THANKS FOR ALL THE MIRACLES- "Moisture", Winter 2022-23

                                            "And please bless us with a little less moisture"

                                                              We are in weather whiplash .

Peggy, Annie, Bennett

Drought on the summer range.

The summer before last, that of 2021, we endured  severe drought, one of the worst seen in recent history of our ranching community in southeast Idaho's Gem Valley. With irrigation allowances practically a trickle, our hay crop came out to about 230 ton, less than half of normal.  Less hay = less cattle  = low yield  = hang on.  But in the fall of that year (21) came such an abundance of rain turning us around to record grass/hay yields in the summer of '22, to the tune of 750 ton.

Doug says this is 1.5 times our normal and nearly thrice the amount of '21. The weather had warmed so slowly last spring (22), we thought the grass would never grow, but it did.  What in the world would we do with all that hay? It was far more than we could use in one winter.  Doug had pondered selling some of it, but something told him to hang on to all of it. This was providential, because the cattle would end up requiring an extra three weeks of feed in the spring due to wet conditions and lack of edible grass.  They were turned out on May 21, as opposed to the end of April.

  We have been so used to mild-ish winters, with our ranch situated in our rather sunken, hidden Gentile Valley. By mild I mean: a few little storms here and there with little- moderate accumulation, cold temps reaching below zero sometimes in December and January, a warming trend to the teens and 20s in January and February, 30s to 50s in March:  standard, manageable  fare for calving in late February through March. 

     Something shifted this year.  Fall lingered to a blissful extent,

Lydia, Trey, Caleb

Sage, Eliza, Rosie with "Wrenchhead"

Then came the miserable day we had reserved for "Preg-checking" the cows on the third weekend of  October.

Rick

Slogging in the mud and rain

Weston and Heather

Brooklyn and Peggy

Along came December and January and we were pretty much in the arctic circle. January 30 gave us 24 below zero; January 31: 28 below.

Trey, Lydia, Caleb, braving the cold

Next we had minus 5, minus 4, zero, 6, zero, minus 5, minus 6, minus 2, minus 6, and minus 11 on February 16, the day our first calf of the season was born.  That poor little baby endured two more days of  minus 10. 

Sundog

Sofia, Annie, Peggy, Lucy, Ella ,Megan, Sage
Thatcher Ward House

Doug tried to go to the sale in Blackfoot on February 10 but it was minus 6 that morning and his diesel truck wouldn't take him past Grace despite "anti-gel" additive.  On February 17, with a temp of minus 10, Doug tried again for the sale but to no avail.. Temperatures came out of the hole in late February to give us some zeros and teens,  in time for the heavy snows that began to descend on us -  just as calving season began in earnest. February 23  - 7 inches, February 27 - 8 inches, February 28 -6 inches.  

THE MORE IT SNOWS, THE MORE IT KEEPS ON SNOWING

                                       Doug's little ditty about weather goes like this:

  People are most peculiar things

  When its hot, they want it cold

 When its cold, they want it hot

 Always wanting what it's not.

                                       His poem forgets to mention SNOW. So I add:

 Last year all the world was dry, the land was thirsty, so was I.

 We tried to wring out irrigation,  and eyed the ditch with irritation, 

 We kicked up dust with leather boots and hoped some water reached the roots.

 All the summer it was hot, we prayed for rain, but it was not.

  And now the tide has turned on us, it is no use to make a fuss.

 The snow it blows and sifts and drifts and when it melts it causes fits.

 It drips from rooftops' giant sickles,  transforms to trickles, causes pickles.

 I empty buckets, take your pick, of water, ice or snow, the trick?

  - to move it from the house... or it might seep and pool and cloister

         Please.... bless us with less  moisture.

     I can hear the Lord's response: "Moisture is that wet stuff from the sweat of your brow.  This other substance called SNOW covers houses, churches, animals, people;  buries cars and farm equipment, clogs roads, creates lakes and floods, mud slides and changes landscapes...forever. Don't call it 'moisture".

