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Hi Everyone,

                        It is a good thing that we only live our lives one minute—or second at a time. Last week was full to the brim with happenings and overflowing with emotions. The week started out “normal”. We milked the cows and then I came inside and answered all the order emails so that I could place the bread order. We ate a simple lunch and then Papa and I climbed in the van and hit the road around 1:00. We were back within 20 minutes because I forgot my purse—and Papa was so gracious to turn around so I could grab it. We then headed to town to pay an outrageous tractor bill for when the mechanic came out to the house to get the tractor running again because Papa had let it run out of diesel. Then we headed north. The first stop was the honey place where I buy beeswax to make my salves, balms and lotions. The next stop was an old General Store—Feed store in White Springs. I needed some seed potatoes to plant next month—the old timers say that Valentine’s Day is the best time to plant white potatoes. Our trip then took us to I-75 where we headed north into Georgia where we got off at Valdosta and headed into the countryside to pick up some salt for the animals. We were six miles from our destination when Mama called asking where we were—and wanting to know just how many calves we had. Ellie had given birth to a little heifer Sunday morning but she was ignoring her calf and kidnapping Sundrop’s calf. At first Mama thought that she must have had twins—until I told her just how many calves we had. When we realized that Ellie was ignoring her calf we called another farm who loves to raise bottle calves and asked if they were interested—and they happily jumped on the opportunity. In the meantime, a car came up the driveway shooing two sheep out of the road and told our worker, Micah, that one was dead in the road. Mama and Micah then spent forever chasing those two sheep all over the front yard trying to get them back into their field. We never did figure out how they got out. Then they tried to find the dead sheep—but never found one. While working with Ellie and her calf Mama noticed that Melba was in labor—nine weeks early. Mama never made it back inside with Grandpa until around 6:15. We got home around 6:30. It was almost dark and I was ready to go help Papa separate the calves before it got too dark—but Mama said that I should start on dinner. I thankfully had a chicken slow cooking all afternoon. Papa headed outside and ten minutes later he returned. I was shocked to see him back so soon and asked if he had managed to separate the calves—to which he said he didn’t try since it was dark. He had gone looking for the “dead” sheep. It never was found—and we are not sure that it ever existed. I tried to just accept the fact that we would be majorly short on milk and I would have to tell a lot of people that we didn’t have any milk for them—but I couldn’t. I also remembered that Melba was in labor and needed to be checked on. So as soon as dinner was over I apologetically told Papa that we had to go out and check on Melba—and try to separate the calves. The calves were all sleeping around the hay feeder in a pile and all we had to do was wake them up and they started walking for the barn. It was thankfully easy-peasy. Melba was still in labor with no progress. Then I noticed that the cows were out of hay. Papa said that the tractor wouldn’t be able to pick up the bale so late at night because it takes an hour for the tractor hydraulics to warm up enough for the tractor bucket to pick up. I asked him if there were any bales of hay left on the “second” row so that he could push it off into the Gravely. We walked down to the barn and found one. While Papa put out the hay, I headed down field to lock up the chickens and feed the dogs their dinner. I also ran inside to call the vet to ask what to do with Melba. He told me that we needed to catch her up and check her—and I didn’t know how to do that, but Mama did. I shook a bucket of feed and we opened up the wires to the milking parlor holding area. All the cows gladly came thinking they were getting a “midnight” snack. Then we let everyone out besides Melba, and she gladly came into the milking stall for her alfalfa treat. When Mama checked her she couldn’t feel anything. I called the vet back and since he was already scheduled to come Tuesday at 11:00 to dehorn and tag heifers we decided to just wait.

                        Tuesday morning brought sad news. The calf we had sold the other farmers had died in the night. We gave them their money back. They knew it was a gamble—a calf only has 6 hours to get colostrum and without it the health of the calf is in great jeopardy. We didn’t know if Ellie had ever nursed her calf, so we were not sure if it had received any colostrum or not. In our own pasture Melba was still in labor. When the vet arrived he checked her out and said that the calf was dead, but since her body was not ready to deliver there was really nothing he could do but wait. He could have done a C-section, but Melba was not strong enough for that. A few of the cows have really struggled this winter—and Melba is one of them. The vet said that the drought, the freezing temps, and this year’s poor quality hay are all causing trouble with the animals this year. I have learned that farming is an art—not a science. What worked last year will not work this year unless the variables are all the same.  You live, you learn—and sometimes the hard way.

