It’s me again- Detroit Snappenbarker Mendoza, the Farm Manager around here. It’s been forever since you’ve heard from me. Honestly there’s been so many things to keep track of, that writing has not been a priority. I’m no stranger to the pen, you might say- I do keep careful records of crops, spray, weather, and traffic that goes past our place- so there’s lots of data to be had. But anyhow. Here I am, back again on the blog smog

I just don’t get my human family. The girls all rush in and out and show up with varying levels of worthless dogflesh and I’m supposed to be in charge of training them to help around here. Sweet. 😏 And then when these pure bred dogs don’t meet expectations- guess who gets yelled at? The one with the high profile expensive papers? Or your humble servant mutt? It’s unbelievable!

This weekend was another round of training with the youngest member on the force. Pagosa White has been around for over a year now, but she’s only under my tutelage occasionally. (Most of the time she’s employed at the neighbors dairy) The family left us at home for a few hours and returned to see that the extension cord somebody forgot to put away was in about 500 pieces.

The adorable blonde not so innocent Pegs

I met them at the lane with my tail engaged in the slow “I’m so glad you’re home and you won’t believe what happened” wag. They got out of the truck in disbelief and after Pagosa fell all over herself exclaiming about how good it was to see them, they calmly said “Pegs! Bad dog!” And that was it.

I followed KH around the corner of the house and watched as she put a few things up out of reach of the chewing monster. It seemed a little fishy that Pagosa climbed up on the picnic table to inspect what all KH put there- but hey-what do I know?

I’m more of a morning dog, so I headed to bed in decent time leaving the night patrol to Rolo and the assistants assistant- the chewing maniac. Wrong move.

Rolo pretending to sleep in the midst of turmoil

As the sun slipped over the mountains, and shone its merry rays on our back yard, you wouldn’t believe the war zone that greeted us: plants had been uprooted, flower pots chewed to pieces, the rain gauge is no longer accurate, and everything that was on the picnic table was all over the yard in pieces.

Pegs and the not guilty Farm Manager

KH assessed the damage and said some stern things to Pagosa, but what happened next is what I couldn’t believe- she looked at me and said “Detroit! Why didn’t you stop her?” My heart crushed into as many pieces as that rain gauge and my tail gave about two thumps. What me?! It’s punishment enough to have to spend most of the night listening to the chewing, let alone being responsible to stop it. What about Rolo? She was sure as involved with this mess as I am.

So I’ve had it. I’m sick of being chewed out for things being chewed up.

Next thing that gets destroyed might be me going after those fancy spancy pedigree papers. Maybe that would slow down the crunching.

Your humble mutt and farm manager,

Detroit Snappenbarker Mendoza

I love summertime. Last week I got in on 3 shrimp suppers in a row. As I watched my week disappear in a trail of shrimp tails- I couldn’t help but smile. As I said- I love summertime!

There are plenty of adventures going on around here. Father and his childhood bestie, Leon caught a flight to LAX and drove a bus home as fast as they could go. It took them about 3 days and a steak meal in Amarillo, TX. We are excited to have an updated bus for Valley Christian Churches.

I made a discovery in the garden last week:

And just a few days later:

It seems like our family is all about babies right now- and I don’t foresee that obsession becoming any less in the near future. God is so good!

I found this quote on a piece of wall art and it spoke my heart throb so well- I went on line to see if I could find it. So here it is: the author certainly understands the love of farming 💞

It is what I know –

And what I love.  Up before the crack of dawn with a morning ritual that includes a strong cup of joe, a quick glance at the weather and always a check on the market because

I was born to be a FARMER.

It’s overlooking the beauty…

Of the earth and the smell of freshly tilled soil, entrusted to the vastness of what we call a field.  It’s watching and waiting to see all of those millions of little seeds start to sprout through the ground in rows as straight as a ruler, bringing great satisfaction, because

I was born to be a FARMER.

It’s having great faith…

As the storm comes in, knowing that the green, tender plants could be wiped out in a matter of seconds.  Or, when the rain simply doesn’t come and watching the plants wither until, at the last minute of almost losing hope, a rain cloud comes.  And the sky opens right at that moment, with just enough to get a little relief and a renewed faith because

I was born to be a FARMER.

It’s keeping up

With technology, realizing that it’s a sure necessity. But always looking back with the fondest of memories and great admiration of how Dad and Grandpa did things, because

I was born to be a FARMER.

It’s a partnership…

A working partnership with the good Lord Almighty.  Without Him, it could not be done.  It is His divine guidance that gets me through each season from planting to the harvest.  Through the storms and the drought, the highs, and the lows.  Some say it’s a gamble, but to me, it’s a way of life, because

I was born to be a FARMER.

By Marla Rae Anders

Hope your week is blessed. I’m enjoying some quality time with a few of my favorites and God’s beautiful creation.

Kendra