Cabbage Ranch: Feeding Time

On a typical night Cabbage feeds the horses, but while he was away tonight the job fell to me. My whole life I have always enjoyed feeding time; I find it not to be a chore, but rather a meditative and soothing ritual of measuring, carrying, talking softly to big animals as I move among them with a pat. It's sweet, and so often I don't really think while I'm doing it- between my ears there's nothing but white noise. Unlike when I'm doing advanced calculus... rrriiiight...

Tonight, though, I couldn't wait to just. get. through it. and escape back to the house. It was 101 degrees outside, I'm seven months pregnant, and all I wanted was to sit down and put my feet up. (I apparently would not have made a good pioneer wife in 1873. This knowledge might just keep me up tonight.)

Fortunately I had a helper. As always, Beep was ready and willing.

Goldie had an early start eating her huge portions. We're trying to put weight on her skinny frame, but it's taking a lot of feed and a lot of her time is devoted to hanging her head in a feed bucket. I aspire to have that problem in my next life.

Goldie, you're a dork. A sweet, yearning, goofy, socially obtuse dork. Quit photobombing me.

This is better. A nice, crappy phone photo showing mud, a detached pool ladder, a baby heading toward a cat, and a bunch of stuff badly needing pruning shears/shovels/a hatchet job. Fabulous.

Every kid should have a cat this tolerant.

Here's how we recommend developing a cat like Fletcher:
1. Pick a kitten that was abandoned at a barn in a small West Texas town. He won't expect much from life.
2. Make sure he has a gash on his side and tell him you're not spending much on vet bills so he'd better get over it.
3. Promise to keep him in the barn foreverandeverandever because that's the only way your husband will allow a barn cat... [next scene] ...until he worms his way into your house, and eventually works his way up to sleeping on the comforter.
4. Ensure your cat develops an impressive hunting prowess, much like your husband. It'll give them something to bond over, which will lead to #3.
5. Watch your husband as he spends the cat's kittenhood picking him up by the tail, teasing him, making him make earless kitty faces, and generally increasing his tolerance for humiliation and harassment.
6. Beam with pride as the cat tolerates the toddler, who he likely views as a refreshing break from the adults in his life.

There's never been much wrong with Sam's appetite. He loves his feed. (the powder is an anti-ulcer supplement we feed to all our horses)

Cedar is the opposite of a photobomber.

Now I understand why. She's a beautiful mare, but somehow horrifically unphotogenic. She looks like she has an elephant head and donkey legs.

Thank goodness the sun is setting... I prefer to see our worn pastures in soft lighting.

Junior. It's been nearly a year since his struggle to live, and his pivotal surgery.

Bay has always been my favorite color for horses; this works out since we have four bays right now.

Feeding is done, Goldie returned to the pasture, and Beep and I walk through the gate. Beep has a good understanding of the most basic tenet of ranch etiquette: never, ever pass through a gate without closing and latching it behind you.