Life is meant for living

The Farmer finished up his holidays by watering a stone. He was watering the stone to loosen it from the ground so that he could pick it out and move it from the front lawn. Problem is, the stone is like an iceberg. The part you can see is only a fraction of what lies beneath. That’s one of the things I love about my husband. He is curious, and he likes a challenge. At least he doesn’t get bored and start asking me to entertain him. Nope, he can entertain himself just fine.

I didn’t have such a great week. I decided to try one of those herbal detox pills that is supposed to help you lose a little bit of water weight, while cleansing your insides a bit at the same time. High school reunion coming up and all, you know. After just one dose, I began to question my judgment. Went to the computer and googled the thing. All the reviews were positive, but they did warn against side effects. After the second full day of suffering, feeling as though my insides were slowly being liquefied, I was feeling pretty sheepish for worrying about my weight enough to try something that was obviously unsafe. And then I spoke to someone else who said that my symptoms were very typical reactions to detoxification. So I wasn’t so dumb after all. But I decided the one dose was enough for me. I think I’ll stay toxic for now, until advised otherwise by a medical professional. Oh well. I shouldn’t be so hard on the old bod. At least she’s healthy.

Which is more than I can say for one of our old ewes. This girl is solid, but her girth can work against her. She toppled over on her back—and I don’t know which event happened first but at some point she was bitten on the face, probably by a coyote. The Farmer first noticed the turkey vultures circling overhead. That is never a good sign. He later found the ewe belly-up, spindly feet kicking the air, and had to slowly roll her back over and wait until her insides settled before he could lift her up onto the trailer and move her to a safe pen in the barn for recovery. I went to see her shortly afterwards. Her face and neck were swollen, her body was still slightly lopsided from the tumble, and she had a rather traumatized look in her eye. I can just imagine what was going through her head as she lay on her back, helpless, watching the vultures circling over her, waiting. Hopefully she couldn’t see or hear them. Now I go into the barn twice a day to feed her sweet grain while spraying her wounds with antiseptic. She will be ok.

Our little lamb is not ok. At three weeks of age, we have lost the little guy who went to cottage with us—the lamb who depended on me as his only source of food. I did the best I could to replace his mother and he appeared so strong—running over the field, scooting under the fence and up onto the back porch of the house, calling to me—but he didn’t make it. It’s been a rough week.

I only lost 3 pounds on that detox diet and I’m pretty sure the eating and drinking at our 4^th Annual Fisher Farm Party will put that weight back on. But that’s okay. Life is meant for living.