How long can your nails be before they're considered impractical for a farm?

It had been snowing for days and days, it just was never ending. I couldn't drive my car, so I was stuck at the farm in the miserable snow. Here's the thing, when we first got here the snow was not so bad, it made things look pretty and we didn't have any animals yet, so it was cold but I didn't mind. Once the snow began to melt and we could see the grass, we filled up our farm. I loved to go out and explore our property but then SNOPOCOLYPSE! 

 

This not only ensured that I would be forever freezing to death but also made my chickens VERY grumpy. Now they squawk and peck at me when I go into the coop. I think they hold me responsible for the snow. They are unforgiving.

I ended up having to take a last minute trip to Vancouver where it's rainy, but spring is in full swing! I was terribly happy to be out of the snow, and also terribly jealous driving by all the farms with their big green pastures and I assume happy chickens. When I first arrived I reminded myself that I live on a farm now and shouldn't get the big acrylic nails I love so very much. My resolve was strong, for a second. 

I'm not sure that these are the farmgirl chic look I was aiming for. But they are fierce, and let me tell you, I found so much joy in their application. I was well behaved and refrained from purchasing any entirely impractical clothing and shoes, just admired them and died inside when I had to leave all those treasures behind. Now I know how Bella must feel when I take away whatever disgusting treasure she's dug up.

For a brief moment I was feeling entirely unhappy about the prospect of once again leaving the city behind and returning to the farm. I love the city, the traffic, the noise the endless beautiful clothing options. I love everything about it, and I do not love shovelling poop.

Almost like Dylan knew I needed a bit of a reminder of how happy I am at the farm as well, he posted a video of little Walske munching on some hay and my grinch heart grew two sizes. It is still snowing on the farm, but I will return tomorrow (not even as begrudgingly as I thought.) Though I miss my friends and my family when I'm at the farm, I miss my farm nearly as much when I'm with my friends and family. 

I haven't yet found the perfect balance of farm Vs. city but I am getting closer. I love them almost equally. 

Just Like You, Only Prettier

My sheep have almost forgiven me, little Scout will not let me get more than a couple pets in before she headbutts me, though that's basically where we've been since the start. Calpernia will let me pet her, and apply her Blu-Kote with relative ease. No more stained blue hands of shame for me. I haven't yet had Walske sheared, I figured it was best to give my little heart a moment to recover and to make sure I was confident in the shearer this time around.

I've fallen into a relatively smooth routine now, my days are simple but shockingly exhausting. By the time I'm finished with my endless internet research on livestock care and general farm things and all the animals are fed, watered and given appropriate amounts of love it's usually about time to start dinner. After dinner has been eaten I am so incredibly thankful for bedtime. I suppose it's good for me, when I wake up in the morning and my muscles are screaming at me to go back to bed I remind myself that it's a good thing. I'm getting biceps already! Maybe someday I'll look like a super ripped cowboy! Muscles that I didn't even know I had are sore. At the end of the day I'm so thoroughly exhausted that I finally understand the phrase, "tired to the bone" but I sleep like a baby every night.

The snow is almost melted away again. The chickens have left the coop and are happy little hens again now that they can scratch to their hearts delight. The yaks are loving the more plentiful grass patches in the pasture. I'm hopeful we'll be able to get some produce in the ground soon. Though some of the locals have warned me that typically it snows may long weekend and sticks around for another week or so.

I went into town today with the dogs and a woman insinuated that Pyrenees pups don't do well as  "couch potatoes" and really should only be kept as working dogs. COUCH POTATOES! I laughed and explained that in fact my dogs are almost always outside and that Bella is a working dog. Our conversation went like this;
"Bella is or will be a working dog when she's old enough"
"No, I mean working dog as in out with the cattle or sheep"
"She is intended to be out with the yaks and the sheep"
*Looks me up and down* "You have a hobby farm?"
"No, we have a working farm"
"oh...you have yaks? and sheep?"
"yeah, it's pretty cool"
"Yeah... so you have a farm? or your family has a farm?"
"My partner and I have a farm"
"Oh, can I ask how you manage to care for the animals with nails like that?"
GUYS IT TOOK EVERYTHING WITHIN ME TO NOT SAY "SAME AS EVERYONE ELSE ONLY BETTER" AND DO A TWIRL.
"oh, they're not really a bother once you get used to them."
I was simultaneously offended that she thought I couldn't possibly have a farm and also hella impressed at myself for being able to be a farmer but incognito. In hindsight, I should have done the twirl. I also should have mentioned to her that my sheep love to get long nail scratches behind their ears, my sheep dig them.
SASHAY AWAY LADY.

