Diary of a Farm Girl

Diary of a Farm Girl

Monday —

I’ve been a lot of places. Rocked on the front porch swing in the Arkansas summer heat. I’ve tasted Smoky Mountain rain as I scaled the treetop ropes under twinkle lights. I have all but touched a Colorado elk in the wild. Still, there isn’t anything that comes close to a crisp Fall in Kansas. It tugs on one’s heart strings to hear the crunching of leaves underfoot. Crisp air biting at your nose, as it cleanses your lungs. Breathtaking views of endless hues, as maples and oaks say goodbye to Summer. Watching smoke roll from rooftops as you drive by homes. Watching as birds flutter in search of last bits of fruit and seed. You can feel the cozy and the peace. Everything else in the world can feel unstable, but when you’re standing on the blessed ground of Kansas in the fall… all is still. Pure bliss.

Tuesday —

The rooster crows his daily good morning. She rolls over and watches the sun rise. It peeks through the sheer curtains with its golden rays. The colors of the sky’s morning greetings are beautiful. Her body aches. She knows a warm shower and a cup of coffee would bid her well. The house all quiet except the hum of the heater warming their home. So, with a thankful heart she says a good morning, gives her love a kiss on his forehead and slips slowly out of bed. Its time to start her day.

The drips of the coffee making are like a soft reminder in her ear of a wonderful day ahead. Soon, she finds herself on the front porch. A bagel with an extreme amount of cream cheese in one hand and her coffee in the other. She sits and watches as her husband and their oldest boy tend to the lame sheep. Days are rarely the same on Timber Creek Farm. There is always something going on but it's a life she is elated to live. The message on her Sunday mug soothes her.

Wednesday—

We made it. Halfway there.

Thursday—

Today was warmer. The sun was shining. My Jeep splashing through the mud and slush. Our wounded sheep is healing. A warm home to end the evening in. A cozy bed to rest for another sunrise. Tomorrow is Sunday. Tinkerbell curled up next to me. A heavy blanket. Rest and peace. New mercies and endless grace. A father’s love

Friday—

The work is never done. Another day up before the sun. Coffee and lunches in hand because kids on the run. The chickens squawk wildly as they wait to be free. The goats head butt one another as the food comes pouring out. I can only roll my eyes. Manners y’all. Manners. The sheep follow Ma as the feed can rattles. I still think they secretly are waiting for a snack of peanut butter with their breakfast. I can’t blame them but I don’t share my peanut butter. Next comes water for everyone. The ducks waddle quickly to the pond. I really love them. Adorable and waddling. Back inside I go for a bit. Crock pot meal, laundry and dishes. … as I stand at the sink thinking of holiday wishes. It is almost Christmas. New pots and pans would be nice. Practical gifts… it makes me giggle. I’m definitely 32 now and it shows. And I don’t mean because of my wiggle and jiggle. Hehehe… I sigh gently to myself. As I often do.

The day goes by quickly. Soon the car rider line approaches. Homework will need done. Animals will need tending again. Thankfully the crock pot did all the really hard work today and I can focus on giggles and kisses from our kids before bedtime. And, tomorrow is Saturday. Yay!