It’s officially the end of a season now. We often mark time out here based on our cattle
business, and last week we sold calves. Shipping Day. Weaning. These are the other
ways to say that our year of work spent caring for the cattle and their calves has come
to fruition. We spent the past few days riding every pasture to make sure every animal
was home safe. We rode through the first dusting of snow and a bitter wind, and then a
couple of really beautiful, perfectly chilly late autumn days kicking up some stray cattle
and mule deer from the draws, knowing in our bones winter is set to fully kick in any
moment now and send us for cover under our wool caps, coveralls and big coats.

When the truck came to load the calves on Tuesday we had picked out a little pen full of
heifers to keep on the place. We had done this sorting the night before to make things
go more smoothly on shipping morning only to wake up to find that of course they had
broken through the panel to get themselves mixed back up with the herd again. And so,
we did it again, sorting the calves from their mothers, and the steers from the heifers
and the best heifers from the bunch to keep. Both Edie and Rosie had picked the most
colorful from the lot as theirs to keep, a big black baldie with four white legs named
Socks and a red brockleface name Ginger who seems to be growing some horns. The
two stand out nice and dramatically from the herd of uniform black future mommas we
picked to keep building our herd and we’re all fine with it around here. It’s a family
operation, as it goes.

Which is pretty clear when you see us all filtering into Stockman’s sale barn, unloading
daughter after niece into the gravel parking lot, each one packing some sort of tote,
purse or backpack full of notebooks and art projects to take up to the steep seats and
entertain themselves while we wait for our pen of calves to come through.

“Look, there’s Eyelee!” Rosie hollered to her youngest cousin across the seats when the
heavy set of steers came through the ring. “Remember we named him that because he
has white eyelashes?” That’s the fun part about running Herford bulls on black cows, it’s
easier to name them and tell them apart. Emma, my five-year-old niece and lover of
every cow she ever met, wasn’t thrilled to see all our babies go. I’m thinking Rosie’s
explanation about what was happening from her seven-year-old perspective while
watching the calves get loaded on the trailer that morning probably didn’t help ease her
mind. It wasn’t that long ago when my husband and I had to haul both our daughters out
of the sale barn, bawling because they just realized the calves weren’t coming back
home, but it seems they’ve come to terms with the process these days.

And it’s nothing a little trip to the pizza and arcade place won’t fix, a little tradition my
family decided on a few years ago to celebrate making it to sale day. Because nothings
says success like wining 600 tickets on ski-ball and cashing them in for a long, neon
plastic hand with a lever that picks things up and allows you to bug your little sister and
mother from at least three feet away.

Anyway, all this is to say we’re grateful for another year on this place raising happy
healthy kids and a happy, healthy herd into a new season. This time of year definitely
makes me feel nostalgic, which usually, for me, results in a song. To honor that feeling, I
thought I’d share one I wrote while riding through that bitter wind a few weeks ago
alongside my husband who hadn’t yet switched from a cowboy hat to a wool cap. The
change has been made now, that’s for sure.

Stay warm. Stay cozy. Stay grateful.

Cold Weather
Summer is over, I heard him say
The breeze isn’t cool anymore, anyway
It’s hard and it’s bitter, it cuts through the layers
Of denim and leather and good-hearted neighbors

Summer is over, my fingers are froze
The horses in pastures are growing thick coats
You put yours on too and I’ll switch my straw hat
For the wool cap and new scarf you bought me for Christmas

You get the gate and I’ll keep the coffee on
I take mine with cream, you take yours black and strong
There’s things that I know, how it rains, then shines, then snows
For worse or for better, count on me, counting on you and cold weather

Summer is over and we’re getting older
And so are the kids used to ride on your shoulders
And now they are stretched long and lean like the blue stem
That bend in the wind trying to duck out of our hands

Summer is over, the furnace just kicked on
The dew on the grass turns to frost at the dawn
The flies on the windowsill got tired of spinning
Tell me, you think it’s the end or beginning?