Life Update

Still alive.  Thought I should write something because the cow post being the most recent post was bugging me.  We sold Molly and George last Monday, before George was even a week old.  I'm a little bummed in a way and may never clear this slight sense of failure, but I can say I have no regrets.  We gave it a shot, our best, and it wasn't for us.  Ya gotta know when to fold 'em.   Okay, one regret... in the hoop-la, I somehow neglected to tell Farra exactly what was going on (I thought she picked up on the preceedings, I was wrong) and she didn't get to tell the critters goodbye.  *gulp*  Ya ever have one of those moments as a mom...?

I have to tell you, though, that our daily responsibilities are a far sight easier now.  I haven't heard anyone say, "Gee, I miss milking the cow.  I miss the cowpies in the yard and all the flies."  The older girls and I take turns milking the one goat and feeding the rest of the critters.  The first morning I milked our goat after the few days with the cow... I laughed and laughed because it was just SO EASY.  Picture a goat kid compared with a calf and you can imagine the difference in their sucking reflexes...  it's obvious in their teats.  You really don't have to work that hard to get milk from a goat.  I know people milk cows all the time and good for them, I say.  But, at Molly's new home they milk by machine.

The couple buying her asked me to get up a little earlier to milk, since they were coming from KC (the night before), then going to the Springfield area to pick up another cow/calf, then home to KC by evening chores.  I did, but they were late anyway.  Oh well.  They were very impressed with Molly and the calf and even sent us an email when she settled in to tell us what a good job we did training her.  That felt so good!  Also, they said Molly was enjoying the lush grass - they noticed how dry it was down here in the southern part of the state - they've been getting all our rain up there. 

We previewed Molly's new home here:  hiddenhillsfarms.com   The family is doing something I greatly admire - sustainable agriculture.  Joel Salatin style.  And apparently doing it well.  They sell 100% grass fed milk (now 10, I think), beef, pastured poultry and pork, as well as some organic produce.   She seemed a lot like me in her thinking, so I got to wondering what the difference was, why am I not doing the same sort of thing?  The difference is that her husband shares that vision.  Mine appriciates it, I think, but that's as far as it goes.  It's not the life for him.  I can deal with that. He watches Food Inc., wows and agrees all the way through, drinking his Mt. Dew and eating his Reeses Pieces.  With Bobby and I so different, I am often amazed and grateful that I get to farm at all, and that he will help me build barns and till gardens.  Another reason to give careful thought in choosing a spouse....

Haven't been in the garden much.  Watered some, marveled at how terrible the tomatoes were doing (splitting, rotting), how tall weeds grow when you ignore them, how silly of me to plant this or that that we never even harvested before it went bad.  My heart is not in the garden this year, even when my body is.  We've finally gotten some rain this last week... not just a spit and sputter, but drenching rains, wonderfully rains.  Beautiful, but not violent, storms.  Still some in the forecast.  It's been cooler, but HUMID and ugh... I'm just thankful for the little AC unit Bobby found for our bedroom (free - out of a wrecked camper while he was scrap'n).  This pregnant lady can get restful naps, now.  Some days it feels like the only thing I do well.

This summer is hard.  Harder because this last winter was so hard and we so much looked forward to the relief that warm weather would bring regarding work.  But there has been so little work.  We wouldn't have been able to pay the mortgage if we hadn't sold the cow and though we've tasted that in some winters, never in the summer.   Even my dad, who has always been able to get work as a carpenter somewhere has barely found enough.  That makes it a little less hopeful looking for us!  But Bobby has enjoyed scraping.  It's one of his favorite ways to earn money.  There are so many old farms with those dumps in the woods, filled with old steel.  The price of steel has dropped somewhat as we've gone into summer, but most days it's still worth it for Bobby to go out.  I don't think we'd ever be able to live off it, but it helps and it keeps him busy.  The hardest days are those when he's home and we have time and no money and we don't know where or when the next work will come from.  The waiting is so hard.

I was looking through old photos on my laptop a couple weeks ago and saw one that stopped me, made me think.  Bobby and a 5 or 6yr old Farra were sitting at our kitchen counter at our house in Ozark.  They were snacking on blueberry muffins, taking a break from work.  Bobby didn't remember, but I did.  They had been out raking leaves.  Bobby wasn't able to find work, so he took Farra and hit up the neighborhood for leaf-raking jobs.  The first (and only, I think) job they got, the old couple paid them and threw in a box of food, odds and ends of non-perisables, blueberry  muffins.  Blessing and humbling.   My point, though, and what got me, looking back, is that this way of life is not new for us.  I have been telling myself it's because of this "recession" that we're having such a hard time, but it's not, not really.  We have lived this way our entire married life.  The realization was at once depressing and encouraging.  Depressing, I need not explain, encouraging because we have LIVED this way for nearly 11 years.  We have not gone hungry, not been cold, always had a roof over our heads, etc.  We have always had friends, always been blessed by each other, always been rich in character.... this is our life.  It has worked for us.  Maybe a different choice of mates would have netted me a more "comfortable" life, and there's a lesson in that (that I will somehow, delicately share with my children as they grow), but I wouldn't trade mine now for all the world.  There is a sense of security in my life that comes from somewhere other than my husband's job.  This was no mistake on my Father's part...  he knows who and what I would be if I didn't need to depend upon him for my daily bread.

There.  That's my life update for now.

A refreshing break

I'm feeling good tonight. You really can't understand how good a normal day feels to me without knowing how miserable I've been recently. My general feelings of despondency the last few months were heightened immediately by pregnancy (in fact, my emotions were the first clue - I became pregnant in early May). This hasn’t had much to do with circumstances as much as my own, um, “inner turmoil.” The best of circumstances look bleak when you don’t care to give thanks for them. I prayed daily for strength to put one foot in front of another.


There is one circumstance, however, the heat, which has had a tremendous affect on me. I have experienced the worse morning-afternoon-evening sickness I’ve ever had. I have felt overwhelmed by everything. Just... everything. I have awakened every morning (except this last Sabbath, which was a deliciously cool, fall-like 66°) in absolute dread of the day, especially the heat. My stomach turns with nausea, cramps with the heat, my back has been hurting and I can’t help but think how much worse it will get as pregnancy progresses.......

It’s been bad.

I’ve been tempted to write, but have had nothing uplifting to say, only complaints and despairing emotions. Not a fun place to be. I've had bright spots; phone conversations with dear sisters, refreshing visits with friends, but as soon as they leave or I hang up the phone, the glow fades.

My faith has not been shaken, but strengthened. A friend shared with me yesterday something that encouraged her - the difference between faith and optimism. Just think on that for a bit. A light went on in my head. Yes! My optimism has taken a leave of absence, my ability to brush off the present with "this too shall pass," but my faith remains. Things might not get better, but I will always trust Yahweh, I will always hope in his Kingdom. I hope you can wrap your mind around the difference, even if my words don't do it justice.

Today, as usual, I awoke with dread. Another long, hot day ahead. I was sweating and feeling ill within ten minutes of rising. I went through the motions - barn chores, breakfast, then a short rest in the bedroom, with the fan on high. Crying softly as I looked out the window at the overgrown garden, the beautiful flowers and butterflies that I don't have the heart to enjoy (the garden is my sore point, I guess. A visible, obvious sign of my weakness, my inability to "get it together"). Crying softly over this pregnancy and feeling guilty, wishing I could focus on the blessed child ahead and not on the pain. Crying to my elohim, "I will not let you go. Please... do this work in me. I love you and trust you."

How do I explain this? This has not been a hopeless sort of, "Life sucks, kill me now" sort of despair. I wish I could say I have suffered strongly, quietly, without taking it out on those around me, but I can't. It feels like I'm riding out a storm. In the ocean. The ship has wrecked and all I have is the end of a rope (the hem of his garment). Waves crash on me, all I can do is hold on. I can scream and kick, weep and moan, but it doesn't change anything. The waves calm sometimes and the sun beats down and I'm too tired to move, not that there's anything I can do to change my situation. I just hold onto the rope. Don't let go of the rope. The rope is my lifeline, the substance of things hoped for. I didn't know faith could be so tangible, until now.

Back to today. No particular thing happened, but my burden began to lighten (sorry, changing allegories here). I ran some errands in town and realized, on the way in, that the heat didn't seem as hot (though it was). I saw past my discomfort and took genuine pleasure in my surroundings, the handsome countryside. Slowly. Gradually. There were a few little things that happened in town that helped, but... I dunno. I've had plenty of little things, it's just that today I was more receptive, for reasons I suppose only my Father knows. I like to think on these things... they make me smile. I have been entirely too focused on the bad things.

