This has been a busy and productive summer, with new life bringing joy and work in equal measures.
We have grown our pony population, with a colt and a filly born in June. Watching these beauties on their evening turnout into our long pasture has been something I look forward to like a wide-eyed kid at Christmas.
The barn is hosting a litter of five kitties, another grandchild magnet. We aim to keep them coming back, and Doug and I joke that we seem to be doing something right. With a pool in the backyard and a litter of puppies in the house, what else could we add to make that happy meter go much higher?
But, as we all know, life on a farm always has challenges, some small but still needing addressed. When the litter of kittens was roughly 4 weeks old, the calm, sweet mama cat we called Goldie came up missing. I searched for her, called her while on long walks, with no luck.
It was not like Goldie to leave her kittens. We began feeding milk and soft kitten food to the litter several times a day.
On the fourth day of Goldie’s missing status, I woke up early to head for an appointment. When I stepped outside, I froze.
Lying at the bottom of our porch steps was Goldie, a spot this barn cat never visited. She was dead, and I had the very odd feeling that she appeared to have been placed there for us to find.
She didn’t have a mark on her, and we will forever be puzzled by every bit of this.
Our grandchildren are learning that a farm which produces life must also deal with death. Our 6-year-old granddaughter, Landry, is not one bit happy to be learning this, and asks dozens of questions that I struggle mightily to answer. I’ve learned I can delay the questions for a bit by handing her a squirmy 4-week-old puppy.
It makes me happy to see our littlest family members making memories that they will carry with them for a lifetime.
Our grandson, Brooks, now 8, made me promise I will let him know when the hay field to the west of our house is dry enough to bale so he can come watch the kicker baler at work.
With fewer children getting to experience the freedom of the wide open spaces of a farm, I appreciate the gifts of this place all the way to my bones.
I was thinking exactly this as we watched a glorious sunset, and six deer gathered in the western hay field to add to the beauty of day’s end.
