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Hi, everybody. I'm new to this site, so bear with me while I get my feet under me and figure out how it works around here. While I'm struggling with my innate disinclination to all things technical, I'll just introduce myself and thank Susan for telling me about Homesteadblogger.com. Now, officially, I don't qualify as a "homesteader", farmer''s wife, or anything close, but do good intentions count? And memories from 18 years spent growing up on a real-live cattle ranch in Eastern Washington? I guess I'd better specify that when I mentioned good intentions and being a farmer's wife, it wasn't in the context of finding a husband who farmed, or to in any way shake loose the one I have; he's a keeper, and is also a "farm kid" who wants to get back to the dry side of the State of Washington. Just think of us, hum the tune to 'California Dreamin' and trade out "California" for "Eastern Washington", and we'll be in business! Let's see, a good memory.....there are soooo many......OK, how's this? I was a "horsey" kid through-and-through, from the time of my first Shetland-Welsh pony, Black Beauty, on my eighth birthday, through several horses that followed until I met my husband and took the first steps that would lead me to a more urban lifestyle. Beauty was an amazing little mare, and was my very best friend for several years, until it came time to let her go to a family with young children who could actually ride, and love, a pony that I'd outgrown. That was a very difficult decision, but I'll never forget the joy and excitement those three little kids displayed upon coming to pick up their new pony; they were literally jumping with joy. Witnessing their immediate love for my friend made it easier to let her go. The summer of 1972 was extremely hot, and the Northwest was experiencing drought conditions. We farmed on Crab Creek, which was counted upon as the cattle's water source year-around. These, of course, were the days when farmers could range cattle in creek areas, before the Department Of Reclamation began tightening restrictions on water use. Nowadays, Crab Creek is protected, and the days of seeing cattle ranging anywhere near free-flowing creeks is a thing of the past. Progress, and for good purposes, but still marking an end to accepted farming practices..... I'm not getting very far with my story, am I? Now, I was almost 12 that summer, and knew no fear. In this extremely dry summer, we'd begun to notice rattlesnakes approaching right up to the house; my mom (widowed for about a year and a half at this point and an amazing woman) blasted the one lurking to the side of the porch steps with the hastily-retrieved .22. Several evenings later, I'd taken Beauty out for a ride in the meadow. As dusk fell, we returned to the barn, and I cleaned and stored the tack. Upon returning from the tack room, I noticed that Beauty was standing inside the barn, which was unusual for her; she'd have typically beat feet back to the pasture as soon as I'd released her, but not this night. As I approached, I saw a dark shape in the corner of the barn. One of my cats had been expecting kittens, and I assumed that it was she, with her new babies. I'd only taken two steps toward my "kitty" when Beauty moved swiftly, blocked my body with her own and pushed me back several steps. It was only at this point that the "kitty" began uncoiling itself, and with a warning rattle, announced its presence. I'll never forget my shock in realizing that had it not been for my faithful friend, I would have stuck my hand right into a rattler's personal business and possibly paid for my carelessness with my life. Had I turned on the light in the barn? No. But she knew the snake was there, and rather than leaving the stuffy barn for the cool freshness of the approaching night, she stood her ground and protected her "girl." Her valor, and love, are gifts I could never repay, and I knew without reservation that the children who inherited this valiant little lady would be equally loved. She had the build of a princess and the heart of a Percheron, and was my first love. And the snake? Well, my mom had occasion to shoot two rattlers in the space of three days, if memory serves. As were many others, we were very glad to see the autumn storm clouds build over the horizon, and rejoiced in every rain drop that fell. Thanks for sharing my memory. Blessings. Julie
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