Nanbert had a little bull calf.

I'd been checking Nanbert multiple times during the day and night since about April 1.  I'd moved her to the birthing stall from the pasture, and it then it was just a waiting game.  A very sleep deprived waiting game.  Early Saturday morning, when I went to the barn, I found her in labor.  Soon after this boy came into the world.

 My daughter has named him Nitroglycerin.  We call him "Nitro," and he is very high energy and living up to his name.  He worries his first-time momma to death, and doesn't listen to her at all.  Most of the time he's zooming around the stall with his tail over his back.  It's been raining all week, but looks like the weather should be clearing.  That means they should be able to venture out to the pasture soon.

His ears are enough to make my heart swoon.  Can't beat the Brown Swiss ears on a cute little Hereford face.  It officially feels like spring now that there is a baby on the ground.  Next up should be Delcy (Nanbert's half sister), then it will be Lola (Nanbert's mom) to calve last this year.  If the goats are bred, they will round out the birthing season in July at the earliest.  Never a dull moment around here.

Farm Life Recently.

It's been awhile, but spring has had me busy. Started some seeds, found lots of wild critters, planted some fruit trees, bought some goats, and now I'm awaiting the arrival of the first calf of the season.

Rhubarb seedling poking through.

Salamander that was in the ground I was digging to plant some daffodils.

Crawdad, Tadpoles, and Salamander-tadpoles from the front pasture "swamp."

Peach and Apple Trees. We planted Plum too.

Our lovely barn.

New goat Daisy.

New goat Macy.

Husband put up a NetCam so I can check on Nanbert, the heifer, from my phone.

What a Summer.

If you would've asked me at the start of this year what life had in store for me, I sure never would've guessed where I'd be now.  That simple Sunday drive earlier this spring that had us stumbling upon a forgotten "For Sale" sign, the roller coaster of trying to sell our farm, the heartbreak and anxiety that comes with offers falling through, the impossible hopeless feeling of having to wait through four months of unknown outcomes, it all leads to this happy statement of:  The new farm will be ours soon!  In just a couple weeks we will finally close on seventy-five acres of pure bliss.  A long, long driveway, a creek, woods, and lots of solitude and wilderness to hunker down in.

Something I'm looking especially forward to is the fact that I get a large studio space.  A very large, only for me, studio space.  I've got big goals to work toward in that space.  It will be splendid.

We should be closing on my daughter's birthday which adds a bit of extra specialness to the whole transaction.

So here's to a future full of new art, a large garden, and lots of additional livestock to add to the mix.  I can't wait.  Excited doesn't even begin to cover the level of happiness that is coursing through my veins.

So Much Change!

So, I realize I've been absent for a couple months, but it's been crazy around here.  We went for a Sunday drive about a month ago and stumbled upon a for sale sign on a much larger farm (like seven times larger).  We got the owner's number, called, looked around, AND SIGNED A PURCHASE AGREEMENT in very quick order (like a week).  That meant we had to sell our farm, so that same day we listed our house with a realtor.  That began a tailspin of chaos.  We cleaned and tidied and straightened up around here, had people coming through to look at it, and had multiple offers.  We accepted one of the offers yesterday, so we are almost able to breathe a sigh of relief that the new farm is ours!  

An aerial view of our new property:  the blue outline is the boundary.  Seventy-five acres of paradise!

All this is going on while I'm on cow-calving duty.  Lola calved without issue, a beautiful white faced heifer that my daughter named Lizzie Ann.  Reba was doing great, over due by a couple days, but nothing of concern and suddenly she went downhill (one day fine, next day dead).  The vet came up when she first seemed off, and mentioned it might be a twisted uterus or gut--he gave her some medicine, but it was of no use.  I was heartbroken that I lost both her and her unborn calf, but that is the reality of farming.  I stayed by her side almost every minute between Saturday night and Monday morning.  I even pulled a straw bale over next to the gate to be able to lay down a bit and still keep an eye on her.

Lola and a just-dry Lizzie Ann.

Lola has been making lots of extra milk (I milk her morning and night to relieve her udder of the excess milk the calf can drink).  I had been just dumping it (which is a horrible waste), but a buddy had a bottle calf, so I bought him to fatten.

This is Wimberly, the new bottle calf.

Told you it's been a whirlwind around here.