What I hope farming has taught me about having kids.

Meg is pregnant. Which means in popular terms that I am pregnant too. The catch phrase is "we are pregnant" We use it all the time. And people give us their unsolicited  advice as to "How it its going to be."  We generally keep our mouth shut and accept the fact that humans want to help each other but have a generally misguided way of doing so.

In my head as a farmer I often think "how it has been". I hope that some of the spiritual, mental, and emotional seasoning from farming,  will carry over and cushion the landing of having a baby in our arms in May. I am writing this with a good chance that I will re read this post, and look back and laugh! I guess anyway you cut it, it makes for good reading.

So here we go, What I hope farming has taught me

1.) It is twenty four hours a day 7 days a week, 365 days a year, strong, weak happy or sad, sick or healthy- you will do it until the day you die. There is no day off, there are hardly any special days, it is just the way it is. It took forever to accept this one and make peace with it.

2.) Never challenge God to a duel. I did that once- screaming at the sky in the middle of the night in rage " Bring it on". God can bring it like you would not believe, and he never gets tired. God brought it for 10 years straight. God dropped my on my knees praying Hail Mary's and I didn't know I was Catholic.

3.) Do the work cheerfully when you can. It is always there, it will always need to be done, you are the chosen person to do it. There will be grumpy days.

4.) Moments in Heaven are usually juxtaposed with moments in Hell. The minuet you watch a magical sunset will be the same night you clean diarrhea out of your own bed.

5.) Plan. Only because you know all too well they will change. Shit will only go down on the days you have to be somewhere.

6.) "Some days you will run the farm, and some days the farm will run you." Insert child in place of farm to make this lesson carry over.

7.) "If I could farm half as well as I know how, I will be one hell of a farmer." Insert parent in the place of farmer to make this lesson carry over.

8.) Never take a pregnant cat in a Cattle deal, where a calf has to ride home in the cab of the truck. I don't know what that has to do with parenting it just seems like good advice from experience.

9.) If you let the shit pile up, you will be working your ass off when you want to be out in the sun. Piled up shit is smelly, its hard to shovel, and you curse yourself every time you let it pile up, saying to yourself "you know better!" Bottom line?  You will have to shovel the shit, today tomorrow or the next day. It really doesn't matter. It will be the same job, on any of those days,  it will just be what you chose it to be.

10) Rest on Sundays. Work with your partner.  Give each other  time off . Graciously take what your partner has given you. Eat. Sleep when you can. 3:30am is a fucked up time of day. Coffee makes it better. Love will get you up every morning. Love is the only thing strong enough to keep you going.

-From Popa Falby to Baby Falby

Headed Towards Solstice

Its dark at 7:00 am. Thinking back in the near past of summer, I remember that by this time I had gone for a swim, put the cows in the barn, walked through the garden, weeded, and made my second cup of coffee.
This time the winter, we walk the 4ft to the wood shed, make up the fire, and manage to get the coffee made. Period.
At this time of year, we trudge towards that mark that is the Solstice. The 21st of December. The point in the year when we finish our trip into the darkness, and begin to walk outwards towards the growing season. Each year, we are convinced we can see the change in the light on January 3rd. When we have officially gained no more than a minuet and a half of daylight. But after 7 am darkness for weeks on end, we are sure we can see it. Placebo effect. Probably.

At the end of December we can digest the fact that we have finished 30 of the 60 coldest days of the year. We start to form an opinion about the winter. We have gathered 30 percent of our experiential evidence with which to pass judgment on the winter of 2012 -2013. We start to formulate the vocabulary to talk about the winter. Was it Icy? Cold? Harsh? Easy? Hard? Mild?

The Steel gray light of a weak sun starts to fill in the tree line on the ridge, and makes it bearable to go out and start the chores. The cows have been in the barn for the night, as they are for every night until March or April. The time when life starts earlier and brighter each day, with the walks on the land, the starts to smell of life again.

Hello Sandy. She hit our mountain side last night. All the cows were tucked in the barn with plenty of hay and bedding. Our cows Sally and Grace just made it home from summer camp. They spent the summer grazing over at our friends farm who has more pasture than she can shake a stick at! The cow population on the mountain side dropped to four this past summer. Two milkers. Two calves So Sally and Grace stuffed their faces for five months, arrived home last week, and have big round bellies to prove it.

      Shortly after arriving home, Grace had her baby. We found her at dusk, while bringing a bale out to the cows. I scooped babe up, and muma followed me to the barn, where I tucked the two of them in for the night. Graces milk is just clearing up from colostrum, and is ready to drink.  The challenges of farming remain the same as always. Heading out to work when its dark, being grumpy about this or that. These things don't change. What does change is the seasoning of attitudes you bring to the bumps, scratches, and itches that decorate farming life. What changes, is how you let yourself experience these part of owning a few cows, making milk for a few neighbors, and putting food derived from your own labor on a table for me and my wife..... did I mention I got married this summer? It was awesome.