I grew up in Colchester Vermont, but the Pleasant Valley is my HOME. Never have I felt such a connection, or a love for any place. That connection was immediate. The house was not listed on the market when a potential employer called me and suggested I see this house. I had told her I wanted an old farm house, and a hobby farm. When I drove into the yard to see the home, I was sure it would be out of my price range. Still I viewed the home. The minute I walked into the house, it seemed to comfort me, and I immediately fell in love. The barnyard would need a lot of work to make it functional, but the house was over a hundred years old and seemingly in good condition. Later, an inspector confirmed that the house was sound and safe, and I made an offer. Well, if I told you what I paid for it, you would not believe me. Let's just say, it was a steal! So now, seven years later, I sit in my office window, and look out over my 30 acres of field, trees, rivers, pastures, and my barn yard. A feeling of peace intermingles with pride. I love it here, even in the winter. My closest neighbors are 10 acres away, and the solitude is refreshing after living in Boston. Outside the chickens cluck and squawk as they comb through my spring gardens, not yet planted, looking for the first bugs and worms the gently warming soil produce. I pray that they eat the weeds too. I love to garden, I hate to weed. The occasional blat of a heavily laden ewe draws my eye to another part of the yard, lambing season seems drawn out this year. Perhaps complicated by the fact that I too am heavily laden with child. I have empathy for Gretel, heavy with twins. Her discomfort apparent in the hot sun, still fully clothed in her heavy winter coat of steel blue grey wool. My baby is large, my belly huge, and bending is not easily accomplished, and as much as I want to sit in the sun, the heat is too much. Yes, it is only 18 degrees celsius, but the heat is too much for a woman or beast at the end of her pregnancy. Soon this crazy farm will be home to another little beast, my boy child, eager to enter this sometimes unloving world. My prayer for him is that he will become a caring, productive member of society, one interested in protecting lands such as this, untouched and home to wildlife and a place where one can find peace, a child who loves this farm as much as I do, and maybe someday this will be HIS HOME. A place to always love, and return to, a place that brings peace, comfort, and pleasure. HOME.
LUCY
My farm is home to many breeds of sheep, all on the rare breeds list of Canada. Shetlands were the first to make this previously unused farm land home, then came the Jacobs with their many horns and brown and white spots. Later the Leister and Cotswold came, and the Romney. My favorite beast on the farm at present is Lucy. One of my first aquisitions. Lucy is a Angora goat, she produces enough Mohair in a year to keep my busy fingers happy, best of all Lucy has personality. Capable of making me laugh, and always a good listener, Lucy has become a good friend. She is wise with age, and leads the barnyard. Lucy no longer has teeth. A gummer. We almost lost her this winter. One morning I went to the barn to feed, it was nearly minus 20. I opened the stall door to feed the selected sheep that wintered inside this year to help them grow or maintain weight for various reasons, and Lucy was laying near the door, barely breathing. I reached in to pull her out of the stall as the other animals were stepping on her, and she lifted her head attempting to stand. I helped her to her feet and moved her to another stall, and quickly retreated into the house to get my oldest daughter to help me. Andrea is a natural with animals, and is destined to be a vet, but she is a bit of a tree hugger and wants to study environmental studies. I not so secretely hope she becomes a vet, that is where her talents are. Andrea mixed up a warm mash of oatmeal, raisin bran, shredded carrots and diced apples with just the right touch of molasses, donned her winter attire, and headed for the barn declaring that no animal was dying on her shift. Over the next few days Andrea prepared her mash and nursed Lucy back to health. Now three months later, Lucy once again rules the roost. Andrea grins with satisfaction, knowing that her efforts once again prevented an untimely passing on the farm.
LUCY
My farm is home to many breeds of sheep, all on the rare breeds list of Canada. Shetlands were the first to make this previously unused farm land home, then came the Jacobs with their many horns and brown and white spots. Later the Leister and Cotswold came, and the Romney. My favorite beast on the farm at present is Lucy. One of my first aquisitions. Lucy is a Angora goat, she produces enough Mohair in a year to keep my busy fingers happy, best of all Lucy has personality. Capable of making me laugh, and always a good listener, Lucy has become a good friend. She is wise with age, and leads the barnyard. Lucy no longer has teeth. A gummer. We almost lost her this winter. One morning I went to the barn to feed, it was nearly minus 20. I opened the stall door to feed the selected sheep that wintered inside this year to help them grow or maintain weight for various reasons, and Lucy was laying near the door, barely breathing. I reached in to pull her out of the stall as the other animals were stepping on her, and she lifted her head attempting to stand. I helped her to her feet and moved her to another stall, and quickly retreated into the house to get my oldest daughter to help me. Andrea is a natural with animals, and is destined to be a vet, but she is a bit of a tree hugger and wants to study environmental studies. I not so secretely hope she becomes a vet, that is where her talents are. Andrea mixed up a warm mash of oatmeal, raisin bran, shredded carrots and diced apples with just the right touch of molasses, donned her winter attire, and headed for the barn declaring that no animal was dying on her shift. Over the next few days Andrea prepared her mash and nursed Lucy back to health. Now three months later, Lucy once again rules the roost. Andrea grins with satisfaction, knowing that her efforts once again prevented an untimely passing on the farm.
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