“Life is just a lot of everyday adventures.” Carol Ryrie Brink
Yesterday Bear and I saw storm clouds building and went outside to get the goats into their pen before the rain came. Unfortunately, the goats also sensed the storm coming and decided the best thing to do would be to hide under our house. All thirty of them. So under I went, hobbling along ridiculously like a crab wearing rubber boots, trying neither to fall over laughing or klonk my head on the floor beams. I shooed and waved my whip most awkwardly while Bear stood outside and hollered encouragement and finally, finally the goats moved on out. We got them to their pen in time for them to beat the storm, but not us. Within seconds we were thoroughly, utterly drenched. We laughed and shook our heads and sloshed our way back to the house where we dried off and Bear made us cuppas.
Such was one of our everyday adventures on the farm.
We never know what’s going to happen each day. Our goals are loosey-goosey at best, for just as soon as we make plans, animals or weather toss a monkey wrench into them while cackling gleefully.
I grin as I look back at my rose-colored views of farm life when I arrived here three years ago. I envisioned a cute, tidy house set in a pristine farm yard where darling animals fed happily and gardens and orchards grew lavishly.
Sometimes those things actually happen. And when they do we look at each other in wonder and amazement.
Because most of the time it’s a mix of beauty and mayhem.
Amidst the flower-filled meadow are old cars we keep meaning to haul to the dump, but never seem to get around to. Our cute little house is cute and little, but it’s also a bit of a disaster during those times when you have to dash into the house with muddy boots on, or stack projects up in tottering piles because your “free afternoon” has suddenly turned into “get the goats out of the neighbors yard before they eat anything!” or “quick, make a newborn duck pen because two mums’ eggs just hatched and we have eighteen babies to look after!” While the animals are adorable, they’re also a pain in the neck! It’s rather like having a farm full of furry toddlers who get into absolutely everything and have no concept of why you’re perturbed with them. And the gardens and orchards are wonderful when they aren’t withered by drought, drowned by floods, or eaten by goats, mice, possums, kangaroos, or all of the above.
I wouldn’t trade this madcap life for anything, but it isn’t easy, and anyone who says it is, is clearly trying to sell you a farm.
I do love it, though. Yep, even when I have to replant my garden for the fifth time in 12 months, when we grieve the loss of animals who die for no apparent reason, and when my dreams of a tidy home aren’t anywhere near coming to fruition.
I love it because it’s ours. Because everywhere we look is something we’ve done, something we dreamed about, worked towards, and made happen through our own toil, ingenuity, and careful saving. I’ve learned a lot about patience living here, about celebrating every little thing because the big things take so long to come to pass. I’ve made peace with the unfinishedness, the undoneness, the may-never-be-completedness, and I can even look at the old cars with love.
So today I celebrate our everyday adventures: laughing in the rain with my sodden hubby, a mama goat about to give birth any minute, a tidy (for at least the next five minutes) house.