You're probably sick of all my doom and gloom, so I thought I'd report that I'm feeling good!Things are peaceful and all is well right now. I am trying very hard to have compassion, even though Jules has reverted back to trying to kill me and I'm not set up to handle her properly. I realize that animals have individual personalities just as much as people do. I may try to make a few phone calls tommorrow and see about getting some help with her, or I might just try to see if maybe she is better suited, this time around, to be a nurse cow. ALL of my other cows are an absolute joy to milk. They actually line up at the gate and try to all squeeze through at once to be the first milked! If she would raise 2-3 of our calves, she would pay her way and there's a chance I can still bring her around in a couple months when it is less hectic. One thing is for sure--I just can't face milking her again right now. I'm peaceful about it.
I've recieved so many compliments and can't thank you all enough. It is so wonderful to hear good things. Many thanks to all my faithful customers! It helps me keep going even after a week like Jules just put me through!
The kids were just wonderful today. I always love them, and am very proud of this family of ours but I won't lie--sometimes when you have 5 kids and a farm, and a business and deadlines, and basketball games, speech therapy, medical issues---screaming and fighting kids ( and don't kid yourself ALL siblings fight ) just quickly escalates the situation. Today, it was like time slowed down a bit and I felt like I was watching our lives from a distance.
Ida May ( 1) was toddling around in my pink heels and I thought, "Man, she really looks like a little me. I wonder if she'll grow up to feel as connected to growing food as her Momma does."
Ayla (3) and Veda (5) were in the backseat of the van. We stopped and bought some grain for the cows and every time the man brought out another bag, one of them would say, " Hi ! " and he'd say Hi back to them and they'd just burst into peels of laughter. It was so infectious, we were all laughing even the poor man carrying the grain bags! There is nothing so sweet as joyful children.
Jude (8) is such a gentleman, and likes to surprise me by making my bed. I can't tell you how much it means, when I'm exhausted--finishing up whatever cheese I'm currently making-- to go in and see my bed made and ready for me to just crawl in. Heavenly, it is.
Zoie (11) is growing like a weed. I see bits and pieces of Dante and I, but mostly she is herself. It is endlessly fascinating. Watching and being a part of her life. Of all their lives.
The greatest story unfolding, and I switch between just muddling through the day to day, surviving the really heavy stuff we've been going through, and then seeing it all almost outside of my body, good and bad. It's real, and I LOVE it all. I wouldn't change anything. Not even the bad.
I milked at 8:30p.m. A couple hours late, but sometimes this is the sweetest time. I know that the little kids will be sleeping when I come in, and the cows are very restful at this time. Their bellies are full, they exude contentment and it helps me unwind. The night is dark and misty. Gentle rain was falling and felt good on my face. I went about my routine, and the cows watched me fill their mangers and then ambled over to their own spots. Gale watched me, and nodded as I left. I said, " Night, Girl."
Now I'm gonna go collapse into bed and dream sweet dreams.