Johnson Grass is the bane of the corn-farmer's existence, yet the fruit of the grazier's.

This 150-year-old soul is being rejeunvenated to provide house and home for another century or two.

This simple plant is our nemisis. We can not conquer it.

This rare Kirtland's Snake was identified this past week in our wetlands. It is an exciting discovery because this snake is highly reclusive and known in only one other location in the county. A local herpatologist has been patrolling our wetland in search of this species, and several days ago discovered it. This is big news for local herpatologists and for us. It indicates our wetland is rich with biodiversity and is protecting threatened species.

Several weeks ago this black snake crossed my path. Black snakes are omens of good fortune. Like most good fortune, they are inconspicuous and rare. So, when a specimen presents itself, it behooves one to take notice. I was able to capture the last half of this mysterious and dignified being, as it undulated into reaches unknown. The perlexing question left behind was, what is the beneficial news it portends?

Two shadebmobiles offer welcome reprieve, even on an overcast day.

This past week has been rich with grassfed offspring, bringing the future to the present. Lambs, dairy calves, children from Head Start, great-nephew, granddaughter, and Robin's egg - are all finding purchase on this grass-based farm.

Sometimes it is prudent to defy conventional wisdom. This picture was taken a week ago, at the tail-end of winter, it seemed. We had just started grazing without supplementary hay, and were trying to assess pace at which to proceed. The convention, at the outset of the grazing season, is to move animals quickly and leave behind as much grass as possible, so it will regrow rapidly. This approach maximizes quantity of forage produced for the year. Grass that has been grazed short, as in the above, will not regrow as quickly because fewer solar panels are in place to stimulate growth.

These ewes are about to engage in a great spiritual event - giving birth. Animals, unlike humans, do not seek spirituality. They own it, are part of it, even create it. Giving birth is an extraordinary experience, and it is in the extraordinary that the spirit lies. A mother delivering a child is clearly in an exceptional dimension, which feels sacred to most witnesses. As these ewes bring forth new life over the next month, we honor them, pay homage to them, for the great miracle they propagate.

This week we assessed the cow herd. We "palpated" cows, fixed eartags, vaccinated all, castrated bull calves, and dehorned calves needing such. We worked about 150 head, requiring four hours of time from seven people. It was quite a process. Being that close to such large animals is transporting. You feel their immense power of body and soul. You can touch them, which they won't let you do in the field, and look into their eyes.

Views of landscapes are so seductive, it can be tempting to ignore what is happening up-close, such as beneath the bark of trees.

Landis Weaver and I worked side-by-side to construct this sorting corral. It took several afternoons to do so, and then we tested it out. A number of remarkable aspects to the experience surfaced. First, the metal panels employed (made by Priefert, out of Texas) come with chains, high and low, at one end, which hook to slots, high and low, at the other end of the next panel. Thus, hooking panels together works readily, creating a solid stucture. It is gratifying how quickly one makes progress, chaining one 15-ft. metal panel to another.