Bailey Creek, south of Soda Springs

Soda Springs

Soda Springs Stake Center

    The snows at the end of February marked the delivery of twin calves and a new chapter of Rick and Doug toiling early and late to tractor-shovel the snow, making pathways in the meadows for feeding and resting. A snow blower attachment to the tractor aided immensely. Gates had to be cleared for opening, also our driveway. Rick was outdoors constantly in the snow and the wind, not daring to take his eyes and attention from the cows.

Calving struggles in the barn.

Large herds of elk eating the hay.  Several hunters obtained permits to come shoot them.

Moving snow off front grass

    The first weekend in March started out with another wave of snowstorms.  March 5-6 handed us another 5 inches. Deep snows, and icicles  extending from ice clogged rain gutters, made hills and valleys of ice flows around the house and under the deck and gave me visions of melting ice flowing into our basement. I had to get to work.

     Though it was zero degrees on Wednesday March 8, seven calves were born, 5 inches of snow fell and the grandkids and I played outdoors; the next day too.  Doug kept on shoveling.

The five year olds, Rosie and Caleb

Rosie giving Eliza a pull

     In the middle of the storms, we had a couple days of 40 degree temps.  We were in trouble.  There was at least 6 inches of ice underneath everything and the melting snow had to go somewhere. Doug got handy with his icepick and moved a lot of snow to make way for rivers. That day, our little garage filled up with water and froze.

I did say "little" garage

THANKS FOR THE MIRACLES

     In the meantime, the baby calves were getting sick. Between moving snow and tending the calves out in the barn with Rick, Doug was not getting in the house until late in the evening.

THANKS FOR THE MIRACLES

Some of the sick calves died after many days of TLC.  On one such stormy night, after tending 2 calves being grafted onto 2 heifers, Doug and I  prepared for bed rather late. I listened to his prayer and was surprised to hear him say, "And thanks for the miracles."

     On March 16, I was present at American Fork Hospital when daughter Katherine and husband Tyrell welcomed their 5th child and 4th son, Ammon Jacob Bowen. Grandchild #20.

I stayed around for a few days, trying to help out at their home in Pleasant Grove.  I was in awe watching Katherine, mothering her new baby, and all her little lambs, giving full attention to each need with a calm and steady motion.

OVER THE TOP

   For the rest of March, more snow fell with temps in the 20's and 30's.  On April 1, after enduring another week of tending sick calves, and feeding the herds over the "very bumpy" meadows of melting snows and mud, Doug murmured that this past week had been "over the top".  It wasn't just the weather .  Our ward members were reeling from an explosion and destruction of the indoor arena and barn (March 21) belonging to Shane Jensen, sending him to the University of Utah per life flight for treatment of severe burns, but his life was spared.

Parts of the blown off roof, in the treetops

Blown up in-door arena, caused from heavy snows piling up on an outdoor propane tank's regulator.

Then came the death of  6 year old Ladd Fox, after crashing his pint-sized snowmobile on March 26. It was "over the top" for all of us, and in the end, our heavy snows in March were responsible.

     Near April's end, the snowfalls came and melted on the same day. Mud, ponds and running rivers through the corrals pushed back branding day twice and turned "cloven hooves into web feet" as Doug put it. Branding happened right next to working the steers the last week in April. 

Branding Day

Doug with best college buddy, Jerry Jensen

      When the sun came  out, we were so grateful for the warm weather, that calving season was over and that we had come out with  (just) a 10% loss during a devastating winter. Most of our neighboring cattlemen reported calve losses between 20-40%. 

     The culminating miracle of this birthing season was the arrival, on April 27, of Juliette Olivia Terry, third daughter and third child of my youngest daughter, Livvy, and her husband, Aaron. Grandchild #21.

     Being in the home of a young family with a new baby is what I would call the almost unbearable sweetness of living.  It has to be; babies are angels made flesh. There is this beautiful imperfect chaos. Tired parents. Two year old trying to claim and snatch baby at every opportunity.  Five-year-old know it all, in charge, darling. Cuddly pink bundle with heaven's imprint.  These visions have given me strength and courage and joy and hope in some of the days I experienced afterwards, when calving and snow and April gave way to May, and to doctors and a diagnosis and chemotherapy, come June.

Ammon and "Jules"

YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE