It took City Chick almost a year to convince Farm Girl that we needed (yes, needed!) a cotton candy machine. We finally got it in December and had yet to fire it up until this weekend. Farm Girl, for reasons City Chick cannot understand, was scared of the machine. Her desire for cotton candy finally outweighed her annoyance at City Chick for refusing to make it for her – so here is the video documentation. Enjoy!
farm
Wordless Wednesday: Vintage Farm Narnia – Summers on Horseback
Kuhs Farm Enquirer – Babe the Pig finally squeals all in one-on-one tell all with Farm Girl
Let me first preface this with that I am extremely lucky that I get to work with people that are dear friends. If they came to the farm merely as a client in the beginning, they quickly transition into a friend, who in most cases, doesn’t leave, and I have to catch myself time after time from saying the Jerry McGuire / Renee Zellweger speech “YOU complete ME….” so they don’t run away scared.
I truly love all of our brides and one such bride loved the farm so much on her initial visit that she fell in love with Babe (the pig) and absolutely had to get our breeders number so she could get a squealing little bundle of joy all her own. (Lauren T., I love you and yes I am using your name to tell my story.) This little piggy didn’t go to market, it went right to a lushly appointed new home where Lauren had dug in and planned to spoil her little girl “Dottie” beyond reason. It worked and a couple of months ago, adorable little blue eyed Dottie began snapping and biting Lauren’s mom (who if you pull out my middle dresser drawer, under my cute underwear, you’ll find the book of Patron Saints, and Lauren T’s mom is in there for tolerating harassment and backtalk from her daughter’s miniature pig. Dottie, having recently been fixed, is now acting out and cooking up a nasty tasting batch of “f- you soup” for her humans. All the previous training is out the window and she is trying everything she can to show aggression and dominate not only Lauren T’s mom but also Lauren T herself in her “I’m going to do whatever the hell I like tour”. Mama Lauren T. refers to her as El Piggo Diablo or Demolition Dottie. The upside is that Dottie probably feels like singer P!nk, but without the gravely voice or in Dottie’s case, potty control, she has become a hellion. Despite several different attempts at training, she is descending down through the seven rings of porcine hell.
Lauren T and I have talked about this over and over again. Each time it gets worse and yet I can’t understand why. Pigs are very very smart, but can Dottie – El Puerco Loco’s brain wrap itself around punishment or guilt trips? Its starting to seem that way by what I am hearing and that despite every bit of training they try to put in place to correct the initial bad behavior (snapping at Lauren T.’s mom), in the process of trying to control said pig, a new super-bad behavior emerges.
I am no expert, though as owner / caregiver to four of our own (three of them are actually sister and brother to Dottie), I know enough to offer marginally helpful advice. At least a couple months ago I thought so.
Dear readers, I know you have seen posts and video of Babe (our piggy) misbehaving and squealing his displeasure a number of times, but when pushes comes to shove, and in this case when Mama Farm Girl needs answers, I went straight to the source. Wise Buddha Babe, having lived longer than Dottie, just might be able to shed some light on the current situation.
Late last night, after careful negotiations between each of our P.R. and Publicity teams, Babe and I were able to find a quiet corner of the barn, far away from the preying eyes of poultrirazzi and over perfectly chilled San Pelligrinos with lemon slices and cucumber finger sandwiches, benevolent Babe granted me unprecedented access into the Porcine Mind.
What follows in the unedited conversation. Enjoy:
FARM GIRL: Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I know you were already scheduled to be making a big hay nest over in this warm corner, but I am sure our readers will deeply appreciate the generosity of you making the time to talk.
BABE: It is absolutely my pleasure. The predicament you described to my team opens a wonderful doorway or opportunity for you (and your readers) to better understand us pigs, and selfishly, it gives my an opportunity to realign my public persona. I am happy to help in any way I can. Lets get down to it, shall we?
FG: Thank you. I know you have heard the details and the personal struggles of your sister and you usually try to stay away from commenting on family. What about this particular turn of events made you want to veer away from your policy of protecting the privacy of close family members? Previous to this, you had compared your silence to Beyonce and Jay Z’s and the importance of only leaking small details. What made you break your silence?
