Summer with Goats

Rosie the Nanny a Goat and I now have an understanding which allows me to milk her each morning. At first removing the babies at night was heartbreaking, but now the ask for dinner in their separate pen and sleep happily through the night. Although Rosie still decides when I'm done milking, she doesn't rush straight back to her babies like she did at first, but now she heads straight for the brush and grazes for a bit before showing concern for her crying kids. My hands and arms are getting stronger as is my bond with these magnificent creatures. I love thinking about the domestication of goats 10,000 years ago. Who was the first person crazy enough to attempt to milk a goat? 

I still might just be getting lucky, but so far, the goats graze everything except my flowers and herbs. They even got through a tiny gap in the pool fence to eat the wild grapevine but left the hibiscus alone! When left to free range, they love to play on the stage deck and take naps there intermittently. 

I've been away from them for 2 days now and I miss them dearly. Tomorrow I'll spend time playing, scratching and watching and make up for missed time. 

The Pig

Today we adopted a male mini pig from a student of mine who got him and decided he wasn't getting the life he needed. He comes to us 4 months old with the name Mini, but shall gradually don the title Sir Arthur Mini Barrett Priest Bays. I am really awful at estimating the weight of objects, let alone living creatures, and equally bad at guessing quantitative measurements, so I'll just say he's about as tall and long as our house cats with a belly to his ankles, a tiny little wagging tail, and a stately set of ears. He was quite independent upon his arrival, not paying much attention to us humans. We first introduced him to our two large dogs with each on one side of the fence. Our old lady bloodhound, Stella, wasn't impressed nor threatened by his presence, but our young bull mastiff, Ursa, thought he was just perfect for chasing. Sir Arthur Mini allowed this creature many times his size to race him around the newly fences segment of the barn until the barreled right through a section of welded wire that hadn't been fastened to the barn, merely hooked around the trim. Sir kept running while Ursa suffered the consequence of her too-rowdy behavior enforced by the Dad and Stella looked on unenthusiastically. Ursa spent some time reflecting on her highly reactive behavior inside while Stella, Sir and I took a little walk around the property. The sun quickly set making it just cold enough to necessitate a fire in the wood stove and bring us all near. Sir Arthur Mini was immediately magnetized to the warmth and fell fast asleep. My mom, aunt and uncle came by to meet the new little fella, and had I not picked him up, he might have slept through the whole visit. He was nice and calm when I picked him up and offered him to the others for petting, but squealed in seemingly holy terror when I passed him to my mom. She was slightly offended by his unfavorable response, but Ursa was overjoyed to then receive my mom's full attention. Ursa might be feeling like a bit of a neglected middle child this evening, but I'm confident we have plenty of love to give everyone: dogs, cats, chickens, PIG! 

Goats

The last month has been a whirlwind of celebrating the end of school, finishing my Master's, hosting parties but best of all, GOATS!  The goats arrived on Saturday, May 7th: a dairy goat nanny with 2 babies and a yearlong boer doe. The babies were 4 days old the day they came to stay. We'd built the goat house in the old lagoon fencing which contained plenty of forage begging to be consumed and cleared. I camped in a tent the first night they were here just to make sure nothing went awry. I kept with me the bloodhound and a flashlight, but the night was fortuntately, completely uneventful. The babies slept a lot the first week here and the mamma, Rosie, wanted little to do with me but didn't mind me holding the babies. Trixie, the yearling boer, was immediately sweet and curious. 

My herd of 4 is more calm and gentle than I would have imagined. They are very tolerant of visitors and the babies will jump right into your lap to be petted and nibble your clothes. This week began my attempt at milking Rosie. I really didn't want to have to separate the babies, knowing that would be sad for everyone, but when my 5:30 wake up wasn't early enough to beat the babies to the bag, I realized it must be done. Now the last 2 nights the babies have spent in a separate pen, giving me 2 chances at a full udder, both of which have been failed attempts. With failure comes problem solving. This farming thing definitely takes determination. I spent the morning modifying the milking stall to try to make Rosie more and myself more comfortable for tomorrow's 3rd attempt. Fingers crossed, 3rd time will be a charm.

The last few evenings I've let the herd out to free range a little and I am amazed at how cautious they are. They stay close to their pen and run right back in if they sense danger. Trixie has even made attempts at playing with Ursa, the bull mastiff. Even the pig seems to enjoy being part of the herd, and so do I. 

New Year's Day

Three times in the last two weeks we've had our home filled with loved ones. There are still many I miss and some I wish could have stayed longer, but as I sit alone and reflect, I realize I am surrounded by the lingering presence of not only those who spent time in this space, but those who will. And I know that this house was a good idea. My feelings of settling for an existing structure versus building our off-grid home are eclipsed by my overwhelming gratitude for having enough. Enough time. Enough space. Enough food, water, warmth and love to spare. 

Our Winter Solstice party served not only as a celebration of the returning of sunlight, but also as catharsis and expansion. 

We were graced with family the evening of Christmas Day.

Last night we rang in 2016 in pure Priest Family Style with unbelievable music and of course an excessive amount of food and love. 

This may not be quite the homestead I had in mind, but it's serving us perfectly. Us and our 70 closest friends. 

And the goats arrive in February.

Here's to growing roots in 2016!

Full moon rising over the pond on Christmas Eve

New Year's Day

Three times in the last two weeks we've had our home filled with loved ones. There are still many I miss and some I wish could have stayed longer, but as I sit alone and reflect, I realize I am surrounded by the lingering presence of not only those who spent time in this space, but those who will. And I know that this house was a good idea. My feelings of settling for an existing structure versus building our off-grid home are eclipsed by my overwhelming gratitude for having enough. Enough time. Enough space. Enough food, water, warmth and love to spare. 

Our Winter Solstice party served not only as a celebration of the returning of sunlight, but also as catharsis and expansion. 

We were graced with family the evening of Christmas Day.

Last night we rang in 2016 in pure Priest Family Style with unbelievable music and of course an excessive amount of food and love. 

This may not be quite the homestead I had in mind, but it's serving us perfectly. Us and our 70 closest friends. 

And the goats arrive in February.

Here's to growing roots in 2016!

Full moon rising over the pond on Christmas Eve

Atypical December

The last few years, the husband and I have prepared ourselves for Winter Solstice by lighting our home with only candles and oil lamps for the week prior. Typically, this also adds to the needed warmth of this frigid time of year, but this year is very different. We're 10 days away and today's high was nearly 70 degrees. The annual holiday concert in which my choirs perform happened the last 2 nights and for the first time, I didn't wear a coat. I am allowing this unseasonably warm weather to serve as a reminder of the unexpected, unpredictable, nature of life as well as a reassurance that I do not need to attempt to expect or predict. This practice is in direct contradiction to my past mindset in which I thought I needed to steer (push, paddle, battle) at all times, rather this practice leads me to react to the hand nature has dealt, be outside, and appreciate everything. 

Thank you, Kansas, for being an artful, skillful, guru. 

The Cold

I used to hate winter. I used to complain from November to March. 

The last few autumns, I have worked diligently on appreciating the transition to colder weather. The last three while years living in town I walked the neighborhood collecting fallen nuts and leaves and photographing vibrantly colored trees. I trained myself to see the good in cold. Now that we're back in the country, I'm especially glad I learned to appreciate the balance the seasons represent. Interestingly, my career choice places me firmly opposite the dormancy of the flora and most fauna, with an extremely busy winter and a summer vacation. Fortunately, the first ice of this winter fell on a weekend so I was able to emerse  myself in the frosty paradise outside, while a fire crackled in the wood stove welcoming us back in.