...The fact that I can send my 10yr old daughter into the feed store to buy a couple bales of hay. They know us and love us there. I can't say we are good friends, because those are so few and far between, but they are good acquaintances. Casual. Reliable. And the fact that my daughter is willing and eager to do this - I was terrified to go into a gas station to pay for gas when I was 18 (when I finally got up the guts to get my license). I hid in my mom's proverbial skirts when I was Farra's age.

... An older man in Walmart surprised us, made us laugh out loud in sheer delight. This was absolute silliness (right up our alley), but as we approached him from behind (he was in one of those motorized carts) to pass him - he hadn't even turned to look at us, mind you - he spoke to each one of the children as though he knew them and was thrilled to see them. He quickly assigned them each a name as we passed. "George! Fred! Clancy! Elwood! Burt! Louise!" That was it. It happened in just a moment and we turned the corner of the aisle in stitches, having rewarded him with smiles all around. (Commit REGULAR acts of kindness. Commit random acts of silliness.)

...When I stopped in our small, totally personable hardware store for some 1/2 gallon jars, it was again impressed on me... I love these small town stores, these reliable, comfortable people and relationships. Awhile back I had them order lye for me so I could try my hand at making soap. One older employee thought that was really neat and requested a bar to try out. He wasn't in when I delivered it, so today was the first time I'd seen him since. "Are you the lady that brought me the soap." Yes. "I really liked it."

... Our new librarian is a very interesting dear of a man. He is eager to get books for us and even suggests things we might find interesting. We've been discussing the lives of Laura Ingalls Wilder and her daughter. When I stopped by today I parked out front and let the older girls run in to drop off books and request some they knew he could get from another library. They came back smiling from their short visit with Bill and had a handful of papers for me with a sticky note on it, "For Kaleesha Williams." It was an article Bill had told me of, about Laura and her daughter, Rose. It was pretty interesting, but I was just very uplifted that he had thought to print it for me. It's a pleasant feeling to know people are thinking about you. And not thinking bad things.

We had quick junk food for lunch and I put a roast in the crockpot for dinner, then took a nap. It was hot, but the heat still wasn't bothering me very much. We do have an AC in the bedroom upstairs, but it doesn't do a very good job when it gets this hot. However, it does take the edge off for naptime, so we keep it going from morning until after naps, and I just stretch out on one of the kids bunk beds. Royal and Little went to sleep without much ado (Little usually throws everything out of her crib, including her bottom sheet, and runs around and sings and does belly flops and all sorts of antics to make Royal laugh. Cute, but hard to sleep through).

Bobby and the older kids worked on cleaning up the yard while I rested. After naps, a snack, moving kinda slow because of the heat but feeling noticeably better than usual, then I grabbed my apron and sunhat, a jug of ice water, and we headed out to the garden. With dinner in the crockpot it freed me up considerably. I'm going to try to this more often because it's only cool enough to work in the garden in the morning, when my back hurts too much, and the evening, when I'm usually busy with dinner and barn chores, clean up and bedtime.

I'm pleased to announce that we have reclaimed our tomato patch. Bobby mowed all the paths down, I cut suckers and pulled weeds while Farra tied plants to stakes. Atira and Seth laid down a nice, thick mulch of straw to keep the weeds down. (The littlest Willies splashed in the kiddie pool.) The plants were seriously set back by their neglect, but I feel pretty good about them now. The plants are heavy with green fruit and I found myself daydreaming about fresh tomatoes, especially on pizza! I had forgotten that all the garden work pays off in delicious food. (Well... I admit to thinking of the potatoes and corn and how I wouldn't get to eat much of them because of the gestational diabetes.) We harvested our red cabbage - again, a little too late and the heads were starting to open and get tough, but enough for our meager cabbage needs. And the goats loved the extra leaves.

I actually ENJOYED working in the garden this evening. When dinner was set on the table and everyone seated but me (of course), Seth, unbidden, jumped up to pull my chair out for me to sit down. I don't know if he's ever even seen this done! My heart swelled at this sweet gesture. Even Bobby was touched. As Bobby blessed the meal, tears of overwhelming gratitude began to fall from my eyes and I had to excuse myself for a few minutes. I wept and wept in my bedroom, though much different from the sad tears of this morning. A floodgate of thanksgiving to my Father for his many blessings, for lifting my burdens this day. And repentance for my ingratitude. A deep part of this was an understanding that tomorrow I may be lost in the stormy sea again, but that that's okay, as long as I cling to that faith. It's alright, if he's in control. If this is what I need, it's what I need, and I will rest and learn and grow in Him.

Now, it's eleven o'clock and I should be sleeping. Farra's evening report on our hugely pregnant heifer is that she is leaking milk. Her bag has just gotten bigger and bigger and every night we expect a calf (Farra sleeps out in her hammock, near her, determined not to miss a thing), and we have had no other signs - and no calf! So, I should get some sleep, just in case I have to get up in the wee hours.....

Goodnight, people!

Laura Ingalls Wilder on being a farm wife

I love our new librarian, Bill.  He has been eager to get to know us and help us enjoy the library.   It's a small library and so we make good use of the inter-library loan system.   He's always asking what he can get for us next and recommending books and authors he thinks we might enjoy.  One day when we were in there browsing he approached me with a book called  "Farm Journalist," a collection of Laura Ingalls Wilder's writings from the Missouri Ruralist.  "Thought you might be interested in this."

I'd never read anything of hers outside the Little House books and was kind of skeptical because I know she was considered somewhat a feminist, as well as being the head of Missouri's Eastern Star oganization (Freemasonry for women, if you will).  But so far I've been quite tickled with the book.  The writing isn't fantastic (I understand her daughter did the majority of the actual writing for the Little House books), but it's not bad.  And feminism a hundred years ago is nothing like what it is today.  Mostly I identify with her as a Missourian (transplants, both of us) and as a busy farm wife.

The following one something that hit the spot, as I'd been contemplating this very thing during the few days before I read it....

From Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farm Journalist, page 25-26


One thing is most important if we (farm wives) expect to keep rested and fit to do our best and that is not to worry over the work nor to try to do it before the time comes. The feeling of worry and strain caused by trying to carry the whole week's work at once is very tiring. It doesn't pay to be like the woman of years ago, in old Vermont, who opened the stairway door at 5 o'clock on Monday morning and called to the hired girl: "Liza! Liza! Hurry up and come down! Today is wash day and the washing not started; tomorrow is ironing day and the ironing not begun; and the next day is Wednesday and here's the week half gone and nothing done yet."

Better for a little while each day to be like the tramp who was not at all afraid of work, yet could lie down right beside it and go to sleep. Slipping away to some quiet place to lie down and relax for 15 minutes, if no longer, each day rests both mind and body surprisingly. This rest does more good if taken at a regular time and the work goes along so much better when we are rested and bright that there is no time lost.

Change is rest! How often have we proved this by going away from our work for a day or even part of a day, thinking of other things and forgetting the daily round for a little while. On coming back the work is taken up with new interest and seems much easier.

If it is not possible to go away, why not let the mind wander a little when the hands can do the task without our strict attention? I have always found that I did not get so tired, and my day seemed shorter when I listened to the birds singing or noticed, from the window, the beauties of the trees or clouds. This is a part of the farm equipment that cannot be improved upon, though it might be increased with advantage. Perhaps some day we will all have kitchens like the club kitchen lately installed in New York, where everything from peeling the potatoes to cooking the dinner and washing the dishes is done by electricity, but the birds' songs will never be any sweeter nor the beauties of field and forest, of cloud and stream, be any more full of delight, and these are already ours.

Summer

It's not officially summer yet, but the summer heat is settling in, here in southeast Missouri.

Things I dislike about summer:

Heat and humidity so high that your clothes constantly stick to you and it makes you too lethargic to do anything not related to cool water. And weeding the garden. And bugs. Especially seed ticks and mosquitoes. And people appearing in public with as much skin showing as possible.


Things I like about summer:

Plants a' growin', making a rich, luscious landscape, pleasant to the eyes, especially contrasting a bright blue sky with fluffy clouds, or a dark stormy one (oh, I love those storms!). Plants, feeding my family and feeding my critters which feeds my family, keeping us pleasantly (and sometimes not-so-pleasantly, admittedly) busy.