Blue hands & Blue heart

Yesterday started out as a pretty good day. I looked outside to see a beautiful sunrise and two mallard ducks that have been coming around every morning just hanging out in the dugout in again. At this point I'm feeling confident enough to say they are our regular visitors, our pals, our ducky friends. My hope is that at some point they're going to bring their little duckling babies here and then I'll feel like I was a part of their little duck romance. I could be the cool aunt.

Our new pals Donald and Daisy

 I hung out with the chickens, who are still laying despite the snow! Fed and watered the sheep. I fed the yaks. I TOUCHED ONE OF THE YAKS. It wasn't a welcomed pet and she ran away as soon as she realized it was me touching her not hay, but still, she's so soft!!! Of course her sister took off as soon as she did and then I felt guilty for making them nervous. I just want to be their friends so bad!

 Then the sheep shearer came. Things went sideways. Though I told the shearer over the phone what breed of sheep I had he was surprised by their horns when he met them in person. He had told me that I didn't need to be present but then requested my help in holding them still. Both those things were things that should have been a "get him gone" red flag. PETA has numerous arguments centred around sheep shearing being inhumane. It has never seemed that way to me, until yesterday. It was aggressive and violent and I literally cried the entire time. Just apologizing to my sheep babies over and over again. By the time Scout was done, so was I. I couldn't do it again, I asked the man to leave Walske. He did Calpernia first, and while I know that sometimes sheep get nicked when they're being sheared she had so many cuts. It made my heart ache just to look at her.

 I called the man I bought the sheep from, (bless his heart, he still answers the phone) still hysterical. He explained to me that I had gotten a shearer that was no good, that my experience was an anomaly. He talked me through the fact that although sheep don't love getting sheared it usually takes about three to five minutes and is painless. He further explained what to do to help the cuts heal. So into town I went to get the proper treatments for my girls. I had been so focused on just getting them what they needed I of course did not look in the mirror. I went into the feed store, and got some fairly strange looks but I was not distracted from my mission. Once I had the Blu-Kote in hand, I got back into my car and looked in the mirror. LORD CHER HAVE MERCY. My hair was sticking out in a million different directions accented by the abundant amount of hay stuck in there. My face was red and puffy with dirt (possibly poop, it's hard to tell after a day on the barn floor) smeared all over my face from where I wiped my tears with my filthy hand. My clothes were all covered in hay, mud and poop. (I'm not certain about the mud, but for my own sanity I'm choosing to believe at least some of that was mud) It's such a very long way from the girl I once was. I once went nearly three years never even wearing a pair of pants, dresses and skirts only.  

I wear the blue stain of bad shearing shame

 I got back home promptly applied the Blu-Kote and gave my girls so many treats. Now, granted I should have assumed based on the name that this antiseptic spray would be blue, I did not. I was surprised when it came out blue. I was even further surprised when I touched the sheep and stained my hands blue. It doesn't come off just by washing, I'm sure there's probably some well known remedy to get it off your skin, but I googled it, and got nothing so it's probably one of those things you learn from other wiser farmers.

 Yesterday was the first day that I really questioned whether or not I was cut out for this farm life but I think I can do it provided me and my animals survive my rookie mistakes. They are beginning to forgive me already I think, they let me give them lots of pets and eat treats right out of my non-blue hand. The thing is, if I'm going to run a farm I want to do it in the most ethical way possible. I feel strongly that yesterdays event was not an ethical treatment of my girls. It's difficult for me to reconcile my beliefs about animal treatment with what I allowed to happen. 

