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Favorite places

There Are Places, and Then There Are PLACES!

Some places are just there, drifting by unnoticed, like the passing moments of a busy day. Others have a purpose—a supermarket for the week’s groceries, or a corner pizza joint that’s been around for decades. But then there are those rare places that hold something deeper, something timeless. Places that make you feel like you’ve stepped out of the world, even for just a moment, and into a space where your soul can breathe a little easier.

For Ollie, our English Shepherd, his favorite place is simple—a spot across my husband’s lap while he's reading in his chair. It’s the kind of comfort that only dogs understand, the pure joy of being close to someone you love, without a care in the world. It’s sweet, it’s uncomplicated, and it’s all he needs. And in his world, that’s just about perfect.

As for us humans? We’re a bit more complicated. We’re always chasing after something. But to find a moment of peace, a sliver of calm in the chaos of life, is precious. I found my spot many years ago, tucked under a tree in the backyard that feels like an old friend. It’s not just any tree, mind you—it’s the tree. The one that’s been there through every season, every change. Its branches stretch out like a protective arm, offering shade from the sun, a quiet sanctuary away from the bustle of everyday life.

Sitting there, beneath that tree, time seems to slow down. The world softens around me. I can breathe in the earthy scent of damp moss, the rich perfume of the ground after a rain. I hear the bullfrogs at the pond, their deep croaks echoing through the still air, like a song that's been sung for generations. The noise of the world slips away, leaving only the whisper of the wind through the leaves and the comfort of being right here, exactly where I belong.

In today’s world, where everything moves so fast, it’s easy to forget the importance of these quiet moments. But we all need a place to pause—a place to remember that some things don’t change. That tree has seen so many of my memories, from the simple joy of sitting in its shade to the weight of more difficult times when it felt like the world was too much. But no matter what, it’s always been there, patiently waiting, offering a little peace when I need it most.

So, find your spot, the one that feels like home, where you can step back from the rush and breathe in the world a little slower. The days may change, the years may pass, but those places, the ones that have been there all along, will always remind you where you come from and where your heart feels most at rest. Your soul will thank you.

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Still Got It!

Clare Boothe Luce is credited with the saying, "No good deed goes unpunished." Now, I'm sure she was talking about the general human experience, but honestly? This quote was written for farm life. Because, let me tell you, my most recent attempt at helping a friend resulted in a souvenir that looked like a goat hoof right between my eyes. Yes, that's right. A kick. To the face.

But before you start sending me sympathy cards or worrying about my health, let me assure you: it wasn’t intentional. And it wasn't a human foot, thank goodness, though I think I might have preferred that at this point.

Here’s what went down: I went to help my friend Elaine trim her goats' feet, because obviously, I have some deeply ingrained need to make my life harder. You might recognize this from my Sheep Wrangling saga. Basically, this is what happens when I think I'm being helpful and farm animals laugh at me from their lofty, high-speed vantage points.

We were chasing this particular yearling, who, by the way, could’ve been drafted by the New England Patriots for her running back abilities. This little goat was quicker than a caffeinated squirrel, zipping around the barn in such a zig-zag fashion she was like trying to catch her shadow. After a few minutes of chasing, it became abundantly clear that we were not going to catch her. And you know what? At almost 70 (and Elaine just over 70), we had no intention of running a marathon to prove something we already knew: goats are faster.

Now, in my infinite wisdom (or maybe just complete lack of self-preservation), I decided that I would grab her back leg the next time she dashed by. I figured I’d hold on tight and she’d stop, and everything would be perfectly logical and totally safe. Oh, how wrong I was.

When I grabbed that leg, she went into full sprint mode. I was suddenly on the receiving end of what can only be described as a high-speed goat drag race. She was pulling me, I was being pulled, and before I knew it, she lost her balance, fell, and in the process, the leg I wasn’t holding onto went flying, making an uninvited guest appearance—right to my face.

And not just a tap. No, no. Wham—right between my eyes. Stars. Fireworks. It was like I’d just been struck by Thor’s hammer. But did I let go? Of course not. That’s the Sandy way—hang on until you’ve either won or are hospital-bound.

While I was seeing stars and questioning all of my life choices, Elaine, in what can only be described as Olympic-level goat restraint, was full-body pinning the goat. If goats could tap out, this one would've thrown in the towel. But guess what? We won. Two elderly women—tackling a young, fast goat—totally we still got it.

After the dust settled and my face returned to its usual shape, I started laughing. And by laughing, I mean cackling like a madwoman. Because, if you ever get the chance to see two out-of-breath, somewhat decrepit old gals wrestling a goat, it’s like watching a slapstick comedy movie in real life. Someone needs to follow me around with a camera. We’d have a reality show—Goat Takedown: The Senior Edition.

So, there you have it. A kick in the face and a new level of farmyard humiliation that I somehow survived. The goats’ feet got trimmed (we’re professionals, obviously), and my face? Well, let’s just say it’s now a conversation starter. But will I ever help Elaine with her goats again? Of course I will. Because what could possibly go wrong next time?

Maybe, just maybe, this time I’ll get the goat on a leash... or not. Let the chaos continue.

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