Snob

Am I a snob? Even the look of the word typed out makes me crinkle my nose a bit. In the past month I have been accused of being a snob at least three times, to my face. Which means the thought is running through the people that surround me, right? Still, it has been bothering me a bit.

I try really hard to understand other points of view and not be condescending of other's choices, but I still have an opinion of my own. I think that in the striving that most people do to fit in, their own opinion can get lost. Mine doesn't. I might add to my position or even change my mind sometimes, but I have no problem with sharing my views. I don't let my kids eat certain things because of what is in them or how they are made, I don't use "product" in my hair if it lists urea as an ingredient (because, ew, urine), and I don't have network or cable or satelite television. Those are my choices, I own them.

It is also true that I have lost friends over my opinions and actions regarding drug use around children. That is not snobby, in my opinion. It was at the least an understanding of the law, and at the core protecting my children from care providers who were drug users. Does that make me a snob or a good mom? Right.

That is the base of many of my decisions actually. I think of my children and the health of my family first. If someone threatens that health, we don't invite them to our home. I think that this is a pretty common standard actually. The problem is more complicated when that person is a close family member. I am ashamed to say, that in my family we have child abusers and pedophiles. None are welcome in my home and what mother in her right mind would allow such a person to babysit or even attend her child's birthday party. For crying out loud, that doesn't make me a snob. It isn't just that these unfortunate souls are "not living up to my standards"- it is that they have chosen behaviors that are vile and dangerous. I do believe in second chances in life, but I also believe in common sense. As long as the person is harming herself and others, she is not going to babysit my kids. You know?

I understand, I forgive, I pray for them...but that doesn't mean the harm they have done isn't real or that they don't continue to pose a threat. Then there is another aspect. I am a child abuse survivor. The person who abused me, the thought of having her in my home causes me great anxiety. She continued to abuse me well into adulthood and demands that I allow her access to my family. When I finally healed enough to stand up for myself, I still fall to her words. So I need distance and absence. That is what I need. That is what I demand. It doesn't make me a snob. In fact, it pisses me off that the sentiment was even issued. It is an insult to me as victim/survivor. Only because it is a familial issue, is it an issue at all. No one would be expected to invite their mugger or stalker to their kid's birthday.

Oh, I have prayed about this. I have forgiven. I might even understand how what came to be did. I just won't ever forget nor will I let history play like a broken record.

This Little Piggy Went to Market

And on this lovely October day, four big piggies were hauled to Milo to fulfill their destiny.

The last of the pig chores.

Yes, Dearest helped take them on their final walk. It seemed fitting after all those long walks down the road and around the pond. There was much less swearing this time though. Ha.

GreenRanchingMom's crew came and hauled our harvest. She has been awesome with helping me on this adventure. From feed to farm, questions she had answers.

Also, the local vet was pretty cool too. I wanted the feces looked at for worms so we could treat for just what was present. One vet wanted to forgo that and just dose with a mega dose universal yucky shot, the new vet agreed to look. Only 3 types of worms were found and there was a small dose that covered all three. Sweet. They got one round of that and it was the only medicine they received while in our care.

They slept under the stars and played in the sunshine. They hung out in a sweet little house while it rained. They had chicken friends who groomed them. They were fed gourmet cheese whey and grain hand mixed with fresh water into porridge. They got apples and pears as treats. They went for long walks with Dearest now and then. They squealed with delight. They were happy, happy pigs. We are grateful for knowing them, and more grateful for the bacon forthcoming. I miss bacon.

Brrrrrrr.....

October. Frost. Cold. Freezing.

I love it! I love the fire in the fireplace, bonfires, mulled cider. The wood cookstove came Friday. Winter is on its way.

It's been one year since we first looked at this place, first got stuck in the Southern Iowa mud, got blocked in by the local homecoming parade and it's 50 firetrucks and 2 floats, first gazed on the changing leaves reflected on the rippling pond water.

Back up just before that. We had our house on the market, we had agreed to not look until we sold (which we still haven't). I still looked. I stumbled upon the listing one night and emailed it to Dearest. He said, don't bother. I said, looking won't hurt. Still I trembled as I dialed and called the realtor. I have only trembled like that 3 other times in my entire life: when Dearest first kissed me, and the birth of each daughter. I knew something big was going to happen. I started packing months before and had announced to the dismay of all that we'd be on a farm by Christmas of 2008. My family doubted my sanity, yet here we are.

Then I made the phone call. I dared to dream. I drove south to a town I'd been to once when I worked for the state historic preservation office, followed GPS down a mud road, two children in tow and a block of cheddar.

Honestly, I had my doubts.

Things I've Learned on the Farm...

There are things I thought I'd learn and things I never thought of in a million years.

I thought I'd learn more about astronomy and yet the moments I've had to stare up at the sparkling night sky, while overwhelmingly beautiful, have been fleeting. I could wish for more time, but if I did it would be for more time inside snuggling with the babies. Their childhood is way more fleeting than billion year old stars.

I can tell you what that smell is and from which animal it came. Some people can sniff the bouquet of wine, I can tell you which manure came from what animal based simply on smell.

I was quite proud of my garden until it just withered and died. I know where I went wrong and it was almost exactly when I was marveling at how I never had to water. I should have. I should have mulched better too. I did get a fair amount of dry beans and pumpkins though.

I thought pig poop was the most foul smelling substance on the face of the earth. Bog of eternal stench material, as it is called when one slips in and gets thoroughly slimed with it. But no. The most foul smelling thing ever is dog vomit, after he's eaten a belly full of pig poop. Worse yet, in my kitchen the night before my sister's wedding just as my lovely aunt is unloading her bags from her rental car, bringing them in through the kitchen to the adjacent guest room. Not just poor pup, poor everyone. I thought dog skunked was bad. Seriously.

Pigs are interesting animals. More affectionate than I anticipated. Quite a bit like 4 year olds. They have an insatiable appetite, are ornery as all get out, and escape at inopportune times. They will find every breech and run gleefully to the pond or the road. They respond poorly to threats and ignore frantic pleas. They love fruit. They love milk. They really should have a bath after every meal and when they get muddy somehow manage to ruin my clothes too. All of that exactly describes Lil'Bug's summer. The only difference is that the pigs will be bacon in three weeks and she'll still be 4.

I love our small town. I love the people here, the town square, the parks, the weather, the kindness and curiosity, and the ice cream. It all fits us so very well. So many of the people we have met are just like us, recent transplants who are thriving in the fresh air. Thriving we are.

There were times, weeks at a time where I was just having impossibly bad days. Nothing that would make me give up on farm life, but still difficult. Many involving poop of various degrees. Abby and Jill and Prairieland Herbs got me through some rough times with advice, friendship, and clean smelling hardworking soap. This summer has tought me that we are in exactly the right place, but also that I really want to, perhaps, need to, focus on the trees and bees dream and not try so hard so fast to expand into all possible farming ventures. A CSA is not likely in my future. A berry and fruit and pumpkin stand perhaps sooner than our full out farm/orchard operation will be ready.

Review and check your insurance policy. Better to do it now than after something burns down. Nothing has here, but our friends up at Sugar Creek Family Farm know first hand. My Lil'Bug has been praying for her friend to not be so sad about the baby chickens that were lost. I am grateful none of our friends were hurt.

So those are some late night thoughts I thought I would record before the summer slips away into the fall again......