I've spent at least an hour a day for a week scouring the pasture for broken bits of glass and rusted stuff. Always finding more than my pockets or hands can carry, I am astounded that there's ever more to find.
Do you see what I see? Look closely near the center of the picture.
Maybe this one is easier to spot. Broken glass and rusty nails and old tractor parts and even horseshoes!
The sheep come out to check out my mysterious behavior. The familiar "rip, rip" of sheep tearing grass has been replaced by "crunch, crunch" of acorns they find. Shyla and her ram lamb, Sherpa, are finding some here. About all that is left in the pasture in the late summer is turkey mullein, which is toxic to sheep, though Ariel and Zuri, below, are managing to nibble something tasty from underneath the plants. The last heavy rains, last week, have started some green shoots, but they won't grow much before being covered with snow. The sheep will have to wait until April for luscious, fresh grasses.
Meanwhile, I'll continue to stroll and scour for dangerous junk. Some of my finds in the pasture clearly suggest a story, a history of this land. I wonder at the leavings of tools and machinery, rotting and rusting, waiting to be tripped upon by humans or injure sheep feet. We have been a thoughtless species, in too much of a hurry to take care of things properly, desecrating this sacred earth. Occasional findings of obsidian treasures, though, tells me that Maidu lived here before these rusted leavings, and I believe they treasured this land, as do I.