Eight Weeks Later

Phil and I had to run an errand early this morning. It was my first time off the farm in eight weeks. It wasn't a fun trip. As soon as we got home, I heaved all the way into the house. Then the whole family took naps. I stayed in bed, feeling miserable, most of the rest of the day.

So that is too bad.

But ... interesting happenings around the farm. After the five chickens laid four eggs yesterday with the nesting boxes, I told Phil maybe we should move all the chickens up there. "Let's wait a few more days," he said.

Today the chickens laid no eggs. Now, they are at the very beginning of their productive lives, so it could be a fluke. Or it could be that the mysterious virus has now struck them, and how thankful I am that we have a few more days to experiment. The one-egg laying batch of 22 laid none today, either, at least, none that Isaiah could find.

Belle continues to be an ever more outstanding cow. After she gave five quarts this morning (a quart more than the last two mornings), I decided it was time to start feeding her baby real milk instead of powdered. That was a good choice, because instead of 13 cups this evening, as she gave last night, she gave 18 cups, for a total of two gallons, six cups today. A level of productivity we've never seen here before.

How fun to milk out two teats this evening, pour it into the bottle, and let Isaiah feed Elle the warm, frothy milk while I milked Belle just on the other side of the fence.

Human breastmilk changes by the feeding, based on what the mother's body senses the baby needs. I would imagine that cows bodies probably do the same. So how pleasant to make sure Elle is getting the best possible nutrition, and still have enough and more than enough for ourselves.

Isaiah asked if he could try some of the warm milk from this evening. He didn't much like it, but when I asked if he wanted some honey, like that age-old bedtime soothing drink, his eyes lit up. "That's a really nutritious drink, Isaiah. Think what God promised the children of Israel: that they would go to a land flowing with...."

"Milk and honey!" he said. "Wow."

***

I forgot to mention this on Friday, but this was adorable.

Grey skies; thunderstorm coming. We'd been watching the progress of this rainstorm for two days, gradually heading east.

About 1:30, Jadon and Joe came in. They dumped out the orange backpack with the potato heads and added their winter jackets (waterproof). A bit later Isaiah came in and got his jacket, and a flashlight or two. Then Abraham came in, found his jacket and another flashlight. "Mom, should I get my pocket knife?"

Jadon came in. "What is good to eat on a hike? Do we have almonds?"

It turned out that he made almond-and-raisin energy mix, and took the remains of some ground beef that none of the boys had touched in the two days since I made it.

Then the four brothers headed out on a long hike.

They came back several hours later, just as a gentle rain set in (the gentle rain turned pounding soon, so it was good they returned when they did). With their jackets on, they were sweaty, as it was still about 65 and now humid, but they were happy. They had eaten the rest of the ground beef (whatever it takes, I suppose). They had found a tree stand. They found ticks crawling on themselves for a few hours.

"Jadon said we went maybe one or two miles," said a younger brother. They probably did, though I have no idea how they would reckon that.