In other news, we've been selling so many eggs now that we have a hard time keeping up. We went from too many eggs to not enough. The struggle is endless.

SPEAKING OF STRUGGLES. Here's an update on our home reno; 

-the floor & subfloor are finally replaced 

- there are mice living in our walls

-the kitchen sink is broken

-the washing machine is broken

-the dishwasher doesn't work

If ya'll are living in a home that isn't a construction zone of endless misery go and kiss your walls right now, thank them for not providing homes for mice. 

I did also purchase a gorgeous set of super modern white couches and tables. I'm not sure how it'll work into my farmhouse chic vibe but I'll figure it out. Maybe I'll get me some rooster themed throw pillows. 

Haters Gonna Hate, Farmers Gonna Farm

I want to be a farmer, but I also want to have sick talons

Oooh girls, yesterday was a day! I spent so much time getting things ready for the yaks arrival. I had to pen the sheep, which was a much easier task in my mind than it turned out to be. I was able to get them into the lambing area relatively easily, but getting them into their respective pens was much more of a task. I first tried bribing them with oats, then cucumber. Nothing worked. Then I put a rope on them, which made them kick up (I mean that literally) a fuss. I essentially had to wrestle each of them into a pen, close the door with myself inside and hope they remembered all the oats I have given them and didn't squish me. They didn't squish me! Walske of course was the most difficult to get into a pen he was very grumpy about it, and he's got much larger horns than the girls. But I managed! I should have penned them ages ago, now they have no but choice to accept my pets. I am hopeful that by the time they lamb we shall be the best of friends.
I then had to attach a gate to the main feeding area for the yaks, so I could keep a close eye on them while they got used to it. I like to consider myself a fairly proficient handyman however my gate attachment looks like it was done by a two year old.
I had to make a variety of makeshift chutes for both the yaks and sheep. Which was basically just a bunch of old plywood stood up in areas around the gates. Normally when I carry plywood I have help, or at least it's not old mud/snow/poop covered plywood that's been in a barn for ages. Not this day. I continue to surprise myself at what I am able to do on my own. Ya'll keep in mind I did all this with huge nails, so to all you haters (Mom, Jake, Durae, Christine) who said I couldn't keep the nails when I got back to the farm, DON'T BELIEVE ME JUST WATCH! I AM THE QUEEN OF THE FARM!

The start of my "chute"

Scout and Calpernia do not like to be apart

Then at last the yaks arrived. 

If you don't know much about yaks, that's cool I don't either. I'll give you some of the basics. Yaks are bovine, but different from standard cattle. They come from the mountains of Tibet where they live in large herds through intense mountainous weather. Some of the domestic yaks, like the two I have are even used to pack supplies to Mount Everest. If they are raised around people, and are familiar and trusting you can even train them to wear a saddle and ride them. Mine are not however trained like this, and not particularly friendly. 

We chose yaks for our farm because;

- they have a significantly lower feed and maintenance cost

- we need far less space for a herd of yak than cattle

- they mature slowly so it gives us time to figure out what we're doing

- yaks have approx 1/3 of the carbon footprint as cattle

- the fiber (hair) that you comb out of them during their spring shed makes incredible wool

- if raised for meat the meat is leaner than beef

- if raised for meat the entirety of the yak is used, the bones are used for a number of traditional carvings, the skull is valuable, the hide is used in a similar way to cow hide, even the yak tails are commodities

As I said yaks are herd animals, and these two young girls had just left their large herd for the first time to be transplanted into our farm. The man that sold them was worried they would try to break or jump our fence in order to search for their herd. He suggested I put my ram in the pasture with them so they were less likely to take off. THE SAME RAM I HAD SPENT ALL DAY GETTING IN THE PEN FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE YAKS. So I sent Walske out, things were tense my friends. First Walske charged, then they charged. For the rest of the day they decided it was best to just have long staring contests from opposite ends of the pasture. They are not much better today. I closed the gate in the main feeding area last night with Walske inside so as to ensure no middle of the night showdowns. Yes, closed the same gate I had attached for the yaks but turns out they'll just jump it so it's useless to keep them in, it works for little baby Walske though!

