Goats

We bought goats. As far as I’m concerned there are two reasons to keep goats. One, for clearing. Second for milking. Our goats do neither. They spend the majority of their day munching on the fallen leaves around the ranch. All day long I hear what sounds like people eating potato chips with their mouths open. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

I also spend a greater part of the day defending my front door from the trio of hoofed cling-ons. They have pushed past the baby a few times leaving a trail of Coco Puff poop spanning from one side of the house to the other. Goats, I said, we need goats.

I will admit that they are incredibly cute. They make us laugh constantly and we are never alone. There are always three goats with us at all times. They are very easy to care for especially these days. It took them one month to remember that they were in fact goats. They have finally started to wander out on their own to eat browse. Browse is weeds. Weeds, and vines, and branches, and bark. They are finally living up to their purpose.

We have about 13 acres of browse here on the ranch, so according to my math, we will have three very fat, very happy goats for a long long time.

fences and honda’s

I dug a hole. I dug a hole large enough that I could comfortably be buried in it. I used a shovel, a wheelbarrow, boots, and some leather gloves. The hole was just a consequence, I was there for the dirt.

I used to go to gardening centers and buy bag after bag of dirt to get my gardens ready or my flower beds built up. I paid a dollar a cubit foot. Now when I need dirt I dig a hole.

I used the wheelbarrow to haul the dirt to its final resting spot under the swing gates of our fence. After installation, there was about an eight to ten inch gap from the ground to the bottom of the fence allowing all sorts of critters and small children to squeeeeeze under it.

When you live in the country, the fence is your best defense. I can honestly say that we’ve spent enough money on fencing to be able to buy a brand new car. Our fence is the nicest thing on our property. It has to be.

A few nights ago, we saw a bobcat run across our property. He came from the woods and ran straight up the driveway, then under the gate. Bobcats can and will eat fat juicy baby boys. It was then I knew I needed to dig a hole.

The next night two dogs came up onto my neighbors fence less property and killed all of their chickens. Every last one. While their dogs watched. That’s how it is out here. Alive one second, dead the next. I’m not being dramatic. Life and death in a split second. I’ll spare you the details about what happened to those dogs, but know, life and death in a split second.

Our dogs like to crawl and dig under our gates then chase our cars up our long country road while snapping at the tires. Going 40 miles an hour I’ll have a dog barking and biting at my tires. In total blindness. I cannot see them they are so close to the van. I hit our German Shepherd. Life and death in split seconds.

So I dug a hole, buried some chicken wire to prevent digging, covered the wire with dirt. It took me all morning. It’s a crazy life up here. I created a board that says X amount of days since death on the ranch. Like they have in factories. Right now our sign says 3 days. We keep going.

the family cow

I touched a cow for the first time when I was twenty-three years old. It’s a moment I’ll never forget. Chris decided to go to Southern Illinois University for his undergraduate degree. Little did we know, SIU has a strong agriculture footing. Upon his acceptance, we were invited down there for a weekend orientation. One of the stops on that tour was at their agriculture facilities. The air reeked. I mean stunk. I’ve never smelled that before.

I’m a city girl thorough and through. When people ask me where I’m from, I say Chicago. The ones that have actually visited Chicago say, where in Chicago? I say CHICAGO CHICAGO. My birth certificate says Cook county. I’m from the city. My closest exposure to farm animals were the Lincoln Park Zoo, and public transportation. When I met Chris I was working downtown in the Loop at an architecture firm. I took a bus and the train to work. I ate lunches in nice restaurants. I was one step from selling my car. That’s the sign of a true city dweller. No car.

I had never seen a cow, or a pig, or a goat. In my head, a cow was a little Saran wrapped hunk of meat atop a Styrofoam tray. It was much like my impression of chocolate chip cookies. I wasn’t aware there were flour and eggs and butter in them. I thought they came in a fat sausage like package to be sliced and baked. I was clueless.

So there I was smelling the stench of what I now believe were pigs. Wading through muddy fields in my Doc Martins to go see some cows. Cows? As we got closer to the stalls where they were, I remember being totally humbled by the size of them. They were almost taller than I was. Soon I found myself standing face to face with a very large, very black cow. I stood there wondering what that animal was thinking while it was looking at me. I could feel her breath on my face. I could feel her warmth on my skin as I reached up to pet her. I was in awe of this magnificent creation. The cow.