Birds singing, even at 5 o'clock in the morning. Especially after seven or eight in the evening when I'm winding down from my day's work and I can sit on the deck and listen to my wood thrushes (I'm sure my Father made them just for me, I love them so) and take in the cool(er) evening air.

Daylight. In the winter time it seems unreal to think of daylight lasting from about 5am to 9pm and I fear that when I have it I take it for granted, missing the sun terribly when it's dreary and grey out.

Not having to bundle up to go outside. Or in the house. The winter coats, hats, mittens, gloves, scarves and boots that clutter up our entry way all get put away and are replaced by "creek clothes" and towels hanging on the deck rail.

Mowing. I like to mow. Don't get to do much of it now, because we tie the cow out and she does a mighty fine job (if you don't mind cow pats in the yard, which I don't).

Water... ahh... my favorite. I so love water. I love to stand in the garden and gulp down cool water. I love to trip over to the spigot and let the cold well water splash over my hands, arms, face, or use the hose if I'm in the garden, watering anyway. You just can't beat our sweet well water! I love to sit in the creek and cool off with the children. The older three have been privileged this year with being able to swim in the pool at the bottom of the falls by themselves. It's not even up to the youngest head among them, but it's deep enough to swim and splash and play "Milo and Otis" (their version of the "Marco Polo" of my childhood). They spend an hour or two down there nearly every afternoon and almost all day on Sabbaths in nice weather. I can hear them playing, though I can't see them unless I walk down there, and they can hear me when I whistle for them and promptly reply with a loud, "COMMIIING!" Sometimes I sit on the rocks and watch them play and I just ooze contentment. I am so incredibly thankful for this creek, this property, and we never enjoy it like we do when the weather warms up.

I love having the windows open every day, fresh air circulating the house with ceiling fans and sometimes a box fan and/or the attic fan. No AC for us.

Kid goats born in the spring are still jumping and playing with each other as they follow their mommas around. Any day now we'll have a calf to add to the mix. All this also means gallons of fresh milk a day for gulping down ice cold, cheese making, and ice cream.

Work. Good, physical work for the kids and I that make us sleep so well at night and keep us healthy. Paying work for Bobby that is often scarce in winter when things slow down (drat Christmas).

Good times and noodle salad.  (Name that movie!)

....  I guess summer's not too bad...

Etc., etc....

Scattershooting on a May evening...

Wrote this early last week and intended to write more, but I didn't.  Thought I'd share anyway.
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Scattershooting on a May evening...


The thought occurred to me t' other day that I am among what I suppose to be a significant minority of people in the world... Have YOU ever seen your reflection in a bucket of honey?

I am feeling absolutely, incredibly rich this week. It started with the honey thing. I'd come home from my friend Sharla's health food sort of store with my co-op order and was putting away my grains and things. While I was at it, I thought I'd drag out my 5 gal. bucket of local raw honey and refill my small honey jars. I know this is a common thing for some of you large families, but we'd only bought this, our first bucket of honey, about two months ago. I'd dipped into it a couple times and yet this is the first time I noticed my reflection. I immediately was impressed (good heavens, not by my reflection!). How many people in the world can say they've done that? And better yet, how many people have paused to reflect upon their reflection?

You see, it's not all about what you have. It's what you think about what you have, isn't it?  Do you stop to enjoy the wonderful world around you? Your home, your conveniences, your friends, your family, your grass, your trees, flowers, pets, food, health, books, sights, smells... the list is endless! Do you realize that every little bit of it is a gift from your heavenly Father?

I have often felt very far from Yahweh, often felt that the Bible wasn't enough. Good, great even, but not quite enough. I've recognized his gifts in different ways over the years but lately I feel like I just woke up to the fact that he really, truly delights in me and is expressing it through his creation, through the particulars of my life and my situation. Above all, I consider that because he's placed me where I am (both physically and spiritually)  I have ample opportunity to notice his gifts.

Surely, I hope you know I don't say all this to boast. It is my hope that you, too, will give some thought to his special touch in your life. For me it's the smell of honeysuckle flowers when I walk to the barn with the sun shining on the morning dew, the dogs at my side, the goats eagerly calling, the cow mooing quietly, the chickens clucking contentedly, the ridiculous guineas squawking at nothing.... What a life! I melt inside.  The creek, the rippling water falls, the trees around me, the birds singing in the evening, the cool well water.  My Father knows how I delight in these things. I feel so unworthy of the life I live, the children and spouse he's given me. How many people can say that they are living the very life they would chose to live? I can! I love it!

I'm interested in so many things. If I had 14 lives I'd not exhaust my interests... to travel, to live by the ocean (or on it!) and study it... to study! So many things to learn and explore and try my hand at! And yet I would chose this very existence out of the lot. As a stay-at-home wife and mother in rural USA, there's so little not open to me. My husband, if he doesn't exactly encourage my interests, doesn't mind my many hobbies and routines. He takes a sort of pleasure in them himself, I dare say. And the children! Oh my, with a family at home there are so many people to share life with that it hardly matters what we do, we always learn and enjoy things.

Backyard Book Burning

Had another little book burning today. Have you ever done this? Since I first committed myself to Yahweh I have burned many books, among other things. This may sound radical to some of you.

I remember the first time.  I stood in my yard, burning my vampire related role-playing-game books in my back yard BBQ grill. They were worth a good deal of money and I had several acquaintances that would have taken them off my hands, but I felt they had to burn. Conviction about the RPGs was the second most prominent in my life when I surrendered my life and said, "Not my will, but yours," (the first was fornication). I believed then, and feel even more strongly about it today, that the escapist aspect of such RPGs as well as the occult nature of the ones I played in particular, are detrimental. Especially to teens. I've been there, I've had friends there, I know. Although not about to go out and set fire to every copy of every RPG book I could find, my conscience wouldn't allow me to let these copies into the hands of anyone else to do any more damage, so they burned. Poorly, I might add. Took quite a bit of page-tearing and stirring.

If we receive children’s books, as we often do by the box, from acquaintances or what have you, I usually pre-read them for my children (voracious readers, those who are able). Farra is getting old enough for me to let her read some things without my pre-reading. Usually I’m somewhat familiar with the story (classics - like Swiss Family Robinson, which she just finished), or if we’ve read and enjoyed other things by the same author. We talk about what she reads and so far it’s been a good situation and stimulated great conversations.

We burned most of the last box we got. I remembered most of them from my childhood. I read TONS of books as a child, with no screening whatsoever. Some simply poorly written twaddle, some about brats disrespecting parents, boy-girl crushes, that sort of thing. I keep a close eye out for “follow your heart, be good to yourself” kind of “inspirational” junk, too.

Before you go thinking we’re entirely rigid, I’ll let you know that we all love the Chronicles of Narnia. I understand the camp is clearly divided regarding these books, but I personally think Lewis does a fine job of introducing morals, faith and responsibilities in a good light, even if he uses fantasy. I don’t mind the works of Tolkien, either. I don’t care for any of the movies, however, with all their made-up love interest garbage. Besides, they just don’t fully capture those qualities listed above that I find in the pages of the books. That said, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend them. There are much better books out there without having to wade through satyrs, witches, goblins and gollums. I just happened to have a fondness of them from my own youth and maybe I’m justifying that when I shouldn’t. At any rate...

I don’t approve of Harry Potter and that’s a whole other story! I’ll spare you my opinion on that point unless asked .(Surprised?  I give it so freely on other issues!  Time doens't allow me today, you see.)

My younger sister spent more time than I did reading classics during her teen and pre-teen years. When I was in the fifth grade I devoured my first Stephen King book (I think my brother was about that age when he began reading them), “Pet Cemetery,” and from there I was hooked. Within a couple years I had read all of the King books at the library and moved onto other horror/suspense authors. I cringe to admit that I read my share of romance novels, as well, them being so plentiful and easy to get my hands on. Yeah, I read Shakespeare and some other classic stuff, which really impressed the adults in my life, but mostly I ate up the juicy trash, spending so many sleepless nights (and days, as I was no longer in public school and had little else to do) receiving an education in drugs, murder, torture, aliens, theft, sex, the occult, what the world calls “love,” and goodness knows what else. I burned some of those books later, too.

