Lonely Mowing

Clyde and Lyle – Fainting Goats

Last weekend we took a break from the farm and baking and went to the lake. It was a fun, family filled weekend. I turned my phone on once and saw a stack of missed messages in all forms and quickly shut it back off. This was to be vacation and Mike might lose it if I started baking.

Once we were home it was back to work. The goats were to be sold. The ladies that were taking them were there and waiting. The loading of the goats went pretty well. They are all very friendly so catching them wasn’t a problem. Hoisting them into the kennels in their SUV took a little extra muscle. Mike got that job. Hank is a big guy. Lyle, well, he never quit eating, so he had some heft behind him. Sweet little Scarlet and Lily were pretty easy.

Then, Clyde, he’s my favorite. He was so nice and a little shy. He’s had a bad leg for a couple years now. The vet has checked him out a few times and said surgery was possible but may or may not fix it and at the time it didn’t seem to bother him. As he has gotten older you can tell it bothers him after a day of rough-housing with the boys. Some rest and he’s back to himself in a day or two. He wasn’t part of the selling deal. We had planned to put him down. Goats can’t live alone and finding a home for a goat with a bum leg was seeming nearly impossible.

Miracles happen on the farm. One of the ladies had a doe with a bad hip. She couldn’t be bred again but was living a happy quiet life on their farm. Clyde was loaded up with Lyle (they’ve been buddies since birth) and was headed to live with the doe. Happily ever after for him. We were glad to know he was going to a good home too.

When the goats were headed down the road I was restless but knew that baking wouldn’t go well that afternoon. Some days I can just tell I would be missing ingredients, mis-measuring or burning whatever I attempted. The lawn needed mowing so I opted for that instead.

Mowing was pretty uneventful as usual. We will need to replace the new blades that just Mike put on. I seem to have a special talent of hitting every hidden rock, stump and culvert. It wasn’t until I was mowing the front yard that things got a little lonely. Every other time I mowed that section there were eager little faces poking through the fence waiting for fresh clippings blown their way.

That day there were none.

Just an empty fence in front of an empty pen.



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