Grandpa races the clock and the open road to make a grandson’s birthday in Idaho Falls.

I’m not really one whom you’d call a first adopter, especially when it comes to the newest, latest, greatest, fanciest piece of technological equipment.

Abby’s thoughts on our work seemed to have taken a softer, more empathetic tone than her initial attitude had portrayed. “There’s not much you can’t fix with baling twine and a prayer,” she quipped. Since my fences and my life are often held together by those two very indispensable ingredients, I could only smile and agree.

A mild start to March had me believing spring had settled in – right up until the storm proved otherwise.

Calving season. It’s the very best of what the agrarian lifestyle has to offer, interspersed with moments of extreme disappointment that always seem to accompany the absurd futility of the livestock business.

Now, I realize it’s a pretty big ask to make me appear presentable, if not handsome, in public, but you’d be surprised how badly someone with a barber pole outside the door and a rudimentary knowledge of how scissors work can truly mess up a haircut.