Friday, March 4, 2011

Home on the Range

Well, we don't really have a range, or a ranch, but we do have a pasture on a farm upon which we have some cows. So, in the spirit of the Pioneer Woman, I thought I would share a couple of pictures. Our cows are well cared for by Dave, our herdsman. Some might call him a cowboy, but our kids always referred to him as the cow whisperer. Can't really argue with that.

I love to drive by the cattle farm this time of year and see all the mamas and babies out in the field. I always think of Psalm 50:10, "...for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills."
A couple of them posed for me recently. Here is the mama.

And here is her baby. So sweet.

My friend Taylor at The Lumberjack's Wife, uses a photo like this for her COW, which stands for Comment of the Week. I don't have enough comments for that, but you should take a look at Taylor's blog to read the stories of her sweet, happy, naughty kids. Brings back good memories. Her dear little ones provide lots of good entertainment. And she is hilarious.

Around the corner and down the road, we actually do have a range. It's not the cowboy-ridin' kind of range, but the Tiger-wannabe-drivin' kind of range. It's been in the works for a while now, and hopefully the closed sign will soon turn to open.

Yesterday they were working on installing the nets along the side of the driveway. Guess it wouldn't be good to get drilled by a golf ball on your way in. Not that anyone would hit it that way on purpose mind you, it's just that sometimes golfers don't seem to have much control over where their ball lands. Even the ones on TV.

The wind was making it a little tricky to get the net in place. The guys were no doubt thinking it a bit odd that some woman would whip into the drive and stand in the door of her car to take their photo.

Then they saw it was me and resumed their work.

We'll be looking forward to some activity of the golfing variety there once the weather breaks. I hope Jon gets a discount there. Or maybe a J-O-B.

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