I see that my next few days are going to consist of a lot of pasture walking and being paranoid that my girls have left me. They're such gorgeous animals. They look super soft and I want to pet them with every piece of my being, alas, I don't want to make them further afraid, or be skewered by their horns. 

Wild Goose Chase

I arrived back to the farm yesterday after a few glorious days of reliving my old life. I was only there for a few days but it was oh so glorious.
Yesterday as I steeled myself for the cold, I briefly considered that the super long nails I promised myself I wouldn't have put on but did anyway may not have been the brightest idea. That was quickly tossed aside as nonsense while I pitched bales, scooped poops collected eggs, fed the sheep all with my glorious talons. Turns out I can have the farm life I love with some of the pretty things I love too. (I will admit that once or twice my nails got caught and caused brief flashes of intense pain. WORTH IT)
Here's where my day got entirely unpleasant.
Almost like Bella had heard me talking miles away about how great her and Rocky are for not leaving our property, I went out after the chicken jobs and Bella was gone. I called and called, at first not feeling too concerned, "she's never left the property before, she's probably in the woods." As time went on I became increasingly worried my previous chill thoughts had turned to, "She's probably tangled up in some of the barbed wire fences, or has fallen through the ice in one of the back dugouts" By this time I'm full on panicked and running through the woods screaming her name, whistling like a maniac stopping intermittently to try to hear her pitiful injured cries. Then I hear one! I'm running towards the sound (I'm using the word running loosely here, it was much more like fast trudging through the snow in my heavy boots.) I ran through the woods, hopped the fence into the sheep pasture, through the sheep pasture, over the fence into the hayfield. I can still here the sound, and I'm getting closer to it. I'm so happy to have found her but simultaneously afraid of what mess she'll be in when I finally reach her. The sound is getting louder, I haven't moved forward. Maybe she's coming to me? I wait a second or two, now the sound is very loud and right above my head. I look up to see a huge flock of geese flying above me, and one of them doesn't quite have his "honk" calibrated correctly. He sounds just like Bella when she cries.
So now I'm tired, frustrated, scared for Bella and afraid for how sad Dylan will be if I never find her.
I walk our road, the mud is heavy and sticky, my voice is hoarse from calling her all day, I'm tired and cold and muddy. My nails are on point but that's the only thing. Finally Dylan gets home and we can look further now with his truck. We decide to go to all of our neighbours houses and ask them. Not the ideal way to meet them all, but it's a crisis. We drive to the last house and there she is. Playing in the yard with her new best friend a cattle dog named Hunter. She doesn't even notice that we arrive. We are simultaneously angry with her for running off, embarrassed that she's been at the neighbours for about four hours, elated that she's safe and sound. She's slipped her collar at some point so she looks like a dirty abandoned puppy that has never been loved in her life. We put her in the box of the truck to take her home. Turns out Hunter is really her "Ride or Die" best friend. She's not leaving. She JUMPED out of the box of the truck. She is a maniac. So today she'll be living that tied up life.

Sheep Balls and "Nuggets"

We sold our first eggs. So, I'm fairly sure that that means we're real farmers now. I have a soft spot in my heart for our two little grey chickens, one is a silkie, and one seems to be a cross between a silkie and something else. I call them my chicken littles, they're so small and all the other big mean hens pick on them. Only one of them lays. It doesn't happen frequently but when it does I know, because they're so small, the teeniest cute little baby eggs. I always feel a little burst of pride when I see her tiny egg. I want to give her a congratulatory snuggle, but she runs away.
I tend to call everything I think is cute "nugget" I catch myself calling these two "my little baby nuggets" sometimes, but it feels a whole lot less endearing when its said to chickens, I've probably got them living in a constant state of fear by calling them "nuggets", hopefully they don't understand.

