The last couple of weeks we’ve been dealing with snow and ice and frigid temperatures. I know we haven’t had it as bad as some parts of the country so I shouldn’t complain, but I am. I do not like winter. It’s hard on my body, soul and spirit.
It seems like we are in a holding pattern right now, waiting for the weather to turn warm. The ewes we bred last October are almost ready to lamb. We have divided them into small pens close to the house so we can keep an eye on them and offer assistance if needed. They don’t usually need it. Katahdins are good mothers.We’ve got the scales, towels, scissors and iodine ready for each lamb that’s birthed.
Our sunroom is full of tiny garden plants that Bill started early for seed. He has fixed two more raised gardens so we can grow even more tomatoes and green beans this summer. Which means I have to learn to can. My pressure cooker I got for Christmas is in the garage waiting for me to put it to work.
My flowers seeds are ready to plant after the last frost which usually comes around the middle of April in our area. I have the shade garden planned out so I can buy the plants I want when they turn up in the nurseries. I look longingly at each seed cataloge we get in the mail. I want them all.
So we’re stuck in this holding pattern between the icy frost of February and the yellow daffodils that peek their heads out of the ground in April. And I’m holding on with the knowledge that Spring will be here soon. It has always come after winter. You can bet the bank on that.
“For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven,” Ecclesiastes 3:1.
We’ve had a little excitement on the farm this week. But not the kind of excitement we like. Sampson and Delilah, our two livestock guardian dogs have gotten out of our fencing three times in the past six months, including this week.
We have good, sturdy, sheep and goat fencing with barbed wire on top. We’ve been vigilant about checking and rechecking the fence for holes of any size. It amazes us how their wiggly bodies can get through the tiniest of spaces.
Before when they got out, someone in the neighborhood would see them and give us a call. Believe me, they are hard to miss when they are walking side by side down the road. This time, they were gone for two days. We took flyers around to vets and animal control, posted on Facebook pages, drove endlessly around the neighborhoods asking people.
Finally, after two days, someone posted on Facebook that they had seen them walking down a busy highway about five miles from home.Then our phone rang and a lady said they were at her house. Bill rushed over there to get them and I did a happy dance and thanked God.
They are back home now. Sampson has been temporarily housed in our backyard where we don’t think he can get out of. At least he hasn’t yet. We want to keep our eye on him. We know he’s the instigator, with his devil-may-care, “I can do whatever I want” attitude. He still has a lot of puppy in him.
Delilah is in the barnyard where she belongs. She has too much natural instinct for protecting our farm to leave on her own. Plus she has a cautious attitude.
All’s well that ends well. We’re so thankful to have our “gentle giants” back where they belong. And we’re praying they stay home from now on. That kind of excitement we can do without.