IMG_20210214_224923.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's 12:17 midnight and he just came in. The water is boiling and I make two mugs of tea. "It was frozen EIGHT FEET DOWN, but the dogs and I finally got it thawed! 🎶Praise God from whom all BLESS-ings FLOWWWWWWW🎵!!" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He settles into his recliner and sips his tea and eats a heart cookie from Roxie's box of goodies. It was a full anniversary meal in that box. Ah, well. The lasagna and French bread will keep for tomorrow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"This time seven years ago you were just finishing up helping your tea house kids do the dishes after the wedding reception," he recalls. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"You should have bolted right then while you had the chance!" I retort. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He grins. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He turns on the TV and finds the news. He will be dozing before the second story. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Today I broke a tooth munching popcorn on the way back from church, and I found a full box of contact lenses while looking for something else at home. You lose some, you win some. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">" Forty-nine years in dog years!" I whisper to Musket, Phoebe Snow, Earl Grey, Carly Simon and Gunpowder. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was a wonderful anniversary. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uoWyvtTenjWYyw8VEsBfLDhFNwWZGZskxOfDnz2T_pgGrj7clCPZsvxMx7U6Si6fg7fI-TYOwgsqbHrka85StF6FYDpAmPnpig5hLuZkfuYiKOIAq8gJG-rpalB60HfAIck8Ul-hBSGI/s2048/IMG_20210215_010649_598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uoWyvtTenjWYyw8VEsBfLDhFNwWZGZskxOfDnz2T_pgGrj7clCPZsvxMx7U6Si6fg7fI-TYOwgsqbHrka85StF6FYDpAmPnpig5hLuZkfuYiKOIAq8gJG-rpalB60HfAIck8Ul-hBSGI/s320/IMG_20210215_010649_598.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cookies from Roxie, mugs from Erin<br />Heart box from the GR</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com74tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-45451358343697498452021-01-27T23:32:00.004-07:002021-01-28T11:25:15.971-07:00"Hey, Buddy" <p>The first thing I noticed when I walked in was his eye, half closed like he was almost asleep. He was lying on his side.</p><p>"Oh, my little Bartimaeus," I whispered; and for the first time, he never got up and trundled over to me.</p><p>The Good Rancher had been concerned about Bart when he went to feed Aiyo his late night bottle last night. Bart seemed ... listless. His breathing was fine, not the normal snuffly sounds we had become accustomed to. But he didn't come over for his regular belly scratch, and that was not the affectionate little fellow we were used to.</p><p>We had found out about Bart's love for a good belly scratch when The Kid showed up back in the fall.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntxEAAcksmsUE_qqH-uZoMxweZ9ztnn839Y7qPAOVhwGjGK6pMaYldSAoANKn4j3eF4CQpNTmP0SInrFOadHeSPmmzfIpzUEDMMS5F-Juj4sLD8pSHRs-26tkM5CUxPmJ0uhNVqqR7hFa/s2048/IMG_20210128_001218.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1533" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntxEAAcksmsUE_qqH-uZoMxweZ9ztnn839Y7qPAOVhwGjGK6pMaYldSAoANKn4j3eF4CQpNTmP0SInrFOadHeSPmmzfIpzUEDMMS5F-Juj4sLD8pSHRs-26tkM5CUxPmJ0uhNVqqR7hFa/s320/IMG_20210128_001218.jpg" /></a></div><p>The Kid had just finished up a job and was at a bit of a loose end. He chatted with the Good Rancher and they came to an understanding that there was some fencing to be done and open living quarters. The Kid would be welcome for three months to get a feel for the operation of the ranch, learn how to fence, and help out where he could.</p><p>The first afternoon he was on the job, we took him out to meet the bottle calves: Bull, Boots, and Bart.</p><p>We told him each of the calves' stories, and The Kid listened attentively. Then he walked over to Blind Bartimaeus. I gave him a brief orientation as to Bart's odd way of latching on to the milk bottle nipple, then handed him the bottle.</p><p>The Kid cradled Bart's head between his leg and outside arm, and got the bottle in the vicinity of Bart's mouth.</p><p>"Hey, Buddy," he said gently. </p><p>And wouldn't you know it — Bart settled right down and took the bottle, slurping its contents down with alacrity.</p><p>"I could feed them every day," The Kid volunteered. And from the next morning on, he was at the door three minutes before starting time, waiting for the bottles. He carried right on when 88 and Hey 19 were added to the little herd of orphans. But the one he loved was Bart.</p><p>I told The Kid to talk to Bart as much as he could: because of Bart's limited blurry vision, he would follow a voice he could recognise. So The Kid spoke with him, scratched his ears, gently rubbed his bloaty little sides and cared for him as well as I ever could have. Even on his day off, The Kid still showed up to feed the babies so that Bart would have consistency and no break in his routine.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8H55CkcWe4i62jKwnx7e140dD4vTeGiWzhzao6Pz0rpbpmbW_HW9IfEjTduagw7FgHZidtEbqQqfbDuB0-rLJIcXaWN15IrtnQprTuDQ5pjXBM1ISClra9DPhF9iu_LCTy6M9x8XTA7bU/s2048/IMG_20210127_212025.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1552" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8H55CkcWe4i62jKwnx7e140dD4vTeGiWzhzao6Pz0rpbpmbW_HW9IfEjTduagw7FgHZidtEbqQqfbDuB0-rLJIcXaWN15IrtnQprTuDQ5pjXBM1ISClra9DPhF9iu_LCTy6M9x8XTA7bU/s320/IMG_20210127_212025.jpg" /></a></div><p>And as he was approaching him, he always greeted him with, "Hey, Buddy!" </p><p>The Kid quickly proved himself adept at driving the bale truck, fencing, helping to sort cattle and work gates and run stock up the alley. He would give 100% to any task that was assigned to him. He listened carefully, made a deliberate effort to get to know and help the neighbours, and was willing to do whatever it took to help the Good Rancher. He was a pleasure to have around and soon enough he and the GR had the conversation about staying on after Christmas. </p><p>For his birthday, The Kid was presented with a bill of sale: for the sum of One Dollar plus Other Valuable Considerations, the transfer of ownership of Blind Bartimaeus, aka Bart, to The Kid was effected. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGfW2nWl7OciypEBokTrTvd68sDWisIOUGM9TOek7RTqTjYzBpICv3fW5XTu_fq2iAWq3vhMyGBI-mbtFD0-KSzXRXVWdiFbDaASUjOjisZFNadiC5-SXa4w8bUiYvxErlwUbyC9P88W7/s2048/IMG_20210127_230957.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1502" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGfW2nWl7OciypEBokTrTvd68sDWisIOUGM9TOek7RTqTjYzBpICv3fW5XTu_fq2iAWq3vhMyGBI-mbtFD0-KSzXRXVWdiFbDaASUjOjisZFNadiC5-SXa4w8bUiYvxErlwUbyC9P88W7/s320/IMG_20210127_230957.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJwGK03h2c1fs5gdXw_vxbgHJn11KV4OpVYWZzSAx0XgPEIalwaDcCkuG7dXQYuwrffmBIWzVopq0BRnnlY6i1L3kcKa1QmDyNNnFHQkoVRV9tOFdUcNP_W8f3-YjhqmHAQ6LxU-iTqnD/s2048/IMG_20210128_111332.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1931" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJwGK03h2c1fs5gdXw_vxbgHJn11KV4OpVYWZzSAx0XgPEIalwaDcCkuG7dXQYuwrffmBIWzVopq0BRnnlY6i1L3kcKa1QmDyNNnFHQkoVRV9tOFdUcNP_W8f3-YjhqmHAQ6LxU-iTqnD/s320/IMG_20210128_111332.jpg" /></a></div><p>The Kid took stewardship of his property seriously. He would pop over to see Bart at lunch time, and kept the GR apprised as to any health concerns. They would treat Bart when he seemed to be slumping and the little guy would rebound and be more loving and happy than ever. </p><p>Then when he was home for Christmas The Kid sustained a serious accident to his eye.</p><p>His good eye. </p><p>And we found out he had been born with a weak eye that had caused him some difficulties at times through his life. A few sports injuries had provided various degrees of head trauma. </p><p>No wonder he understood Bart so well!</p><p>We promised that if he would just take good care of himself, we would take care of Bart for him till he could return. </p><p>Plunging temperatures right at the time of little Aiyo's unexpected birth caused the tips of Bart's ears to freeze. Negotiations between the GR and his naggy spouse resulted in the two little animals being tenderly settled in the shop where they were fed, sheltered, exercised, and taken for walks and pen time outside on good days (Aiyo spends a good portion of each day with his mummy, who adores him but doesn't have enough sustenance for him).</p><p>Bart settled right in. He loved his grain and fresh water in the shop, and the mineral tubs and hay - not to mention other animals - in the pen just across the yard. He would trot back and forth, Aiyo following him, almost every day.</p><p>https://youtu.be/yGwUtNn06UE</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/yGwUtNn06UE" width="320" youtube-src-id="yGwUtNn06UE"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KYdXGQwaQVI" width="320" youtube-src-id="KYdXGQwaQVI"></iframe></div><p>Until yesterday. It was too cold for Bart to go outside, so he had the run of the shop. He was fine in the early afternoon; but something had changed by that evening.</p><p>I was reflecting this afternoon on some of the gifts Bart gave me over the last nine months.</p><p>He taught me perseverance. How hard it was, those first days, to get him used to taking the milk bottle! He did not give up, however. He would take little breaks where he would run the length of the pen, stopping only when he would bump into the fencing. He learnt when to stop and turn before too long, and would always trot back to the sound of my voice, screeching to a halt right in front of the bottle. </p><p>He was friendly to everyone who came to visit him. He judged no one on their varying skill levels with the milk bottle. He was grateful for what he received and patient when some members of Team Bart were not quite as competent as others. He did his best and assumed everyone else did the same. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8QMShDq8gA8Kjpis5pMSQ1jDEl153xcEsly5Zcz85uCIWNeDispjAH_YFo9EDn9Du76SzPy9TnhKdZYqQrR5ShMIzXlrReu8xiqk0KlDWVj3AI2wrJriY_T71mMOsrsfzMpAyE3g-WlOX/s2048/IMG_20210127_230329.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1411" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8QMShDq8gA8Kjpis5pMSQ1jDEl153xcEsly5Zcz85uCIWNeDispjAH_YFo9EDn9Du76SzPy9TnhKdZYqQrR5ShMIzXlrReu8xiqk0KlDWVj3AI2wrJriY_T71mMOsrsfzMpAyE3g-WlOX/s320/IMG_20210127_230329.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTaJgkt5R8RNa2GJtErMm8Kq4vWDACbV0QBqjLRNSrW1F7kKdu2nltrOzU-Xi0yfD3scL3bVeSzRxq0VacvXfJTvuwPMSpOzNmuE0u9X-Ke37ohg3J-nchnkRq2fDxYOHptkjGp78q7esZ/s2048/IMG_20210127_225651.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1627" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTaJgkt5R8RNa2GJtErMm8Kq4vWDACbV0QBqjLRNSrW1F7kKdu2nltrOzU-Xi0yfD3scL3bVeSzRxq0VacvXfJTvuwPMSpOzNmuE0u9X-Ke37ohg3J-nchnkRq2fDxYOHptkjGp78q7esZ/s320/IMG_20210127_225651.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkxs4a2AHcbwWqfQIEP0o1pyO7Ko5SiYvXZIUCR2B73VT3ytfJWAe3M7KKcAmB85FyuQpS-wM83bGOklz-NZ1vCs4V1Cnqp9CqBDlsPejhNPvYOfXlFiWmWE3zd6khmSxp7tpml4cS0A-g/s2048/IMG_20210127_230041.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1681" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkxs4a2AHcbwWqfQIEP0o1pyO7Ko5SiYvXZIUCR2B73VT3ytfJWAe3M7KKcAmB85FyuQpS-wM83bGOklz-NZ1vCs4V1Cnqp9CqBDlsPejhNPvYOfXlFiWmWE3zd6khmSxp7tpml4cS0A-g/s320/IMG_20210127_230041.jpg" /></a></div><p>He was resilient. He was brave. He was picked on by a couple of the playground pals, but he did what Mr Rogers told kids to do when they found themselves in difficulties: look for the helpers. He knew who would give him cover, and he learnt how to avoid the others. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjTLkEBL36C3-AotgMQNFU_0SpJNG2r3yjj5lheuKWL_9aOSncWrL0d4TIasYthW7dmGcP8T3ZSdjNXMGUjCuJ-mJuJURAn7J_ZDNjnVBZPG_B6bH1v-D03WXT23sTb55QV5p-xFUCSId/s2048/IMG_20210127_224003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1713" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjTLkEBL36C3-AotgMQNFU_0SpJNG2r3yjj5lheuKWL_9aOSncWrL0d4TIasYthW7dmGcP8T3ZSdjNXMGUjCuJ-mJuJURAn7J_ZDNjnVBZPG_B6bH1v-D03WXT23sTb55QV5p-xFUCSId/s320/IMG_20210127_224003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvzCJ25Rf_SOcl6YV_5tmDf4bn4srLe2K5oxVRlfL7OiAlpTx7A4czYtXZ0mi_zkbHZJQ9DpCvNt-BJH8-9j43liiKRMPlx05AJVhz_eFXzWiP2oelQ9DtymdMzvrPM6h-fvyOr8b3z3J/s2048/IMG_20210127_225518.