My Chicken Littles
 Right: Ms. Muffett
Left: Ms. Tuffett

My Sheep are getting to be a touch more tolerant of me. Walske is what we decided to name our ram, still gives me a whack with his big horns when I don't immediately offer him food, but he eats out of my hand now, so I'm confident that it's progress. Scout is our youngest ewes name, she will have absolutely zero of my pets, she tries to hit me with her horns, but they're only a few inches long, so it's absolutely more adorable than threatening. Poor thing. Calpernia is our older ewe, and Scouts mama. She will allow me a few glorious seconds of petting typically only when I have her distracted with treats and snacks. I'm working on halter training them, which I thought would be a relatively easy task, I WAS SO WRONG. I am so thankful that we don't have neighbours that could potentially watch as I run around like an absolute psycho trying to catch a sheep. Thus far I have not successfully caught one, and they will not be distracted with treats once they see that harness. I was talking to the guy I bought them from he says he was only ever able to catch them by roping them. Which is pretty effing badass. I'm going to have to learn to rope a sheep, and guys, I promise if I learn to rope I WILL NEVER PUT THAT ROPE DOWN. Can you imagine, I would be so cool if I could rope like a cowboy. I'd be in love with myself. So I guess when I say "I'm working on halter training" what I should say is, "I've been working on my cardio and learning to play chase with sheep".

Scout and her adorable little moustache

Walske, our big grumpy boy 

Calpernia (Big mama) is very camera shy

We named Walske after a dear friend of ours who was the biggest help during our move. He was constantly waking up early packing things, loading things, even driving to FSJ with us to help unload the many trailer loads full of our belongings. We promised to name one of our yaks after him, but the two yaks we have coming are girls and he wanted a boy to be named after him, so that's how Walske got his new name. I think he likes it.

Heres another interesting fact about Walske (the ram, not the person); his balls are HUGE. They nearly drag on the ground, its like a giant basketball hanging off of him, I did not expect that. I was so surprised by it in fact that at first I thought it was a big patch of snow or wool or something stuck to him, and I kept trying to get close enough to pull it off. Walske was not thrilled. Again, I'm so thankful to not have neighbours. Can you imagine what they would have been thinking if they had been able to see me out there doing all i could to grab ahold of his balls?! My life is a series of embarrassing events.

  

How To Lose A Sheep In Ten Days

Here's the thing about raising a variety of animals you've never even been around before; THE PARANOIA IS SO REAL. I'm endlessly terrified that I'm going to give my little babes something bad for them, so before I give them anything I google to make sure they won't die. The problem with that is that I typically get as many, "Go for it" results as I do, "This will kill them immediately". Yesterday after an hour or so of researching salt blocks, (who even knew that there were so many different ways/kinds of salt to give to sheep?!) I went to the feed store armed with my google degree on sheep nutrition and asked for a list of things. The guy immediately informed me that all of what I was looking for would kill my sheep and sold me instead some things I had read online were bad for the sheep.
I went home too afraid to give my sheep any of things I purchased so instead just gave them some hay and oats. This morning I texted the man who sold me the sheep and he said, "Don't worry, they're hardy, I kept them in with my cattle, they had access to whatever the cows did, if they were going to die from a salt lick they would have died already." So, maybe raising Jacob Sheep is a little less complicated than google tells me it is. OR MAYBE I'M A TERRIBLE SHEEP MOM! So, if ya'll come across any books on raising Jacob sheep let me know, hit me up. The only ones I've found so far are about raising jacob sheep in the UK and i don't think that'll work for me because this is Canada so we have different weather, soil and pastures. The struggle, it's real.
The poor man that sold these sheep to me, he's been so incredibly kind and patient with my endless questions, but he's probably full of regret for ever giving me his number and saying , "Shoot me a text if you've got any questions." I have all of the questions, all of them.
Now, I know that there are probably lots of people that have raised sheep before, and people seem to do it with relative ease and don't typically kill their sheep by way of salt lick poisoning. So if you guys know anyone with even a little bit of sheep knowledge, send them my way so I can plead with them to impart some of their wisdom onto me.

