Holes

I have a blond child.

Some days she is more blond than others.

This is forgiven most of the time because she is such a hard worker.
And she is cute.

Ellie takes on chores that the rest of us are loath to do.  Things like dealing with the chickens, untangling legs in a birth canal, or digging holes.

She was always the one to dispose of chicken carcasses, but Jed handled the big holes.  Until, several springs ago, we lost a beloved guardian dog. 

The Fair Lady Dulcinea, or Dulcie, as she was known (acquired about the same time as Donkey Xote and Sancho Panza--if we ever wind up with a horse it will be named Rozinante,)  went out with her boots on, doing her job of defending the homestead.  We are still not sure whether Dulcie tangled with the coyotes or the feral hogs, but at any rate, took a gash to the juggler and barely managed to make it back home.  It was a sore loss, as she was a good guardian, and a great personality.  She used to scare people that didn't know her, as her greeting was to bare her teeth...not in a menacing way, but in a doggy smile.  But if you hadn't seen it before, it could be rather intimidating.  Mostly because she was not a small dog.

Dulcie was half lab and half Great Pyrenees, therefore, she required a rather large hole.  The morning she passed was cold and wet.  A light drizzle added to the oppression of the task at hand.  Ellie, Jethro and i got our shovels, loaded Dulcie on the trolley, and picked out her spot in the pasture.  I don't remember how long we all dug together, but i remember being chilled and wet, and that my back hurt.  Jethro was still a fairly little guy, and had used all his energy.  I suggested we take a break and warm up, then dig some more in a bit.  Ellie told us to go in, that she wanted to finish the hole herself. 

And she did.

Jethro and i went back out to help lay Dulcie to rest, said our prayers, and then were dismissed, so Ellie could replace the dirt.

As i stood at the window watching my daughter deal with one of the hardest things about this life in her own way, i was reminded of a couple of things. 

When Ellie was about three or so, she started asking questions about my mother, and wanted to see her grave.  We went to the cemetery, and i sat there quietly while Ellie wandered around.  After a bit, she put her hand on my mother's heart shaped headstone, looked me in the eye, and with all the maturity of any child i have ever seen, said to me, "Your momma's heart is here, but she is in heaven.  Sometimes it just has to be that way."

A couple of years later, when visiting Paul Adeen's, she found a dead fish in his koi pond, and insisted on the two of them burying the fish together, under a cross in his garden.  Paul came back in the house, and we looked out a few minutes later to see the child dropping rose petals on the grave.  Yes, we both got all choked up.  I get all choked up just thinking about it.

Death of something or someone beloved is one of the hardest things we have to face on this planet.  I am amazed, and grateful, for my daughter's reverence for life, and the ability she has to cope with death.

To this day, most of the holes that are dug here, are dug by Ellie May, by her choice. 

Which brings us back to the blond moment...
Ellie May and i were just discussing goatie issues, and she said something about Andy, our dear departed buck.  As my brain is processing the fact that Ellie was gone for a large part of the decline and demise of Excellent Endeavor, she got a rather sheepish look. 

Apologetically, she said, "I'm sorry.  If i didn't bury him, i figure i must have misplaced him."