Musing

Prairie Land Intangibles

Country Roads on a misty June morning; naked grain land on the left, earth covering grassland on the right.

It matters a great deal that there be intangibles we cannot get our hands on. And it matters that we get to know these intangibles and learn to honour them because they are the internal nudges, they are the link to our own inner nature; a nature many woman have been told has no place in agriculture.

That grassland landscapes and people who steward the land with mother nature in mind are still here, matters a great deal more than we might give thought to.

It also matters that we grasp and explore the link between land and animal, sink our teeth into the natural connections and risk rearranging the pieces of our thinking about what it means to farm the land.

It matters – now more than ever.

Traveling back roads on a misty June morning. Naked grain land in foreground, grazing land at the rear.

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.

As Winter Breaks

The resident fox is out and about frequently which continually toys with the Kelpies who have been wanting to follow his trail for months now but have been impeded by snow and fencelines. But the other morning we stepped across the fence line on a snow bank, got ourselves to a hill top and explored from there. Me, just eager to reconnect with prairie land and the Kelpies just eager to follow fox trails.

Oh, the prairie land… with the snow receding I get the smallest glimpse of grass, a reminder of the condition the prairie was in when it went dormant. It is thin and dry but I am grateful for it regardless of condition. It amazes me that even dead and dormant prairie grass can give me a boost.

As winter breaks, the days open up and the light changes as the warmth in the sun becomes known. March is a trickster month. The suns warmth and the drips of melting snow speak of beginnings and starting anew, and yet beginning any thing new is still just out of reach due to frozen underground and freezing nights.

Still the spirits lift with each layer of clothing shed. Geese have returned and jogging and bike riding are doable activities once again much to the Kelpies delight. So is working sheep with stock dogs, just for the heck of it. The Kelpies are joining me once again for the evening flock checks and I’ve been stealing ten or fifteen minutes to work them on sheep, where ever we find ourselves. The past few years have been all consuming ones with the building our home, building that we did ourselves. This is the first spring in four years that feels like it comes with a little more wiggle room, and that we can look to other plans again.

A rural slice of prairie, the home, the dogs, the flock; comfortable familiarity with just these things and little else. These are the very things that made our path a little easier to navigate this past year and bring us into spring with some amount of optimism. This is the way of life and the things that are normal to me and to so many other rural folk, and these are the very things that keep life plugging along as usual while all around the world seems to turn inside out.