AIN'T Day
Life has been a whirlwind at the ranch for the past two weeks.
I wasn’t quite released from the constant vigilance that lambing season demands when my daughter’s milestones of a final state tennis tournament and graduation appeared on the calendar.
The following week, hauling livestock to the processor competed with 72 unanswered emails.
The first farmers market of the season insisted on some prep time, too.
And the calves needed to be branded before they outgrew the calf chute.
With a lot of help, it all got done, but I’m not sure just how.
After the first market, I brought home a nugget of wisdom that I hope I remember for a long time: AIN’T.
As in Alone In Nature Time.
My farmers market friend said she writes AIN’T on her calendar to schedule time to recharge and reflect.
Although I spend most of every day outside, Nature calls me to slow down, observe and focus.
It halts the constant tumult of calculating, planning, preparing and considering all potential consequences of a decision.
AIN’T days reset.
So when a friend invited me to help move cows to their summer pasture that snuggles up against the Rocky Mountain Front, it took me all of 9 seconds to rearrange my responsibilities so I could go.
By 6 am the next day, my partner in crime and I loaded horses, stuck apples in our pockets and pulled out to join the trail crew.
An hour later, we stepped into our stirrups, inhaled the scent of growing grass and admired stark peaks in the distance.
The lead cow set a quick pace.
I had never ridden in this country so my job was simple. I kept the last cows and calves on the right path.
We trailed the cattle through several pastures with other herds.
My friends kept the herds separate.
For once, I didn’t have that responsibility.
Moving cows looks easy when everyone understands the unspoken rules.
Don’t get ahead of the last calf.
Swing wide to turn the herd.
Don’t rush the cows – slow is fast.
Everyone has an invisible lane and a task to be done in that lane. Cutting in front of another rider is bad form.
Here and now is the only conversation allowed -- plants, animals, cycles and seasons and maybe a little philosophy. The glory of the day.
Intuitively banned topics included plans for later this week and political discussions.
In such a spectacular place, all of us felt the magic spell that comes with slowing down, observing and focusing.
I broke that unspoken rule a couple of times.
My mind slipped out of the moment and spun into schedules, responsibilities at home and political issues.
Instantly, I felt the magic spell crack.
My only recourse was to ride away and regroup.
Refocus.
Admire the wildflowers.
Watch the clouds dance with the blue sky.
Feel my horse’s rhythm.
The yellow arrowleaf balsamroot bloomed across southern exposures, carpeting our path.
We discussed the medicinal uses for the plant and admired those who know more.
I misidentified larkspur and lupine until my friend showed me the differences in the flowers and leaves.
Larkspur is deadly so knowing the difference is important.
I had never tasted camas until we dug a few roots, peeled the dirty outside layer and popped a bulb into my mouth.
I have lots of death camas at my ranch. This edible, nutritious camas has similar, onion-like leaves but has a purple flower instead of a deadly white flower.
By the time we parked the cattle at their summer watering hole, I’d had an almost Alone In Nature Time Day.
Only I hadn’t been alone and that made it even better.