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1474" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvzCJ25Rf_SOcl6YV_5tmDf4bn4srLe2K5oxVRlfL7OiAlpTx7A4czYtXZ0mi_zkbHZJQ9DpCvNt-BJH8-9j43liiKRMPlx05AJVhz_eFXzWiP2oelQ9DtymdMzvrPM6h-fvyOr8b3z3J/s320/IMG_20210127_225518.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMRGak8JnT4asp5ONhbw3eYXChFLZ0JMy03pWCXOpSVQve-wgvmdhSE3ZJy4vfa6UrpPzBJ1Zon7z9hMJ3hva081UACiV6mK3k7m84mEQWrhPcxkwK3T1ueTT-3HMSSol59bFwxSNHtswS/s2048/IMG_20210127_225920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1697" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMRGak8JnT4asp5ONhbw3eYXChFLZ0JMy03pWCXOpSVQve-wgvmdhSE3ZJy4vfa6UrpPzBJ1Zon7z9hMJ3hva081UACiV6mK3k7m84mEQWrhPcxkwK3T1ueTT-3HMSSol59bFwxSNHtswS/s320/IMG_20210127_225920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>He liked his food and he loved his water. He would lap at it for hours. The GR ensured that he had fresh water twice a day, but not too much that he would get waterlogged! </p><p>He was peaceable and loving and he spent a good portion of each day walking around, whether inside the calving barn, in the pen or in the shop. </p><p>And he would always make his way to the voices of the humans who loved him. </p><p>The GR went to check on him at about 1:30 this morning and he seemed to have perked up again. But when the GR went to scratch his belly, Bart just stood there, accepting the attention but not wriggling with his customary delight. </p><p>At first light the GR headed over to the shop. </p><p>And my phone rang. </p><p>"He's gone. Little Bart's gone." My big tough Rancher's voice cracked. </p><p>I made my way to the bathroom and flipped the page of my Choice Gleanings calendar to today's date. I am one who believes that God cares about all the things that His children care about. Look at the reading for today:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXdgjvCSq80orwFbidXNUEhs5qF9zs3kWOZq_KsL5UumcJMp3u6DD6xKPKlMXSGCiqeBf6GdVu2lFKitB68gGfmC2KlYfp1hQDOhU2h5y37YdgPHRNhjvdCkNCjKP8b6WA7Z_pMX3BkBT/s2048/IMG_20210127_162105.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXdgjvCSq80orwFbidXNUEhs5qF9zs3kWOZq_KsL5UumcJMp3u6DD6xKPKlMXSGCiqeBf6GdVu2lFKitB68gGfmC2KlYfp1hQDOhU2h5y37YdgPHRNhjvdCkNCjKP8b6WA7Z_pMX3BkBT/s320/IMG_20210127_162105.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>I dressed and made my way over to the shop. I quietly let myself in and gazed at his still, prone body and thought about how happy he made me when I could watch him running freely and joyously in between swallows of formula; how in tough times I could just go to him and rest my head on his back and he would stand motionless as my tears fell on his silvery hide; how he would always come to me whenever he heard my voice; the wonderful evening I finally heard HIS voice. I thought of the many people who have taken an interest in him and have been rooting for him, our little calf who never grew much above 300 lbs. </p><p>Through my tears I noticed something I had never seen before. </p><p>Blind Bartimaeus's eyes had always been sort of cloudy, a bit unfocused. </p><p>But as he lay there, his eye half opened was luminous, a deep brown, sparkling. Like he was looking at something we couldn't see. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2gcqKskkLC_OrLGjVxhpUMSAGmN_j-qoDPqV4SR_CzrfuJtY8AtlnR6I48A9_ZGo57Xl9Fu8xXQo8UBvun79vwISFVq4wNF4tfWSki-5ZWuFL5o8K7Ug7TMAQxdc1HVGzrNceOc6-xRd/s2048/IMG_20210127_164649.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2gcqKskkLC_OrLGjVxhpUMSAGmN_j-qoDPqV4SR_CzrfuJtY8AtlnR6I48A9_ZGo57Xl9Fu8xXQo8UBvun79vwISFVq4wNF4tfWSki-5ZWuFL5o8K7Ug7TMAQxdc1HVGzrNceOc6-xRd/s320/IMG_20210127_164649.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>And right then and there, I knew that I would never wish him back. </p><p>My Bart was free.</p><p>I slowly reached for my phone and dialled The Kid. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwf1Vn11PVJo2HxK9KLAEzysPht2hZt9SlZzus76ZSHmWQulbbfd5b5aeYXU3P-IzRIWrmI4Y5P9ew-Zw7kPg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-43333951485036100742020-11-14T11:59:00.003-07:002020-11-14T12:30:54.236-07:00Angels In The Room<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Somehow, he knew.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was awakened extremely early this morning to the Good Rancher's shoulders shaking as he wept, almost in his sleep. On his Samsung pad were the hushed, joyful sounds of the song "Angels in the Room".</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And he was praying for Ron. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">He has been there. In just a few days it will be eight years since he lost his wife of 25 years, his partner, his other half.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And so, prior to the breaking of the dawn, he was praying for his friend Ron.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This morning we received the message, through Ron, from their daughter Sandy that we were anticipating, the message we were praying for, the message we were dreading:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Late last night, with my Dad, my brothers and I around her bedside; Mom went home to Jesus. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We watched my mom suffer for a long time, she showed us everyday that:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Pain + Thankfulness, </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Suffering + Joy, </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Grief + Hope; with Jesus, these things coexist together. We wept and we laughed and then we all said goodbye. This is the journey we will walk until we see her face again. 🌹"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now we who are left mourn. Now we rejoice.