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COVID Confusion?
I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. Sunday morning and it is seven-fifteen. The alarm should have gone off. I jumped (or rolled) out of bed and quickly donned my clothes. Although we are now watching church on-line during the COVID era, Sunday is special. Judd remained in bed. That should have been my first clue. Hurrying to the kitchen, I turned on the coffee pot, grabbed some Panera bagels from the freezer (we always have some kind of sweet rolls on Sunday), and made my way to the garage to begin my daily chores: feed the cats, fill the grain canisters, and make my way to the…
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PRAYER MEETING with the COWS
I skipped down the path to the old barn where Daddy was doing the evening milking chores. I loved that whole scene: the soft glow from the old ceiling lights, the lowing of cattle, the scent of fresh milk, and the very essence of what farming with animals is all about. Born in Center County, Pennsylvania, I was four years old when my family bought a dairy farm in New York State. On that farm, my life was magical. Fields to roam, barns to explore, and the tightly structured life of a dairy farm all fit together into a cocoon of beauty and pleasure for me. And then there were…
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Our Life in the Country
According to the resident expert this is a lavender Australorp (ROOSTER!!!). Sometimes life in the country takes “true grit.” My new replacement hen crowed today. OOps. He was guaranteed to be a hen. Now, my granddaughter, Lillian, tells me the other “hen” is a rooster, also. And why do I have a replacement in the first place? This is the sad part. According to the trail cam we also have a mother fox with three kits. This mom decided she needed to feed her babes, and my wonderful, dear old hens were the dinner. The night before a raccoon had decimated my friendly ducks. I became an “empty nester” in just a…
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Anticipation Abounds!
Christmas comes early on the farm! Everyone here is knee-deep and prayer-deep in preparing for the thirty-first year of what has become Bethlehem Revisited. Anticipation fills our hearts as we grandparents along with our children and grandchildren are joined by our large community to worship and work together in bringing this narrative to life once again. Costumes hang in the barn separated into categories: Angels, market-place, shepherds, guides, children, Marys, Josephs. We have covered the paths with wood chips ready for hundreds of people to trudge up and down the hills. The tickets that sat in Judd’s office have been distributed to various outlets. Stock pens for all the animals…
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No Pretension
Authenticity. Reality. I think that was what drew us to our farm. Yes, it was badly run down. The farm had seen a lot of living. It had been used to raise chickens and pigs, to grow crops, to supply milk, to allow a tiny family of three with little outside income to live comfortably for years. The eighty-five year old farmer had told us when we noticed the huge stacks of firewood around the house, “In the winter I stay snug as a bug in a rug.” The tiny house had been a shelter, a place of love, heartache, joy, loss. No pretense, no desire to impress, just…
