Some days the farm is like an abusive boyfriend. It beats me up, but then, just as I'm about to say, "Ok, I've had enough!" it brings me flowers. Or in this case, cows.
The past week has been incredibly taxing. Rewarding, successful, beautiful at times, but nonetheless taxing. And I wasn't really about to call it a day, but with Kevin under the weather and taking what's going on a four-hour nap, the turkeys biting my hands since I forgot my gloves when I went to feed them, and the fact that there are two chicks in the house because of leg problems--I was really feeling taxed. And then, I went out to the brooder to check on the chicks and give them dinner, and just as I was starting to get cold, damp (it's drizzling), and generally miserable, a parade of cows came moseying over the hill. When I first heard them, I turned to see moms nuzzling calves, and the lovely sound of very quiet grazing, where you can hear them tearing at the clumps of grass. Then, suddenly, all the calves took off, romping and frolicking, in this burst of energy and speed that was so contradictory to the moms slowly plodding along methodically eating. The moms started baying to call the calves back and it was just this beautiful, reaffirming moment of life and momma-baby love that made me feel warm and exhilarated.
So I put aside my earlier frustrations, and accepted the olive branch the farm was providing, and came inside to tell all of you that I'm happy we're farmers, even though it seems like no amount of sleep will ever be enough again, my feet will never stop hurting, and I will never finish the baby blanket I'm working on as my "leisure" project (HA!).
I'm sure Kevin will be back soon with a more standard update and a concluding message about the start-to-finish journey of our first batch, but until then, here's a lousy picture of the cows who came to remind me how much I like it here (sorry, it was dusk, my camera couldn't handle it).