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oh Ron. We glory with you and we weep with you. I think I told you this before, but a wise old pastor told my Dad at my Mum's funeral, "She is with God. And God is with us. So she's not very far away..."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But what a chasm is that infinitesimal distance today! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oh, Sweet Jane. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpfbicZVnPUBUglfwctC0LnXhV_BcJ1bf0E-wCF4ZbI3fUi23f53Nu6ZUvoDG-kXjB8icUspJwUFpsmXqQnFo8eKugCkqI7ZaQbJDWBUqsqZL3mjOv_YiTAraUY9I1vQReeOVYUWopmGM/s608/IMG_20201114_110144.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="372" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpfbicZVnPUBUglfwctC0LnXhV_BcJ1bf0E-wCF4ZbI3fUi23f53Nu6ZUvoDG-kXjB8icUspJwUFpsmXqQnFo8eKugCkqI7ZaQbJDWBUqsqZL3mjOv_YiTAraUY9I1vQReeOVYUWopmGM/s320/IMG_20201114_110144.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kOTIHaDAUbQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="kOTIHaDAUbQ"></iframe></div><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-24436696841616288132020-09-04T23:30:00.102-06:002020-09-05T04:26:03.672-06:0088<div><span style="font-family: verdana;">If my Dad were still with us, he would have turned 88 today.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I woke up earlier than usual this morning, thinking about the last of his birthdays my Mum was here to celebrate, his 75th.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">She was lying in ER at Foothills Hospital in Calgary when a sister and I arrived to see her. She had had a brutal night and was in so much pain she was barely responsive, eyes shut, not speaking.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">When we pulled the curtain behind us, she asked - eyes still closed - "Has anyone got a cake for Dad?" We hastened to assure her that we would get one.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">"It has to be wheat free and try to get no dairy."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We managed to find a tiny cake answering all the requirements for a mere $85 from a French bakery on 17th Avenue SW. By the time we returned to the hospital, she was in her own room. She was delighted. We never told her the price, and we agreed that it would have been worth twice that to see her smile and taste a minute morsel.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">T<span>wo weeks later exactly, she was gone. T</span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">hat cake memory always makes me happy! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I saw various tributes to Dad online; and then several other reminders of him presented themselves to me throughout the day.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first was the verse from the daily calendar in the bathroom. I read it, and thought immediately, "This is speaking of Dad!" He devoted his life to studying the Book, and helping people to understand it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSQFR02xkFyn6K3znBVaB0r0SK9REMmXKMS7h2zf6-YMQU4uuy6IktlxhbzRSe_u4iNDMOid_5QZl67t66qI4cAz8HFnu4mpQnYa1FTAvL_bpmNQeSXvVOya7jCx3kGCslcX_Yl-oGayg/s2048/IMG_20200904_085026.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1075" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSQFR02xkFyn6K3znBVaB0r0SK9REMmXKMS7h2zf6-YMQU4uuy6IktlxhbzRSe_u4iNDMOid_5QZl67t66qI4cAz8HFnu4mpQnYa1FTAvL_bpmNQeSXvVOya7jCx3kGCslcX_Yl-oGayg/s320/IMG_20200904_085026.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The second was a piece of paper that fluttered out from a stack I had placed to go through. He had compiled this list for a beloved daughter ten years ago. He knew who he was, my Dad did. "When you know God and you know yourself, you have nothing to prove, nothing to lose," he would say. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">When he died he had nothing to prove and nothing to lose. And he took the time to show her - and the rest of us - who we were before God. What a gift!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbc9mMLXarKYGUfiSyoxUhENToDrIR8KcsDTdIOCWWdxUon6Q1HKBKkd0tumtWkUyDP8Lb_JIs_-nb6oE-4WewyCz6cTuTYxKOiiURIrz7ndN4y9qWfoi2oRz4y_ljc5XL1mzUh_O3gSQb/s2048/IMG_20200904_234328.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1593" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbc9mMLXarKYGUfiSyoxUhENToDrIR8KcsDTdIOCWWdxUon6Q1HKBKkd0tumtWkUyDP8Lb_JIs_-nb6oE-4WewyCz6cTuTYxKOiiURIrz7ndN4y9qWfoi2oRz4y_ljc5XL1mzUh_O3gSQb/s320/IMG_20200904_234328.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">As I was getting ready to ride to the Brooks cattle auction with the Good Rancher, I had two men on my mind: my Dad, and our friend Mark, who is waiting in the shadow of the Valley as I write. I was praying for him, and for my friend / his wife, Miriam, earlier in the morning; and I was pondering the words of tribute and remembrance I had read.<i> Does Dad know we're all thinking about him? Does he know we love him so? If time has been replaced with eternity for him, do birthdays even matter at all?</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">My phone rang. Just one ring and then silence. Curious, I checked to see who had called. The name was unfamil...</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLh-3fOoWO6QpJJmCd6iJKV7QUMuwk6Sga4R4uKZBtm78wFELLOv7w3eZhwS9N0DBNYUOVZ99JZKmfKXwf_KHdpcHxQc0fkX8su0DckAmYBx-H2aNYahxR3_wi8CdqNMRKxSngC-4WdVnH/s1080/Screenshot_20200905_032016.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="436" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLh-3fOoWO6QpJJmCd6iJKV7QUMuwk6Sga4R4uKZBtm78wFELLOv7w3eZhwS9N0DBNYUOVZ99JZKmfKXwf_KHdpcHxQc0fkX8su0DckAmYBx-H2aNYahxR3_wi8CdqNMRKxSngC-4WdVnH/s320/Screenshot_20200905_032016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was like one of Heaven's angels was delivering a message: "Mark is in God's hands; and yes, your Dad knows." </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thank you, Mark of the Archangels! