Phil returned yesterday night after a week's absence, working "for pay." I thought I had done a fairly good job holding all together while he was away, but he could see in just a few glances that we were just surviving. From the branch that had fallen across the electric line that's holding in the heifers in the lower pasture, knocking loose the charger, to the uncovered wood chips that became soggy in the rain, I don't even know what to look for. What is second nature to him is invisible to me.
For myself, I think I was more traumatized by the great animal escape than I realized. I woke up near daybreak on Friday after dreaming that the cows and bull had gotten out of their pen and were roaming the orchard, and I somehow had to figure out how to corral them. When I woke up, I tried to do some deep breathing and figure out how I would manage this untenable situation should it prove real. Thankfully it didn't.
Worse, on Saturday, I dreamed that Buttercup knocked down the cattle panel fence, and the five pigs shot out into the forest, where they proceeded to gleefully trample all the forest and compact the soil. Would electric sheep netting corral a determined 300 pound porker? I doubt it.
But Phil came back, and I slept through the night without a dream of emergent animals. I was grateful.
"I wish I never had to leave again."
That makes two of us.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
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I am sorry for the hardness of your life when Phil is gone buy thankful that you have such a good man. I wish he never had to leave again too, but am glad he can continue to work for money so that you can survive till your farm can provide all your needs.
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