Sept 17,’09- It’s 46 degrees and I finish chores and go check the cattle herd in the backwater pastures. The herd is an assortment of black angus, red angus, hereford and some crosses. We have our core herd of 40 cows, their calves and 2 bulls out there. We sold down from having 240 head with the change in cattle prices, economy and work load. These ladies are able to graze pastures that otherwise would grow up with invasive weeds and box-elder trees. I do a rough count of the herd and just admire them silhouetted in the morning mist. The line fence gate is open. Winky Jimmy Schultzie and Jean are so kind to let our cattle also graze their pasture. The Canadian Geese are honking, a cow stretches and her calf bellors. Pretty yellow flowers grow where the canoe awaits our next big adventure.  The canoe  is sturdily tied to the tree in a perfect knot. A Barred Owl hoots in the fog. Trees are dripping moisture by Big Bend and the ground is like a bog. The backwaters dead trees remind me of the cartoons  as branches reach out @ me. A tangled cow tail end is hanging stuck on a low tree branch. There’s no cow there, so I pass by and a dragonfly studies me. New bullthistles still are blooming. Rusty barbwire hangs with dew drops. I admire the craft of spiderwebs strung seemingly from the sky to the fence posts. With more daylight I see Patches grazing. Patches is Tom’s pet and a grand Simmental Cross that’s 20 years young. She is the lead cow and will follow a pail of grain gladly to new pasture. Even the undergrowth in the woods is dry. Typically,there’s a moist mat under the trees. I’m thankful for the bachelor beaver in the backwaters. Now the water level is rising and more waterfowl are here. I kicked up 2 ducks in the rising sun. Geese are honking and the Sandhill Cranes are gracefully perusing Big Bend. There’s 6″ round holes on the dry path that is alongside First Pond.  I realize that these are from the muskrats. I’ll ask Tom to set a few traps there so the path isn’t eroded more when mushy season opens.  I contemplate the significance of the holes. I am sinking with my thoughts into the holes.  What ancient echoes I now hear that arise from them.  I sing the song and open my eyes to see fluttering wings in the distance. A sprinkling of much needed rain is starting.  I’m fully present in the spirit of the river of life.

Flow like water,

Sue Roskos