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Good Rancher and I headed to Brooks. It was a pretty day for a drive and we were together. (I guess it could be classified as a date, yes?!) We went inside and almost immediately he saw acquaintances he hadn't seen for some years. What a joy it was for him to pick up the threads of his previous world in the familiar surroundings of his youth. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzyJ7AiP4etz4rYnWiIOTPV91NmCh1JBq4qk9DyI5KV8LgvpVjKDzHx3K3EOjmbTdCM1zVr8rZ_aavk1ENGTBhk8HWhfDuCGkTGWB3u0CxCf12bygfN-YwdZBIPhd9XQR4ESqcXN5ZLGB/s1801/IMG_20200905_025722.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1796" data-original-width="1801" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzyJ7AiP4etz4rYnWiIOTPV91NmCh1JBq4qk9DyI5KV8LgvpVjKDzHx3K3EOjmbTdCM1zVr8rZ_aavk1ENGTBhk8HWhfDuCGkTGWB3u0CxCf12bygfN-YwdZBIPhd9XQR4ESqcXN5ZLGB/s320/IMG_20200905_025722.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">It also happened to be the auction house's anniversary celebration. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUxgS25tKu5sag78gCB5oOv78c9x_Zd1p7trT3Rrkb5gyn6Q4MdcS4IR10-5lGYsJQ0tQf7kGatOPrw5CjR4nIrET93evGhtyeHE2oPV6m1nJ853KgTSZF3DESjy20_Zk9uF_hmvJ_y6AD/s2048/IMG_20200904_114521.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1445" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUxgS25tKu5sag78gCB5oOv78c9x_Zd1p7trT3Rrkb5gyn6Q4MdcS4IR10-5lGYsJQ0tQf7kGatOPrw5CjR4nIrET93evGhtyeHE2oPV6m1nJ853KgTSZF3DESjy20_Zk9uF_hmvJ_y6AD/s320/IMG_20200904_114521.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Lovely Selena, who has worked there since the GR was a child, came over to greet him and told us to come and get some lunch.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I went but the GR said he would eat later. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i></i><i></i><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">"What about him?" Selena demanded. I explained. She nodded twice. "I know him. He used to come with his mom and his brothers. He always was a shy boy. I'm going to put extra food on your plate, and you take two sets of forks and you share with him. He will eat."</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">And she was right.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJimxZtEepnyqZKal_hC8Mu6t_JiJvTA_5so1pvcSwSmUC1cLvHcuqFL5f_u-1IaXsThQ_FEGis9RXs0Wj0oJHL_0zKwI6Jxa3z2okeoaEjfCf1JdZcp7OesdiaP7NwSpGfwfRKjOpDfIr/s2048/IMG_20200904_132353.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJimxZtEepnyqZKal_hC8Mu6t_JiJvTA_5so1pvcSwSmUC1cLvHcuqFL5f_u-1IaXsThQ_FEGis9RXs0Wj0oJHL_0zKwI6Jxa3z2okeoaEjfCf1JdZcp7OesdiaP7NwSpGfwfRKjOpDfIr/s320/IMG_20200904_132353.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">As he ate, I was thinking - once again - about Blind Bart. Our dear neighbour had invited Bart to spend the winter and keep her calf Barny company in their lovely new barn - and then her old cow gave birth to twins three days ago! I knew Ivy would still take Bart, but that would have been so much added work and I couldn't in good conscience send him over.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was mulling over possible solutions when suddenly into the auction ring <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: verdana; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">(don't get ahead of me here!)</span> trotted a solitary little black calf. Alert, chipper, 200 pounds of company for Bart.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I turned to the GR. "It could be Bart's friend! We could fix up the calving barn for them, couldn't we?!" </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">He rolled his eyes and leaned slightly forward. I was mildly annoyed, thinking he was ignoring me - until the auctioneer said, "Sold!" and the GR looked at me and said, "There you go. I cannot beLIEVE I just did that." </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He turned to the friend sitting to his right. The man, smirking, shook his head and shrugged. "Wives," he commiserated.</span></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The GR went to talk to one of the auction crew. There was not a single other calf at the auction that day. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Of course, now we had to get this little scrap home. We left the auction shortly thereafter and drove the hour and a half north. When we pulled into the yard, the GR said, "See you later," and hopped into his truck pulling the stock trailer. Three extra hours of driving on the first afternoon he had had off in a long time ...</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another reminder of Dad took the form of a vignette at the main buyers chairs by the ring. A dad and his dark haired little daughter appeared and settled in two chairs for the afternoon. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSow9uLo12oDLbagnAKn31wPB7sJZSweKVdtadlxnqi9uvE65hPzyHz-gjZaITsg5nJcpGPMImdw2x5otWo5YmJCdGhWDbLROkj9r1ETmRmq5zGrdywK11pusAf1lX-fxFvJE-h17txur/s2048/IMG_20200904_133852.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSow9uLo12oDLbagnAKn31wPB7sJZSweKVdtadlxnqi9uvE65hPzyHz-gjZaITsg5nJcpGPMImdw2x5otWo5YmJCdGhWDbLROkj9r1ETmRmq5zGrdywK11pusAf1lX-fxFvJE-h17txur/s320/IMG_20200904_133852.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I could just see my dad, given half a chance, doing the exact same thing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">When the GR finally returned home for the second time I made a litre of milk replacer to try to coax the baby calf out of the stock trailer. Sometimes this can be so tricky, because they are used to their mother and they are scared and disoriented. It can take a while to get them comfortable and willing to take a bottle.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The GR opened the door to the first compartment and as he was unlatching the next he said, "I'll catch her for you and hold her; see what you can do. Ready?"