My Hobby Farm
While TJ does the real farming, I'm having fun hobby farming. The more I get into it though, the more I wonder if I'll ever really have a self-sufficient farm. We've only been married about five months, but we are both big dreamers. I dream of running a farm and seldom running to the store. But I'm not sure how realistic that really is, especially for me.
That's why I'm starting small and seeing where it goes. I've already written about my garden, but I have two animals now. A baby calf called "Baby" and a female lamb called "Girlie." Moving to a farm took all the creative names out of me. It's hard to name something that doesn't show much affection and that you will most likely consume in less than a year.
The little calf is quite shy still, unless he is very hungry. He will suck down the two bottles of milk that I bring him, then run away when he's full as though he saw me for the first time. The little lamb is independent and only comes if the calf is eating. Sometimes it's as though she deems me worthy, will prance over, let me get one pat in, then prance away. She's a cute little thing, curious, strong-willed, and too good for anyone.
The morning after we got her, she got out. When TJ and I went after her, we saw his Dad driving down the road going no more than 5 mph. In front of him was the self-assured little lamb, prancing her way home. It was as if she was thinking, "This is where I meant to go anyway." [Side Note: I often apply my own thoughts to their little quirks. I haven't figured out if it is my imagination or the fact that they are the closest living things to me.]
Sometimes I will feed the calf and just stay out there singing and staring at the beautiful Montana landscape. They seem less jittery when I do that.
Recently though, I'm afraid to say that the romance of it all has faded. Now they are two smelly, needy things. And do I need them? Will they bring any profit to us? TJ is continually saying that he doesn't mind if I admit that it didn't work for me, but he's just craving lamb chops! I'm torn. I have to feed that cow about four times a day. He slobbers on me, hardly lets me pet him, and he will hit the bottle so hard if he's not getting his milk fast enough. The lamb is so dear looking. I love seeing her and him together. But she eats and eats and eats and the hay bales are such bothers to get!
Last night though, a bump in the road of friends and emotions had affected me and I was in there feeding the calf and letting my emotions go. When the tears seemed to come quickly, the comfort followed - the little lamb came up as I was feeding the calf. She let me pet her for at least three pats. It felt like she was saying, "I don't usually like you, but you look sad, and you do feed me, so I deem you worthy of a couple of pats." Surely I can stick it out right? Her fur was so soft.
If I could get that cow weaned then I could more easily take care of them. Since he is so dependent on me, it limits me to the things I can do and the time I can be away from home.
That's why I'm starting small and seeing where it goes. I've already written about my garden, but I have two animals now. A baby calf called "Baby" and a female lamb called "Girlie." Moving to a farm took all the creative names out of me. It's hard to name something that doesn't show much affection and that you will most likely consume in less than a year.
The little calf is quite shy still, unless he is very hungry. He will suck down the two bottles of milk that I bring him, then run away when he's full as though he saw me for the first time. The little lamb is independent and only comes if the calf is eating. Sometimes it's as though she deems me worthy, will prance over, let me get one pat in, then prance away. She's a cute little thing, curious, strong-willed, and too good for anyone.
The morning after we got her, she got out. When TJ and I went after her, we saw his Dad driving down the road going no more than 5 mph. In front of him was the self-assured little lamb, prancing her way home. It was as if she was thinking, "This is where I meant to go anyway." [Side Note: I often apply my own thoughts to their little quirks. I haven't figured out if it is my imagination or the fact that they are the closest living things to me.]
Sometimes I will feed the calf and just stay out there singing and staring at the beautiful Montana landscape. They seem less jittery when I do that.
Recently though, I'm afraid to say that the romance of it all has faded. Now they are two smelly, needy things. And do I need them? Will they bring any profit to us? TJ is continually saying that he doesn't mind if I admit that it didn't work for me, but he's just craving lamb chops! I'm torn. I have to feed that cow about four times a day. He slobbers on me, hardly lets me pet him, and he will hit the bottle so hard if he's not getting his milk fast enough. The lamb is so dear looking. I love seeing her and him together. But she eats and eats and eats and the hay bales are such bothers to get!
Last night though, a bump in the road of friends and emotions had affected me and I was in there feeding the calf and letting my emotions go. When the tears seemed to come quickly, the comfort followed - the little lamb came up as I was feeding the calf. She let me pet her for at least three pats. It felt like she was saying, "I don't usually like you, but you look sad, and you do feed me, so I deem you worthy of a couple of pats." Surely I can stick it out right? Her fur was so soft.
If I could get that cow weaned then I could more easily take care of them. Since he is so dependent on me, it limits me to the things I can do and the time I can be away from home.
As I write this I imagine Laura Ingalls Wilder saying, "Oh millennials...."
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