Water Song

I grew up in the Texas Panhandle. Our sole source of water for gardening, bathing and drinking came from our windmill. When the wind blew, and there was an abundance of water in the overflowing storage tank, things were good. It was when there was no wind and the drought had been upon us for several months that things became tense. As the livestock stood at the empty water trough, lowing their thirsty concern, we knew, down to our very bones that we had to conserve on water. We learned very quickly little tricks to make the water last longer. We shared "washin' up" water in the basin. We poured what was left in the flower garden.

The saddest part of these dry spells was watching the garden die and the lawn turn brown and brittle under our feet. Even when the storage tank was full, and the windmill shut down, we still had to be cautious. We could never COUNT on the wind. It was very unpredictable. So, there were only weekly baths, taken in about two inches of water. At the end of wash day, the chickens got their share of the rinse water, and any left over was piped through the hose to the garden. What was left of the soapy water, in the wash tub was used to scrub down the well house.

As we settled in at Milagro Acres, I found myself constantly amazed at the ready availability of water. There were two, count them, two large ponds. These fascinating bodies of water were spring fed, so even in the "dry" part of the Oregon weather pattern, there is still water in the ponds! Every morning I would get up and spend time just watching the closest pond. Some days there would be a couple of mallards playing in the water. A blue Heron would spend hours hunting the frogs that lived in the pond. On a bright, warm summer day, the little flying critters would skim the pond, catching a fast drink on the fly.

One evening, about sun down, Jim came into the house and announced..."you gotta see this!" I went with him to the front of the house just in time to see hundreds of tiny wood ducks decend into the upper pond. (We rarely visited that pond because it is at the far end of the property, and is separated from us by wild black berry bushes.) However, as we stood transfixed, we could hear the faint but clear "tweep, tweep" of these migrating birds. It was an awesome, miraculous, gift... to be able to witness this beautiful event. It was even more of a miracle to hear the song of these ducks as they gathered at their watery refuge.

A few days later, I hatched a plan for the lower pond.

What's in a name?

When we first moved to our new acreage, we talked about giving it a name. Several ideas were floated about, but nothing really resonated. One beautiful spring morning, I awoke to sunshine, bird song, and the plumb tree bursting with blooms. It was one of those miraculous mornings that come along now and then. We kicked around Spanish names and English names.
    The Spanish name thing came about because I have spent most of my adult life in areas where there were/are many Spanish speaking people. I have fallen in love with the Spanish language. Some how, there is a fluidty and lilt to the language that pleases my musically tuned ear.  Having said that, I must confess that I have only a "barely working" knowledge of Spanish. It was required of me in a former job, but of course I've lost most of my linguistic skills over time.

   This particular morning, though, the words esta milagro just sort of popped into my head.  And yes, what I was seeing was truly a miracle. From that moment on, our little place has been Milagro (mee-LAW-grow) [which, in Spanish means miracle] Acres. As the story unfolds, I will be sharing many of God's little miracles that occur, almost daily at Milagro Acres. I praise God each morning for placing me (us) in the midst of his bountiful, lush, green Oregon. I praise Him, too, for giving me somone with whom I may share it... someone who loves creation so much he spent thirty years as a forester. It just doesn't get much better than that!

In the Beginning...

The very first miracle that occurred at Milagro Acres was when we looked at the property. Our dog, Louella, ran all over all 7 1/2 acres of it. She sniffed every foot, and came back smiling and wagging her tail. The human critters, Jim and Mary, agreed that if it was okay with the dog, it was okay with us. Now, I need to explain that up until that time, as we were looking at one possibility after the other, the dog would either just sit and look glum, or race for freedom, as if she couldn't get away fast enough. The fact that she literally looked (well sniffed) it over so carefully, then came back to say..."hey, I like it here" was all the proof we needed that we had finally found home. Of couse it helped that we had fallen in love with it too.

Of course it wasn't all heavenly. There was much clean-up and debris riddance that had to be done before we could really feel at home. But the miracles (milagros) kept happening. There were the cats. Yes, cats, as in many. The previous owners left a cluster of greeters behind to welcome us. There were 5 black and white kitties who called this place home. Our first thought was to take them to Saving Grace, who, we presumed would find a good home for all of them. About 15 minutes into our visit there, we learned that placement was not automatic, and the saving them was not automatic either. We discussed the situation, agreed that someone with some acreage would be a good place for the kitties. Suddenly we looked at each other and burst our laughing. THAT WOULD BE US! We soon learned that none of them had been neutered or spayed, so we made a trip to the vet. Several days and several hundred dollars later, we were the proud owners of 7 acres and 5 outside cats.  It seemed, from the beginning ,that Milagro Acres was to become  a safe haven for God's little critters. Along with the dog and the 5 cats was the house cat, Fermata. If you are not a musician, the significance of his name may escape you. A "fermata" is a musical symbol indicating that a note should be h-e-l-d. And that is all this kitty wanted from the time I rescued him from the shelter.Fermata did not cotton to the "other" cats, for whom he has continued his disdain. Jim, however, loves them dearly, talks to them and has named them all. Just for clarity in later chapters, their names are: Underfoot (because he is constantly under foot; Mamma, (the mother of the younger one) Baby, Chloe (who is a cantankerous old cat who tolerates no nonsense from ANY creature) and Ditto, who is an exact replica of Underfoot.  I will close out the chapter on the cats by relating that we, sometime later, acquired Mooch. Mooch just appeared one day, dirty, bedraggled, and very hungry. It was obvious that he had at one time been loved and pampered because he was sweet, docile and loved being loved. Mooch has remained at Milagro acres, and seems not to mind that he has been relegated to being our sixth outside cat!