I spent time looking into her eyes and I was totally moved. I’m not sure what it was. Possibly the realization that I had dominion over her. That daily, I ate her, and drank from her and wore her. That warm, intelligent, magnificent creature. I couldn’t eat meat for three months. Chris thought I was losing it. I was so affected by that simple brief encounter.

Today, just a few minutes ago, the fence that will be holding our cows was completed. Two of the cows are pregnant which means in a few months, we will add raw milk, butter, cheese and eventually beef to our homestead production line. I’m overwhelmed with excitement and equally horrified.

These experiences have given me so much respect and appreciation to animals big and small. To actually know the animal’s name that fed your children that day. That’s nearly unheard of in our world. When you drink from a gallon of milk, you are literally drinking from hundreds of different cows at the same time. Not that there’s anything wrong there, it’s just not how I want to live anymore.

We are trying to get back to simple. I want to live a very simple, deliberate kind of life. I had the opportunity to learn how to milk last night. Watching that hot milk squirt from an animal into a pail was one of the most awesome experiences of my life. That last statement is living proof of how far removed I’ve been from my food. I simply had no idea. We are changing that.

the grateful heart

I’m not a mushy kind of girl. I’ve never been. I’ve always been able to separate my head and my heart or my stomach and my head. I can even separate my conscience and my heart. I can just do it. As a mother I can be knee-deep in whatever bodily fluid my child has placed on me and have total control over my gag reflex.

This comes in handy very often on the ranch. I have to make quick decisions, I have to choose life or death. It happens. It happens too much.  It’s the hardest thing I’ve encountered yet while here. Having to take the life of a creature, for its own good or not, that is tough stuff. That sticks with you when you lay in bed at night. But like I’ve said, I’ve never been a mushy girl. I shake it off and push it away.

Not that long ago, Chris and I went on a Caribbean cruise. During the entire seven days of that cruise, I absolutely could not get over the color of the water. I have never seen so many shades of blue before. The most striking to me was when we were at the deepest depths of the sea. It was magnificent. The first time I saw it, it literally made me cry. The color blue made me cry.

I’ve thought about that moment a lot. Especially here on the ranch. I find that I often have these feeling rush over me when I see something so naturally raw and beautiful. I get emotional looking at fog, or stars, or an expanse of pasture. I tear up. It happens. Daily.

I’ve decided it has less to do with what I am looking at and more to do with how I am feeling. Never in my life have I been so totally surrounded by such simple creation on a constant basis. Even the air smells sweeter here. I can hear every sound for miles and miles. Such simple pleasures that are concentrated around me all day. Everyday.

When we are out and about with the children and I have a feeling rush over me like I’ve described, I stop and whisper to our children that God created all of this for them. Their eyes get big. They look around more deeply. They breathe that understanding in. Then they too have that feeling of immense gratitude that I’ve been describing.

If this experience has brought anything into my life, it has brought complete and utter gratitude and awe for the world we live in. That gratitude has changed me forever as a person. Every moment of my life I am totally surrounded by creation. God’s creation. A world He created for me. I’m thankful that I have the opportunity to spend so much time with my hands buried in it.

the birth of more freckles

I’m tan. I’m so incredibly tan. I’m covered in freckles and my hair is slowing being bleached. I don’t like this. I’m used to a Morticia Addams complexion and deep brown hair. I’ve always had freckles. That’s nothing new, but I seem to have more freckles these days than I do normal skin.

I blame the sun. It has been very cruel to me this summer. I knew living in Houston would one day take a toll on me, but this is just too much. Long ago wealth was judged by the fairness of skin. The workers, they were tan. Isn’t it funny how that’s switched? A golden tan and bleached hair seems to be so desired where it was once shunned.

By all ancient measurements, I’m most certainly poor. Working Class. When I look in the mirror, I have to remind myself that this was a choice. I spend five to six hours a day working outside. Not just working, but working like a man. It used to be so different for me. I would hang out inside and do housework, or go on walks or bike rides with the kids. That was my outside time. Now I work. If I don’t work, nobody will. If I don’t work, the animals won’t eat. If I don’t work, my mind will go completely nuts while looking at all of the work that must be done. So I do it. In the sun. Giving life to new freckles by the minute. Me.

Perspective has been my constant companion since we’ve embarked on this journey. I value it tremendously. A good attitude is all I can have. That, and hope. I often blur my eyes while focusing on the potential all around me. I tell visitors to the ranch to do that too. Just blur your eyes I say, and you will see it as I do. That helps.

So here I am, One Woman, One Man, Six Kids, and a whole lot of work.