Protest

I wake this morning to find a note on the table. It is a protest, made and signed by Bella. A "protest against taking trees out of the woods, risking the life of perfict little trees who should not, repete, NOT, be interfeard with." She came to me last evening, distraught at the fact that her Papa, when removing a pine from the woods that needed cleared, had run over a small dogwood, scraping its bark and killing it. My daughter, my little carbon copy, my empathetic, sensitive, anything-living-deserves-the-chance-to-live activist. Her make-up has made this transition into farming slightly heart-wrenching. She is my daughter, no bones about it. I am proud of her. I know full well the heartache that such a gift of empathy and love is going to bring her, and as a mother, that part is hard. But I know that it is a good way to live, to love, and to be. It is what we are called to do, to take care of the least of these, and it has been stamped on her heart just like mine. I grew up in a family of hunters, and can remember raising the same protest about the life of the squirrel lost. I now have a lifetime to teach her how to be at peace with her design and live it to the best she can, to balance that empathy and heartache with joy at life and love. She gets the joy, also. I think she'll be fine.

So Much Good

There is so much good going on around here these days.






































Loads of sourdough. Gluten-free sourdough. Sourdough bread, sourdough biscuits, sourdough pancakes. And a table-full of happy children to enjoy them.





























The last of the spring yard-full-of-flowers on this old homestead. The first spring that we got to enjoy them daily.

A greening understory out of the kitchen window, as seen past the Narcissus on the windowsill. Seems Old Man Winter has finally let go of us here in this valley.

A tractor, and sunsets. Both good for a Mama's soul.

A boy, growing, learning to be a man, and a yard getting graded flat(ter).

He has a good teacher.

Another boy, learning that he doesn't necessarily get everything his brother does. Even though that is a hard, hard lesson for a 5-year-old, high-spirited, super-emotion boy, it is still a good thing.

Rabbits in their new hutches, with more room to move about, and fresh outside air.

Wait, those aren't rabbits...

{My Favorite Things}

This is a little section I will try to update quite frequently. It's always nice to share My Favorite Things about this adventure on this homestead, as well as having a little reminder of how wonderful we have it. So, without further ado, because not many words are needed:

{My Favorite Things}

1. Daily finds from a hike with friends.
2. Looking out my window to still a sea of yellow, after the daily finds, AND after sending our friends home with a huge bundle of yellow as well. And it's just beginning.
3. TWO turkey eggs, the second laid in the barrel without throwing all the bedding out, therefore not cracked as well as perfectly formed (way to go Pavo!).
4. Cookie bags made into "Terkey Egg" holders, complete with easter grass, and their careful labellers. Those big eggs just don't fit into an egg carton by any means.
5. Happy ears with adorable speckled eggs on them (mine and Bella's - our little spring pre-chickens gift to ourselves), thanks to a wonderful Etsy find from Australia.
6. Evening bunny socialization and feeding time viewed from my window, with a quiet house and a sleeping baby behind me.
7. Our new adventure into gluten-free sourdough bread. A little mix between this and this, and a whole lot of yum.
8. Hearing our youngest, walking across the field, calling "MOO!" Not because she thinks turkeys say moo, but because she wants to get her hands on Moose (our nickname for our Muslo).
9. Onions, onions, onions, and having enough left even after my (three youngest) onion theives eat their share of what I try to plant. Sylvia, dear baby, spitting them out into the dirt is not planting them.
10. Turkey vultures, back to hang out with is and sun on the old chimney. They used to sun and roost on the barn roof, but we decided to turn that into a house, so they have been relocated, but they still come and visit us often.