From Pipi’s Pasture: It’s Monday when …
This past Monday, when I went to the carport to measure out grain for the corral animals, I noticed that some animal — likely a skunk or deer — had made a hole in a sack of grain and scattered it around.
“It’s Monday,” I thought. Then, my thoughts turned to other very likely “Monday incidents,” such as some of the following.
I know it’s probably Monday when …
• First thing in the morning, I miss the coffeemaker reservoir and spill water all over the kitchen counter and onto the floor.
• I drop a slice of buttered toast on the floor and it lands buttered side down.
• Our grandson calls to report his pickup truck broke down on the way to work and he may not be able to help move cows this weekend.
• The garden hose “jumps” out of the stock tank three times, and water runs all over the ground.
• The bale of hay I rolled to Pipi’s Pasture to feed three cows weighs at least 200 pounds.
• A corral cat jumps up on the bucket of grain, knocking it over and spilling grain.
• The wind starts up just as I head out to do afternoon chores, blowing hay back on me and leaving it in my hair, pants, and even in my underclothes.
• I run over a dead skunk with the car on the way home from work.
• The bottle calves, now being weaned, attack me as I cross the corral, chewing on my clothes and scattering hay and grain all around.
• In an effort to slowly wean the bottle calves, I start feeding them a grain mixture especially made for that purpose, and they won’t eat it.
• A sack of apples falls over at the house, rolling them all over the back hallway.
• After a 30-minute search for a bill that needed to be paid, I found it in the first place I had looked.
• When I’m halfway finished typing a column, my computer “decides” to lose what I’ve done, and I have to start over.
The above incidents are likely to have me muttering “It’s probably Monday.” However, to be
fair, there are always positives, too. For example, just this past Monday, I drove up to the summer pasture to check on the cows. As I approached the pasture area, I was treated to the most spectacular view. The colors in the surrounding area and in the mountains above have never been prettier, which surprised me, considering the dry summer. The oak leaves are the brightest red I’ve seen in years. I sat there in the car, taking in the breathtaking scene.
Also that morning, the cows were all where they were supposed to be, and they seemed content. So I drove down to my brother Duane’s house and had a cup of coffee and nice visit — a pleasant Monday morning, indeed.
On a cool autumn afternoon in 1914 Hayden, a human being was seen occupying space previously reserved for only birds, clouds and celestial bodies. It was a monumental occasion — one that shook the very fiber of reality for the people of Northwest Colorado.