Our pasture was riddled with a dozen or so thistle bushes, that looked more like trees at this point. We needed to dig them out and dispose of them to curb them from spreading. But I couldn’t help but notice how pretty they actually were.
Their pointed and prickly leaves reminded me of a Christmas tree. And at the very top, was a beautiful purple flower that looked like a star. Nestled in between cow patties that covered the ground, we were going to attempt to create a new tradition.
It’s Christmas in July. It was supposed to be fun. That’s what I told myself, as the kids began preparing. Unlike most celebrations, there were no cultural norms or traditions to go on. Just plain old stupid fun.
We were going to go into the pasture and decorate the biggest thistle we could find. It really did look like a Christmas tree and the idea of decorating it for pictures entertained even the oldest children. It’s not like that happens every day.
Loaded with bulbs and ornaments, we began making our way back into the pasture as a family. The children were so excited. It was just a stupid idea that I had, like most of the others. I didn’t really think it through, but I wasn’t expecting to ignite so much excitement.
By the time we made it to the gate, we realized that there would be no time for fun and games, as planned. The shenanigans were over.
My youngest son Timmy saw it first. He shouted out to us, but we couldn’t understand him. But we could understand what happened …
Laying on the ground in an awkward and motionless position, one of our ewes, Brownie, was dead.
The feeling that came over each of us stripped our excitement and enthusiasm away. Leaving us with remorse and sadness. How could it? What happened? These were just some of the countless thoughts that raced through our mind. But nothing consoled our hearts.
I’m honestly not attached to the sheep like I am Baby, our cow. They’ve become more of a passion of my wife’s. But we do our best to provide a safe environment for our animals. Everything that happens on our property is our responsibility, good or bad. It’s how we’ve decided to manage our homestead. But I couldn’t pinpoint anything that we could do differently. It was something that we just had to deal with.
Rushing against the clock and trying to beat the hot summer sun, we used the tractor and some elbow grease to make a big hole for Brownie.
By the time we finished burying her, and digging out the thistle, we managed to walk in the house in time to hear the AC stop. During the hottest days of July, for nearly two weeks, we went without the comforts of air conditioning. It was the gift that keeps on taking. At least there wasn’t a mouse in the softener again!
