My Dad Called….
No, I’m not in trouble, at least not that much. My dad is so busy that sometimes, early in the morning when he’s practicing his insomnia, he reads my blog to find out what’s new with me. When he checks a few times and there’s nothing new, it’s time for a phone call to remind me to keep posting.
Some dads nag their kids to pay their bills and file their taxes on time. Mine bugs me to post.
So here it is: Lambing is done for the year. Of course with 1/3 of our usual number of pregnant ewes, we have fewer lambs. Twenty-five live lambs, which is great. (We had a few tragedies, as is typical, and lost a few.) We had lots of birthing problems, so I spent some time lying on the wet, cold ground holding ewes down at their shoulders while Melissa did her thing at the other end. The steers, immensely curious, would gather at the fence and watch, wide-eyed, at the activity, treating us like their own personal reality TV.
Here are a few bottle lambs we ‘arrested’ for Excessive Cuteness: Mint 129 and Green 6087. If seen, do not approach. Instead, call a professional shepherd, as we are immune to those big eyes and floppy ears and the happy little hops lambs make as they follow you around the yard.
As you can see, my mother didn’t take my advice and has succumbed to Mint 129’s charms. These animals are dangerous, people. Approach with caution.
All the bottle lambs went to wonderful homes, so now we’re in our two-week Post-Lambing Recovery Period, meaning we’re too tired to think straight. Melissa might have been too tired to operate the tractor yesterday: Sitting in the loader bucket was a container of old, rotten eggs she was going to bury in a compost pile. (Sometimes chickens and ducks hide their eggs and we don’t find them until the eggs are too old.) Inside the tractor cab she dropped a heavy tool chest, which fell against the controls for the bucket, which lowered the bucket and tipped the container of icky eggs out onto the driveway.
I wasn’t there, but I’m sure very bad words were said.
Last night I cleaned up to go in town to the movie (we’d been trying for 2 weeks, failing every night.) Then I remembered I hadn’t fed the lamb in the barn. Her mom doesn’t have enough milk for both twins, so I’m feeding one, who’s going to a good home tomorrow.
I’m in the barn in my clean clothes, trying not to touch anything as the lamb drinks enthusiastically from the bottle. Suddenly the heavens open up and rain pounds the roof. Oh, great.
But the rain lets up a bit, I turn to look out the barn door, and see the most incredible double-rainbow arching across the sky. It’s a perfect rainbow, and I wish I could tell Melissa about it but she’s in the house. By the time the lamb finished the bottle, the rainbow had faded away and the rain stopped. I walked back to the house, miraculously still clean and dry.
Inside Melissa paced. “Where were you? I was trying to find you to show you the rainbows.”
I like that after 25 years, we still want to show each other the beautiful things we see.