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.
Soaking our shiitake logs.
Trying to direct the black snakes away from the hen house.
I love these three booties. 
Planting celeriac.
Blushed Butteroaks lettuce.
THIS & THAT.
Treasures from Livi. 
Jesse and Trousers.
Opal and frog eggs. 
This store in Nashville saved our butts when we realized we didn't have green tomato seeds.
Typical springtime uniform.