Since the last time I wrote, things are looking up on the farm. The cows are divided into two groups, running with our two bulls, the three young horses are as friendly as ever, and my new chickens are getting close to laying age. I conducted my weekly clean of their coop yesterday.
The weather was beautiful over the weekend. It was true Indiana summer weather: cool and crisp in the morning, warm in the afternoon, golden sun over everything. Saturday, we turned one group of cows back into our creekside pasture, a wide space surrounded by trees at the bottom of the hill. They had been in a smaller area so we could keep an eye on them after some treatments from the veterinarian. Mist hung over the grass. The calves sprinted ahead of the cows across the field. I watched from the edge of the field near a water tank as I waited for it to fill. Branches of full green leaves bowing low in front of me framed my view of the running calves, outlined golden in the morning sun.
Last night, my great-aunt told me, “You’re going to have too much fun!” when I relayed my plans to purchase some goldfish to put in the stock tanks so that they could clean up the algae. My grandma used to do that for the sheep water, and I’ve heard of success with the method in other places.
The last few days, farming has been so much fun that it doesn’t feel like work. It’s a great reprieve from the previous month’s events. I’ve been able to plan and scheme and dream big.
Some of that involves harness.
The other day, I stood in the barn, surrounded by leather and metal and wooden shafts, some at least 100 years old, and separated a bit from a bridle. As I did, I had a sense that I was made for this. I was made to work with harness and animals and barns and straw and grass and just all of it.
And as I held the bit in my hand, I felt a sense of wonder that I was right where I was supposed to be.