</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">As he swung the door open there was a bellow and a little rush and the baby launched herself at me. Not at me; at the bottle. She latched on and greedily devoured the litre and then started sucking my fingers.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The GR and I looked at each other.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Oh. My. Word," he muttered.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">"She was so hungry, I guess," I offered.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">"No - she is a BOTTLE CALF! It's just getting worse and worse!" he groaned.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Why? Isn't this a good thing? No work to train this one?" I asked, as I guided the baby by my fingers in her mouth out of the trailer, through the horse corral and into the pen where the other bottle calves were. "Why would someone be so heartless as to sell such a little calf?"</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhddU_A8st3tEkzriDSgM1Bk-Xi91JZQ4Y6HRM_R9jCSy8iia2oUMXDwVHPsOZY7sx9-0v5iJ1vVF8veIuWBMDzFR6ZWsPF9WoBX_ZPHJq58xwl28yU-G7fQnUG-hCDxaLb6MIokdqVnBdH/s2048/IMG_20200904_202838.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhddU_A8st3tEkzriDSgM1Bk-Xi91JZQ4Y6HRM_R9jCSy8iia2oUMXDwVHPsOZY7sx9-0v5iJ1vVF8veIuWBMDzFR6ZWsPF9WoBX_ZPHJq58xwl28yU-G7fQnUG-hCDxaLb6MIokdqVnBdH/s320/IMG_20200904_202838.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Because he's a REAL rancher! No one in his right mind wants a bottle calf at this time of year!" </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I felt stricken, overwhelmed with guilt for adding to his already considerable burden.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">H<span>e glanced at me, grinned and took my other hand.</span></span><span> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Have you got a name for her?"</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">"88," I replied. "Dad would get such a kick out of it all. It's like this is a gift from him to me on his birthday!"</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We got 88 into Bart's night-time pen and they jostled around with the grain pail like old friends. The other calves were not quite so sure about her; but by the time the bottle calves received their bedtime drink, everyone had settled down.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xRiRZFnYTkg09NY-KPPpADPm03oKFLiXb0iCQqE8saMxBjVqGuVm5oq1YuT5ZSl5pHgo3oP5bn4A5y-ww3sC_NMCFLXxravXlgBWOkqy0gUpXWvz3zmgskrU4QLJMHB6qHlbyx1c16aH/s2048/IMG_20200904_203744.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xRiRZFnYTkg09NY-KPPpADPm03oKFLiXb0iCQqE8saMxBjVqGuVm5oq1YuT5ZSl5pHgo3oP5bn4A5y-ww3sC_NMCFLXxravXlgBWOkqy0gUpXWvz3zmgskrU4QLJMHB6qHlbyx1c16aH/s320/IMG_20200904_203744.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another nod to my Dad actually occurred the day before his birthday. My friend and previous tea house employee Heather came to visit the Round-up Corral with her three small daughters, the first time I was meeting them and the first time in a long time I was seeing their mommy.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now, I love my boys - stepson, nephews and great nephews. And when they want to hang out in Johnny and Sam's Bunkhouse and play with the horses and trucks and little plastic figurines of days gone by, I fully understand.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">And yet - Dad created his Johnny and Sam on the Ranch stories as much for his daughters as for his son. He loved his girls with his whole heart and would enter into our pursuits, whether it was tossing a baseball about or playing with our dolls. He read to us. He sang to us. He walked and talked with us. He got our names mixed up, but he would end up at the right one ... He listened to us - oh, how he listened! He taught us scripture and led by example. When he told us about our Heavenly Father, it was easy for us to love Him; we had the best example possible here on earth.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0F9LwLEI671aKyAQBfaKQ97FX2nfexTlg7u1pXM4wxKrmZVJ9ajFISnflq2Ue618rZqaani5ruiQvhZ4vZqnEASz_ZliMTcZWXCrFfY6WViiPouw3_KKQ0jKtnM0J-OllpeGrZtfNbRaW/s1430/Screenshot_20200905_042513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1430" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0F9LwLEI671aKyAQBfaKQ97FX2nfexTlg7u1pXM4wxKrmZVJ9ajFISnflq2Ue618rZqaani5ruiQvhZ4vZqnEASz_ZliMTcZWXCrFfY6WViiPouw3_KKQ0jKtnM0J-OllpeGrZtfNbRaW/s320/Screenshot_20200905_042513.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">When "my" girl with<i> her</i> girls drove away, I went back to look around the little Corral. To my delight, along with the trucks and baseball, I saw a doll perched on the chair outside the Bunkhouse and her pram waiting for her. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQtNBYOBmgyOc4rVUSxiUBiwMbjGOm_sX1pKg7f8SCu8RFMBelarDHyS98mxuXped27tVc8STIg5GswG1F28ui7dkbdXeb7EnsNvyKw_dvHZTAKe3aE7njAkkb5hsOjmaMkMY1-DDzPRk/s2048/IMG_20200905_025800.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1560" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQtNBYOBmgyOc4rVUSxiUBiwMbjGOm_sX1pKg7f8SCu8RFMBelarDHyS98mxuXped27tVc8STIg5GswG1F28ui7dkbdXeb7EnsNvyKw_dvHZTAKe3aE7njAkkb5hsOjmaMkMY1-DDzPRk/s320/IMG_20200905_025800.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">It seemed so fitting. Dad seemed to be smiling, just out of sight ...</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i></i><i></i><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thank you, and happy birthday, Dad!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thank you, Good Rancher ❤️🤠!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thank you, God!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Welcome home, 88!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665784052787233806.post-32868925744717652752020-08-28T23:27:00.006-06:002020-08-29T14:06:58.058-06:00Pulling the Bulls<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Some days I sense that he misses her more than he knows what to do with. