Catching up…

Stormy.

Stormy.

It’s been a hectic week!  First I had relatives here for a few days.  So cute to see my little niece petting the pigs and brushing the horse.  My girls are so big they’ve lost that six year old attention span.  And since my girls are so big we spent the weekend packing away dolls and toys and beloved books to the attic.  Great to get their room cleaned out a bit, sad to see this very concrete evidence that my girls are closer to being ladies than girls.

So what happens to my farm animals when life is busy with other things?  Good question.  It is a crazy thing I am trying to do – be soccer mom and be a farmer.  Last night was a great example.  I took William to the fair to meet up with his best buddy.  From 3:30 ’til 5:30 they tilt-a-whirled and roller-coasted.  By 6:00 Bonniebelle needs to be milked.  So we left the fair, came home, sat at the table to eat dinner as a family (I had prepped everything earlier in the day), then I milked the cow while everyone else cleaned up.

Two points here.  I HAD to be home, this meant we might as well eat dinner at home.  Family-time and healthy-food time.  Second point – I HAD to milk the cow, this meant everyone else had to clean up the kitchen.  Then we all went to the fair for the rest of the evening as a family.

This farm centers our family, it keeps our life in balance.  Soccer and sailing and dance are all great, we do them all but the farm is first.  The mix of modern life and old-fashion farm is so funny.  Yesterday I sent Sarah a text “can you go water the pigs?”  I love getting texts from her, “can you make sure the rabbits are in before it rains?”

Mixing crazy-fast-paced life with the rhythms of the farm – everyone should do it.

Stormy, Irish Jersey bull.

Bonniebelle.

On Friday night we had friends over for dinner then we went to a football game so I closed up the barn pretty late.  I don’t use a  light for this process, I love those moments under the stars, little night noises, the soft mmmm from Bonnie when she hears me coming.  Usually I talk to the rabbits and chickens and pigs as I do my final round – so as not to startle them.  On Friday night my thoughts were busy enough to tie up my talking.  I grabbed a few apples to toss in to the pigs’ pen.  Wonderful mushy ones, from my neighbors tree. I went to the pigs’ pen and dropped the apples in.  Absolute silence in there.  They sucked the air in, emptying the pen.  Absolute quiet – mixed with strands of fear.  Then Abba tentatively grunted, “uh?” “uh?” “Oh, Abba, I am sorry, it’s me.”  They scrambled out of their hay nests “UH! UH! UH! It’s uh youuu uh!”   I dropped a couple more apples in and listened to them munch uh munch uh munch uh!

PS: We have not yet oPERated.  Gotta get that done.

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