When life gives you lemons, add sugar

Like so, like that

It's taken me awhile to acknowledge (to myself) that I have actual farm chores to do everyday. It's been four years now, and I'm finally able to say "I have morning chores" and "I have evening chores".  Why is that, you ask? Because it's never seemed like work to me, and still doesn't actually. I like doing each activity for each animal. Feeding, cleaning, sweeping, filling water buckets, plus a thousand other things. But chores? Okay, maybe they are chores. The word "chore" makes it sound way worse than it really is. I'm coming around to using the term chore, and have begun to embrace it.
Lately, while on friends - and other people's property (for various reasons I'll explain) I've heard the word 'chore' mentioned. It really does sum up what I do every day. My daily chores.


It all started

While glancing at Craigslist recently, I found a saddle barrel that I liked. I've been looking for something more permanent to place my saddle on, now that I'm not actually using it on a horse. I wanted to keep the saddle, and place it on something whereby children who visit, can hop up on it and see what that feels like to be on a saddle, but just not necessarily on a horse. Then, while on Craigslist, I also found a 6 month old female guard dog. I had recently made a proposition to David in regards to moving the sheep/lambs to the front pasture (up by the pond), but that we would really need a different guard dog (besides our Whisper and Levi) to be with the sheep/lambs there, for a possible long term placement of the sheep. For some reason, this particular female guard dog on Craigslist jumped out at me.
Now, first things first. BOTH of these (saddle barrel and guard dog) are anywhere from 30-60 miles away. I figured if we made a big circle, we could arrange a pickup of both, in one fail swoop. After David's stamp of approval, we decided to move forward and go out on an adventure. Let's keep it exciting and take the '68 Chevy AND let's do this on the 4th of July evening.
Arrangements are made with the sellers, and off we go.

Sugar and Maybe are ready
for their July 4th evening adventure!

Buckle up, Buttercup! First, let go to Gober, Tx. Where's that? I don't know, but luckily my GPS on my phone knew how to get there, along with texted instructions from the seller, once we were 'close'. You know: Turn by the first tree, go the the Gober Post Office and take a left, then turn right at the second street, and we are the second mail box on the left. Geez. Almost 60 miles later, in our Chevy truck, no A/C and bumpy ride, we roll up to our first stop to pick up the 6 month old guard dog. Her name was Esther, but we renamed her Lucy. We loaded her up from a goat farm (where she was currently guarding a pen of goats) and placed her in a crate in the back of the truck. It would be a loud (truck noise and fireworks going off in neighboring areas) and hot ride home for us all. But wait, we still have another stop! Let's dart over to Whitewright, to pick up a saddle barrel from a guy at a sheep farm out there. 30 miles later (sorta towards back home) we pull into a property and load up a saddle barrel in the back bed of the truck, along with Lucy in her crate. To help set the tone for this trip a little better, imagine driving along screaming directions to David over the loud engine and wind noise all while trying to not create more/extra miles and give wrong directions while out in the country on roads that I have no idea about. David made all the right turns, and after picking up our two purchases, we moseyed back home jiggly jig, almost 3 hours later. This all included drive time, purchases, and visiting with the new people we met along the way (who, by the way, both made mention about just finishing their evening chores). I feel you, my friends.
Now, we drive home in the dark. We can hear and see the fireworks from people in the country, and then the towns started their own fireworks show(s) all around us. It was a beautiful and splendid way to spend the evening together. It was our 4th of July Adventure.

The saddle barrel is exactly what I was looking for.

And this young lady Lucy was just what I was looking for too. She is our new guard dog for the sheep, Lucy Lou. Even though she's only about 6 months old, she's doing a wonderful job. Levi and Whisper are her back-up for now. I have a feeling she won't need them for long. Between her instincts and personality, she's shaping up to be an intregal part of the Graves Farm. The best part? She's not eaten one single chicken or duck. (My worst fear with any dog on the property). I'm going to put this out there: I think she's not going to be a chicken eater (unlike our last attempt at getting new guard dogs).

A wink and a smile

Fist bump

Nice work, Graves. Now, all the sheep are up in the front pasture by the pond, with Lucy near them at all times. They have fresh water we provide for them and/or they can drink out of the pond which is much needed with this extreme heat.

Let's see how big they've grown:

We are still feeding Bandit and Cricket their milk with a bottle about 3 times a day (sometimes 4) all while we go up there to collect duck eggs, check their water and see how everyone is doing in this heat. They are doing great, and the lambs are all learning to graze like the mamas do. None of the lambs will be completely weaned from milk until they are closer to 3 months old.

Lucy considers the sheep/lambs her very own

Orphans Bandit and Cricket laying with
Mama Lulu, Willow and Oliver

Remind me again why we're doing this

The proposed concept to move the sheep to the front pasture was due to several reasons. First, Bandit and Cricket were spending more time with us than with the sheep. This is problematic in the long run. Both those sweet lambs can go through all the "chicken holes" to get in and out of the places that lambs aren't supposed to be, and would find their way to us. I get it. We are their mama, yet as they grow older, our goal is to incorporate them with the others. In addition to this, the cleaning of the barn (with more sheep now) was becoming more work than David or I desired, as it was originally designed to hold 3-4 sheep, not 10. The barn/shelter up by the pond is a perfect size for the sheep, lambs and Lucy Lou all without having to clean their living space morning and night (we don't really need more chores). And our last reason for moving them to a more contained space and all together? Less grazing availability. The mama ewes are getting too big with all the availability of forbes and grass, therefore we must decrease their food source. And that we did.

