So we’ve been having skunk problems. Every night they try to get our chickens or ducks or rabbits. So our dogs (mostly Vincent) keep guard all. Night. Long.
We wake up in the morning and the dogs are exhausted and sleep most of the day away. They’ve earned it without a shadow of a doubt because we can certainly smell how much they’ve been working. Even if they aren’t sprayed, the backyard is definitely smelly from the skunks they’ve chased off.
(I’m so glad, now, that Vincent is so good at dodging things, because we don’t have enough tomato juice to bathe him in.)
We’re trying to get another dog, because Vincent might be young and spry and energetic (and super protective of ‘his’ animals), but Sissy is getting up there in years and there’s no way she’s going to be able to help Vincent out with guard duty once the temperature drops like lead in water. I have no idea how she’s keeping up with him now.
Seriously, though, Vincent does a head check on the rabbits every morning whenever we open up the rabbit garage (there are no vehicles or machinery housed in the rabbit garage, just rabbits and animal feed). He walks through and touches noses with all of our long-time residents and even some of our short-time residents, then he turns and walks out with me as soon as I’m done filling up their water bottles/bowls.
He takes his duties very seriously and won’t let us go to bed until we’ve made sure to let him outside to start guard duty, even if he was napping when we were getting ready for bed in the first place.
Now if only we could find a way to stop the skunks from coming over in the first place so that our backyard would stop smelling skunky in the morning.
Life was never going to be the same.
Carl smacked her.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“You were being dramatic.”
“You need to be less dramatic, even if only in your own head.”
“I can do whatever I want in my own head, thank you very much!”
Carl sighed and shook his head. “If you don’t start trying to be sensible now, then you’re never going to learn to stop posing dramatically when you’re walking down the street and I don’t think that posing like that is going to help you get a job as an adult.”
“How do you know? I could become an actress or an eccentric writer or something!”
“Shannon, you want to go into accounting, I don’t know why, but that’s where you want to work. You’ve only been talking about it since we were seven and we graduate high school next month.”
Shannon pretended not to hear him.
I’m not really sure where this little drabble came from…
Just found a story I’d written several years ago, randomly featured on a farm.
Past self knew absolutely nothing about living on a farm.
Now that I live on a farm, I know how to spot all the inaccuracies.
Ah, such is life.
Every now and then I just stop and stare at people or animals on the farm. My sister’s kids, my sister, the goats and rabbits and the dogs and cats.
To make sure they’re still breathing.
This is something that I’ve been doing all my life and I don’t think it’s something that I’m ever going to stop doing.
I don’t know why I do it, it’s just something I’ve done for as long as I can remember (which, granted, doesn’t mean as much for most people.) But it is one o the few memories that I actually retain from Before the memory blanks started happening.
I just want to make sure that they are still alive.
So, about two weeks ago, our car died.
We were in another valley, about an hour’s drive away from the farm, picking fruit from some nice people, when it just died. Middle of turning down a residential road and the stick made this funny clunking noise and then went into free fall. Luckily, we weren’t on a hill (anymore) and so the stick just swirled in place (even after we turned the car off.) Another driver pulled over and helped my sister push it over to the side of the road while I steered and then we called the insurance people and a tow truck.
All of the rental car places (that were still open, it was almost six o’clock in the evening) were sold out. They even called around to their other places and they were sold out too.
There was a dealership about a mile away from the transmission shop (which was closed by the time the tow truck (which actually came almost a full thirty minutes earlier than he initially thought he’d be able to do, so he was fine) was able to get our little car there, but the shop was fine with that and already had a thing set up for us to drop the keys and stuff, they did that all the time.) One of the guys at the dealership even came and picked us up from the transmission shop and drove us to the dealership.
(We’d called to make sure they were still open because we weren’t sure if they had moved from winter hours to summer hours yet as some of the other dealers in the area hadn’t and were closed. They had, though and were open.)
In short order (for us) we were able to get a truck (used, but big enough for what we needed it for and with enough room in the cab for the kids to fit). We were home at 11 o’clock at night.
We could have called for help. Several siblings and friends asked why we didn’t.
- We’d’ve still needed a car on Monday and no one would have been able to let us use their car on Monday.
- Our ride wouldn’t have been able to get home until 1 am because of travel times.
- We’ve been needing a truck for the last year and a half and figured that this was the Lord telling us that we might as well bite the bullet and get the truck we’d been saving up for any way.
Now, you’re probably wondering what this has to do with the title of the post, right? What does a truck and a broken down car (that’s still at the transmission shop, by the way) have to do with milk?
Our Mini Nubian doe has been giving us a lot of milk each day.
Almost a full gallon each and every day. On really good days, an actual gallon.
Our budget is a little (a lot) tight at the moment because we have a new truck payment (even used, it’s still another thing to pay on each month) and we still have to get the little car fixed because it’s more fuel efficient and my sister needs that car for work while we need the truck for the farm. Because we get so much milk from our goat, we don’t have to buy milk at the store every week anymore. We can make the milk into cheese and butter as well and I’m able to use it for baking and cooking.
There’s just one slight problem.
We’re not drinking it fast enough with how much we’ve been getting it.
Enter ice cube trays that our mom kept (for some reason) and we inherited (for other reasons). You can freeze the goat milk and while you can’t really defrost it and then drink it again, you can still bake and cook with defrosted goats milk.
So today, after a very long explanation, I am grateful for ice cube trays and all of the myriad ways I can use them.
(As well as everything else working out with the car and truck and the milk and such. You can be grateful for more than one thing at a time, can’t you?)
Check out the original Thankful Thursday. (I will update the link when she’s able to put up this week’s post, although maybe not right away, because I have to do a lot of things today.)