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On yesterday's overcast morning he had to rely on me and the side-by-side to be his sidekick; two days ago he went to pull a bull and he was injured slightly. It is so much better for everyone —bulls, horses and humans — if there is no mechanical noise in the delicate process of extricating the Boys of Summer from their playgrounds. But yesterday there was no one else to help.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Why don't you drive on up the fence line, and I'll meet you at the next gate?" he suggested gently. I remembered how he said one of his greatest joys was to ride, side by side, in silence for the most part, breathing the air heavy with the scents of wild sage and silver willow and hearing the sounds of creation in perfect synch with the clop-clop rhythm of the horses' hooves. As I turned to go, I noticed his shoulders more stooped than normal, perhaps carrying another unseen to the human eye.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIeullhaqiqohH9Z3iHgxew5MW0pwV7GOSfhOMvgf2ilDuP-v5UZcrpjg1YmBBL2A4s9ZkYPKnqz0_J4i22pPqONDI687KguCJ_tTHGBzcz9jjS9tOghzXPUxBDiKjN3t4yfwE2L3S0iw/s2048/IMG_20200826_102716.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIeullhaqiqohH9Z3iHgxew5MW0pwV7GOSfhOMvgf2ilDuP-v5UZcrpjg1YmBBL2A4s9ZkYPKnqz0_J4i22pPqONDI687KguCJ_tTHGBzcz9jjS9tOghzXPUxBDiKjN3t4yfwE2L3S0iw/s640/IMG_20200826_102716.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">He had told me that once, toward the end, when she was so sick she had to be admitted to the hospital, he had taken a great branch of silver willow to her because it was her favourite. The hospital staff threw him and it out; there was no room for that "smelly weed" in their antiseptic environment.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpAyVc1HAtX3-e2UT-asH2JGmgy66d1kf4bJNomGo1Uyki2tAWIerqK6Gy2k1sTrjuY4cKu2OgsJH3sGzVBj7Cs9kYxqbXXIBlc7jnOXIpAaNfzs3UQkLXWPFZzi9a1UlcdmEDTgnb0qB/s2048/IMG_20200826_104046.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpAyVc1HAtX3-e2UT-asH2JGmgy66d1kf4bJNomGo1Uyki2tAWIerqK6Gy2k1sTrjuY4cKu2OgsJH3sGzVBj7Cs9kYxqbXXIBlc7jnOXIpAaNfzs3UQkLXWPFZzi9a1UlcdmEDTgnb0qB/s640/IMG_20200826_104046.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There was the gate; I turned off the engine, waiting for him to appear.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And slowly he did, faithful Chopper intuiting his thoughts. He saw me and paused, opening the gate, glancing toward the next stage. "Follow this fence. We are looking for two Herefords, and a red and a yellow." </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8vP6xcjZ5FmKoVydcz0_aYxZ03dtVnlzpPSUEvOHNvcFkzL6trpBzMmoznG-ccJKKNdv1bxY7ARIf8HP9Km2nkx34DX6aTS8Y0PpLZ5D9PVd5PfMcKFGQSidjBkIpgrMUe0FcIJtTFyR/s2048/IMG_20200826_205058.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8vP6xcjZ5FmKoVydcz0_aYxZ03dtVnlzpPSUEvOHNvcFkzL6trpBzMmoznG-ccJKKNdv1bxY7ARIf8HP9Km2nkx34DX6aTS8Y0PpLZ5D9PVd5PfMcKFGQSidjBkIpgrMUe0FcIJtTFyR/s640/IMG_20200826_205058.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I putted along in the direction he had indicated. Cresting a hill, I saw shimmering waters in a vista that took my breath. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Isn't it beautiful?" he called out, and I saw him passing me lower down the hill.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpgIZEuDTg5cHG0QYxy84sgC7pleDcw8nnqKifpG5rRuAnCYkimrHcfiZhrSvZNTY3f_6Ey3NQYNmkRxM7xNF29cDcjdHgPM658JIO6asXwedD-57OhX_0etEXhyphenhyphensl4-fd-MR13qvsAca/s2048/IMG_20200826_205405.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1127" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpgIZEuDTg5cHG0QYxy84sgC7pleDcw8nnqKifpG5rRuAnCYkimrHcfiZhrSvZNTY3f_6Ey3NQYNmkRxM7xNF29cDcjdHgPM658JIO6asXwedD-57OhX_0etEXhyphenhyphensl4-fd-MR13qvsAca/s640/IMG_20200826_205405.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I drove closer to him. "This was one of our favourite views," he said, almost to himself. </span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I wondered what it was like for the two of them to come across this exquisite place for the first time, to work together morning 'til night until it was theirs, to ride out here together for no reason but to enjoy the view and the breeze and the scents.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">She was only 48.<br /></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZXeyXGtDgzLf3Mk8ve0IRMwHApmCfAGkVWkFG-lg3ba9ZOvZkjcRA42UaUdee-hrdhY8f1JEqBRZzCf9CiOaqP0cjyZk0Cgf8kMF5_0aZTEgEhqheE_SxDav1C3RFU28vdeJdPI0hIJ7/s2048/IMG_20200826_104138_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZXeyXGtDgzLf3Mk8ve0IRMwHApmCfAGkVWkFG-lg3ba9ZOvZkjcRA42UaUdee-hrdhY8f1JEqBRZzCf9CiOaqP0cjyZk0Cgf8kMF5_0aZTEgEhqheE_SxDav1C3RFU28vdeJdPI0hIJ7/s640/IMG_20200826_104138_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">As I pursued the fence line, I came across a truly pretty pink-streaked rock; I tried to hoist it from the ground but it was embedded too deeply and I had no tools to assist me. I placed a blue bucket over it in hopes of finding and retrieving it later.</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwj2ufDvku9ocdkxw4XFg_BW-1Zmv7OJNhxEBqwZ_g2ePNbpIJkpCzjneQnrSg195Nd47C22lYxQL9wznG4kEnPsILjh0uyibAT9Uco6Zhu6yHOPMPv5nIwbCEUGiaPZhcPKsJIdOcckto/s2048/IMG_20200826_210340.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1808" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwj2ufDvku9ocdkxw4XFg_BW-1Zmv7OJNhxEBqwZ_g2ePNbpIJkpCzjneQnrSg195Nd47C22lYxQL9wznG4kEnPsILjh0uyibAT9Uco6Zhu6yHOPMPv5nIwbCEUGiaPZhcPKsJIdOcckto/s640/IMG_20200826_210340.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next gate opened into a field of cows and calves, and five somewhat stubborn bulls. Back and forth we went, horse and side-by-side forming a hobbled alliance as we slowly separated the bulls from the cows. