Winter Madness

Winter. I've been avidly anti-Winter for a long time. As a person whose energy and happiness are directly proportional to hours of sunlight, I become more of a lazy cynic in winter. A long grey season hidden behind walls and roofs, away from the cold, unfriendly outdoors. Keeping your head down and neck wrapped up until the first shoots of green come bearing spring, and then you will no longer have to leave work only to find that it's already dark outside, the day already done. An aversion to winter makes sense, if you think about it. Look at the woods and the animals within. Dormant trees, dead plants, scarce food, hibernation. It's a welcoming season to no one, and it's a wonder that groups of human beings made the exodus into the northern climates at all. Seriously, what were the Nords' ancestors thinking?

However, and there's always a "however" with me, winter on the farm has pushed me ever so gently to think differently. See, winter on a farm is different. The nature of work, of everything, changes. There isn't any grazing, any growing, any bustling spurts of life to keep a farmer immersed in her or his work. It becomes, instead, a time to slow down, to wait, to think, to hibernate, which is something people like me are not used to or good at. Life=busy, or busy=life. That formula is ingrained deep in my brain, and winter on the farm has been a struggle. But, slowly, my perspective has changed, and winter seems different now.

Take lambing and kidding season, for example. As you've seen, our baby kids (goats) and lambs (sheep) are coming in, and their arrival has been marked by times of waiting, and waiting. In the cold afternoon, surrounded by half-asleep goats, nuzzled in the hay, waiting for a doe to give birth, watching for the one miraculous moment. The still barn interrupted by the slow rhythm of steamy breath, and the quiet bays of a mother. Patience and calm, letting the bigger forces in the world do their work, stepping back. Then, in just a breath, the moment comes, and a kid falls onto the hay, wiggling and trembling, taking its first drafts of air and its first glimpse of the world. After that, another time for waiting, as the mother licks clean her new kids, and they try, only minutes after being born, to walk and nurse. Wanting to make sure they are healthy, wanting to witness nature taking its course. Hours can pass watching this simple play unfold, without the need for distraction or the pressure of time. This is what winter can be like. The slow reading of a book, guided by the recognition that some things are infinite and worth waiting for, and that the craze of busy life is coming, has come, will come again. How often do you get the chance to take the time and watch your breath? Enjoy your winter. It may be a gift in disguise.

New Kids

We've had our first batch of kids (baby goats) born on the farm. Last night around 5 o'clock, one of our dwarf goats went into labor and gave birth perfectly to three little buck kids. They're healthy and nursing. More kids are coming.

Here's a video of one of the little buggers.

Dave Jr.

A video of our first baby goat. Little Dave Jr. He looks like superman.

Ed Vol Training

I put up a few pictures of education training. Figured you might appreciate photos with actual people in them.

It is the kind of cold that I can't describe right now. -20 degrees with wind chill cold. Like getting slapped in the face every time you open the door.

Education training is over. Two weeks of sitting inside and learning a lot of what I already knew. But, the last two days, not bad. Enjoyed them for whatever reasons. Let's get some groups back on the farm, please.

Had our annual volunteer dinner last night, where all the employees cook dinner for the local volunteers and residential volunteers. I came ready to cast myself into food oblivion, and I lived up to my expectations with great talent. I'm still full. Ouch. Liz Ellis, our chef, makes this swiss chard, pumpkin gratin that is unbelievable. Got to talk to some local vols and feel a part of the Overlook community, which was great.

Two days off. How best to waste my time?

Baby Season

Yesterday, it finally happened. The mark of an exciting new phase in farm life. That's right. Our first small ruminant had vaginal discharge! Whoopie! I could barely contain myself when Donna pointed it out to me yesterday morning. I thought that discharge would never come.

Of course, that gooey stuff indicates that birthing is on the way. To be particular, it was one of our Nigerian dwarf goats, and boy oh boy, she looks pregnant. Definitely as wide as she is tall, which is the case for most of our goats. I should provide pictures of just how preggers some of these ladies are. Mental note.

Well, if you see the first signs of discharge, birthing is less than a week off. So, every night we're having nighttime checks so we don't miss any ewes or does going into labor. Hopefully this time next week I'll be telling you about our new Nigerian dwarf kids. I hear they're some of the cutest. Of course, the birthing season is going to take a while, extending well into March. The larger sheep and goats tend to have longer gestations. Also, there's a chance I will have to assist an animal in birth. I mean reaching in and pulling the sucker out. A chance, small though it may be. Anyway, I'm pretty excited, even though I'm not supposed to be because only women folk care about that kind of thing. I'm gonna go chop wood. F'in A.

Livestock

Quick thought: We of the developed countries have long forgotten how dead useful a livestock animal is. This struck me as I was reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, in the section about the three years of rain, in which one of the characters, Petra Cotes, is able to survive by keeping her mule alive. What? Keeping a mule alive? Big deal. What can a mule do? This gut reaction most likely comes from a lifetime of detachment from livestock animals, not to mention all things farm in general. However, in the developing world, and in the fading world of human history, livestock have served as an invaluable resource against calamity. A kind of savings account that can be sold or killed in times of dire need and serves as an indication of status and wealth. It's funny to me how differently we, "the developed", see livestock animals. I would argue that we associate them more often than not with poverty and ignorance. One hundred years ago? Probably not the case. A lot has changed. But, it does explain why Heifer is so keen on providing livestock to impoverished communities. Domesticated animals are a really good way to get people on their feet. Until, of course, you accrue enough wealth and security to concentrate all your livestock animals in distant corners of the map so that you can do better things with your time and keep on eating meat without thinking about them.

The View

The view, in sun and in snow.