We’re in the middle of winter, still waiting for a decent snowfall, but I find my mind drifting off to dreams of garden plans and summer hayfields. Little Danny has always been obsessed with hay. Even before he was talking, Danny was clearly playing hay bales with his tractor and blocks, loading them in the barn, and feeding his animals. For the last three years he’s insisted on being a bale for Halloween and turns everything from toilet paper rolls to party streamers into hay and silage wrap. It was a cute obsession, a little off from what most kids obsess on, but we really didn’t get the fascination. Now that we own the barn, I must say there is something magical about a summer hayfield. The sweet smell of blossoms, the waves of the green grasses blowing in the breeze, the gentle hum of buzzing bees, and the hundreds of flitting butterflies with their stained glass-like wings is enough to make you never want to leave. Of course, the boys being children and not yet discontent with the world, see it for all its potential and whimsy. Like walking though C.S. Lewis’s wardrobe into Narnia, they know the secret to the magic of the hayfield. Instead of just standing and gazing down upon it as I had done, the boys immediately lay down and the beautiful field transforms into a whole new world. Suddenly, they’re swallowed by a sea of green swirling around them with amethyst blossom boats bobbing in the waves. Their heads surrounded by the humming bees and swaying grasses muffles all other sounds of the world, leaving them lost in the blue sky above. Breathing in the sweet warmth of clover and alfalfa, they lay still and quiet. In time, a monarch in search of sweet nectar will mistake them for a flower and flit past their noses, leaving a trail of sweet giggles behind. Grass seed rains down around them with every little movement, filling their hair and hiding among their shoes and clothes to shower out again later at home. In the hayfield all cares of the world seem to melt away, all worries and to-dos are left behind as time stands still. Along the border of the field are wild black raspberries we pick to snack on, milkweed for hunting caterpillars, and ground cherries with their present like paper husks to unwrap for a sweet nibble. We pick off tomato hornworms to feed to the chickens, and I’m convinced it’s the wild ground cherries that keep those pesky worms away from my tomatoes, so we welcome their growth. Goldfinch glisten in the sunlight chittering, and the redwing blackbirds call back and forth making claim on their nests. The harvesting is always exciting as it means the neighbor’s tractor will be out working. The boys sit on the fence and watch, Benjy dancing to the chung, chung, chung of the baler. Never before had I heard music in hay harvesting, but that little boy heard it so strong he couldn’t help but bounce and bob along. I must admit I’m greatly looking forward to summer hay. I miss it’s sweet smell and the peacefully content boys hiding in the grasses. I’ve always loved winter, dreaming of mountains covered in snow, but farm life has made me appreciate the summer even more. I find I’m dreaming of the busy hot days to come, maybe wishing them to come a little sooner. I haven’t lost my love of snow, but summer will always have a special place in our hearts and the magic of the hayfield.
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By the way...we have sheep. With two littles, farm life, and an old persnickety computer, I tend to not blog as much as I’d like, and the sheep thing fell through the cracks. We currently have four Katahdin sheep, hopefully all giving us a few lambs here in the next month or so. We had a ram for two months and now he’s in the freezer, supplying us with some tasty dinners. Lamb Kafka is the boys favorite meal, and so far, owning sheep have been pretty easy. Our four ewes all of course have names, Meadow, Posey, Daisy, and Clover. Meadow is a moron, skittish, gets stuck on the wrong side of the fence, and we’ve given up all hope on winning her trust. Daisy on the other hand is the favorite, the first we won over, now letting us scratch and pet her. She will be the first to explore, following us into areas where she’s not supposed to be, and stand up on us to get our attention if we’ve dared ignore her. Clover is slowly coming around, just beginning to take hay from our hand and Posey just stays with Meadow watching from afar. Meadow is the only one other people can identify. She’s a whole year older than the others and is much larger, but I can tell them all apart now from their small markings. Posey has a speckled brown nose and a small brown spot on her rump, Daisy had black freckles on her ears and Clover is all white. We got them all at a discount from Old Slate Farm as they all were not up to perfect standards, but a great option for us newbies hoping to start a flock with no idea what we’re doing. Danny says there’s a reason God says goats go to hell, and owning goats first make sheep seem like angels. I love our goats, but they’re basically ornery teenagers with extreme separation anxiety who take great offense we don’t accept them as dogs. The goats would prefer to live in the house and sit on our laps than frolic in the fields like normal goats. Sheep are content, fairly quiet, pleasant, not demanding, and don’t care to escape. They must be with their friends and can’t fend for themselves, but unlike what we’ve been told, I don’t seem them as overall dumb, just simple and helpless, kind of like a small baby. The boys love the “maaas” as Benjy calls them, Daisy being perfectly comfortable around little Danny now. They’re all still a bit hesitant toward Benjy, but he has much less predictable sounds and movements so it’s understandable. In in the fall we had them on a pasture rotation, but now they’re in the barn eating hay for winter. Little Danny has been helpful plenty of times herding the sheep and is a much better sheepdog than Harvey. Hopefully we’ll have healthy lambs soon and we’re praying for easy lambing. Little Danny has loved every bit of owning sheep, helping with fencing, herding, walking them to pasture, and cleaning the barn. He really loves scooping poop and gets irked if there isn’t a lot to clean. The boys love playing in the pastures and I’m already looking forward to summer where they can play in the grass. (Don’t worry about ticks. I keep a close watch, don’t let them in the grass in the spring, and we use a bug spray as well.) We have no idea what we’re doing but we’re doing our best to educate ourselves and learn as we go. I keep reminding myself that at some point I have to jump in and give it a go. So lambs it is.
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