high waters

The rain fell hard in the middle of the night. It pounded on our roof and made it seem like each drop was leaving its own impression on the gravel outside our window. The rush of water created a small pond under the gutter attached to the barn, and gusts of wind blew raindrops in through the window that were cold and surprising as they touched my face and arms. We closed our windows in a bit. Kyle was a little worried about the chickens outside in the field. He rolled over and hoped aloud that their coop wasn't going to hold water. Geeze- me too, I thought to myself. What a terrible sight to wake up to in the morning if that were the case.

Farming is a hard job. And sometimes sad. I think I've mention this before, but it truly is. I've been observing the sad element the most this season as I watch Kyle deal with unwanted animals either killing his own chickens or eating his crops. It's a blow to the spirit when you spend all this time planting vegetables from the greenhouse into the earth and then come out to see they were ruined the night before. All that work...

This year, too, we've had a couple chickens become sick. They seem to be withering away. A call has to be made. Someone has to deal with them and release them from this world. Someone has to dig a hole for their body. Farming is hard and sad sometimes.

We have been waiting patiently for our strawberries to come in. Sage is excited and calls them candy. I let her know it's nature's candy. The best candy. And then I feel this overwhelming amount of pressure to serve her little body right when it comes to the food I choose to put in front of her. She's no longer a baby- I can't just mash up a concoction of super foods with a sprinkle of chia seeds and spoon feed her every single bite.  She's developed a mind of her. A mind that seems to overpower me some days.
 This is part of the hardships of parenting, I tell myself. This is when I learn to fill my body with patience.
 Then a more pleasant moment will arise- a moment where I can sit with my almost- three- year- old and feel her brain taking in my thoughts as I explain the nourishing properties of the food I have for her. I tell her 'this will help your eyes see clearly...this will help your beautiful blonde hair grow down your precious back.'

Summer has arrived. I've been blissfully taking in the last one we will spend here on this farm- I sunbath near the llamas and laugh to myself as they snort at each other behind me. Occasionally I have to scare off chickens that roam around and try to peck me. The whole scenario seems perfect to me, so fitting for this place. When Sage ventures out we talk about dragons that spit out friendly fires. The kind that can painlessly dry up the tears from her cheeks if she happens to fall down and hurt her knees. She believes all the churches in town are castles and likes to pretend she is a bird with glittery wings that can fly high into the trees. I love how she views the world right now. Her thoughts always make my day more beautiful.