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Hi Everyone,
I am not sure where to start—it has been a crazy week! I guess I will start with a question—“How easily do you lose hope?” I have to say that for me it depends on what I am hoping for, and how badly I want it. Eight weeks ago I dried up one of my favorite cows—Sally, because she was due to calve last Tuesday. Mama questioned the size of her udder, but Sally always dries off with a big udder—that actually just gets bigger and bigger until she calves and then she lets down four gallons the first day I milk her. This time was different. One week later I noticed that one of her udder quadrants was exceptionally big and hard—she had developed mastitis. I groaned! I moaned! I was faithful to treat her and milk her out and massage it with some udder mint cream. It didn’t heal the problem—but it did get better. I felt terrible for not heeding Mama’s warning, but I had never had any trouble before. As her due date drew closer her udder shrunk more and more—and Sally really showed no signs of calving anytime soon. Once before I had dried up a cow who ended up not being pregnant, and I was afraid that this would be the case with Sally too. I was losing hope, and the sad thing was that I could have still been milking Sally and she would have never developed mastitis. Last Tuesday came and went and Sally’s udder was still flat and she showed no signs of calving anytime soon. Yes, I had lost hope—but O how I wanted her to have a little heifer so that I could name her Polly after her grandma (Pollywog) and her Great-grandma (Pollyanna). Then Friday morning when Sally was leaving the milking parlor I thought that her udder looked a wee little bit swollen, and I got hopeful that she might be pregnant after all. Maybe she would calve in a month or at least a few weeks. Saturday morning when Papa was bringing in the calves I noticed that Sally was at the end and a wee little calf was right behind her. I yelled out to Papa asking him if it was a girl or a boy and he yelled back—A GIRL!!!! Yippee! I got a girl, and her name is Polly. She was only four days late after all.
Most companies have a mission statement, and there are worksheets with questions to help you figure out what yours is. We have never really done that, but there has been a new turn of events here on the farm of late that has enabled me to put our mission in words. “Doing for others what they cannot do for themselves”. When I was sixteen my Great-grandma came to live with us—she could no longer live by herself, she needed supervision. Great-grandma was 96 years old, and we didn’t expect her to live too much longer. We sure were wrong, for Great-grandma lived until she was 3 months shy of 101. The year after we moved Great-grandma in we adopted four children—I was an only child until I was 18. We spent the next 18 years raising them. Between their health and Mama’s health we became farmers—and after a few years of farming for ourselves Mama and Papa were talking one day and Mama said that she believed that there were people out there who needed to eat healthy—but they didn’t have the ability to raise their own food. So we began to “share” our products with others—those who couldn’t raise it for themselves. Yes, we spend our days serving others. Last Monday we found out that it is time to do for another because he cannot do for himself. My Grandpa (Mama’s Daddy) turns 92 on October 1, and his health is declining and Mama’s siblings called and asked her if we would let Grandpa come and live with us. It has been a dream of ours for years to have Grandpa come and live with us—but he was too healthy and strong willed. Now he needs help, and it will be challenging, but the blessing is that we will get to spend time with Grandpa. If he lives with us for one month I will have spent more time with him than I have spent with him my entire life. Grandpa has lived in north Missouri ever since Mama was 11 (and she is 70 now). We have not managed to travel to visit him very often, and Grandpa has only visited Florida once—when I was about 14. Grandpa has been very artistic his whole life: painting, drawing, and building. All of us grandchildren wanted Grandpa to draw a picture of us. We would sit there patiently as Grandpa eyed us and drew us on paper. When he turned my picture around there was a pencil going down the middle of my face. I groaned—and Grandpa laughed. He had held a pencil up in front of him to eyeball me—and for fun he included the pencil in his drawing. I still have the picture—and the second one he drew without the pencil! It has been six years since we last saw Grandpa—because we haven’t had someone who could milk the cows for us (we used to have hired help that helped us milk the cows). So this is very special to get to spend some time with Grandpa here on the farm.
Last week was spent preparing—preparing the gardens to plant the fall crops, and preparing for the arrival of Grandpa and my Uncle and Aunt. We had to get a room completely ready for Grandpa—my brothers’ old room. The sad thing was that both twin beds were broken, and the dresser was full, and the closet was full—so we had a lot of rearranging and cleaning to do, and in the process of getting one room ready we made four other rooms a mess. We spent hours and days fixing beds, cleaning closets, finishing the fall décor, vacuuming and dusting—preparing for company (my Aunt and Uncle) and preparing for a new member to the family (Grandpa). In the midst of all that, I worked in the garden two days and we processed chickens one day. To our delight we had three extra helpers attend our chicken graduation. We were done by 4:30 with the chickens and by 5:30 with the entire cleanup. It was such a blessing!
Grandpa arrived tonight around 6:30—it was so good to see him. Yes, he is frail, and his memory isn’t that great, and he needs lots of help—but we are going to get to enjoy his company, and help him enjoy the farm and the good farm food. For the next few days we shall also get to enjoy my Uncle Jerry (Mama’s brother) and his wife Aunt Carol. Tonight when Papa and I went to separate the calves Aunt Carol went with us. She greatly enjoys being outside and doing things—so she says that I can count on her as extra help. I am glad—for it looks like I might have some help to plant the 100 plants that need to go in the ground tomorrow! Cause I am growing vegetables not only for us—but also for those who cannot grow a garden for themselves.
Serving you with Gladness,
Tiare