Mother Nature is not a sweet little woman

I came from dry, arid and very-dry-with-little-moisture country. The really big outfits could run at least 20 cow-calf pairs on two sections in good years. Wait, that may be a slight exaggeration on my part. My pappy did make a pretty good living, but I still have some dust in my lungs and I never did want to stay there. I searched for a place with some water and grass and days of little or no wind. I did not have any experience with rocks -- found some to use for ammunition in the old pea shooters, but no rocks even in the creeks.

First time I heard about this place, a thought came to me. Why not go there and build a place. Good thought! I was young and had a healthy close relative who could and would work. We came, signed papers and set out on the adventure. Of course, it was not like a Lewis and Clark trip across the unknown to the Pacific Ocean, but there were days I would have traded places with one of them!

All this history to say, I have running water in almost every pasture and a place or two in the driveway of the barn. I have worn rubber boots so long that my feet ache and muscles knot up at night and keep me awake. I have always loved the pitter patter of rain on the roof and I have heard it frequently this past month. I will not complain about moisture, but I am about to complain about the mud!

The rock pile is not underwater like so many up north, and I am very grateful to be able to pray for them and not join them. The fact is, too much of anything is sure never easy; or, in lots of disciplines, never right. Too much or too little is hard on everything and we are apt to do the damage ourselves. But the mud is causing me to live with a cranky close relative.

The utility room is not for raking off mud-clogged boots, the sink is not for washing clods of mud off hands or equipment and flowers cannot be planted in standing water in flower beds! Weeds are growing so fast, and some grass is showing up; but it is not a good idea to try to weed eat in a water soaked yard. So we will wait. I did not say calm waiting, just waiting.

I am worried about foot rot in some of the pastures that just don't drain well. The bullpen is one of the wettest ones and, so, I have moved the big boys to the trap just east of the barn. We are behind with the spring work due to the weather, but the bulls can stay there until it dries up some.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, Mother Nature is not a sweet little woman who loves humanity. She tries to upend us at every corner, give us a horse laugh when we think we are ahead, and swat the crops with frost way down in the spring months! She likes storms and throws lightning strikes at trees where cattle gang up to get out of the misery. I know mankind has no way of controlling her, so we go to the only one who can in prayer! I'd like you to mention my name when you are on your knees, I just want peace and to wear real boots again!

Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette area author of this weekly column.