Seeing the farm through child’s eyes

I still have lots of days where I have wonder over what we do at the farm. We raise food for people. We’re restoring the land and environment where we live. Each of those are big things in themselves.

There are many moments where I forget about these things — when I’m sorting through our freezers to fill orders, finishing up our business taxes or paying the hay bill (it’s a whopper this time of year). It’s so easy to get stuck in the mundane tasks of keeping the thing alive, the thing in this instance being the farm.

But then one of my girls will say or do something that brings everything into a different light. They are waiting in anticipation for our mama sheep to have babies any day. It’s like the feeling of Christmas. Or the delight in helping mom or dad with a project. Both the girls are currently in their “helper” stage, which any parent will tell you is a huge effort of patience. They aren’t satisfied to watch or help a little. They want to dig in, hands dirty, helping dad change the oil on his truck or feeding hay to the animals.

My girls have never known a life without the farm. We basically started our business the same time we started having kids. Not sure what possessed us to tackle both of those really hard things at the same time. I always joke with people that I guess we’re supposed to have more energy at this phase of our lives, but boy, I don’t always feel it!

I can’t quite fathom the life my kids have, even though I’ve worked hard to create it. I didn’t grow up in the country. What I thought was country living was really suburban life. My kids will grow up on a dirt road, with no close neighbors. The pasture is out their bedroom window at the new house. They’ll see animals and tall grass no matter where they are.

They’ll grow up caring for animals — feeding them, watching them from birth to death, naming them, scooping poop and everything in between. They’ll grow up with a deep connection of where the food on their plates comes from, because they’ll have been part of growing it.

I need this reminder, especially during this season of mud we’re in. Everything is brown instead of green. Nothing is growing yet. It’s wet and muddy as far as the eye can see. But there’s anticipation. Everything is getting ready to burst into life again.

So instead of pushing everyone on to the next task, I’ll stop and listen to the girls squeals of delight (insert Bluey and Bingo giggles) as the sheep eat from their hands and we spend nights reading and watching videos about raising pasture-raised sheep.