How's it working out? Great, so far. We don't know what we don't know, so only experience will teach us if this was a wise decision. They have shelter, water, and a limited food source (vs the unlimited possibilities with too much pasture, as they previously had). They also have Lucy. Lucy will take time to get up to speed on it all, but her potential is there. She's young, yet attentive. She's shy, yet loyal. She's finding her voice, learning from Levi and Whisper, and most importantly she's not interested in fowl. That means she gets to stay.


That's not good

Speaking of adventures, anytime you drive your classic car around it's an adventure. We enjoy it, others enjoy seeing old cars and trucks, and it's all-around a fun time. Classic cars create conversation wherever you go. People reminisce, they want to look at the engine and take it all in. I occasionally drive it to work, and on this particular day, it was no different.

Cue the dream sequence music. It was a beautiful morning and I hopped in our '68 Chevy C-10 Shortbed and headed up to work in Celina. Not far, only about 10 or 11 miles. It's Friday and although typically a busy day in clinic along with the triage calls, it goes by quite fast. Lunch time arrives and I'm driving the truck to a local feed store for a couple of square bales of coastal hay and some chicken feed, please. Thank you and I'm heading back to work for the afternoon. I pull into the parking lot and turn the truck off. Oh! I think I'll move the truck to that shady place over there, under the tree to keep the hay and feed in the bed of the truck a little cooler in the shade during this hot afternoon. I start the truck back up and immediately noticed orange flames coming from the engine. Uh, my truck is on fire. As soon as that thought hit my brain, the truck dies and now there's smoke from the hood. I know it's on fire, as there's a little fancy grill in the hood of the truck that faces the cab, and I can see the flames.

Stay calm. Turn the key off and get out of the truck, I tell myself. Without hesitation, I dial 911. There's cars parked around me, and what if my truck catches them on fire? What a mess. 911 dispatch tells me that the fire dept is on the way. People are starting to come out of their businesses and stare. I'm not quite sure what to do in this time of limbo, but the 911 operator told me to keep everyone away from the truck, and I do that. Then, I notice that at the Brookshire's Grocery store next door that a fire dept utility truck is there, as the Celina Fire Dept shops locally at this grocery store. I run over there, but to my dismay, they are not in the truck and are inside the grocery store. I run back to my flaming truck and keep everyone away. That's my job. Then, the fire dept guys come out of the grocery store and see the smoke. They grab their fire extinguishers and run to my truck, trying to find the hood latch in the cab. No, I tell them, it only opens from the front of the hood! There's no latch in the cab to open the hood. I did at least know better than to open the hood, as I've heard the intake of oxygen could cause the fire to engulf when the hood is opened. The fire dept was ready though. They've probably completed this drill a million times. They whisked into action and got things under control. Now the engine is merely simmering and smoldering. Great, I'm going to need a ride home.

While all this happening, the fire dept is asking me questions, taking information from me, and asking me more questions all while I'm grateful no one was hurt. No one else's car caught fire. This is all that mattered.

Once the fire dept got everything under control and the fire was out, they begin their process of packing up their things and leaving one vehicle by one vehicle. The last firefighter, while in his vehicle, kindly pulled up next to me as I stood in the middle of the parking lot staring at the truck and said, "Do you have a ride home or someone to call?" Why yes I do, thanks for asking, I tell him. This is the exact moment David has driven up in his car to find this hubbub settling down. I tell the firefighter I must go. I've got to run, as that's my husband, as in run-away run. That, or I need to jump in the back of your truck and hide. He thought it was funny, but he wasn't sure if I was serious or not. Away he drove, quickly.

David had arrived up at my work, as I had texted him a picture of the truck's engine on fire. He was incidentally driving back from being at his work office for the morning (which almost never happens these days) and was heading back to the house. What great timing he had, for real. He missed all the fire action, but since my work location is exactly on his path back home, all he had to do was pull into the parking lot. There we were, hugging each other in the middle of the parking lot, grateful no one was hurt. You can always get more money and material things, but you can't get a re-do on human life.

It could have been far worse.
Thank you, Celina Fire Dept!

Detail, details. David goes back home for the afternoon workday, I go back into my office for my afternoon workday. We will finish out our work this Friday afternoon. I call a tow truck. They come and get the truck. It gets settled into our favorite classic car auto shop. They are as shocked about it all as we were. David picks me up once the work day is done and we stare at each other. Wonder how this is all going to turn out. We have insurance, but what does that really mean with a classic car? I only know I'll be learning new things from this particular situation.


But what about the hay

Oh yeah, that. Would you believe that the classic car auto shop is in Gunter? It is. So we simply tootled up that next morning and picked the hay up from the back of the truck and took it back home, jiggity jig.

Toddling up to get the hay

And back home

Keep on keeping on,

Cyndi