Strangers In The Night

The evenings, in summertime, are a time of respite from the sweltering heat, from the penetrating rays of the sun, from the busyness of the workday, and from the noise of commerce.  As it gets around 10 o'clock at night, most people are home.  There is stillness and quiet.  All is at peace, or so it seems.  I like to go out and walk and look at the stars, listen to podcasts (Right now THIS ONE) and think.  

I was walking and looked up into the northwestern sky, admiring the masterpiece of the stars in an infinite universe and my eye caught this (apologize for the low quality photography):

A few months ago I wouldn't have known what that was.  Now I know, it is - A Starlink Satellite Train.  SpaceX's Starlink is a satellite train that will provide broadband internet access for people across the globe.  That's something else.  Out in rural America, you can look up and see something manmade way up in space.  It sort of reminds me of the movie, "October Sky" about October 4th, 1957 when the Russians launched Sputnik 1 and many Americans looked in the sky to see the 23 inch sphere pass over the earth.  Whether it is Sputnik 1 or Starlink, there's something a little unsettling about something created by human hands in the heavens.  Fortunately, the Starlink train only lasted for a few minutes and then the stars twinkled once more without competition.

Oh, the sights that you can see at night if you look.  I remember the wise men in the Bible following a star in the sky that led them to the Christ Child.  On Thursday night at around 9 PM we were coming back from the Bayou Beekeeping Meeting and as we turned into our driveway, a flurry of wings became visible in my windshield.  Whatever it was, it flew directly up into the branches of the live oak tree that shades our driveway.  I had a feeling I knew what it was.  We were just talking about "wise" men putting satellites in space and the Wise Men following the Star to the Christ Child and now we see the "wise" old owl.  I opened the door and got out my phone and put it on flash.  The owl was returning my attention with a penetrating stare of his own.  Tricia was concerned that he would swoop down and come into the vehicle with us.  He turned his head on a swivel like they do as if to say, "Nope, I'm going to stay right up here."

I remember spending the first night in our home here in 2001.  We didn't have furniture in the house yet, and we all slept on the floor.  I remember hearing an owl hooting right outside our window.  It might have been in the same tree that we spotted this one in 23 years later.  The owl is welcome on our property.  Hopefully, he'll take care of some of the rats out by the barn.  Hopefully, he'll leave our chickens alone.  That reminds me.  I'm going to go close up the hen house.  I don't want "things that go bump in the night" to be our wise old friend bumping into one of our laying hens.

Look up, be watchful, for your redemption draweth nigh...

Seek him that maketh the seven stars and Orion, and turneth the shadow of death into the morning, and maketh the day dark with night: that calleth for the waters of the sea, and poureth them out upon the face of the earth: The Lord is his name:  Amos 5:8 KJV

Tucked In For The Night

I might have told you that about a year ago when I began new employment, I started on a self-directed health program.  Here's why.  I just turned 56.  Although I'm not on any medication, my doctor was telling me to watch my blood sugar.  The numbers had been increasing.  Despite us eating very healthy eating mainly things we grow on our little homestead, I've never met a sweet that I don't like.  Snacking on sweets was going to hurt me sooner rather than later if I didn't make a change.

I don't like lifting weights.  I don't have time to go to a gym and don't like running.  So what could I do?  I could walk.  I set a step goal of 10,000 steps a day.  That seemed simple enough.  So a year later, I hit my goal 99% of the time, going out at night and walking the perimeter of our 5 acres and have lost 20 pounds.  I listen to podcasts while I walk.  My favorites are: Art of Manliness podcast, Victor Davis Hanson podcast, and Jordan Peterson podcast.  

I also look up at the sky.  It is peaceful and serene.  At least once or twice a week I see shooting stars.  It's unfathomable to try to understand in my little pea brain that when I see a shooting star, I'm looking at something that happened many, many, many years ago.  But I don't just keep my head in the stars, I look around, too.  Tonight, I saw the cows sitting down and resting in the pasture.

After a full day of eating grass and hay, Rosie, Elsie, and LuLu are taking it easy.  As we discussed last night, Nick is gone.  Hopefully, all three of them are bred.  I was looking at them sitting peacefully in the pasture, I began to fast forward my thoughts 8 or 9 months from now.  Right now it is crisp and cool.  When the calves come, it will be hot, humid, and the landscape will be swarming with mosquitoes and deer flies.  I welcome the cool weather we're experiencing now.

I began to think about the possibility of having three more calves.  What would they be?  Bulls or heifers?  Heifers are nice because there is a demand for registered Jerseys.  More people are seeing the benefits of having a family milk cow.  We could sell the heifers.  However, bull calves would be fine, too.  Our deep freeze is almost empty.  Raising a bull calf for a year and a half and then sending him to slaughter would refill our stores of fresh meat.  We wouldn't complain about that either.

We will watch them closely for the next month to ensure they don't come back into heat, signaling that they weren't bred.  During the winter we keep them fed with hay and a little bit of sweet feed.  We supplement with some of the smaller sweet potatoes from the garden.  This weekend I'll be planting some turnips, too.  Toward the end of January and February, I like to pull up turnips and cut them up with a pocketknife and feed them to the cows.  They love turnips.  Me?  Not so much, but I love turnip greens.

Well, the podcast is over.  As I look down at my step counter, I'm at 11,348 steps.  Time to go in and get tucked in for the night, sort of like the cows.