                        Wednesday morning milking didn’t go too smoothly—and it was 100% my fault. Sundrop came in with a dirty udder and I was trying to clean it up the lazy way--without getting up off my stool. In order to see the back of her udder. I stuck my head under the metal pipe and peeped over her knee. The next thing I knew she picked up her leg and kicked me in the face with her knee and slammed my head into the metal pipe—kind of squeezed my head between her leg and the pipe. My first thought was, “Are my teeth okay?” Then I wondered if my nose was broken for that is where the pain focused. The back of my head was a little sore—but the nose gave me the most trouble. I was a little disoriented too—probably more from the shock than the collision. My nose is still a little sore to the touch, but thankfully all else is well.

                        Later that afternoon I walked past the window and noticed that Aliyah had a baby lamb. Mama and I peeled out of the house and jumped in the golf-cart and flew down pasture. That morning Papa had told us that a lamb was looking for its Mama—and evidentially it hadn’t found it. Aliyah had dropped the lamb when she saw us coming, so we quickly drove into the field and picked up the lamb. We put a diaper on her and fixed up a bottle of colostrum for her. She couldn’t suckle, so Mama syringed the milk down her. Grandpa loves babies—human or animal, and it was love at first sight for him. I got pictures of him with the lamb, but I wish I had gotten a video of him cuddling her and talking to her. He called her the Lady. We couldn’t get Grandpa to go to bed before 11:00 that night because he had to keep an eye on the lamb which was sleeping in a box at the end of Grandpa’s sofa where he sleeps. We finally had to put her in the laundry room to sleep out of Grandpa’s sight. The next morning the first thing out of Grandpa’s mouth was, “How’s my little Lady?” She suckled her own bottle that morning, and the little lamb walked around the house following Mama. We hoped that things would stay that good--but by lunch she was back to having to be syringed. To our dismay she was dead when we woke up Friday morning—and Grandpa was not happy. He said that he was mad. I could almost go steal a healthy lamb out of the field so that Grandpa could have a little pet.

                        Wednesday night when we were heading out to pasture to grab up the little lamb we noticed that Melba had given birth to her premature calf. It was all pink, and about the size of a lamb. It was amazing to think how much they actually grow in the last two months. To add to our sorrows, Melba died the next day.

                        Thursday we were blessed to have help on the farm. One of our customers from Jacksonville came over to volunteer on the farm. She arrived around 9:00 and stayed until around 2:30. Abbie helped out with the milking—she fed the cows their alfalfa. Then she tried to feed the lamb. We ate lunch in the warmth of the sun on the front porch. Then we headed to the garden to do some weeding and plant some sugar snap peas. After she left, Micah and I worked on packaging eggs.

                        For the past two years we have greatly enjoyed doing Farm to Table Dinners. Those who have attended have praised them, and told others about them. Many people look forward to the next dinner—but finding the right time to have a dinner can be pretty tricky. We have had to cancel a few due to lack of people signing up, and then other dinners have been a huge success. We had a Winter Dinner scheduled for January 31. We were so excited about it and the menu looked scrumptious—but as of last Wednesday only three people had signed up. We were giving it until this Tuesday to see how many more people would sign up—because some people do wait until the last minute to purchase their tickets. We needed at least nine more people to sign up in order to pay for the chef, and thirty more people would fill the tables. We were hoping for a miracle. Then the ten day forecast came out and I saw that the weather was supposed to be a high of 42 with rain all morning. The next day the temp was forecast to be 47, with 50% chance of rain all day. I panicked. I didn’t want to be setting up in freezing cold rain. We could eat inside—but the chef has to cook outside. It is okay to be cold, and it is okay to get wet—but to be cold and wet is not good. So I decided to cancel the dinner. Then the next day the temperatures were forecast to be in the 50’s with no rain. Can I say that I have been quite grumpy? I am not happy with myself for being discouraged so easily. They say if you do not like the weather just wait a few days—well, evidently if you do not like the weather forecast just wait a few days. Half of me says to give the dinner a second chance—but the other half reminds me that we only had three people signed up and I don’t know if enough people would sign up to make it worthwhile. I shall just have to rest on the Bible verse found in Romans8:28—“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”

                        Hard times come and go, but the Lord is always there to help in time of need. All we have to do is cast our burden upon Him.

“All Your Anxiety” by Edward Joy

Is there a heart o’erbound by sorrow? Is there a life weighed down by care?
Come to the cross, each burden bearing; All your anxiety—leave it there.

Chorus
All your anxiety, all your care, Bring to the mercy seat, leave it there,
Never a burden He cannot bear, Never a friend like Jesus!

No other friend so swift to help you, No other friend so quick to hear,
No other place to leave your burden, No other one to hear your prayer.

Come then at once; delay no longer! Heed His entreaty kind and sweet,
You need not fear a disappointment; You shall find peace at the mercy seat.

                        I hope that your life is going smooth right now—but if not, take your burden to the Lord and leave it there.

Serving you with Gladness,

Tiare