I don’t read much fiction anymore. It’s a wonder I find time to read at all! On my nightstand and in the bathroom are stacks of books, mostly “how-to” books, homesteading stuff, and from time to time a “Christian living” book (most of them make me nauseous, but there are a few gems). I think I read more children’s books than anything! Over the years I’ve picked up a few titles I recognized as being considered classics, or a new book by a familiar, loved author, and Id take a chance. Usually I read it when I have a new baby and have to stay in bed anyway.

Last week I made what, for me, was a terrible mistake. I started one of these “classics.” I couldn’t put it down. I had this gnawing sense that I should. I pushed that feeling aside. Though I did learn some interesting history from an angle I’d never considered, the history was NOT the main thrust of the story and I just HAD to find out what happened to the characters and can’t you kids go play by yourselves for a little while and make yourselves some sandwiches for lunch and I guess the garden can wait and Bobby, why do you laugh at me like that when you see me with my nose in this book again? Uggggghhhh! I feel so dreadful! Spare me having to tell you the name of the book, but it was a long one and has a sequel just as long and I finished the first today and burned them both a couple hours ago without reading a page of the second, repenting, in tears, to Yahweh and my family, for spending so many hours this past week with fictional characters in a trashy novel instead of them.

My point is this: Just because it’s a classic, doesn’t mean it’s worth your time. Be careful what you read and why. This goes for “Christian living” literature, too, for that matter.

Scariest "mom" moment to date

Little Brook had a seizure yesterday. It was terrifying. She had been fussy all day. The reason why, I couldn’t discern. She ate well, was drinking water and active, following me around the garden in the morning, the house in the afternoon. After lunch I put her down for her nap a little early, as she seemed tired. When I heard her give a little cry upstairs, I went to get her and found her having a seizure and seeming to choke. When she didn’t respond to me I carried her downstairs, had Farra fetch Bobby while I called 911 for the first time in my life. The ambulance was on it’s way. Time dragged on. My baby girl’s eyes rolled and her body was wracked with spasms. She was so feverish. It didn’t seem like she was getting any air. I had no idea what to do and the voice on the phone, although helpful, wasn’t stopping this seizure. It probably only lasted a minute or two… Bobby scooped her into his arms in an upright position and she soon went limp, which I thought at first was better than the seizure, but her breath was so shallow and slow to return, I wasn’t sure! I think the position may have opened her windpipe to where she wasn’t choking.



My heart goes out to my aunt, who, as a single mom, raised my severely epileptic cousin… I remember when they lived with us when she was only three or four and witnessing some of the seizures. My heart also goes out to a dear sister in TN whose daughter, now a teenager, still suffers seizures, I believe as a result of a brain tumor as an infant. There is nothing like watching your baby go through this! I can’t imagine it being a regular thing.


By the time the EMTs arrived, Little had come around, but was emitting this steady, whiny sort of cry and her body was still fairly limp. We’d removed her shirt and had been rubbing her with a wet cloth, to cool her slowly. The EMTs assured me it was probably just a fever-induced seizure, made worse by the sudden summer heat we’ve been experiencing. She took some Tylenol and finally took a drink of water. They gave us a heads up about the sicknesses going around and were overall very sympathetic and encouraging, though there was nothing for them to “do” at that point. She was very limp for a time, and slowly she began to look around her. She just scowled at the EMTs, like they were the reason she was suffering! I knew then that she was alright. About half an hour after they left and the Tylenol kicked in she was willing to leave my arms (I was willing to release her) and she snuggled down in my bed next to Farra and took another nap. In the evenings it’s the coolest room in the house.


Last night she slept in the playpen in our room (her crib is upstairs with the other kids) and poor Bobby hardly slept a wink because he was so worried about her. Every time she’d reposition or make any noise he was right there by her with the flashlight, watching, praying. She has continued with a fever but has no other signs of illness, nor have the rest of us. The night was cool, comfortable for sleeping, and today we were blessed with a delicious downpour and clouds, so it’s muggy but not hot. She’s doing well. I’m very grateful.

Sabbath update

4/24/10

Been a looong week.

Dessy had her kids right on her due date, also. I had on the calendar, "18th or 19th" and they were born between midnight and one, officially on the 19th. We could tell she was close, so we put her in a stall by herself. The signs, for those interested, are a suddenly larger udder (this is quite variable among goats) and a softening of the ligaments alongside the tailbone. Any other time these ligaments are like pencils in size and firmness, but you can feel them softening within 24 hours of labor, softening within a few hours of labor to where you can't even feel them.

Farra and I hung hammocks in the barn to be close so we wouldn't miss this one. Atira and Seth wanted to be wakened. It was my first attempt to sleep in a hammock (which the rest of the family loves - just me and the baby, sometimes Royal, in the tent when we camp out) and was miserable, hard on my back. I would have been better stretched out in the straw. I loved being in the barn, though, with all it's sounds and smells (yes, smells! A well kept barn doesn't smell bad). I returned to the house around 11pm, Farra waking me just after midnight with the report that Dessy was bleating and restless.

Seth decided he'd rather sleep, but Atira supposed it'd be worth it so she joined us in the barn. Bobby, awakened by our commotion, couldn't get back to sleep so he came down after a bit. What a neat time... I'm so glad my family got to see this. We had sheep when I was a preteen, and I was there when Dessy had her first, so I wasn't totally new to it. (I remember even sleeping in SMSU's ag barn when my aunt was a student there, waiting for a mare to foal. It was fun, but she didn't deliver on our watch.)

We watched the whole thing and I'll share some photos in a minute. I don't think Dessy was pleased with the audience (I kept comparing it to my labor/births and how I would feel. I asked Bobby at one point, "Is this what my labors are like from the outside? Just waiting, wondering how long it's going to take? Gosh, I hope not!" He said no. I think I believe him). The twins are bucks and are the most beautiful goats born here so far. We were kind of disappointed when we came back in the morning and checked the sex, because we would keep a pretty doe. As it is, the males are destined for the table. Anyway, with the cow we won't really need any more female goats. As it is now we'll be milking two this year, three the next, and four after that.

My mom says they didn't keep goats long after they got their milk cow, a Jersey Angus mix (sold to them as a "black Jersey"). I was a baby, my brother was about seven. I can see the sense in that, but we want the goat meat, have property more suited to goats, have buyers for goat milk which fetches a high price around here (buyers for all our extra milk, actually), and have more children who are able to do the goat chores and who need that sort of responsibility. Also, I like goat milk, especially for infants (which, Yahweh willing, I will have more of), and although calves are cute, there is nothing like a pasture of kids! If we get sick of milking only two-teated critters we'll probably switch to strictly meat goats or sheep.

Oh yeah, don't forget the pictures...

just a few minutes later the second was born...

a few minutes after that, the first was up and trying to nurse...

Sunny took over the hammock...

Back out to check on them in the daylight...

a few days later...

He's got his momma's eyes...

(their ears stand up as they grow - there's no Nubian blood here, though I like Nubians.)

We thought we ought not to bother with official names for our table-goats. I was going to call them “buck one” and “buck two”... then, naturally, we added “Tim” in front of each and now have “Tim-buck-one” and “Tim-buck-two.” (Sorry, Tim, it just happened!) Farra came to me the other day saying that Tim-one had fallen into a hole and couldn’t get out. Honestly. And us without Lassie.

Been enjoying a nice spring storm system the last couple days. I was starting to wonder, the ground was becoming so dry! So dry it was less than ideal to dig in the garden. I mowed the other day and have never seen such dust in April! This rain is perfect. Slow, steady, not pouring down. The ground is just soaking it up and none of it’s running off. We finished the barn addition this week and organized everything, hung all the tools. I love having it all decent and I could just spend hours in there playing with our bottle-kids, watching the chicks, petting the dogs and cat and listening to the rain, or finding more improvements to make.

A day or two after the twin bucklings were born we received another call from the friend with the Kikos, asking if we wanted to adopt another newborn buck, which we did. Blue has adopted him, named him “Popcorn,” and I often find her spending time cuddling him in his stall. Farra, however, has again taken care of the middle of the night feedings, just for the first three nights. Since we were able to disbud this little guy, we’ll probably keep him instead of Siegfried, for a hornless herd buck.  Anyway, at least we have options.

Just after Popcorn came to us, less than 24 hours old...

We’re getting enough milk from the two does for all the kids, but none for us, so we have switched the oldest two of the three bottle kids over to milk replacer (partially - I mix it half & half with milk). We’ll keep buying milk from our other friend until the oldest is weaned, then we should be balanced out. Our family needs the milk, too! (I’ve started buying Farra calcium supplements and giving her an extra milk ration to help with her growing pains.) But, we’re considering it an investment in meat, which we will enjoy in the fall. Actually, we may sell one of the bucklings to a family in St. Louis who wants the meat and the butchering experience. We’ll raise it for them, they’ll help with the processing and take it home in paper packages. A nice situation.

