This. Every morning, this. I could wake up seventy thousand more times, roll out of bed, scramble to find a mismatched pair of socks, and throw on an oversized, overworn sweatshirt before hobbling out to the thrift store couch (where no less than four little ones will soon find me) and never tire of it.
Have you seen that Jim Gaffigan skit where he’s talking about one way to live your life? It goes like this: Ya. It’s sorta like that. When people see you at the store, they no longer say “Oh what a beautiful baby!” but rather they look at you with a flock of children and with
I didn’t intend to be lambing in winter. Aren’t lambs naturally supposed to come in the spring time? Isn’t that just the way that nature works or something? Oh wait. Shouldn’t I also know by now that nothing just ‘works’ like that? There’s always a few twists and turns to keep us on our toes as farmers.
Oh, hello world. You’re still there. Happy to see it! What I know of the world has been consumed by a variety of heaviness these past few weeks: the stress of relocating the animals, the children, the moving of 1,391 pounds of canned goods we had stored away for winter. The heaviness of the most
Last Thursday afternoon, I had to experience one of those those moments that no person wants to experience. One of those experiences that you so badly wish you could undo. Unlive. Unsee. The death of a companion. My Toby-turd. The sun had peeked out for the first time in over a week and the weather
It was the long, brown curls that hung in front of his eyes that captured my heart. From the moment I first saw Hugh Ferring-Wittingstale on River Cottage years ago, I was totally in love. So when Hugh moved to the country and fell in love with his beloved Dorset sheep… well, I did too.
I’m not quite sure how it happened. And yet, here I am. Staring at small stacks of beautiful and fresh curriculum books. It makes me want to sharpen pencils. And, I don’t know, recite the Pledge of Allegiance or something. I’ve hinted very briefly at the fact, but today, I’m finally coming out. Y’all. We’re
It’s a rare moment on the farm. The hobbit is tucked into bed after an intense showering session in which the mud (ah, who am I kidding, it was mostly poop) he’d decided to play in while I was milking was washed away, along with the sins of the day. G-love is pretending she’s a
Alright. I know you want to throw tomatoes at me. Here I had you all worked up for Sally’s calf to come, you were there with me on Facebook (virtually) at the edge of your seat, only to check back and find no calf came. No status update with a zillion of these (!!!!!!!!!). No
(Sung to the tune of ‘Smelly Cat’) Sally Belle, Sally Belle When will that baby come? Sally Belle, Sally Belle It’s not too soooooon. Sorry. I’m trying to think of anything that I can to keep my mind off of Sally’s impending birth. Making up new lyrics and singing jingles from ‘Friends’ included. Hence the Smelly