Down on the farm

I was not meant to be a farm girl. God knew that and made certain I married the Good Doctor, a man who hated working on the farm growing up and who would oppose any of my efforts to bring the farm to our humble abode. I think I had even prayed as a little girl that God would send me a spouse who wanted to farm so it's a good thing God sometimes says no.

But I do think it's important to expose my children to farm life. I honestly think there is no better place to raise a family. Just not one that I am mothering. So whenever I meet someone who is raising her family on a farm, her status goes up by several nothces on the greatest mother meter. Stacy, I loved our times with your family at Merry-Mead. Thanks for the friendship but also the good ole farm exposure. And to our new friends, the Stoner's, thanks for a wonderful evening at Apple Valley Creamery. Such wonderful experiences and such good memories, and of course educational, too!

But that whole life and death cycle of the farm is what trips me up the most. Kittens are cute, until they get hit on the road. Chickens are very useful for Sunday morning brunch, until one becomes Monday evening dinner on the grill. Rabbits are cute and fluffy until you find one unmoving on the floor of the cage. I can't even make it through Bambi and he's a cartoon! Spiders (of which there are many on the farm), on the other hand, can be squashed. Thank you, Sharon, for saving us from one last night.

So wouldn't you know that our first experience at the farm last night was one of those cycle of life lessons one can learn so well when up-close and personal with nature? As we were driving up to the farm, we could see a cow in the distance, licking off a calf. We hurried over for a closer look, only to find that the calf had clearly been born some time ago, had been completely cleaned off by its faithful mother, but was obviously not moving. It was pointed out that since this mother was not in the maternity barn, the calf had probably been born prematurely. In answer to my questions, I was told that the mother would most likely continue to stand by her baby until it was taken away.

And you thought it was bad when I cried through Bambi and Auntie Frances refused to take me to any more animal movies? Now my family won't take me to any more farms. Or animal movies. Or to the library to borrow animal stories. Or to the beach to buy more hermit crabs.