I haven’t had much time to write this week.

Shift work…runaway horses…new chicks on the farm…enough barnyard chores for a week’s worth of sunburn…

…it’s been a long week.

It’s been a great week, but a long week.

I bought a book last week and it reminded me to be bold.

So this week I’m trying.

But squished in next to trying to be being bold, I had to be productive and now, at the end of it, my arms are red, my nose is peeling, my barns are clean, and there’s a ton of dirt under my fingernails.

And the week has taught me all over again that every season brings new chores and new changes and new jobs and new critters.

Like the mare.

She showed up at my friend’s house a couple streets over. They managed to get her over to our place after she’d had a long morning on the run. There was a near deathly mishap when her owner came to pick her up and was careless and almost killed her, and I decided to be bold that day and I said No.

I won’t let this animal take another step.

I felt the boldness inside of me and it might have been sleeping but I remember now that it’s there and it roars loudly and when I heard it I hooked the lead rope onto the mare’s halter and I turned her around and I walked her back to my farm.

I learned that I really am a seasoned animal person now. A farmer. A rancher. Whatever you want to call it, one who is a caretaker of animals wants what’s best for the critter even when it might be inconvenient or hard or expensive or make you walk a bit.

This horse taught me that. This place has taught me that. It felt good. It felt right.

It felt bold.

And now the mare is hanging out with us for a while.

One of our favorite authors in all the world made the trek to Alaska and we planned the trip through the mountain pass to go stand in line and shake her hand.

But when the mare came, we needed to change our plans. We altered the route of our day and one of my kids looked sad. She said Mama, I was kinda lookin forward to shakin Kate’s hand.

And truth be known, I was probably looking forward to it even more than she was because Kate knows how to put words on paper that dance together and doesn’t every writer strive for that and want to look someone in the eye who can do that and say good job?

You do it right and you live the words and you do it well and I appreciate all you do because that’s what I try to do too, and because we both devote ourselves to trying…to needing…to having to put down the lives and the love on paper…I feel connected to you and in awe of you and in kinship with you…all at the same time.

That’s what my handshake was going to say.

But since the mare was here and needed us, we instead did what writers will do and we sent words strewn out on paper, and of course a book signed with shaky hands.

I felt insecure.

Because what do you write to your hero who writes?

But I felt bold too.

Because getting past the scared and giving your hero the best of what you’ve made?

That made me use my moxie.

Our friend who’d also been planning, she packed it along with her and she hand-delivered it and she texted me and there it all was, in Kate’s hand…

And now she feels like a new old friend.

So we checked out every one of her books we could find at the library and we howled over the adventures of Louise and Monique and we spent time with Kate on this side of the pass.

And then, last but not least, rounding out our new friends for the week, came the chicks. Fuzzy yellow, some brown, one black, little, peeping, baby chicks and I don’t think I’ll EVER get over how cute these things are when they’re fresh out of the egg.

There’s something about baby chickens that reminds me every time how fragile and delicate life is.

But how strong and resilient that life within every creature is too.

Bold.

These babies peck their way out of their shell when it’s time.

They survive the first awkward, gangly moments, live through being scooped up and plopped into a box with dozens of others like them to travel long distances at varying degrees of temperature and then they hit the feed stores just learning how to walk while they go on to practice eating, drinking, pecking and peeping their way up to the point of their death.

We bring them home and marvel at their smallness.

And how sturdy and confidently they stand.

How bold they are.

These two, in honor of Kate…in honor of our week…in honor of boldness…

…we named these two Louise and Monique.

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