Grateful in All Things

The answer came like a breeze brushing my cheek

- By RAYLENE NICKEL, Kief, North Dakota

SPACIOUS SKIES Raylene's "small" 400-acre farm provides her with endless work...and joy.

Finally I finished cutting down a thicket of weeds in a paddock that my cows had yet to graze. It had taken two hours of hard physical work. I stood still, catching my breath, gripping the wooden handle of my scythe. Taking off my glove, I ran my finger lightly along the curved blade. Its edge was starting to blunt from all the cutting. On the bigger weeds, I'd had to use both hands to swing the scythe sharply, like a bat.

The tool had once belonged to my husband, John. I'd adopted it after he died 11 years ago. It cut weeds better than my lighter scythe, and I'd used it so much that its two-foot handle had cracked. I'd wrapped the length of it with duct tape for support. We'd been through a lot, this scythe and me.

My side ached. Swinging the scythe aggravated ribs I'd recently bruised. But it was rewarding to see a clean paddock, free of the tall, invasive gray weeds—wormwood—that flowered this time of year, in late summer. All that remained was a thick stand of grass and alfalfa swaying in the breeze. Stuff the cows loved to eat. Left to its own devices, the wormwood would have taken over.

My satisfaction lasted all of 10 minutes, the time it took me to walk to the adjoining pasture. Another weed, nearly as bad as the wormwood, greeted me. Canada thistle! And it had gone to seed. Its fluffy, cottony heads were on the verge of spreading seeds wherever the wind blew, a nightmare in the making. I couldn’t scythe it now. That would only spread the seeds more. All I could do was plan for future control. I'd have to keep an eye out for new shoots in the spring and run the cows in this paddock so they could graze and eat the weeds. I let out a heavy sigh.