This week in the garden... harvesting lettuce - yum! I had such a hard time getting the seed to germinate in the house that I ended up sowing it too heavily in the garden, but the thinnings are tasty. We made it through the winter with a variety of sprouts for fresh eating, so it’s nice to have something else (along with all the wild edibles this time of year!). 40 pounds of potatoes are all up and looking great. Sowed half our 8’x8’ plot of carrots (we’ll reseed once or twice for late summer and fall harvests), an onion bed the same size is in, nearly 60 tomato plants are in, though some are pretty puny and I’m not sure they’ll make it. I also found time to get some herbs and flowers in. They go in among the veggies, to add interest and attract beneficial insects.

My style this year is a combination of intensive raised beds and companion gardening and what I’m learning in Steve Solomon’s book, “Gardening When It Counts,” which is very anti-intensive. In particular we’re using Solomon’s recipe for Complete Organic Fertilizer. So, part of my time is in mixing that up and spreading it, digging up every last shovelful of compost from the last three years and spreading it (not much with goats). Had to actually buy some sacked compost this year. If I do things right, with a cow, I shouldn’t ever have to do that again! Also, I bought the most expensive garden tool I’ve had - a decent hoe. What a difference! Solomon also explains how to keep tools sharp and that has been wonderful. Why did I never think to sharpen a spade?

Did some yard clean up and stacked yet more firewood. Bobby helped some in the evenings. He has been big help with the cow and he and she are getting to be pretty good buddies. I miss him (more than she does) when he’s working away from home, but am grateful for the income. This week turned into an extra special blessing, as he helped an old employer remodel his kitchen. Kelly ended up paying him half again as much as he said he would and also gave him some very expensive tools. Kelly ran his own business for awhile and I guess is now scaling down. I get a kick out of this - nearly all of his tools are black and yellow. Company colors. So he buys mostly DeWalt and Stanely. If it’s blue or green, he doesn’t want it. Whatever blows your hair back, eh? Anyway, he is a very kind and generous man. He also gave us a couple bags of clothes that his little girl had grown out of - perfect for Blue’s birthday today! She’s tickled pink. And dressed in it. HalleluYah, my provider. His wife was my ob/gyn... we didn’t get along well and she hated our home birthing, but she was there if I needed anything. They’re moving to another area of the state now. Kinda wonder what we’ll do if we have another baby? Speaking of (goodnight! I’m really rabbit trailing), not I, but my sister is expecting again. I’m excited for them.

Little Brook playing dress up in some of the clothes...

I fell in love with our good mooly cow when we first got her, then the reality that we had bought an animal that hadn't been handled much set in. I would say that getting kicked helped it set in rather quickly. With any new addition to the family, there are some adjustments. More so when that new addition is a new species.
 When I hurt my back again I was soooo frustrated and asked Bobby if maybe we should sell her. It's hard enough to handle the goats when my back hurts, but at least the children can do all the goat things if I absolutely can't. I know the older children will be able to tackle the cow eventually, but at least not this first year. And if I can't do it, that leaves Bobby. We had a serious talk about it and he assured me that he thought she was still worth the trouble and that he would do anything I was unable to do with her. So far, he has and it's very comforting. You should have heard all the things this guy said he wouldn't do when we moved to the country! Now look at him.

Now that we've gotten used to each other, the cow and I (Bobby's another story entirely), it's much easier. She has settled down into the routine of being tied out in the morning and coming to the barn at night and I realize that when she's frisky it's because she wants to play, not hurt me! That only makes it slightly more reassuring and I certainly don't intend to romp around with an 830 pound T-bone on hooves, but I haven't the fear that she's out to get me. She can be ornery upon occasion, but time has made her easier to read and although she's tried two or three times, she hasn't kicked me again. She definitely resents being made to wait to go out to graze.

My ultimate goal is to never have to mow. It's so wasteful!

I'm relieved to have the barn set up for her now. We'll get into a good routine before she calves. She is going to work out very well for us, I think. She doesn't mind the dogs at all, the children, the chickens pecking around her feet, the goats. From very near the beginning she has never shied from us, just stood waiting for us to approach, sometimes coming to us. This is good - the rest of her herd definitely had that flight distance thing going on. I can walk up to her when she's tied out, pet her all over, mess with her udder, and she doesn't mind. I don't think we'll have too much of a problem milking her. Except my hands and arms might give out! I loathe having to milk a first timer... their teats start off so small! Takes a lot of work and a lot of time to milk those tiny things. I hope it's not as bad with cows as with goats.

Now, if we can just get some fencing up for her and the soon-to-be calf...

Anyway, you can see I’ve been busy this week. On top of everything, it’s co-op week, with cheese and butter from one, bulk grains and other dry goods from another, frozen organic veggies from yet another. I’m so thankful for my options. My garden is large, but not remotely big enough to feed my family. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to provide even half of our own food? Maybe, but I imagine we’d all lose some weight. Ha. Think I’ll just be thankful for what I have.

Now, although most of our days have gone smoothly as the children and I work side by side to accomplish various tasks, I’m going to be honest and tell you that I have worked myself too hard and not spent enough time focused on more important things. Within fifteen minutes of getting out of bed I was milking goats, and I wouldn’t stop working until bedtime. Milking, feeding kid goats, then making breakfast, tying the cow out, organizing the children into a house-cleaning crew, then a gardening crew, a cow watering-crew, lunch crew, dish crew, laundry crew, garden crew, barn crew, dinner crew, dish crew, bed crew... It’s a lot to do, but it’s really not too much unless your attitude is off. If I let any little thing get to me, it snowballs rapidly with all there is to do. Yesterday I reached my breaking point and around lunchtime found myself up the hill, sitting on a rock by the creek, weeping violently. Just ten minutes with my Father and I came back down the hill a new momma, free and unburdened, ready for the tasks of the day. When will I learn to walk in this freedom every minute of the day? At least there's been progress over the years.

Have you ever read the parable of the sower and thought about which seed you are? I have all to often seen myself as the seed sown among thorns, choked by the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches. I guess only Yahweh knows. Maybe the fact that I am aware of this and constantly battle it is a good sign?

Here’s something else I’ve been chewing on...

It’s difficult, sometimes, to have beliefs that are so different from the people around us. If these doctrinal differences are ever discussed, you can end up feeling very defensive. You can focus too much on the doctrine instead of on your relationship with Yahweh. I’m all for good doctrine, but to be in a position to constantly defend yours is very tiring and distracting! And the enemy knows it and exploits this weakness. This is why it’s just EASIER to be around people you agree with, the walls are down and you can help each other with heart issues. Alas, easy isn’t always what Yahweh wants for us.

This is the work Yahweh is doing in my heart at this time. I believe I have it in me to overcome, to climb the walls of doctrinal differences (not necessarily change doctrine) and to learn and grow with anyone He puts in my path. To forgive, not to judge... to let love cover a multitude of sins. I believe this is what he wants of me at this time. Maybe he wants it of all of us. I don’t know what it looks like. I just believe the path doesn’t have to be so strife-ridden.

He is softening my heart and also showing me that I don’t have to make this happen, I'm just to trust him. This really hit me today when as I was struggling with the pain of knowing that not everyone on the path feels this way. Some would rather push us away than try to understand us or walk with us. I have been feeling like this was all my fault, that if I had just done this or thought that or could make this point... that I haven't been "pious" enough to make it work... but I feel a freedom from this today. For one, I’m not the only person involved, for another, it might not be Yahweh’s timing or his plan to begin with. The important thing is that each person is examining their hearts and are open to Yahweh’s leading, walking as our brother and king, Yahshua, walked. I just want to be close to Yahweh and yield to his spirit, not hard in my heart and whining over my hurts, like I have been.

Passover and Snakes

Molly, the cow, lowing in the barn, happy with her grain but disappointed to not be on her tether, grazing. Our oldest and youngest goats are bleating, upset that Farra has put her goat, April, out to browse. April's bell tinkles as she chews her way around the fresh spring growth, her belly full with her first kid(s), due within the next couple weeks.

