HOW FARMING PREPARED ME FOR PARENTHOOD SO FAR.
Five or ten years ago, I don't think I would have been able to catch my own baby. Or cut the umbilical chord. Or comfortably watch my wife labor for three days. Maybe, but I used to be squeamish. Who isn't when it comes to birth? Our culture pounds it into us that birth is messy and gross (when in fact it is messy and incredible), so what boy who goes through the school system I went through––through the movies and television shows––wouldn't be intimidated?But since moving to Bugtussle, I've helped with births, in cows and sheep and cats. I've dealt with blood. I've grown confidence in the way we were built––that Hannah was built to have a baby, and I was built with hands to catch it.And then came the first weeks of life.Farming is about as full time of a job as they come. It's early in the morning until late at night and sometimes, when a chicken's attacked, when a rogue storm comes through and threatens to destroy your young transplants, or when your neighbor offers you a few bottle pigs, it's the middle of the night, too.The farmer can guide the farm one way or another, but ultimately the farmer's job is to react to the farm's moods. Because every day is dictated by the farm, not the farmer. It's a job of patience, and hard work and delayed pleasure.And this is all part of why I feel this transition into parenthood has been relatively smooth so far. Of course, our baby isn't crawling yet. Or talking. It looks around a little which, so far as I can tell, is pretty harmless. But the actual activity of taking care of this new, wonderful creature has seemed––well, in a word––normal.We're used to taking care of things, making sure they are fed and well-sheltered. We're used to long days and a lack of sleep. Our strength helps us to rock him for hours. And we're definitely used to longterm projects that take weeks and sometimes years to develop––to become self-sustaining. Of course, we're in for things no farm, no life, can prepare us for––disciplining, schooling, dating––but I still feel we'll be able to draw on our education as farmers to make the best decisions as parents. Because what is a farmer really, if not a parent to one giant, constantly moving baby, full of energy and bursting with potential?- Jesse.
THIS & THAT.
Some random photos from the past week.
Setting up for some trick-or-treaters....even in Bugtussle!
Arrowhead hunting with Ira. 
Sweet potatoes.....all day, every day.
This one got ENORMOUS while we were gone! 
A blurry shot as we chased the escaped turkeys through the yard. This is basically what our life looks like these days.
THIS & THAT.
Some random photos from the past week.
Opal and Livi helping to dig the ginger.
Pretty morning light in the greenhouse.
Dyeing yarn with goldenrod.
A very muddy Gomer.
Playing cards with the kids.
FATHERHOOD AHEAD.
I have struggled to come up with much new to post over the last couple months because all I've been able to think about was the one thing I couldn't actually write about––BABY. In fact, as I write this, we are still two weeks away from telling anyone––two weeks away from the end of the first trimester––but I had to get it out of my system.My own father was such a unique figure in my life. I have never viewed anyone with the same reverential awe that I viewed my father (save for my mother, of course, who received the maternal version of said awe). But around Christmas this year, I will become that figure, enigmatic to my child, yet still somewhat a child himself. I will become the voice of authority and reason and rule. Me, a Libra.In my child's childhood recollection will be his or her father somewhere in the cloudiness, doing whatever it was that defined them as "daddy" or "papa" or "dad" or "Pa"––whichever gets chosen. For me, when I travel back to my childhood, I see my father playing guitar. It's not the only thing he did, but if you were to ask me to draw a picture of my father at forty, he would be holding a guitar in his office, shirtless. I also see my father studying, reading, or talking too loudly at the movies. I remember how he once told me "You're old much longer than you're young," nudging me to take advantage of it, and the next fall I was living in New York City, getting everything I could from my youth. Then later living on a farm, meeting my wife. My father had a profound effect on my life, and in a few months time I will begin to have that same effect on my own child.Soon I will be elevated to the position my father's in now, like many boys before me, and my father will soon be a grandfather, like many boys before him. I can hear it when we talk that he's extremely excited, and I'm excited for him. For us. For everything. As overwhelming as it feels to consider my potential influence over my child, influencing him or her is part of it. I love my father with a love reserved only for fathers, thus I look forward to being that for my son or daughter and doing everything I can to be a good figure amongst his or her childhood memories, writing, playing guitar, and probably talking too loudly at movies. Part of me is definitely intimidated, nervous I won't do a good job, but the rest of me is celebrating too loudly to care.- Jesse.
