THIS & THAT.

Some random photos from the past week.Boris is still absolutely enormous, in case you were wondering.That apple tree we helped our neighbors prune earlier this year is finally sharing its bounty. Eric giving a tour of the farms at our recent C.R.A.F.T. event.We recently lost 10 hens and 3 guineas to a BOBCAT! All of these eggs are now in an incubator...so look out for baby chicks in a month of so!Only two kittens left, getting fat on mama's milk.

BABY WATCH.

It's early morning and the sun is barely up when Hannah calls for me from upstairs. I scramble like an idiot to see what's wrong, nearly knocking over the chair and everything else in the cabin––maybe even the cabin itself––because something in her voice tells me it's about the baby.They say most people feel the baby by twenty weeks, and we'd made it into week twenty-one without feeling the "quickening" or bubbles they talk about. It's hard as first time parents not to feel nervous. About everything. And the baby's not even born yet. So we're nervous, because unlike "most people," we hadn't felt the baby. And when I hear Hannah call, that fact, and all the subsequent terrifying implications of that fact, is what is going through my mind.But when I get to the top of the stairs Hannah's just smiling curiously with her shirt pulled over her belly."Watch," she tells me.And for a couple of seconds all I can see is her heartbeat until suddenly something begins pressing against her belly, lifting the skin slightly, then disappearing again. Over and over. It's kind of creepy and all sorts of amazing. And for the next few minutes, then the next few days, we play this game, where we watch this creature––presumably a baby––kick and turn its way around Hannah's stomach. It's incredible to observe, and by all accounts it will only grow more intense and interesting. Sometimes I suppose you just have to have faith in the system of birth which has successfully created billions and billions of humans over the years. With faith restored, I now look forward to Hannah calling for me––baby in her voice––with hopes that I may get to watch our little dude––or dudette, respectfully––bumble about for a while.- Jesse.

FIRST GLASS OF MILK.

This past week has been the start of a new journey for me - milking a cow. We are sharing a lovely lady named Lily with our Bugtussle family, and she calved a little over a week ago. Cher and I have both been at every milking, morning and night, trying to figure out this new routine and rhythm. It has been difficult and educational - and I just now feel myself understanding the flow, the muscles, and the energy needed for the task. You can read Cher's thoughts about it here.  Soon, I will take over a few milkings a week on my own, but for now we both have been working at it together. We've worked through enormous rock-hard udders and weirdly small teats and mastitis fears. Slowly but surely, we are getting it.I love it. I love resting my head against Lily's warm body, I love watching the little calf sleep near her mother's head, I love the calm and stillness and magic of it. I can't wait to be better, quicker and stronger - without the sore hands! But I love it still.I will take pictures of sweet Lily soon, but lately I've been too busy trying to get the process down. I did snap a good one, though, of the view from where I milk.- Hannah.

WILD ANIMALS.

We rotate our goats and our pigs through the woods, often daily. This can be an incredibly annoying chore (dragging electric fencing through the forest), but it is how we are slowly clearing our land.  The animals don't need to be wormed because they are constantly moving, and they always have a fresh supply of food. As often as they move, they never end up over-grazing or impacting one spot. This is good for the animals and the land. So while we may dream of clear pasture as the fence gets caught in every (literally EVERY) tree root and branch, we also know that this is what is best for everyone. And at this very lush time of year, it makes for some very pretty pictures.- Hannah.