BABE: Well I tell you, Farm Girl, It has been hard following the Facebook and Kuhs Farm WordPress Blog posts about me and keeping quiet. I really try to just do my own thing and try to hone my craft and not get to caught up in the negative publicity. In my early months, I had worked with a publicist that said any press, good or bad, is still publicity. Unfortunately, it may be a character flaw, but I am more thin skinned, and just a few weeks ago, and with a new publicist on our team, I am focusing now on the good that my position, fame and level of exposure can bring not only for me, my immediate family, but other misunderstood mini pigs around the world. I suppose now is as good a time as any to leak this information, but my team and Willy Nelson’s team are setting up a charity called PigAid, to increase awareness for our plight and to raise money for short term housing, medical, counseling and early retirement. I hate to say this out loud but I think we might already have Jennifer Anniston and Tim McGraw on board (he crossed his from right hooves).
FG: Congratulations! That sounds amazing!
BABE: Thank you. I am very proud. Don’t tell City Chick just yet. I’d like to keep it under wraps…….Anyway…..back to where we were…..More often than not, I find myself being typecast or treated like a dog, and it’s important to let the casual reader know that we are actually smarter than dogs. It’s true. Smarter than dogs. We are right up there with frickin’ dolphins and apes. Seriously. I think most people don’t know that. Many a time I have been deep into character, preparing for a role and inside the chicken house trying to get inside the mind of a coyote (yes Warner brothers is redoing the classic ‘Road Runner and Coyote’, and Kuhs Farm Peacock “Tarzan” has been cast in the leading role with me to play the coyote. I am trying to understand stealth and the mind set that would make my character want to break into a hen house. Honestly, at the SAG awards, I had a chance to talk briefly with Daniel Day Lewis, and he told me emphatically that if you love your craft, you have to eat sleep and breathe it, which is exactly what I have done. I want your readers to know that I really have no interest in eating eggs or general marauding, but these are essential qualities of my “coyote” character’s essence, and I am in full immersion mode.
FG: I had no idea.
BABE: Yes. The public has drawn the conclusion that I am a poorly adjusted pig who likes to gorge himself and has anger management issues. This is simply not the case. Do you think I like being this fat? Do you think Renee Zellweger wanted to be Brigit Jones forever? NO! I am deep into my character.
FG: That DOES make more sense, now that you say that. I apologize if we misjudged you.
BABE: Thank you. I sincerely appreciate that. I am hoping to get back in shape after filming ends. I hear the batman franchise is looking for a new lead and my friend Christian Bale is recommending me as his replacement and has offered to share his training regiment with me.
FG: Wonderful
BABE: Back to “Dottie”. I can totally understand what my sister is going through. She sounds like she is in a loving environment, but she is scared, and I know as a growing pig, a Cheerio is not nearly motivation enough. I know she has to stay in a 6 x 6 pen while her people are at work, and gets the run of the house as soon as they return, but as I understand it, she is also recuperating from surgery (“fixed”…why do you humans call it “fixed”? To us it makes us feel “broken”). It also sounds like a little counseling for Dottie and Mama human wouldn’t go amiss. Porcine adolescence can be a very rough time and it sounds like there are many adjustments she is actively going through. I only wish I could be there as a good big brother and tell her it will be OK. I would tell her that she is in an environment of love and to follow the path of least resistance while she is finding herself. (I would also tell her humans to stop putting doggy clothes on her – it’s embarrassing).
FG: She is a lucky pig to have a brother like you.
BABE: Thank you but I wish I could do more good. I know how easy it is to suffer from human bias and judgement. I have been fighting it all my life. I want people to know that I am friendly and outgoing. Why else would I walk up to complete strangers with a smile, and without so much as a Cheerio let them pet me, scratch behind my ears and roll over so they can rub my belly? We LOVE people. We really do. I would be happy to eat normal mini pig food if it meant I could make new friends every day and have a one-on-one opportunity like this to show them how intelligent and empathetic we really are.