The peepers are peeping, the chickens have settled in their coop with only an occasional squawk, the summer evening bugs are tuning their legs and voice boxes in preparation, the breeze is picking up and cooling down but still carries the light scents of spring. Damp earth. Grass. Sunshine. Daffodils. Forsythias along the drive.

All this revealed through my open bedroom window. I'm confined to bed, having hurt my back pretty bad yesterday morning. I could mope. I could fret about the work to be done in the garden, the seed potatoes that need to be cut and planted, the greenhouse plants that need hardening off, the barn addition that needs to be finished, the laundry, the whatnots... maybe tomorrow. Today Yahweh's granted me strength to focus on his blessings. =) And it's a Sabbath, so I wouldn't work on those things if I could.

Our family celebrated the beginning of the Feast of Unleavened Bread today (aka Passover). It's a celebration of Yahweh's raising up the savior Moses to set free our spiritual brethren, the Israelites, from bondage in Egypt, as well as his raising up our brother Yahshua to set us free from our sins, to redeem us, to show us how to live pure lives, how to love. The unleavened bread represents a sin-free life. And it's tasty.

My parents also keep this feast and came out today to celebrate with us. I have no idea what went on while I was in bed, but did get to visit a little bit when they came in and I'm sure Bobby and the children had a good time with them. Family is awesome.

After my folks had gone, the three older children went to play in the creek. On these nice days they seem to spend every free moment by the creek. Atira spotted and Farra caught this groovy water snake.

MeMom had just reminded them today of our family tradition (instituted when I was a child) of rewards for the first snake of the season and the largest snake of the season. Can't just sight it, have to catch it and have witnesses. Here they are (in my bedroom), in their wet creek clothes, after discussing how to split the moolah.

Little Brook, just waking from her nap, wasn't too sure what her sister was holding...

Here's Farra, confirming snakey's identity with the Missouri Reptiles and Amphibians book: a Midland water snake, subspecies of the Northern (aka common or banded) water snake.  They have a gland that produces a disgusting smell (note Bobby, above).

Note: this is the largest snake my children have ever caught, though Farra was after a 4' black rat snake last summer. They are not allowed to pick a snake up unless they can identify it (and confirm it's non-venomous status).

Neither here nor there, but maybe of interest to someone... We have five venomous varieties of snake in our state, three of which are rattlers, one is the Copperhead and the other the Cottonmouth. The common water snakes are rather aggressive (the book says "pugnacious"), but fairly clearly distinguishable from the Cottonmouth. In my 20 years in MO, with much time spent in field, wood and stream, I have only ever encountered one venomous snake. A smallish Copperhead, last fall. It was crossing a paved hiking trail and the kids saw and recognized it immediately.

I grew up with snakes. I think they're fascinating creatures. I get this from my mom, who got it from her dad. Mom had boas and sometimes a python or two when I was growing up, as well as different local species at different times. Not just snakes but lizards, turtles, frogs, etc. Mom would take our menagerie to schools, camps, girls scout groups, whoever was interested, and teach about what she loved (with a creationist/young earth worldview hard to find in such educators today). It was incredible how folk's attitudes changed toward reptiles by the time Mom was done. Incredible how knowledge can help overcome fear. A teacher's aid or nurse that was so afraid of snakes that she wouldn't even enter the room (but listened from the doorway) would bravely come forward and touch the tail of a 6' boa. It was a neat time and I would love to see my mom do it again. When we moved to MO I had a hard time fitting in but soon was recognized as the "snake lady's daughter."  Who knows what that did to my future.  ;)

I admit, that although I like them I have never gotten used to holding them. Just don't care for the way they feel clinging to my bare arms or squirming in my hands. The only time I ever held one of our boas (the small one) was in front of my class, just to be cool. The only reason I caught them in the wild was for that reward.   One time I was hangin' with my aunt (mom's sister, who also likes critters) and we went into a Best Buy store with our hair done in high pony tails with baby Ball Pythons wrapped around them in place of ribbons.  That was fun, too.  In the hair they don't bother you so much.  When they start to hang down in your face they bother other people.

I carry on the family tradition in a fashion. Turtles are more my speed, and each spring, the first Sunday in May, we hold a box turtle race. Come one, come all. (No rabbits, please.) We have a check-in where we measure the turtles, check their species, assign a number and then the children can paint them. Prizes are for the winner of the race, the most colorful, the sleepiest turtle (for the poor kid who's terrapin never peeps out of it's shell), the largest and the smallest. It's been a big hit. We have other games, too, and I've been trying to work in more educational bits. I get a package of literature from the conservation department and hand it out. I hope this year I can display some other reptiles and amphibians and maybe get my Mom or friend Merry (another snake lady) to share. I hope I'll be out of bed by then.

Guess that was all kinda random... Just wanted to write. Thanks for reading. More later.

Visible Signs of Spring

Brought home our spring batch of pullets (female chicks).  Two dozen (I hope to sell eggs later this summer). Mostly Barred Rocks, some Rhode Island Reds, Black Autstralorps and Buff Orpingtons.  (As a side note, we kept a Buff Orp. rooster last year out of our batch of straight runs because I'd heard they were gentle.  We have had no problems with this guy.  He is not agressive at all!)  An old laundry basket by the woodstove works good for the first day or two while I get their main box set up.  They're now on my sewing desk in a back room, in an old dryer box from the local furniture store (moving soon to a frig box).   

I like the fun colored eggs (we also get white), but the Arucanas are so anti-social!  They stay far away from people and they only lay in the coop if I keep them locked up, which doesn't work with my free range approach.  I'll probably sell them when the others start laying.  The one Barred Rock hen that I got last spring is my favorite - so personable!  That's why I opted for more.

After the May 8th storm ("derecho") took down my clotheslines last year (well, the storm took down trees which took down the clotheslines), and I was so busy cleaning with everything else, I don't think I hung any laundry out.  They're up now and here's my first bit o' laundry hanging in the breeze.  Behind that  you'll see part of the garden, freshly tilled.  Look past the garden and you'll see a couple goats.  We're expecting kids mid-April.  That's always the crowning moment of spring around here!

Babies running around outside in cloth diapers surely means spring...

Some other recent shots...

Little Brook munching a homemade (is there another kind?), whole wheat choc. chip cookie.

Seth washing dishes...

Royal and Atira hammin' it up...

The Good Moolly Cow

I'm going to tell you about our new cow and our well earned Sabbath.

Been talking about getting a family milk cow for a few months. I checked newspapers, craigslist, and asked around and there wasn't much out there. I'd located one little Jersey heifer for sale (I'm now buying goat milk from this lady - mine have one more month to go), but, sweet as she was, she was just a little too expensive for a heifer that can't even be bred until this summer (add $300 if you want to wait and buy her bred). We had pretty much decided it would be more sensible to hold off until next year and invest this year in improving the barn and running some more fence.

Wait three days... When have we ever done the sensible thing when it comes to homesteading?

Wednesday night I was unwinding after dinner and decided to hop on the "farm & garden" section of craigslist to see what I might find, cow or otherwise. (I don't do this often, usually only when I'm looking for a particular item, and can only attribute my random bouts of classified "window shopping" to my dear dad who must have passed the habit on. Is it learned or is it in the blood, I wonder?) Lo and behold, there was an ad for two Jersey heifers, bred to calve in June. No price. Three hours away.

(Wouldn't it be easier if I just told you, "Hey, we bought a cow. I'm very excited." Do I really have to tell you ALL the details?)

I called. Same price as the expensive heifer listed above (the "buy now" price, not the bred price), but being bred already to a Jersey bull made her a much better deal for the price. We could have milk this summer. And, the family runs a dairy farm and we had six heifers to choose from. The downside, as it turns out, is an animal that's not quite as well-handled and used to people as the spoiled little thing my milk lady has.

I talked to Bobby. I played with our finances to see if we had enough "extra" from our tax return (aside from what we set aside for bills) to do this. We did. Just enough, plus some for gas to get down there. It means we don't get a new water heater, the extra fencing will have to wait, and Bobby has to zip right back to work. I read some more of my cow books before bed. I dreamt cow dreams. I woke up very excited and begged my husband to make a decision. "I'm counting on you to make the final decision," I told him. "I admit I'm too excited to see this situation clearly. If you think it would be wiser to wait, I will accept that. I can tell you we have the money, we have a place to put one, we have food to feed one, and barring tragical accidents we will make our money out of one, and last but not least, I really want one!"

