I guess it is safe to say that I live on a farm. I can't think of any other way to describe what we've got going on here. This year I made it "official" when I registered with The American Goat Society as Dimple Dell Farm (doesn't that name sound so adorable?) and destined all new baby goats born here to their own special prefix. This year we had "Dimple Dell Chocolate Chip," (some of you may remember our special little Chip for his unusual sexual orientation) "Dimple Dell Flower," "Dimple Dell Chuckles," and little "Dimple Dell Happy Go Lucky."
A farm is fun and fulfilling. A farm is a lot of work. When the weather gets cold and wet I start to question farm life. The animals must be fed everyday, watered, their poop scooped, and their bedding cleaned. Water hoses must be unscrewed and drained so they won't freeze and break pipes. It seems that as soon as we get one hole in the fence fixed, another is created. Every month somebody has to be wormed, vaccinated, trimmed up or doctored. And did I mention poop? Oh, so much poop!
Today was stall mucking day and I had been dreading it. Kays and I suited up and headed out to fill wheelbarrows full of manure, and as we scraped and scooped, we talked and laughed. And I thought to myself that more moms should have the chance to spend an hour each day with their daughters working at poop containment. After we finished with the scooping, we did the feeding and watering, we fixed a hole in the fence, and gathered the eggs. It was a lovely hour, actually, even though I was a little blue at the tips when we were done. Kaylee said to me, "Mom, look how beautiful the mountains are." And she was right. The view of the mountains was so much more beautiful than the alternative today... POOP.
The gift of Differentiation
2 weeks ago