FG: Well Babe, I can’t thank you enough for taking time out of your busy schedule to talk to us, and I am hoping that from what you have shared, a greater understanding and appreciation can grow between our two species. I think because of what you have said, Dottie’s situation can’t help but improve, and with the work you are doing with your charity and the release of your film, a closer relationship will grow.
BABE: That is my sincere hope….that breaking my silence can make it better for others of my kind that are still suffering from Porcine Bias. Also please tell your readers to stay tuned for my other upcoming projects.
FG: Thank you and I will.
Dear readers, I hope as you move through your day, this unprecedented access will help you not pre-judge the next “pig” you meet, and instead that we as humans can offer an olive branch and build better relations with one of the other fellow smart species of our planet. We don’t need an eloquent spider to tell us “Babe” is a humble pig, we need to open our hearts and minds, and according to Wise Man Lenny Cravitz, “Let Love Rule”.
We have all our ducks in a row
The Prose and cons of Mother Nature
Dear readers, there are two powerful forces at work here at the farm today. Up until the last several days, Mother Nature has been showing signs that spring is just around the corner. In the rock garden, jonquils and other bulb plants have emerged from their cocoon to rise above the ground. Started seeds are sprouting in neighbor Elva’s hoop house, and to balance out the plethora of roosters in our Chicken House, like our wonderful friends Jake and Gwen, we placed our spring chicken order. Weighted heavily in favor of all girls, we ordered Golden Laced Polish girls, an assortment of 10 rare breed girls, 10 gorgeous black and white Barred Rock ladies, 8 fancy black and white Domenique gals, 8 Golden Laced Wyandotte chickies, 8 Silver Laced Wyandotte ladies, 12 assorted brown egg layer gals and 4 rare and special Golden Cuckoo Marans. From the pictures in the Meyer’s Hatchery catalogue, a whole new flock of visually striking hens would soon call our farm their home.
I don’t watch a lot of television, because anything worth watching has been out for at least 2 seasons and I have already chewed it up on Itunes and I am re-watching until I find a new television drug (I went through all seasons of Downton Abbey is like 2 weeks, ran through HBO’s “Girls” and recently lost sleep for non-stop Game of Thrones). I watch the news every couple of days, but my life is more like Strawberry Shortcake’s, and I get sick of all the bad news and want to run back to my magic farm world, where for the most part, everything is ok, and the only mass shooting or violence is a boys vs. girls water gun fight in the height of summer. Back to reality……sadly….City Chick repeatedly tells me for the last several days that horrible weather is headed our way. Last night with a mouth full of chocolate pie and a full 4 inch top of whip cream, she makes fun of me to the waitress by saying “see, she never pays attention or watches the news!!”. Her phone is buzzing with calls from people wanting to know if her work will be closed tomorrow and what the preemptive shutdown policy is. She wants to know what my plan is for ‘Snowmageddon’ and I have none. Why do I need one? Really and truly I don’t. We are a farm. I live for days like today when we are blanketed in pristine snow and I can walk outside, camera in hand and send City Chick pictures of a Wonderland she won’t see until all the roads around her are plowed. I will build a big fire in the huge stone fireplace in my house and make real hotchocolate if I want to. I don’t really need a plan…..’Snowmageddon’ is welcome any time in my book.
Except today. I received a notice email two days ago letting me know our spring chicks were shipped and I called our post office bright and early yesterday so they would call me as soon as they arrived. Like any expectant nursery, everyone hopped to get their new space clean, ready, warm and ready to sustain them for their first several weeks and months of life. As more people talked of the coming storm, my concern grew, as hour after hour went by without the call that they had arrived. As City Chick and I dined last night, my dread grew as I tried to track them through UPS to no avail. At 7:30 this morning my phone rang with the call and I jumped out of bed and ran to the post office to get them.
