The Whole Answer

I speak before lots of book groups, libraries, and other organizations. Most people have read my memoir, so I almost always get asked, “How do you feel about the farm and your life now?”
I give a fairly flip answer—“Things are great”—then move on to the next question.

This is only half the answer. I can’t give the complete answer or I get choked up, something that’s been happening more lately, probably because my hormones are becoming unbalanced as I careen toward fifty. I mean, really, is it normal to burst into tears every few months because Elvis died? I’m serious. (I saw a therapist for a few months, and at one session I said, “Don’t laugh, but I often start crying because Elvis is dead.” She looked at me for a full thirty seconds, then began to laugh.)

So here’s the complete answer about how I feel about this farm, the one I’d give if it didn’t choke me up:

--I live with a woman who knows me very, very well, yet adores me anyway.

--I have two barn cats who come running when I appear, winding themselves around my ankles and telling me all about their day.

--I can pet a goat whenever I want. I can scratch little goat kids under their chins, and kiss the sweet swirls on the crowns of their heads.

--I can watch ducks busily go about the business of being ducks.

--I can bury my fingers in warm wool and nuzzle noses with a sheep anytime I want, (assuming the sheep wants the same thing.)

--I can sit in the pasture and be surrounded by animals that demonstrate a good meal, a little sunshine, and a lengthy nap are more important than politics or bounced checks or low-carb diets.

When I see the word ‘content,’ I immediately think content, as in what something contains. But for me, the better definition is content. Unfortunately this word has almost taken on a negative connotation, as if by being 'content' you're settling for something less than you should. Good grief. “Happy” is an emotion hard to maintain without a little chemical help, but content can last a long, long time. Yes, I sometimes get tired out here, and no, my life on the farm is not perfect, but I'm blissfully content.

I wish this for everyone reading this blog. Content is good. It’s very, very good.

So should we meet some day, you now know my answer to the question, “How do you feel about the farm and your life?”

....Just don’t ask me how I feel about Elvis.

Caribbean, Here We Come


What on earth were we thinking? Farming in Minnesota?

Normally October 12 would be a lovely fall day, with the temperature in the high 50s (a very comfortable day for us hearty souls.) Instead, it’s 28 degrees, with a wind chill of 15 degrees. (Here in Minnesota more important than temperature is the wind chill, the actual temperature our skin experiences.)

The sheep are still scattered over our 53 acres, grazing on the last of the grass, and can easily handle this weather. So what’s the problem?

The problem is water. Our black water lines run above the ground, and as we move the sheep from pasture to pasture, we empty and move their water barrel, refilling it by plugging into the water line at various points along the way. Mid-November Melissa usually drains the water lines, and we bring the sheep in close to the barn, where there’s a non-freezable water source.

That’s the plan, and we’re sticking to it. Too bad the water lines are now frozen. Our ewes went all night without water (they can go longer, so don’t worry.) Our lambs had two inches of ice coating their water. This morning, because I was out there with a hatchet hacking away at that ice, my hands are still so cold I can barely type.

Melissa just filled three big buckets, put them on the back of the four-wheeler, and is now out giving the ewes water. When she comes back, with icy hands and blue lips, I’m filling her full of hot lasagna.

Tomorrow the temperature will be in the upper 30s, and by Saturday, the upper 50s, and life on the farm will continue as usual.

But these two days of nasty weather have reminded me: Oh, yeah, winter’s coming....Huge snow drifts to trudge through, heaters in the sheep water that don’t always work, ice storms that coat the hay and ground.

The other day a woman farmer in the Caribbean posted on this blog. Ahh, the Caribbean...I offered to trade places with her this winter for a few weeks. For some reason, I haven't heard back from her....

Farming in Minnesota? What on earth were we thinking?