A Fine Balance

To all of our devoted readers (that's right, I'm talking about you and you) I just want to pop in and say that all is well in farm land. The donkeys continue to slightly repress a deeply rooted hatred for one another, the cows continue to chew their cud and moo causing me to stop and say "HOLY SH%T. I have cows," and the pond is fully covered in a spring-green algae (scum). Some changes on the home front have kept me from actively obsessing over the state of the animals, the (lack of) progress on the house, or the fact that my father is trapped in London due to an apocalyptic volcano cloud hovering over the earth's northern hemisphere. Maybe I should actually spend some time obsessing over that one.

Point is: we're still here, alive and kicking. Some updates include: I threw a hodge podge garden together last week and crossed my fingers that it's the last one in this joint. My chickens promptly broke through the fortress-like barrier and ate part of a tomato plant. Such is life, if you have chickens.

And: we added some catfish to the menagerie after spending an afternoon around what can only be described as a Fish Bus (don't question me). We kissed them goodbye before turning them loose into the pond, assuming they would likely perish shortly.

And: We cleared. We cleared some more. Then cleared a little more so that now there is a distinct path from one end of the property to another. We dug a hole with the auger for a fence post. Then another. Then we gave up and went home and haven't talked about it since.

Finally: I officially heard, from a neighboring pasture, the sounds of a chainsaw, a pause, and then..."TIIIMMMBBBEEEEEEERRRRRRR!" That's the type of noise pollution we get at ol' No Name Farm/Ranch. I'll take it.

I've just returned from another day at a new job that will change many aspects of my life (free time. stress level) and I have to pause and question such things as major life choices and getting what you want with the least amount of sacrifice. Something about having a cake. Eating it too. I imagine we'll get to the land sooner than later. And I imagine we'll be so busy funding the land and house that it'll be who-knows-when before we can actually enjoy it. A little depressing, no? But then I think about the blessing of just being out there, even if jobs keep us too busy to sit on front porches all day and watch the leaves grow. And I think - there's a time for that too. Just not now.

So there you have it. (New job + $ + less time at land = introspective reflection) / Glee watching. Things? They could be worse.

And now I give you, Donkey in the Mist: