all my armour on
Lucky or not - I still wish my workday was outside, with rams and lambs and a border collies named Knox and Saven. This sometimes tears at me. Am I asking too much when I strive for this rural life? Am I being foolish praying to foresake a comfy 9-5 job so I can work my ass off in the pastures? I don't know. Some people have been telling me to slow down. Not to expect too much. They have my best interests at heart, but their warnings make me lower my ears and run into the wind like Jazz and Annie do when we're mushing in the snow. I'm still finding all this out. I do know I'll happily work more hours, pour buckets of sweat, and come inside so tired I can barely stand if its what I know I should be doing. Farming and writing is the world I am clawing uphill into.
The coffee is perking now. Thank god.
I'm still somewhat tired from the weekend. I drove down to my hometown of Palmerton, PA for the annual festival. which was all but rained out. I still had a nice time. It's a small event with crafts and rides. Local community churches and girlscout troops selling their wares as a giant public fundraiser for dozens of clubs. Sadly, it fell the same weekend as the Vermont Sheep and Wool Festival. But some priorities still soak in traditional waters. So The dogs and I drive the five hours to my homeland. My kind neighbors watched the farm.
Back in Palmerton, the food and familiar faces were there. My best friend Kevin drove up from Newtown to spend Saturday with the Woginrich's (his favorite thing, ever) and between Kevin (who, by the way, decorated an apple pie with a perfect likeness of Kermit the Frog, and make a human cel inpired pastry) and my family, four dogs, and deep fried twinkies. It was a grand 'ol time. I wish I took a picture of that pie.
Even though Palmerton was a nice break from farm and worklife. I kept wondering about the the chickens and sheep. Were they okay in the storm? Did Katie get them enough water? Did Dean remember to shut the coop's door at night? When you run a small farm, it's impossible not to take your work home with you. I have to go to Boston in two weeks for a book event and while I'm excited to see my friend Erin and her city, I loathe having to prepare. Having to ask the neigbor's to walk up here and care for the animals again, vaccinate the dogs for the kennel, and leave my animals. People do not get into homesteading to up and leave it every two weeks. I am excited and grateful for the book, I don't mean to sound like I'm not. I will happily promote it into the ground. But at the end of the day I just want to work hard and then relax harder, and that happens best where sheep chew grass, fiddles play, maple leaves turn red, and roosters crow.
When I came home to Cold Antler it had recovered from the storm. All the sunflowers that had yet to bloom (I planted them late) were now bursting with yellow from the rain. They seemed to say 'welcome back'. Marvin and Sal bleated a hello (Maude ignored me like usual), the chickens scurried about the yard. Jazz and Annie sat next to the car, waiting for dinner. Everything was fine. I don't know why I worry about them so much. I guess that's just how I'm wired.