A Spring That Looks Like A Fall
The pastoral prairie scene before lambing commences in dry prairie land.
Lambing on pasture requires enough food and water be present for the ewe where ever she lambs. The prairie grass will come through, it already is although its still hidden by the old overgrowth. There’s enough grass to get through lambing. But we are dry here and have been for a couple years. This year water (or lack of it) will be a factor. The ewes will have to travel for water no matter which pasture I set them to lamb in. And hauling water will be nearly a full time chore during lambing.
As I watch the ewes I let my mind drift with the pastoral scene, forgetting about lack of grass and water. My excitement/desire for lambing has waned the last couple years, I think in part because the purpose of it is shifting; because I’m wishing to re-write the purpose. To move away from being a producer of market lambs and being hand-tied to a segment of agriculture I feel increasingly insecure about. The new purpose however, isn’t quite solidified in my mind. Or maybe the whole apathetic feeling is just sixteen years of familiarity doing its thing. Either way, I’m in a stage of uncertainty and I’ve been here for a little while now.
The scene of the beautiful dry land is attractive, reinforcing the marvel of how Mother Nature is both the devil and the advocate. And that land can be nurturing and neglectful, as wholesome as it is hindering. The state of the prairie land right now causes me great angst and yet being in the midst of prairie land is also what restores me, in daily doses and in deeper uncovering’s. Being in this place of uncertainly is where I must be to see the way through and there is no point in wishing it all away. And even if the land does not hold the answer this time, this land is where I need to be in order to map out the purpose.
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