Can(t) Buy Me Love

The sheep are here. The chickens are settled in. The pigs are coming sometime this week, and the yaks come next week. I'm caught in an unending cycle of deciding not to name the animals, and then giving them silly nicknames when I'm out with them and deciding that they absolutely need names. I've been calling our ram Baby Daddy, and I just don't think that's a name that should be permanent. It might give him some kind of complex.
The sheep will need to be sheered sometime in the next couple weeks, and I'm pretty determined to learn how to spin my own wool from it. I imagine I'll be googling the shit out of that.
I have learned that you can basically google everything. Which is essentially all I do all day, "How to be a farmer" "When do you plant things?" "How to look after sheep" "Can chickens eat bananas?" "Do chickens like bananas?"
Those are all actual things that I have googled. Imagine if there were someone tasked with monitoring my google searches over the last year, I'm sure they would be just as confused as I am about when and how this change occurred. I went from googling "Fauxhawk braid tutorials" "Chanels lipstick release date" and other similar things to "Do chickens like bananas"
I think I'm finally beginning to win over the sheep, our boy comes and follows me around awaiting snacks, the girls are still a bit wary, especially the smaller one. Turns out you can buy love, from sheep at least. All it takes is a couple strawberries and some cucumber.
The dogs are hilarious with them, Rocky just seems to be confused as to why they look so weird so he is curious but keeps his distance, Bella of course just wants them to play with her. She got in the pen yesterday and immediately got charged by Baby Daddy, I was worried that he'd turn her into a kebab with those big horns of his, so I jumped in front. Looking back that likely wasn't the smartest thing to do, note to self, don't do it again. His horns aren't sharp so it didn't hurt as much as one would think, but it wasn't a pleasant experience. I suppose Bella wont learn until she gets a horn in her side too.

"Mom, what kind of dog is that?!?"

The man that came to deliver the sheep was so incredibly kind to me, he wasn't irritated that I didn't know the first thing about raising sheep, let alone how to help them lamb. He answered all of my ridiculous questions, offered a variety of tips on how to care for them and even offered to come out when it got close to lambing time to give me a hand. I think he's my first farm friend!

At this point I have more eggs than I know what to do with, so we're either going to have to start selling eggs or I'll have to start putting eggs in every single thing we eat.

My quest for endless joy in this new life has so far not been difficult, I've loved every minute of it despite my aching muscles and my body consistently screaming about going back to my previously fairly sedentary way of life. Turns out I'm stronger than I thought, I can put up a primitive fence, pitch bales and shovel poops no problem. I'm also so much happier than I thought I would be. Maybe endless joy isn't so much found in WHAT you do, but HOW you do it.

The First Egg

The culprit

On Friday the chickens arrived. We are now the happy owners of 18 hens and 2 roosters! I spent all day yesterday hanging out with them. I've always been a little bit afraid birds, so I figured the best way to get over that fear was to dive right into it. I sat down in the pen with them for nearly two hours. I am happy to report that I was only "bit" once while I was attempting to retrieve two eggs from one of our broody hens. She wasn't that thrilled. However I was quite excited when she finally did move off the eggs and I discovered the eggs she lays are BLUE! I knew that some chickens laid blue eggs, I just didn't think any of mine did. So many happy surprises in my life lately.


Though we had planned on doing a slow build to our new farm life we came across some sheep that were for sale. They are unlike any sheep I've ever seen before, so naturally I bought them. This afternoon we have three sheep arriving. Two ewes and one ram, the ewes are expected to lamb a combined three lambs in May so we'll have six sheep. The sheep also came with two pot belly pigs, and who turns down free pigs? Not us! So we have two piggies coming as well.

Two of the three Jacob Sheep that are arriving this afternoon. Look at those horns.

We may need to start calling our farm 'The Freak Farm' instead of Goldie Acres we seem to be accumulating some relatively strange animals. Though I think the Jacob Sheep are going to be a fabulous addition to the farm, most especially because they match the Royal Yaks and isn't life really all about coordination? Wish me luck pals, I'll be frantically researching how to care for sheep and pigs for the next five hours. 

So matchy!

