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.
A few years ago, the little boy found himself in the middle of an angry hive of stinging, flying somethings. They were in his shorts and up his shirt, he got it pretty good. The following summer he stayed in the house every time we checked bees.
Fast forward to this summer, curiosity got the best of him. One night I went to check the bees and he asked to come with. “Next time. You need pants and boots and long sleeves.”
We weren’t even finished with supper the following night and he has excused himself from the table and came back dressed to check the bees. Together we built a fire in the smoker. He “suited” up in Mike’s beekeeping hat and gloves and grabbed the hive tool. We hopped on the four-wheeler and headed out for his first hive check.
Rain, rain, stay away. Come again another day. Papa wants to hay today.
By Friday night we had the first cuttings bales of fresh hay in the loft. I think this was the first year nothing broke and we didn’t have the worry of rain. I should probably write that down because who knows if we will ever be so lucky again. I guess I am jumping the gun a little bit; the hay on dad’s fields still needs to be put up and the sky is looking pretty dark.
Personally, I love haying season. As with anything there are some not so great parts but I do my best to overlook those. Things like a million cuts on my forearms from the scratching hay, the constant heavy lifting in the summer heat, the chaff that clings to sweat and itches and the sneezing and snot. Yeah, haying isn’t always pretty, easy or comfortable. All that aside, it’s great. (Yes, I know, I probably am outnumbered everyone to one on this.)
I feel like this should be a post talking in metaphors about how I need to take a year to “weed the garden” and simplify my life or minimalize the amount of stuff in my home. It’s a good thought and both would be beneficial, but not this time. I literally need to weed the garden.
Its official, I’m not planting a garden this year. All of my seeds will remain neatly sorted in their packets and in a zip-lock bag until next year. How depressing. A ton of vegetables, herbs and flowers and all their beautiful potential sitting quietly under my desk.
Its farmers market season. You drive through town and see a farmers market or down a country road there’s a roadside stand wouldn’t you love to stop and just snoop?!
And then you don’t. Why not? Maybe the thought is “What am I going to do with a bag of vegetables?” “My kids don’t eat vegetables.” “I don’t like salad.” Any of these relatable?
Don’t worry! You need to stop anyway!
You can sign up below for my Free Farmers Market Meal Recipes and each week you will receive an email with a couple recipes so you can pick out beautiful produce with confidence knowing that they won’t go to waste! Did I mention they’re Free?!