Rural Tranquility

This morning's sunrise was a glorious mural of clouds and colors all across the eastern sky. I went outside early, still dark, to let the Bloodhound and Bouvier out to cavort in the pasture. I watched the sunrise, and the geese flying in their formations to and from the river.

The dogs run riot out of their dog yard until approximately 7:13 am, and then they must return back to their yard. 7:13, because 7:17 each weekday morning brings the school bus down our road, and if there is something Beau the Bloodhound loves, it's a good chase of anything large and noisy. I doubt that anything would ever come of his chasing the bus from one end of our property to the other, but there's always that "What if?" worry in the back of my mind. He never has, but "what if" Beau scaled one or two of the fences and got out and got hit by the bus? Not only would we be very sad for ol' Beau, but can you imagine the mental scar that might leave of a bunch of little school kids and their bus driver driver? She has had to honk at our ducks and peacocks - out in the road - before, and I think she might draw the line of patience at the Bloodhound.

I came in to have coffee and check life in the world, by means of the internet and BBC radio. Hmm...the weather for our day forecast a warm morning getting cooler, and a calm morning building to wind advisory including 45 mph wind gusts. In Kansas a wind advisory means serious business. It is not at all unusual to see semis pulled off the side of the interstate because the Kansas wind CAN blow them over. I have seen this. I have seen the Kansas wind blow our horse water tank over a fence and into the ditch. Ditto, just last fall one of our round bale feeders, which was set on side to be moved the night before, rolled across the pasture in the wind, rolled over the fence, across the highway, and into the far ditch. The next morning, I drove past and thought to myself, "That looks a lot like our bale feeder," and I drove on. Huh.

Since the forecast was "windy", I told that Spouse o' Mine that I was going to go hike the Konza Prairie early this morning, before the wind. (What a life, that I have to schedule my day around wind.) I am glad I headed out early. The fields from here to there were filled with Canada geese, foraging and feasting on corn. I suspect it was like a goose cocktail party, and the participants were scoping out the opposite sex for their springtime mating season. In one field, there were large white snow geese mingling with the Canada geese. They are very pretty!

Further down the road: a bald eagle in the air! I just love it when I spot those big birds. They are really beautiful creatures.

I hiked the Konza, taking a new route, which is always fun. I was heading back from my "out & back" when the wind picked up. Boy, it was WINDY up there on the top crest of the prairie! It never fails - I always marvel out there when I think about pioneers in their covered wagons, moving only a few miles each day, planning their meager meals (Did Pa shoot a rabbit today?), stopping in time to make camp, cook a meal, feed and tend to their precious (as in very, very important) livestock, repair any needs on the wagon/wheels/guns/tack.

Grad Student Gillian on the Konza

Affianced Claire running the Konza

And then back home, a day filled with indoor duties and distractions. While I spent the rest of the day inside, we had workmen and trucks and Ditchwich machines and such in our pasture and parked on the side of our house. The rural water people are moving the water line from Point A in our pasture to Point B. I think they are going to dig a long, long line along the fence in order to do this. Amazingly, they have picked two days in this month, two of the most rotten days of weather (in my books) in which to work on this - windy today, and a sleety, windy day two weeks ago. I wonder who schedules these plans. Why don't they do the whole job in days-in-a -row, instead of a day here and oh, let's show up again in two weeks.

This evening I let the dogs out again for their pasture romp. Both of them made a serious run for the giant Ditchwich machine the rural water people left out in our pasture. Beau the Bloodhound spent twenty minutes nosing around the machine and its perimeter. I could spray paint exactly where those workmen walked this afternoon, simply by watching Beau's attentive scent-hounding. It was interesting.

And there was an encore performance of the sun this evening: rivaling the sunrise, our sunset was a magnificent horizon of deep purple, orange, and pink lines, running parallel to the flat Kansas skyline.