The Glamour of My New Life

Yesterday was such a glorious day. I went into town, picked up some supplies for our never ending home renos. I came home, put on my new favourite boots. ( A title once reserved for the most gorgeous pair of over the knee soft brown leather Steve Maddens it is now awarded to my heavy rubber/neoprene steel toed Muck Boots.) With that I began the daunting task of preparing our chicken coop. The farm we bought has all of the buildings necessary for a farm, but alas none were in "move-in ready" condition.
I've always been a bit squeamish especially when it comes to poop. Not anymore my friends, not any more. I'm not sure when the shift began, was it when I had to pull frozen deer poop from the mouth of our beloved puppy, or when i stepped in some giant pile of unidentifiable animals excrement? Or did it simply begin yesterday after the first hour of scraping chicken poo off of the nesting boxes? It could have been the moment when i was deeply involved in my scraping and realized that the flakes coming off were landing mostly in my hair and on my face. It's hard to pinpoint the exact time all I know is that I am squeamish no more. So I consider that a victory. I even came upon two nearly fossilized little eggs from the past chickens. Endless treasures.

The whitish things there are eggs but the rest, that's poop

The chickens are arriving tonight. My dear little cousin graciously volunteered to transport all 20 of my chickens in the back of their truck. I've never transported chickens so I really haven't a clue what to expect in terms of how well they travel. Is there some kind of Farm Lord that I can pray/sacrifice/make offerings to?

We were almost able to walk the perimeter of the main pasture, one end is still too deeply covered in snow. We've got yaks coming in two weeks, so the snow better hurry itself up and get gone so we can check our fences before they arrive. I always feel like I'm a real life farmer when I say things like, "check fences" though I imagine that just thinking that is exactly what indicates that I am not in fact a real life farmer, just a wannabe.

One of the pretty little ladies we have arriving soon

So far I have found a kind of rhythm in this farm life, wake up drink some coffee, watch the sun come up and listen to the roosters in the distance. Do work, eat dinner, sleep and repeat. I'm not sure how people run farms and have full time jobs at the same time, I spend nearly 12 hours of my day just in preparing for animals, and we don't even have animals yet to look after. If you currently know a farmer (a real one, not me. Go and give them some love it's a tough life guys.)

Chicken poop selfie

Freedom Has Come For Me

Yesterday the roads had finally cleared enough that I was able to leave the farm. Though, like a small child too much freedom is not good for me. I drove into town, started looking for a place called "Zoo Foods" and got horrendously hopelessly lost. You would think it impossible to get lost in a small town, thats what I thought as well. I was driving down a road I thought I knew however it's the "Brown Season" so essentially all roads look exactly the same, I thought for a moment that I had been driving for far too long to have not seen things I recognized. I of course chastised myself for such a paranoid thought and continued driving, for nearly forty minutes. I attempted to google map myself once I had finally accepted defeat. Google maps didn't even recognize the road I was on as being a road. Dylan is the only person in town I know so naturally I thought about calling him. Once I played the conversation out in my head I rethought that idea.
"Dylan, I'm a bit lost can you help me?"
"Im working, right in the middle of my work day, where are you?"
"I don't know, on a road, it just goes straight for forever, I haven't even seen a sign in so long, but its paved and surrounded by hay fields."
"You just described 80% of the roads here."
"What part of town are you in?"
"A brown part?"
"What direction are you headed?"
"Forward?"
And then he would hang up, and I of course wouldn't blame him because I'm hopeless at directions. So I didn't call him. I just continued driving taking any dirt or paved offshoot road I could until about thirty minutes later I popped out very near my original destination. I congratulated myself on taking over an hour to locate a store in a town that can be driven through in its entirety in twenty minutes. Good job Bates.
My dad told me long ago to always look for the mountains when trying to figure where I am, so with that helpful hint I've pretty much always been able to navigate at least where north is and then where I need to go from that. THIS PLACE HAS NO MOUNTAINS.
From now on I have decided that I shall use google maps for everything and everywhere I need to go. If it is not on google maps it is the badlands and I must never go there.