Bobby is not a very talkative or expressive fellow, so I can't tell you anything interesting about his response. He seemed reluctant to take the responsibility for the final decision and after the first shrug and disinterested, "I don't know," and my gentle prodding for an answer, he gave me the go-ahead. '"You'd better call the guy." Wahoo! A decided answer from my phlegmatic spouse is a rare and much sought after item around here!

We told the guy we were coming later in the day (if not that day, we wouldn't have a chance until the middle of next week and we wanted first pick). Now, how are we going to bring this thing home? Thank Yah for friends with cattle trailers! After some arranging, picking up the trailer, listening to our sweet cattle friend tell us that Jerseys are the meanest cows in the world and that if we want a good milk cow we should get a Holstein (though he's had much experience with all sorts of animals, he's a beef guy, bless his heart.  I love him so!), we were on our way. It was lunch time. Kind of a late start.

The three hour drive took four, hauling the trailer. We were racing darkness. We were surprised by the sheer number of cows packed onto this backwoods dairy farm. We were sad when the owner lady said, "they're a little on the scrawny side because we haven't had the money for grain." Oh dear. Interestingly, on the phone, her husband told me they feed mostly hay and grass, not much grain, because they don't like to "push" their girls.

I'll rabbit trail just for a minute because I've been painfully aware the last few months of the state of modern farming and dairying, and the source of our food is a subject dear to my heart. This woman had called me after I talked to her husband to tell me that they needed to be paid with a cashier's check because they had a lien on the cows that her husband had forgotten about. She said they'd had a really hard winter and had to "hawk" their cows to make it through. "We used to be able to just sell whatever we wanted and now we have to talk to the loan officer first." I told her we had intended to pay cash anyway and she said that was fine, they just couldn't take a personal check.

I think their dairy is probably a good picture of what's going on across America. The dairy, like I said, was small and packed. They milk (by machine) only about forty cows. You can tell they cared about the cows, but that the driving force behind everything they did was to make money. And not money to excess, but money just to stay afloat. And failing at that. The milk man was coming to pick up their milk just as we were leaving. I had asked her who they sell their milk to (a company on the MO/AR line I was unfamiliar with) and she explained how they pay not only by butterfat content but also by protein content, unlike most companies. I thought that was interesting. I didn't ask what they were paid for their milk. I'm probably better off not knowing.

I have a lot of thoughts on large-scale dairying, but if you're interested in that sort of thing you've already read it all elsewhere. Dairying on a small scale, providing untreated milk and milk products for our family, selling extra to friends and family.... now, that's what I'm talking about!

Where was I? Oh, the six heifers. One was smaller and the owner wanted to keep her after all. One was bred later than the rest and bred with an Angus bull, and although cheaper we ruled her out because we wanted milk sooner (and the possibility of a purebred heifer we could sell). So really it was only a choice of four nearly identical heifers. Thankfully, the heifer decided for us. Curious as cats, the lot of them, the one we picked left the others and came to the gate to check us out. She was a little wary of being touched, but not afraid of us.

I should speed this up a bit because the really interesting part happened much later, as my facebook friends are aware! It was tricky to get her in the trailer, but we succeeded. She was totally freaked out the whole way home. I can't praise Bobby enough for his careful driving! He drove as if his own children were in that trailer. The three-turned-four hour drive turned into a five hour drive. We got home just after 10pm. Ugh. I guess there is something to be said about buying local. I definitely was thinking about my milk-lady's heifer on the way home! I still felt like this was a good deal and would work out.

All the kids got a good look at her before we went into the house. Royal commented that she was a "huvvy one" (all my kids have said "huvvy" for heavy and I think it's so dear). I agreed and said she was very strong (they're suppose to be twice as strong as a horse the same size) and that someday we'd teach her to pull a cart. He laughed like this was a most absurd idea and told me, "She can't pull a cart! She doesn't have arms!"

I thought it would be best to let the cow settle down in the trailer overnight. We could deal with her in the morning. I still wasn't sure if we should put her in the barn in a stall (which she wouldn't be used to) or if she should go in our little pasture (we'd put the goats in the barn). I had some reservations about our lazy fencing... anyway, I just didn't want to think about it, I was so tired! Everyone but Bobby was in bed by 10:30. I left Bobby with a cow book opened to instructions for making a rope halter. That might have been a mistake.

Around 12:30am Bobby walks into the bedroom, waking me from a dead sleep, saying, "So, is there any reason she can't go into the pasture tonight?" I grumbled something about it being better to wait until morning and he said, "because she's already in there." I wasn't very happy about it, still didn't think it was a good idea, but I guess I just couldn't clear the sleepy fog from my head to think it through and since he seemed confident and happy with what he'd done, I promptly fell back asleep. That might have been a mistake, too. (The words "homesteading" and "mistake" are commonly used together.)

I woke up around 5:30am and Bobby still hadn't come to bed. Not unusual for him, but I never rest well when he's up so I got up to see what he was about. He walked in the front door as I came out of the bedroom and informed me with an incredibly exasperated, discouraged look on his face, "The cow is gone."

Around 2:30, as he was doing some bible study at the dining table, he heard our outside dog barking (Pyr outside, Dane inside). (Me, gently: "You left the dogs out? Don't you remember me reading to you how cows don't like dogs?" This was my only "you should have" comment the whole time - this poor guy knew his mistakes and was suffering terribly without any help from me!) He went out to see what was up and poor moolly cow had gone AWOL. Our saggy fence was sagging a little lower in one place where she had gone over and her tracks were in the mud just outside of it. Unfortunately, we found NO other tracks, the whole time we searched for her, in spite of the mud!

I quietly returned to bed and began praying fervently. Prayer definitely made the difference for me yesterday as there just wasn't much I could do. I wanted to fret, but the more I prayed the more confident I became that whatever happened, things would be okay. I had peace. Because I turned to Yahweh, I was an encouragement to my family instead of an emotional drain. Bobby was more discouraged as each hour passed without any news or clue. He was also feeling the effects of not having slept. My parents came out as well as my sister and her husband (with their baby and his two older kids that were visiting). I held the fort and went about my usual Sabbath preparations (doubling just about everything I was preparing in order to feed the search crew). I was already a little behind because we'd spent the previous day picking up this cow. It hurt physically (back's still whacky), but was good to be busy.

It was rainy and cold. The guys and older kids searched the woods all around our place. They talked to the nearest neighbors. One neighbor offered his 4-wheeler (we declined, as it wouldn't be much good in the thick woods) and said that if we still hadn't found her he'd saddle his horses the next day (today) and help us search. We've only met this guy once (though is wife happened to be the Hospice nurse with my grandpa when he died). He's so nice! I love the sense of community here.

It was afternoon, my parents and sister and her kids had gone home. Vince stuck around and helped Bobby, who was nearing the point of dysfunction from stress and sleep debt. They drove off to talk to some more neighbors and saw our heifer in a field with some beef cattle almost two miles from here. (Remember the Sesame Street song, "One of these things just doesn't belong here, one of these things just isn't the same"?) They stopped the truck, called the call she was familiar with (I had asked when we bought her) and she came trotting up to the fence, with the Herefords following her. They pulled into the drive and Bobby hopped the fence and got her haltered. They ended up contacting the owner of the field, who explained how she showed up that morning. He stuck her in with his before he went to work (good neighbors will do this, instead of leaving the stock to wander). He said he'd help them get her after work. That gave us just enough time for a nap.  =)

I have rarely seen a man so relieved as Bobby looked when he came home and announced that our moolly cow had been found. I was very, very glad, but I think I was the least surprised of the lot. When you're confident in what your heavenly Father can do, it pleases you but doesn't surprise you when he does it!

Bobby walked her home. It was still raining.

We tied her in the big stall in the barn (she makes our goat barn look kinda small). She wasn't too fond of that, but we felt better knowing she couldn't get away. She calmed down and got used to the barn noises (guineas will freak anyone out!) and I went out several times to obsess over check on her. She lets me love on her a little more each time I go out. This morning I got a chest measurement (not to fit her for a bra, but to estimate her weight - she is a little scrawny and I want to keep track of her gain) and she didn't mind me poking around.

We decided (unanimously) that her name should be Molly (as we already have a Royal Payne). This was derived from "moolly." I'd been calling her moolly cow since the moment we met, because of a poem in one of the kid's books.

         The Good Moolly Cow

by Eliza Lee Follen (1787 - 1860)

Come! supper is ready
Come! boys and girls now,
For here is fresh milk
From the good moolly cow.

