Lately, showers have blessed us more evenings than not, which has kept me from having to drag hoses. The garden is in, the hills are greening beautifully, and cattle are out to pasture. That happened later than usual this year because last summer’s drought and a cold dry spring made early season grass happen not so early.
Last week, my son told me what day the crew planned to take cattle to pasture, and the news was bittersweet. Going to grass, when I was actively ranching, was a highlight of the year even though it often meant wet saddle blankets and a lot of frustration. Calves tend to fall behind the herd, and when they lose track of mama, they head right back to where they had their last meal. But I miss that early morning ride out to gather, the sun just up, dew on the grass, the creak of leather, and the rhythm of a good horse between your knees. Even my son’s often repeated comment to the help… “if you’re a praying man you can start now.”
Today, I count the blessings of this stage of life, when slow-down is mandatory and there’s time to smell the roses, which are blooming nicely, along with iris, hanging baskets, and tubs of other flowers. The iris came from my brother-in-law, the roses from Bruce and a daughter-in-law, and some of the baskets from my daughter. The rest of the flowers were a present to me from me. We never seem to get a chance for travel since Bruce became a county official, and I decided since I’m always home, the yard should be pretty.
The three little kittens have all their mittens as well as mouthfuls of millers, which faithfully make their appearance in June. Watching the kitties tumble and wrestle makes me chuckle, and remember how my kids and grands did the same at the toddler stage. Ruby, the younger dog, is curled up with mama cat in a shady spot, and Tara is watching a butterfly that seems determined to land on her nose.
Yucca will bloom next week; cactus and sour dock will follow shortly. Roadsides are decorated with sweet peas, buttercups and blue bells. June is the prettiest month in the Sandhills, and when people are planning a visit, I always tell them to come in June. We enjoyed several visitors in May, but June’s calendar is filling up fast, so evidently friends and relatives are taking my advice. Bruce will miss some of them; he always plans fishing jaunts in June, and I’ve never understood why anyone would want to be away from the Sandhills when they are at their prettiest.
If you’re horseback this week, take a minute to sit on a hilltop and let your horse blow while your eyes drink up the blessings of June. If you live in town, take a walk around the neighborhood and enjoy everyone’s pretty yards. If you’re driving somewhere on vacation, turn off the radio, the audio book, and CD player. Open the windows and take a deep breath of a world that’s full of blessings. Make it a priority to be grateful for June. After all, it only comes once a year.
Meet me here next week and, meanwhile, do your best. Somebody might like it.