The snow is nearly gone now from our pastures, I'm going on friday to pick up our first lot of chickens. Don't worry everyone, I have already checked the route, its all on google.
We have internet now, which is very exciting though also very distracting. I think Dylan and I had both been going through a touch of withdrawal, yesterday we just sat in the living room/kitchen/dining room/storage room and watched facebook videos like we had never seen anything so magical.
Last night our kitchen sink sprung ANOTHER leak! This one very much like a fountain, the water just sprays out of it.Today I'm endeavouring to wash dishes in the bathtub. Not sure if its particularly sterile. I thought being on a cistern would mean our main water problem would be hauling water/ running out of water. I was so very very wrong. Our main problem is that we have too much water, on the floor, in the cabinets, under the floor. Everything leaks. Water has become our greatest renovation enemy. The bathtub leaks, the washer leaks, the sink leaks (from approx. 3 places). Fortunately they are all relatively easy fixes, replace the kitchen plumbing, get a new washer, fix the hole in the bathtub. The only really tricky one has been the water damage and subsequent mould in the master bedroom. We've torn up all the subfloor, spent three days bleaching and scrubbing the floor with a Mike Holmes recommended mould and mildew killer.
At first I was so frustrated with the length of time that we would now be spending on the master bedroom all I wanted was to sleep in our bed again. Dylan though elated me the other day when he explained that the damage in the closet to the drywall etc was extensive and would have to be torn out. THAT MEANS I GET A CUSTOM 'DYLAN-BUILT' WALK IN CLOSET!! Endless joy folks, it has made an appearance.
Another thing that surprised me was finding so much joy every morning in watching the sun rise. I've never really seen such beautiful sun rises, and I get to enjoy them every single morning. That has been another source of endless joy, I find myself excited now to wake up before the sun comes up, just so I can watch it again.

Island life?

I used to make jokes about how someday I'd just run off to an island with just me and the dogs. I'd learn to make soap and do crafts to pass the time. I had a really romantic idea of what that would be like. 

This was not what I had in mind. 

It's thawing season, so the road to get in and out of our house has only gotten worse, now it's a combination of clay mud and significant pools of water. You can get through, but only in a vehicle that's high enough to not flood through the doors in the puddles/lakes and has four wheel drive. My car, though cute and previously very practical is none of those things. Which leaves me essentially on an island with the dogs. Instead of ocean I have mud lakes. I could do crafts if I knew which one of the twelve million boxes my crafts were in. I could make soap, if I could get to town to get supplies. 

We also have no TV or internet (aside from our phones data plan) because we're out in the middle of nowhere, so boredom tends to be my best friend. There are only so many cabinet faces a girl can sand in a day.

We're putting new flooring and paint in most of the rooms, so unpacking isn't an option. 

Bella and Rocky however are still having the time of their lives, with all the thawing there are so many new and exciting things to do! Roll in the mud, dig through the mud, run through the mud. Cover mom in mud with a sneak attack! My dogs have never been so smelly and dirty, they've also never been happier.  

 

Here's a picture of Rocky and Bella doing their morning patrol. 

The struggle is real

Guuuuys, I've spent like four days sanding and painting cabinets. I'm no where near finished and I already never want to see another cabinet in my life. Also, what is it about home renos that make a person simultaneously homicidal and entirely lethargic? Or is that just me? 

 

You see, from the picture it doesn't look too bad. That's what I thought too. Until we moved in and I realized that the picture didn't accurately reflect the completely out of hand situation these cabinets are in. When they painted the cabinets, they didn't sand the original finish off, so the cabinets are a hot mess of sticky paint and what appears to be years of grease and dust build up. So glamorous. So after SIX DAYS of sanding, peeling, scrubbing and painting I am here. 

 

I have only just begun the actual doors. Two days of work and I have ONE ready for paint. All this because I had a vision of farmhouse chic. Someone should have slapped me right in the face with the cold fish of real life. Though after a period of extensive googling I did finally find the replacements for the cabinet pulls that are missing. Three hours of internet scouring and more money than I care to admit to for three handles, I found success. So I have that going for me. 

I also have this one cabinet face that is more precious to me than gold right now. 

 

Someday we will have a kitchen. That will be such a glorious day.