Have done with your fife
And your row de dow dow,
And taste this sweet milk
From the good moolly cow.

Whoever is fretting
Must clear up his brow,
Or he'll have no milk
From the good moolly cow.

And here is Miss Pussy;
She means by mee ow,
Give me too some milk
From the good moolly cow.

When the children are hungry
Oh who can tell how
They love the fresh milk
From the good moolly cow.

So when you meet moolly
Please say with a bow,
"Thank you for your milk,
Mrs. Good Moolly Cow."

(There's another about a mooly cow - with one L - from the same time period, called "The Cow-Boy's Song.)

I have always liked my goats (and they have their pros over cows), but when I started reading about keeping a family milk cow, and talking with people who have kept both goats and cows, I began to think a cow was definitely the critter for me (I'm talking about personality, but let's not leave out my fondness for butter). I especially thought so when I met a milk cow face to face. Mom (who has kept both) and I were comparing them one day to cats and dogs. My impression of a Jersey cow, and she confirmed this, was that she was like a really big dog. Goats seem to have that independent, "I could just as easily get along without you" nature that cats have. They have minds of their own and seem harder to get close to. Some people (cat people) like this about them and treasure their relationships with goats. I like my goats, like I said, but I think I'd like them a lot less if they didn't give milk! A cow (a Jersey, anyway) seems to me much more affectionate and personable. I understand they become one of the family and I can definitely see this happening here at Make-It-Do Farm. The fresh milk, butter, cream, yogurt, cheese, and yearly calf are side benefits.

(A side note about our farm name.  We painted this on our 12 passenger van.  One day while at the feed store, Bobby was waiting for me to come out and he overheard a boy of about 10 or 11 reading the van.  It sounded like this.  "Make...  take away ... it... take away... do... farm."   Are we the only ones who found this hilarious?)

We plan to continue keeping goats. The meat is fantastic, the milk is great for babies and they're a nice size for the children. When we start milking the cow we might sell our only horned goat, however. She came to us with horns and although she's a great goat in every other respect and our main producer, she does toss her head around and hurts the littler children. We've disbudded all our kids so our other two does are horn-free and the children love them.

Enough about our cow adventures... 
For now.

Late Winter Update

2/6/10


Shabbat Shalom, dear readers!

It's still winter here at Make-It-Do Farm. Got our third snowfall last night, before the former had even melted. The trees are gorgeous this morning! This snow is wetter than the last and although only an inch or two accumulated on the ground, it really stuck to everything; every little limb, leaf and pine needle, set behind with a perfectly grey sky. Stunning. I'm ready for spring now.

Okay, I say that, but I'm not, actually. I need this winter to prepare my body for the work coming my way this growing season. The tiny garden at my window sill needs a place outside soon. When I think that in a few short weeks it'll be time to work the ground, I just sigh and pray for healing. My back is still a wreck. A little better as I've learned what I absolutely can't do and what I can and when, as well as regularly stretching and strengthening the other muscles that are supposed to be helping my back carry it's load (amazing what bearing children will do to your body - a sacrifice I don't for a moment regret)... but I'm still pretty limited and the littlest wrong movement often has me flat out for a few days. It's been a trying season, to say the least.

I look forward to spring in spite of that. I used to be the biggest fan of autumn, but I've converted to spring loving, if for nothing else but it's unrelenting, irresistible, ineffable hope. Winter can cast a shadow upon the most cheerful, resolved heart. Yet the most miserable person must be very committed to their position to resist the allures of spring. Sorry if that's not spiritual enough for some of you. It may show a decided lack of faith to be so moved by seasons, by circumstances. I've wondered if I have the faith for winter, both physically and spiritually speaking. I think I do. My faith always speaks to me, in the dead of the most miserable, grey winter, that spring is right around the bend and that I'll be there to meet it. With bells on. And maybe a back brace.

* * * * * *

Around the homestead...

Two of our three goats are swelling nicely with kid (the third being too young to breed). They're due in mid April and so this week I'm drying Dessy up to give her a break. Funny, last year I dried her up in late fall because I wanted the break. This year I'm loathe to give up the milk. We have decided we just cannot drink that poison that passes for milk at the super market and so have literally milked every drop from our goat. I've called around and have found raw cow milk at $6 to $9 a gallon. Yikes. I found goat milk on the other side of town for $6.50 a gallon and am due to pick up a couple gallons this 1st day. It's all the lady can spare right now since her kids are getting most of it. She also has cows due to freshen in April and sells a lot of milk, usually. I don't know if it's "organic," but at least it's raw and nearby. My own milk and eggs aren't organic yet, but I'm working on it.

This same lady has a nice little Jersey heifer for sale. I'm sorely tempted to buy it. I've decided I definitely want to get cow and Bobby has given me the go-ahead, but after much consideration, I don't think we're ready. We just don't have the place to keep her, her hay, or her manure. I know I'll hit it off with a cow, but we'll still keep a goat or two.

So, this year we hope to invest in fencing and outbuildings. The chicken coop will be doubled in size as I plan to pick up a couple dozen chickens in March and sell eggs later this year. The barn will have some additions for hay storage and animal shelter. I'm reading everything I can about crop rotation, improving pasture, and herbs for healthy critters. We're planning a small shed for storing tools and the odds and ends that collect around our place. When we moved in three years ago the only outbuilding was the well house. Buildings are expensive. We've added a small coop and barn, but they don't have much room for anything not critter related. I tell ya, if there were outbuildings on your property when you moved in, be grateful!

So, about half of our tax return is going toward bills - catching up and savings - and most of the rest toward home maintenance and improvements, including a new water heater and vehicle repairs. Also, we're having our dogs "broken" (that is, spayed and neutered - can't really used the word "fixed"), which is no small chunk of change with our big dogs. Remodeling the attic to a bedroom takes back burner again as we tackle the outside needs. Six kids in one room is working fine, so why rush? Besides, until we have outside storage, we need the "spare oom" for our junk. We had hoped to put down a significant portion toward our debt, but as it turns out, very little will be able to go that direction.

Bobby’s been working away from home a very little bit and every time I’m tempted to get cranky about his rate of pay or the frequency of said pay, I repent and praise Yahweh that he has any work at all. Also, that he has so much time at home.

We had some pretty nice weather mid to late January (some days in the 60’s) and when he’s home I’m sometimes able to talk him into helping me clean up outside. The place really is a wreck with all the trees down in various stages of firewood - untouched, branches cut off but trunk not bucked up, bucked but not split, split but not stacked, branches piled but not burned. You know that cranky feeling you get when your house is cluttered and how peaceful it is to have it clean again? Well, there’s not an area of our property (right around the house, anyway) that has that nice, uncluttered feel.

Bobby tends spread his work around; a little here by the house and a little there in the orchard, and I think he gets overwhelmed with all there is to do, so we’re helping each other by dividing the property and working on just one area at a time. We’re almost done with the goat "pasture" (about 1/4 of an acre or less - more of a glorified pen). We burned an old couch and it was just what we needed to get the wet brush to burn. My hat's off to my husband; I didn't think we'd get them burned off until late spring!

I played around with our garden plans for quite some time, trying to fit in all the varieties I want in the quantities I want. Ha, ha. It's a good thing I don't have the land for it, I'd bite off way more than I could chew. We're not enlarging this year, and although I always say I'm going to grow more of the basics and less of the froo-froo stuff, I always end up with an area planting in trial veggies.

It's awful nice to be gardening in January. Just after the first of the year I seeded some leeks and onions in flats. Soon after that, some lettuce, then cabbages and peppers. Next week I'll sow the rest of what I plan to start indoors - tomatoes, flowers and herbs. (I've got the fall garden all planned out, too, so this year I'll have no excuse.) I'm in a bit of a pickle for where to put everything, though, and how to keep it warm enough, with enough light. Everything might have to wait for the tax return so I can get some plastic and lights and shelves, like I did two years ago. We have some of the things we need to build a greenhouse, but won't be able to get to it until spring, if then. I'm just going to start my seeds and work fast on getting space ready.

It's been a good season for study. Contrary to popular belief, the Encyclopedia of Country Living is not the only book I study. =) Bobby and I have been up to our ears in scripture and are continually thrilled at where our Father takes us when we seek to know him better and are willing to explore his word. There's enough there for several more blog entries and I do hope to write some soon on what we've been learning.

I also hope to upload some photos of the children in another entry. The pictures will do much more justice to them than my many loving words.

Until next time!