Crescent Moons and Indian Spirits

I had been thinking about my oldest son, living with his dad in Phoenix, wondering about how his high school graduation will go; feeling apprehensive about flying out and being on a plane again.

The lane from our farm in Ohio goes straight uphill to the northwest. As I left last night at 9:45 pm for midnight shift, I drove uphill and a huge, waxing crescent moon emerged from the top of the hill in the west, turning the black sky gray. The moon was on the horizon, and so appeared enormous. It was surrounded with a haze. It was absolutely breathtaking. It was like a promise that things in the west were okay.

Cadbury, the black lamb, is faring delightfully. We have a total of 5 healthy kids from 3 goats. The goats are done now, but we have 3 sheep yet to lamb. The latest drama is that my matriarch ewe is down with pregnancy toxemia. The vet says she might pull through, but it is yet more work in a very busy winter. More shots, excercising animals, checking, checking, checking.
I've been thinking, if I have more black or gray sheepies, what to name them. I've been thinking of names like "Rolo," "Scor," "Russell Stover," "Hershey," and "Mars." If someone thinks of something interesting, feel free to post it!

Last week I made an extra few hundred $ on my paycheck for covering during the respiratory infection that went around. So I splurged, and bought a long-desired digital camera. It was cheap, as digital cameras go, but it is NICE. It's a Canon Powershot A75. I've already downloaded pics on my computer.

Driving home from work this morning, a redtail hawk flew overhead, coming up I470 from the Ohio River. It is a sunny day, but there was a fog in the valley, as there often is. It clears out up in the ridges, and the valleys look full of marshmallow fluff. That is most noticeable in the autumn, but sometimes it happens in odd weather. The farm is nestled in the ridges, up in the sun. It must have seemed like old Scotland to my ancestors.
The I470 Wheeling bypass follows a creek up from the Ohio River into Ohio. The creek is called Whiskey Run, and you can see parts of it going up the hill. I've hiked down in there, and there is a family of beaver who dam off Whiskey Run perpetually. You can't see the dam from the interstate. The reason I can hike there is because I married into the property owner's family. Once I saw a beaver by the interstate while driving. The creek was named that because it used to be the path for bootleggers to take barrels of whiskey to the river. What is most interesting to me is that all of the surrounding property owners were Presbyterians whose descendents claim their ancestors did not DRINK.
Whiskey Run is also in the vicinity of an obscure spiritual ancient Indian site. I think their spirits are still there.