A Post with No Name

I fell in the water crossing Salmon Creek to check on some cattle. I am not much good on jumping from from rock to rock. The sound of the creek, the swirl of the clouds, and the moss covered rocks did me in. Luckily it was shallow and only my pride was hurt. The hike was steep afterwards and I did notice my heart pounding, but not my cold, wet feet.

We tried out all the suggested names and we seemed to feel that Frank or Frankie fit him best. He has a certain frankness. Thanks Momma Em for the winning suggestion. When Frank finishes his duty here he might need a visit to the islands. Thanks for all the other suggestions. Some really made us chuckle. Gandalf was a name that came in close to winning, we love the Tolkien Trilogy, but after getting to know Frank better we realized he isn't really so wise. He looks the part, but um, not so much really. He just follows Flower around. She is definately in charge. Frank isn't so sure what to do with all the freedom either. We often see him standing along the fenceline. He seems to want to be fenced in. Get used to it, Frank. The animals roam mostly free on these acres.

Like this crazy sheep that wanderered here from somewhere else.

Normally the sky to the east of our house does not light up. This was a rare sunset in which to make note of. I have been very aware of the sunset this last week, because it is my cue to head to the barn and herd my chickens into their hen house.

Eric may be the bold, but he ain't so good at locking the chickens up at night, and somehow, during our absence, they took to taking things into their own wings and finding a new place to roost. If I am late in herding them, all but 2, are up sitting on the wire on top of the hen house in the barn. I have tried all kinds of ways to unroost them; rocks, sticks, curse words, (just kidding about the curse words, mom). The other evening I was poking a stick up through the wire to encourage them to do the right and safe thing and come into the house where I could lock them up from the predators and I began wondering about what they thought of the discomfort I was giving them. They sure squawked and complained. If only they could understand me, I thought. And then I pondered how this might be how God, or if it is more to your liking, a higher order feels with us. Sometimes I feel the prod of a stick and I am just not quite sure which direction to take!