It's not that I want to overfill my days. I'm content when they have chunks of down time. But sometimes, the motor within you churns and I find yourself panting and thinking -- how did I ever get to be this busy?
Today was just such a day.
It all started with the cats (and yes, yes, we do have too many because Stop Sign has had too many and yes, she needs to be neutered and if only she'd pause with her reproductive instincts and duties, we'd make an all out effort to get the old girl to the vet).
I go out early. Dance is there. I feed Dance. Then Stop Sign comes. I feed Stop Sign. Then the kittens show up, but I can't feed them because the cheepers are now loose and any food left for the kittens will be eaten by the curious girls. I spend over an hour trying to get food to everyone. An hour!
At least the setting is pretty: a late spring garden is calm, with lots of green still, but it's plenty enchanting anyway.
Breakfast.
A few conversations with my mom, who has had a few more ups and downs but mostly ups now.
And then Ed and I get in the car to drop off something I had mended for Snowdrop (the little girl is on her way to a birthday party not too far from here)...
And from there, we go visit a family who happens to raise goats.
I know, I know. No more goat talk! No more goat visits! No more goat speculations! Don't overfill your plate!
On the flip side -- I'm thinking this is our last chance to bring animals here, to the farmette. (We're getting old, no?) And as Ed questions me about steps I had taken before backing down, I listen more attentively at ideas that he himself had had.
We reach a midpoint, where I am not so hellbent on doing this my way and he's not so hellbent on not doing it at all. After watching youtube clips at 3:30 a.m. on various forms of electric fencing, I'm not so opposed to the idea of this less permanent solution. So now Ed isn't terribly opposed to putting up a shed and thus we are back on the goat boat once more.
We've had an appointment with this particular goat lady for a while. She has sold all her does, but she has some wethers still. Do you know what they are? They are neutered male goats. Their only role is to be a pet and a companion to other goats. And they have wonderfully mild dispositions. And they are cheap. No goat cheese is going to come your way out of a wether.
Insofar as Ed and I are still considering goats (are we? well, maybe...), wethers are a good choice, at least for this year. The investment is smaller. And honestly, I'm not sure I want to take on breeding and milking at all. What do we do with all that high fat goat milk??
The people we visit are not homesteaders. They have day jobs, they have kids and lawns and the animals they keep are perhaps closer to a hobby than a need to put calories on the table.
We learn a lot about everything. And, well, their goats are so well tended and so lovable...
... and sure enough, by the end of the hour, we are committed goat owners.
Meet Smoky, a mini Nubian...
... and Casper, a Nigerian.
The names are chosen by the goat people, but I think we'll stay with them.
But wait, why do I call these folks "goat people," when in fact, what you see more of on their property is... llamas.
They raise them, sheer them, use their wool.
Suddenly, I am surrounded by llamas.
And because I have llama cookies, I am followed by llamas. A lot of llamas.
(Llama butts and a Nina butt)
No! We are not ever considering llamas!
Ah, but it's a delightful time!
During the drive home, Ed offers to build a shed from a kit for the goats and to help me set up fencing.
We call our corn farmers (who live just down the road and who also keep beef cattle and have a couple of playful goats) and stop by to chat with them about getting hay for the goats. Another hour of stellar conversation about corn and neighbors and cats and, well of course, goats.
It'll be a month before we bring Casper and Smoky to the farmette. For now, like expectant parents, we must get ready!
Today was just such a day.
It all started with the cats (and yes, yes, we do have too many because Stop Sign has had too many and yes, she needs to be neutered and if only she'd pause with her reproductive instincts and duties, we'd make an all out effort to get the old girl to the vet).
I go out early. Dance is there. I feed Dance. Then Stop Sign comes. I feed Stop Sign. Then the kittens show up, but I can't feed them because the cheepers are now loose and any food left for the kittens will be eaten by the curious girls. I spend over an hour trying to get food to everyone. An hour!
At least the setting is pretty: a late spring garden is calm, with lots of green still, but it's plenty enchanting anyway.
Breakfast.
A few conversations with my mom, who has had a few more ups and downs but mostly ups now.
And then Ed and I get in the car to drop off something I had mended for Snowdrop (the little girl is on her way to a birthday party not too far from here)...
And from there, we go visit a family who happens to raise goats.
I know, I know. No more goat talk! No more goat visits! No more goat speculations! Don't overfill your plate!
On the flip side -- I'm thinking this is our last chance to bring animals here, to the farmette. (We're getting old, no?) And as Ed questions me about steps I had taken before backing down, I listen more attentively at ideas that he himself had had.
We reach a midpoint, where I am not so hellbent on doing this my way and he's not so hellbent on not doing it at all. After watching youtube clips at 3:30 a.m. on various forms of electric fencing, I'm not so opposed to the idea of this less permanent solution. So now Ed isn't terribly opposed to putting up a shed and thus we are back on the goat boat once more.
We've had an appointment with this particular goat lady for a while. She has sold all her does, but she has some wethers still. Do you know what they are? They are neutered male goats. Their only role is to be a pet and a companion to other goats. And they have wonderfully mild dispositions. And they are cheap. No goat cheese is going to come your way out of a wether.
Insofar as Ed and I are still considering goats (are we? well, maybe...), wethers are a good choice, at least for this year. The investment is smaller. And honestly, I'm not sure I want to take on breeding and milking at all. What do we do with all that high fat goat milk??
The people we visit are not homesteaders. They have day jobs, they have kids and lawns and the animals they keep are perhaps closer to a hobby than a need to put calories on the table.
We learn a lot about everything. And, well, their goats are so well tended and so lovable...
... and sure enough, by the end of the hour, we are committed goat owners.
Meet Smoky, a mini Nubian...
... and Casper, a Nigerian.
The names are chosen by the goat people, but I think we'll stay with them.
But wait, why do I call these folks "goat people," when in fact, what you see more of on their property is... llamas.
They raise them, sheer them, use their wool.
Suddenly, I am surrounded by llamas.
And because I have llama cookies, I am followed by llamas. A lot of llamas.
(Llama butts and a Nina butt)
No! We are not ever considering llamas!
Ah, but it's a delightful time!
During the drive home, Ed offers to build a shed from a kit for the goats and to help me set up fencing.
We call our corn farmers (who live just down the road and who also keep beef cattle and have a couple of playful goats) and stop by to chat with them about getting hay for the goats. Another hour of stellar conversation about corn and neighbors and cats and, well of course, goats.
It'll be a month before we bring Casper and Smoky to the farmette. For now, like expectant parents, we must get ready!
