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Now neither of these things are an every-night thing. If it was though, I wouldn’t complain. Some nights I’m literally too tired to do more than collapse after a shower. He, too, has nights when he comes in, showers, and then falls asleep on the couch while I’m doing laundry or dishes.
It’s a new routine. A new normal. To put it lightly, thus far, I’m having a blast.
The heat of summer, the bane of us all, is here. It will be in the seventies at night, cooling off enough to fool you, only to be close to one hundred during the day. I’m not a fan, and it needs to eff off already.
But that’s summertime in Virginia. Nothing changes, it’s going to be the same again tomorrow, and the day after, and on and on until fall gets here. Then we’ll all bitch about the cold and snow, so really, it’s not worth bitching about right now.
Today marks my six-month anniversary of being a baby farmer—my dad’s given title for me. I’ll take it. And with that title comes a lot of responsibility. Today we are hoping to finish up some more hard labor.
My dad, uncle, and cousins are here to help build outbuildings in the three separate pastures that have been selected for the animals’ use.
This is after spending weeks putting up a smaller feed barn, building an outbuilding to store hay, and most recently, taking the last two weeks to put up stable, safe fencing beyond the far back paddocks, making the areas ready to be used by the animals. This will allow the horses and goats to have their own space, all while still being able to see each other. Reba can go in her own space or go to whatever one she wants.
She’s our emotional support donkey that is loved by all here. To see her and Sandy, my big seventeen-three-hand bay side by side, is comical. But they’re besties. Picasso loves her too. She brays; they whinny back. It’s a heart-dripping cuteness overload.
“Hey, Ness, you wanted the outbuilding in both side pastures to be double-facing right? In the middle of the pasture but close to the fencing? Yes? No? I’m thinking Dad is losing it?”
I snort out a laugh at the look on Jeremy’s face.
“Yes, that way if it’s raining or windy or whatever, they can get to a safe, dry, shady spot.”
He looks at his notebook and nods. “See, that’s what I have written down, but Dad said that wasn’t right. You only wanted it open and facing the barn.” He takes his ball cap off and uses the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe his forehead.
“No, the winds normally blow across the field crossways from the house. I do want one side facing toward the barn, but I also want the other to face out toward the open fields.”
We share a look before I remember what I’d told him first thing this morning.
“You know, he’s probably thinking of the small pasture right out back. Let me show you.” We walk to the back, and I point to the smaller of the two fenced-off areas. “This one right here. I want an open covering over here, just so Reba has a place to lay down if she wants to. I plan to leave a gate open; either she can go out with Picasso and Sandy or the goats depending on which gate’s open. But this one also allows her to just be in here by herself and walk back into her stall if she wants.”
“Cool, cool. I get to tell the old man he’s wrong. It’s like Christmas in July right now.”
He walks off as I shake my head. With my egg apron in hand, I head back toward the barn. When I come in, Mama’s looking over Reba, petting her sides, making a face. My grin grows. I’d been wondering if she’d finally figured out why Reba had been getting a little healthier over the last year. Other than just normal growth.
I open the door to where the chickens come to roost. The nesting boxes are the perfect height to be able to reach in and pull out any eggs that were laid. My girls average one egg a day. That means almost a dozen eggs a day now. My girls are good producers. Today, as I fill the pockets on my apron, I get super excited. Instead of ten eggs, I get eleven.
Either I’d missed one last night or someone was extra productive this morning.
Either way, I’ll take it.
“I think she’s eating too much. Good lord.” Mama draws my attention to where she stands. I lock the door back and walk over to the back stall. “She needs to be muzzled, or else you need to stop giving her access to grass and hay. She’ll founder if she gains too much weight.”
“Mama, don’t be fat-shaming my pregnant donkey.”
Her head whips around as I approach. “Pregnant? You set up to have a Jack come visit her?”
“Well, no. She came here pregnant. I was trying to keep it a secret, but the farrier noticed her belly was a little more rounded than Norma. That was right after we got her. I had the vet come look her over, and he did a preg check. She’s due anytime from now to September, maybe October as we aren’t exactly sure when she got pregnant. Dad couldn’t say the last time she was even near a Jack. I didn’t want you to know yet.”
“Huh. Why not? It’s not nice to keep secrets from your mother.”
“I was hoping she’d have the baby around your birthday. It would be a big surprise for you.”
She wraps an arm around me and squeezes. “I think that’s precious. I’m still happy. A birthday grandbaby. But it’s still an interesting situation. She wasn’t with Henry or—I bet it happened when we had those tornadoes and bad weather last year about this time. Everyone was pulled into the big barns and corrals then, so they were out of the winds and rain. That was the only time she’s ever been in the vicinity of a Jack that I know of. I had to keep her away from everyone most of the time.”
“Well, I’m grateful that it’s happened. Now she will be able to experience motherhood at least once.”
“Will you keep it?”
“I don’t see a reason not to. I only have one Jenny, so there’s available space to have another if Dean doesn’t mind.”
