It's Been a While

Hi. It's been a while.  A country mile or a country year since I've been here.  I don't care to blog about death and tragedy on the farm much anymore so there hasn't been much to report.    Farm life denial mentality is stronger than ever.  But, I have been busy.  Busy makin', maskin', and pickin'. 

Covid lockdown forced me to keep my hands extra busy.

I prefer them raw. So. Good!

Grab yer glasses and notice the hand-embroidered horses, done by me of course.  Never mind that, notice the beautiful quilting brought to you by my endlessly talented mom.

It's a lot more twine than it looks.  Miles of it.  Making twine is a great way to combat anxiety. 

The usual anxiety swirled with "The Covid" has made for a doozie of a year for everyone.  I'd bet a whole lotta coping mechanisms were born out of The Rona.  Like all kinds of kinds for all the kinds of people.  Did anyone else overly over plant a garden to prove to the USDA you had fertile land (and a green thumb or hand) in an attempt to qualify for a hoop house program?  Probably not.  Anyway, we grew and picked enough green beans, black-eyed peas, and purple hull peas to start an exclusive bean and pea dispensary.  Everyone else is growing the other hot commodity kind of farm so I figured we should be original and do our own thing.

Backbreaking.  Never underestimate the work of real-deal farmers.  All too often we take for granted where our food comes from.

These little sweeties grew in abundance and were a nice break from pea and bean pickin'.

What's more exciting than a garden?  Big Dog at the mercy of over forty super pee'd off bees.  I was minding my own business on the tractor when I saw Big Dog slowly walk up to the gate.  I was tempted to ignore him because what in the world could he need me for anyway?  I was far too lost in a sermon podcast to stop the tractor, pause the podcast, and holler, "What do you need me for?".  I don't like being interrupted, especially when working the dirt. But something about the way he was standing there made me pause and stare as I thought "What in the hell is wrong with him and why is his head huge?".  So I turned off the tractor, paused the podcast, climbed off the tractor, and walked aaaaalllll the waaaaaay over to where he was.  Y'all,  he was not right.  He was in need of medical attention.  He uttered the very words Big Dog never utters or wants to utter, "Take me to the hospital. Now!". 

What was supposed to look like this for the gram ended up looking more... 

like this!  Just a minor allergic reaction, swelling, pain, and shortness of breath.

Between you and me, I was a smidge annoyed.  I happened to be in the middle of making perfect tractor mowin' lines.  You know, like the perfectly parallel vacuum lines (such a rush, you feel me?).  But I do value his life more so off to the hospital we went. He even told me to speed up as his difficult-to-breathe body language put my foot heavier on the pedal.  Apparently, this was serious.  After checking "difficulty breathing" on the intake form we were rushed to a bed. Quicker than rabbits doin' the diddy the nurse had an IV going.  So I did what concerned wives do and took a  trip to the cafe to get my selfish self a soda.  Shhhh...don't tell him but I popped into the gift shop.  Full disclosure, I'm a gift shop addict and could not refuse the hospital gift shop exploding with everything I didn't need.  Dramatic ER visit behind us, we took in the valuable, near-deadly lesson of the importance of impenetrable bee suits.  Big Dog has since bought new impenetrable bee suites AND gloves without holes. Yep, gloves without holes. 

Another inspiration for Miranda Lambert's Oklahoma Sky

Such incidents seem to drift away as incredible sunsets go down on yet another dramatic day on the farm.  But don't be fooled.  No, no.  Little time spans between peace and "what in the actual...?" moments.  You might want to sit down for this one.  Our not so beloved dog, Shadow, met his maker all too soon yet not soon enough.  I'll spare you the traumatic details of this particular tragedy and just say that a brand-spankin' new driver's permit and old lazy dogs behind the tire do not end well.  Guys, the list of reasons for PTSD just keeps getting longer.  Therapist recommendations welcome.

And you thought you were having a bad hair day.

Y'all groom your fancy dogs, I bathe my chickens.  Well, when they have pasty butt anyway.

What would a post be without the mention of a new animal undertaking?  Big Dog thought it would be fun to have alpacas.  Duh, who wouldn't want an alpaca or two?  So in true Big Dog fashion, he rolls up one day hauling two brothers.  Two ugly brothers.  You think the chicken above got a raw deal just take a look at this hair-do...

Worst. Shave. Job. Ever. Literally, ew.

Appropriately named Tito's and Templeton (if you know, you know), these brothers were done dirty at the barbershop.  The growing back season is long.  Too long.  For too long you could see whatever they swallowed travel down their necks. With each witnessed swallow my goose-bumped arms grew inches of arm hair. Nonetheless, upward and onward people.  Wait, did we get the alpacas to protect the 999th attempt at having goats?

Too sad to caption this.

Bahahahahah.  Alpacas apparently do NOT protect livestock, at least not brother alpacas.  Like anyone else, they run from vicious stray dogs. RIP goats.  Fun fact: Alpacas pee and poop butt to butt in the same spot every time.  You can imagine how tight I close my eyes when mowing over the mountain of brother made you know what. I may not be able to keep poop particles off my hair and body but I do my darndest to keep it from getting in my eyes.  We do not have an eye washing station. 

Sis had dreams of being a goat tyin' queen.  Sorry, sis. 

On a good note, we had Ranch Camp out here and it was just about the best week of my life.  Five sunshine days filled with cute buck-a-roos and animal crazed children was just what the vet ordered. From riding to crafting to visiting farmers to ranch work demonstrations, joy and cheer spread from here to the Canadian river.  Seeing the wonder of farm life through their eyes watered my soul and my heart for the farm began to grow again.  

Since we can't seem to keep goats here, Steele Family Farm was so kind to bring their goat farm to us!

We gathered eggs and I did an impromptu lesson on how chickens have eggs without a rooster. Bless me.  We also witnessed chicken to chicken brutality but I prefer not to go there. 

Me: Kids, what was your least favorite part of Ranch Camp?
Unanimously them: Crafts. 
Me: OUCH. 

Despite all the usual hiccups and challenges of the pandemic, we managed to host the sixth year of Farm Girl Fair.  It was as magical as ever.  Purpose and reason aligned yet again and it was glorious...until the freezing front from Moscow blew in and we all suffered frostbite and premature freezing weather-related arthritic pain.  Seriously, Oklahoma.  Just stop.

The peaceful calm before the bitter butt kickin' cold front.

 Holidays on the Farm in December was unusually sunny and warm. Go figure. 

That's a snippet of a wrap for 2020.  My memory bank is depleted.  I spend more and more time and money on covering my relentless gray hairs.  I feel wretched and withered most days but the Holy Spirit hasn't left me yet.  I continue to seek His word and welcome as much grace as he is willing to pour out.  And at the end of each day, I am assured that His love for me and mine is far more forever than this dang farm.  

Oh, Big Dog.