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQkmJrNgM4_SpPeHt7WemQeYmoKTm07Df3xZ-Q0iCKbhFuSRF3xt5A0839dnHMIEFWx30nyehMCAILvi1dNCcEoUtNoUdfJERrOH6V1fleDceVIdjLS8rv-iptgtyuyq1cYD9GKtNYRDpv/s2048/IMG_20200826_110228.jpg" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQkmJrNgM4_SpPeHt7WemQeYmoKTm07Df3xZ-Q0iCKbhFuSRF3xt5A0839dnHMIEFWx30nyehMCAILvi1dNCcEoUtNoUdfJERrOH6V1fleDceVIdjLS8rv-iptgtyuyq1cYD9GKtNYRDpv/s640/IMG_20200826_110228.jpg" width="640" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We got the former heading in one unified direction, and as we started up a hill, the sun suddenly blazed with renewed warmth and energy. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyn8G7COo1J22dN4W5y9KLnSpMUUvGQwi-hk8C8RUGF-BtHOdjLz5b8gtUw5AEc8gbWegJkQCraAmG6xEjspshZ9Y3GhBfiem9b3-Ir_xfXBMHhXEN6mMlEXAajAfgSlCa3FhdWscDkpqq/s2048/IMG_20200826_123324.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyn8G7COo1J22dN4W5y9KLnSpMUUvGQwi-hk8C8RUGF-BtHOdjLz5b8gtUw5AEc8gbWegJkQCraAmG6xEjspshZ9Y3GhBfiem9b3-Ir_xfXBMHhXEN6mMlEXAajAfgSlCa3FhdWscDkpqq/s640/IMG_20200826_123324.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /></div></div><div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finally, finally, after a few hiccups in communication between rider and driver, and a couple of outbreaks of bulls being, well, bullish, we came within sight of the corral. </span></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSROgq-HBMFODPVOVVOugwAE3JdSW7YC3tJ_nIswDU1u3IVPxWl_gBGdE-pl9ahPRh3LWbYa6QSc8aezeaufRFjrB9JEINaQqZItPYUoszyJkCX2j4JXgV2RHx_-G6lJKzlLyAcDgjDW-B/s2048/IMG_20200826_123642.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSROgq-HBMFODPVOVVOugwAE3JdSW7YC3tJ_nIswDU1u3IVPxWl_gBGdE-pl9ahPRh3LWbYa6QSc8aezeaufRFjrB9JEINaQqZItPYUoszyJkCX2j4JXgV2RHx_-G6lJKzlLyAcDgjDW-B/s640/IMG_20200826_123642.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Good Rancher and Chopper were hot, tired, dusty and thirsty. He led his friend into the barn and unsaddled, brushed her down, gave her grain and released her to drink water from the always fresh livestock waterer. Only then did he walk slowly to the house. Animals first. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I handed him a cool drink. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"I'm sorry I'm so difficult some days," he said slowly. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"I'm sorry I can't ride," I replied. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We looked warily, wearily, at each other for a few moments. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Let's go get your rock," he said. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Today was a new day. Their old pal Bud was riding with him. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg4j_a8UALN7U0GWJTG9vH9S-os1GX1FFUVII4VwevUaO95WFS0KwOkCf49pcysPWqYay1tdMwHvzGIQeer5P8kynlsOs7HiqX4PmMGzkOwD1N5JhlH1y4K1-DGF-PxGpojqs-VjBjQ_m/s2048/IMG_20200827_110203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg4j_a8UALN7U0GWJTG9vH9S-os1GX1FFUVII4VwevUaO95WFS0KwOkCf49pcysPWqYay1tdMwHvzGIQeer5P8kynlsOs7HiqX4PmMGzkOwD1N5JhlH1y4K1-DGF-PxGpojqs-VjBjQ_m/s640/IMG_20200827_110203.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNnNaLp4lm8ctwhT_XCmdWOR-isp5Pd9LSFG_gBh3rtQ5aDzkbI2IMHiXJqe2XqiQ45hj6b04UndfkndM0HhMbn_GgE8XCV_-6tljGZeA5Bp_PpdfwNUkRNE9Q4AnTCBTRkzVDAnQWQeg/s2048/IMG_20200827_113639.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNnNaLp4lm8ctwhT_XCmdWOR-isp5Pd9LSFG_gBh3rtQ5aDzkbI2IMHiXJqe2XqiQ45hj6b04UndfkndM0HhMbn_GgE8XCV_-6tljGZeA5Bp_PpdfwNUkRNE9Q4AnTCBTRkzVDAnQWQeg/s640/IMG_20200827_113639.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrBxEmBZelMkH0HiHQZjkIqeKVpuREP5ow479lYqMkM2CS-ueVblK1M26e3xzQHaH61eXx7ROBnuRK5M7QP3kftW4883hrP29Hf00oZ1K75O9QZyO7BLwZsKbM83YvtEIpRMha3rBkoS_/s2048/IMG_20200827_100009.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrBxEmBZelMkH0HiHQZjkIqeKVpuREP5ow479lYqMkM2CS-ueVblK1M26e3xzQHaH61eXx7ROBnuRK5M7QP3kftW4883hrP29Hf00oZ1K75O9QZyO7BLwZsKbM83YvtEIpRMha3rBkoS_/s640/IMG_20200827_100009.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ0gPUpIi63DAhpOqhHLPtq4aWsLcOgpibpwT5Syr2g0BDu6iFcFp445ZHQDfEjQ3lhp5tyRSo5FvIq_NCVak1WcNOcCpBwiS2quAGw7cokAJQLKkM9-hUsoDrtIPVxjvBmv_cYXkwbbqB/s2048/IMG_20200827_110427.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ0gPUpIi63DAhpOqhHLPtq4aWsLcOgpibpwT5Syr2g0BDu6iFcFp445ZHQDfEjQ3lhp5tyRSo5FvIq_NCVak1WcNOcCpBwiS2quAGw7cokAJQLKkM9-hUsoDrtIPVxjvBmv_cYXkwbbqB/s640/IMG_20200827_110427.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">These two friends have helped with each other's cattle for a couple of decades. They are often each other's first call. Their wives, both exceptional horsewomen, were also friends.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The day was one of big skies, big fields, big horses, big bulls, big hearts. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYG_WZ0Ff3nnaC7Imc0AQRNH8wqggpRGpVfNw1N7nmy4LkamaQxkg5xXoFGsI_DqaykEF6Uj3ml2HKAL_16wCTFGCWOzsIHgf4MB_esqv65jcqfOTgQk-3CT0CjbJ1Kuw8O6L7CaFNdMbn/s2556/IMG_20200828_235837.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1230" data-original-width="2556" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYG_WZ0Ff3nnaC7Imc0AQRNH8wqggpRGpVfNw1N7nmy4LkamaQxkg5xXoFGsI_DqaykEF6Uj3ml2HKAL_16wCTFGCWOzsIHgf4MB_esqv65jcqfOTgQk-3CT0CjbJ1Kuw8O6L7CaFNdMbn/s640/IMG_20200828_235837.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It wasn't the same as it would have been with him and her, but it was sure something.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And sometimes something is enough.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxvsNsIFmQMiI7cNPVLytQW7W1LkgnRJ5AolvSpnSxcts9tFmF24ipIpRDgZr4x_OD07U8GOf5jzB_0gekcrQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLEV8v8dE148laYuVf1HBbbCkXxXE6zOOha6pPPz9gIw0C-qEX-cKd03v5auY-NoE_wMqRpdo6KEaOA2zgFnkSggHo0noJfI2zBUzYSsRkvCVvLV1TfuNl6bs56aqyXDMR8mrPQxTJNxI/s2048/IMG_20200826_204753.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1419" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLEV8v8dE148laYuVf1HBbbCkXxXE6zOOha6pPPz9gIw0C-qEX-cKd03v5auY-NoE_wMqRpdo6KEaOA2zgFnkSggHo0noJfI2zBUzYSsRkvCVvLV1TfuNl6bs56aqyXDMR8mrPQxTJNxI/s640/IMG_20200826_204753.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Copyright (C) 2017 Karyn C Ironside</div>The Sidekickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07288429350660571515noreply@blogger.com35