Sunday on the farm


How could you not love a face like that? Sure he's covered in pee. His beard especially. Sure you can smell that special, one of a kind, billy goat smell, a mile away. But how could not love a face that like regardless? This big, smelly billy goat, a year ago was being bottle fed in my lap. He still thinks he's my baby. And he still is, there is no escaping that. He's thrilled he gets to be with the girls now. You can read about his arrival here

This morning it was earlier than we thought, since we fell back an hour this morning thanks to daylight savings time.

Yesterday while I was out and about I noticed the big arm tree that split has gotten worse. It's going to be so sad to see this tree which is such a landmark on our farm, go back to the earth.


The big arm tree lives on a part of the farm we call the maples. Also in the maples I saw this doe and her fawn, regulars on our farm.


Snick and Maggie were outside today with the other animals. It was the first day Max really got to check him out and see if he was going to accept him or not.



Out at the creek everything is sleepy and waiting for snow. It was damp today. It was just above freezing, but really damp. I do not mind the cold, but the dampness makes it difficult to stay warm.



Goofy was here tonight, I've been seeing her regularly now. I'm so glad to have her back. This is her fifth year coming to see us. I'm amazing after last year and how horrible she looked, that she is back and looking so healthy this year.


and this new little guy showed up. He looks identical to Rudolph, one of our past bucks. Rudolph came for two years but we only saw him once last year and have not seen him since. This guy looks just like Rudolph at the same age.


 Before I put the critters into the barn for the night, I decided to share a pumpkin with some of the goats.... it was a lot of fun!



While the goats were enjoying their pumpkin, Flav and I had a quick snuggle.


He has grown up to be such a big boy. He's still got a little bit to learn but he's a good boy and does a really good job.


Now that Max is three years old almost I see how bonded he is to his sheep, to the other animals in the barnyard, and how accepting he is of new animals and how leery of strangers touching his animals. The first year and half were difficult with him, he had some bad behaviors like chasing. I did training with him, but a lot of things he learned himself and he has bonded quite remarkably with the animals, including the turkeys.

It's Sunday. To me, Sunday always feel different. Most days we never leave the farm, and each day flows into another, without it mattering if it's Tuesday or Friday. There are many times when we really are not sure what day it even is exactly. But Sunday always feels like Sunday to me. Sure, I still have to get up and feed, and clean. There is still work to do, wood to be brought in, fires to start. But there is always something comforting about a Sunday.

Sunday always seems like a comfort food day, especially in the damp November weather. When I was a little girl, for years, every single Sunday my mother made roast beef and all the trimmings, mashed potatoes, corn, rolls, gravy... for the family. I haven't personally made a roast beef in a long time, although I really should, but just the memory of that I think gives me comfort on a Sunday. My Grandfather always made a big meal on Sunday's also, something his wife and my Grandmother did before him, and I'm sure his mother did for him when he was a child.

My Uncle David, whom I called Uncle Wiseguy, digging in

We had a pork roast cooked in Guinness Stout for dinner, with Guinness gravy and potatoes and mashed turnip, which is one of the best things on earth. I kid you not, mashed turnip is really good, when properly cooked.


If that doesn't look like comfort food, I don't know what does.

Next Sunday why don't you cook for someone you love? You never know it could become a new tradition. And it doesn't have to be roast beef EVERY Sunday either. It's funny, I could never cook the same thing every Sunday now, I'd go crazy. But as a kid I never got tired of it.

Time to put everyone in the house to bed including myself!

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