Musings – Page 46 – Wool Stone & Prairie

I Stayed With The Stillness

Dogs / November 15, 2018 November 15, 2018

I’m pretty comfortable being in my prairie space, but there are occasions when I feel that spine tingling, heightened awareness of being a solo individual in a very vast space. This is a photo from such a moment.

dog photography — Stay With The Stillness

I was kneeling on a hilltop, taking photos of the ewes who just a moment prior to this photo were thick in those trees and venturing across the interior space of the abandoned yard – a space they have not been into before. It’s lightly foggy and any sound of sheep milling about is muffled. The ewes on the closest edge were knee deep in tall, golden coloured grasses and I loved the look of them against the naked trees in the soft air. I used one of these photos in the last post.

one photo, another, and another, one more, but then the ewes are on alert and filing out of the trees with quick purpose, the animals at the rear running to not be left behind as their mates pour out of there and move into the open space of the pasture.

None of the guardian dogs alert but Oakley rises and walks toward to investigate. It is very quiet and spine tingling still. I have a moment of tug-o-war; stay with the stillness, take the photo, or rise, call the dog, take the ewes lead and leave.

These Sheep Are Good

Sheep / November 11, 2018 November 15, 2018

Winter has landed, the landscape is now snow. It is colder than needed and wind hasn’t stopped blowing for three days. With the arrival of snow the ewes began bedding at a yard located on the land they’re grazing. No one has lived there for years and it’s full of tall, tall grass, old buildings and abandoned farm material – and it’s surrounded by trees and protected by hills along one side. They are reluctant to push into the yard proper at this point but don’t need to to be sheltered. It’s little wonder that they chose to bed down here.

sheep grazing — grazing at edge of yard before winter arrived

Last evening the wind was particularly bitter and unusually blowing in from the South. I found the ewes at the north west corner of the pasture, no where near the yard location. The girls were in a deep and wide valley of native prairie grass well mixed with and surrounded by trees. As soon as I dipped into there on the Ranger I could feel the cessation of the wind. I looked for guardian dogs who one by one sauntered up for supper.

This was a good spot to hole up in the weather but it was well away from the yard where I had set the dog houses for the guardians. Taking the flock all the way back there meant a trek straight into the wind.

“Do we move them?” I spoke to Coyote Mic, sitting in the drivers spot of the Ranger seat. I brought her along in case of just such a need. Her long snout lifted at the sound of my words, her eyes catching mine only for a moment before returning to watch sheep in front of her. Of course, she thought we should move them.

“Nah, sorry girl, I think we can trust them on this.” Trust that they know where to be, trust their choice to stay put on this ugly evening. I think.

I collected food bowls and took one more long look around. I scooted Mic over, reclaiming the drivers seat, and began poking my way home. The wind hurt and snow pelted my face as I drove. I questioned the choice to leave the ewes alone.

This morning everyone was bedded right where they parked last night. The wind had changed direction and now blew in from the north but no matter, their valley spot protected them. The dogs each had a deep and cozy spot and looked comfortable.

The wind finally died down this afternoon but I still expected to find the ewes in the north west corner again. Nope, they were back at the abandoned yard tonight. Judging by the tracks in the snow the guardian dogs had been re-investigating their dog houses, perhaps making sure no interlopers had made use of them on their one night away.

The start of every winter plays at the level of trust I have in the animals to know where they need to be. To trust that we’ve readied them for the season as best we can by providing what is needed even if it doesn’t look like the usual four walls and a roof. These sheep are good. We can trust in that.

The Restart

Musing / November 8, 2018 November 15, 2018

Ah, the first post – the mark of commitment and always the toughest one to write, even when it’s a continuation of something you’re already doing. But this new blog space feels more like a fresh start than it does a do-over. This new space feels like touching the pen to the blank page of a new journal; how for the first few sentences you write careful and deliberate and maybe a little too thoughtful.

I recently came across the phrase “inspiration comes after the journey has begun, not before,” although can’t recall who said it. This has been the case for me with the artwork, the writing, and taking photographs. Indeed, there are small inspirations all the time, in many facets. A peculiar thing is how this all still feels like I’m just getting my feet wet when in fact I’ve been rising at five in the morning for years; keeping that same block of time for doing something creative at the onset of my day. Perhaps that lingering newness feeling is the mark of knowing you’re doing the actions your core being needs you to do. Doing them hasn’t become stagnant yet. And I suppose that’s partly how and why we land here, on a new blog platform, with a new name and a slightly altered path, but with the same well loved subjects of prairie land, sheep, and a few good working dogs. Welcome to the re-start.