It was a 32 pound box, and as the lady emerged from the back door to hand them to me, I instantly felt encouraged at the loud peeping I heard. The box was heavier and bigger than any box I had ordered before. I made calls home and back at the farm, 4 work guys and three girls scrambled as we made a quick change of plans to bring them in to the farm house kitchen for warmth in hopes of balancing out what I can only imagine was a frigid ride through the front end of this storm. Ali, beautiful soul and songbird herself, who in addition to tending bar in Soulard, writing the music for her bands new CD, and practicing an entirely vegan life….this wonderful caretaker of farm lives has pulled the heat lamps indoors and moved kitchen furniture aside to make ready for the little peeps I am on my way home with. Maranda (Pony Girl) who having spent the night, is retrieving shavings, feeders and waterers as well as first aid kit for supplies and plastic syringes so we are ready to give the chicks hydration and electrolytes if needed. Ryan and Chris are bringing in the deluxe brooder box with lamps, after a quick scramble to clean it out from its recent retirement home in the farm house basement. Chris V. (Captain Crabby Pants) and his girlfriend Mona are also on scene waiting to assist in any way as they crowd in the farm kitchen as I walk the parcel of life up the stairs and place in on the cleared kitchen table.
With my trusty pocketknife out, I cut through the plastic ties that hold the box top on and separate the cardboard as everyone leans over to see the contents of this much awaited arrival. Springtime in a box. I remove the lid and to our collective horror, the box is mostly dead bodies. It is devastating and heartbreaking for even the hardest of hearts (of which there are none here). It is death and horror and the complete opposite of what we all hoped for. Hearts dropped like weights. The sadness threatens to squeeze us out of the small farmhouse kitchen. Before we can fully digest the scene, there is movement in the box. Not much, but there is movement. The box is divided in four but like Red Cross workers, we quickly move into search and rescue, followed by triage. The space heater is pulled in, towels yanked from shelves, every set of hands is filled with birds and one by one we go through the box in search of signs of life. An image sticks in my head to this day of a firefighter carrying the limp body of a child away from the carnage of the Oklahoma City bombing. With that same care and empathy, these big lumbering farm boys who can fix anything inanimate, now cross the room and cradle these little bodies of the baby chicks that are still clinging to life. Frank, who is responsible for the perfectly symmetrical cut of the grass in the bowl and who lovingly tends and trims everything green, is now helping save baby chicks. Big Chris is cradling babies as he warms them in from of the heater and massages their chests and with soft words, gently trying to coax them to hang on. Former captain Crabby pants and his girlfriend Mona are huddled around an impromptu pen of the strong enough chicks that are able to stand upright, and as chicks are taken from the boxes, these two warm them in their hands while trying to get a syringe in their tiny mouths to give them the extra advantage of fluids and electrolytes. Ryan is at the kitchen counter that has been totally cleared and is now covered in a towel with a red warmth light clipped to the cabinet as he talks in his big ‘Pappa Bear” voice to them and tells them that they have to fight. It is the same loud voice that I would imagine he uses to cheer for a favorite sports team, but in his loving way (as a father of 3) he is pep talking them in to staying in the game, getting their game face on and rallying in a fight for their life. Maranda is curled up on the floor with the more active chicks, readily accepting those that are deemed able to stand and act perky.
Curled up snug against the front of the stove, nestled so close to the space heater that it is a wonder she doesn’t spontaneously combust, beautiful Ali is working her magic with the truly struggling chicks, massaging them and keeping them in front of the warmth and moving the others to slowly rotate the highest risk chicks in front of the most intense heat. She sits in this position for the better part of an hour, bundled head to toe in Carhart bib and gear that she wears to feed everyone in the cold of the farm morning. Sitting next to a raging heat source, when she should be just about to melt, she lovingly and quietly spreads her love and empathy as deep and as wide as she is able. She has the kindest heart here and it is Ali I worry about the most for having her witness and bear the full brunt of this heartbreak. The farm kitchen and the temporary ER staff that is operating within it is very very touching.
In the midst of this tragedy, it is incredible to see what the need does to the people it confronts. Everyone has changed, and the tenderness with which they have abandoned their tasks to stop and try to help saves lives pull me out of my nano focus on the sadness of this moment. Outside the snow is falling not in flakes, but rather in large and extra large chunks. The world is shrinking down to just the farm and as far as we can see, we are being blanketed in a quiet and peaceful white. It really doesn’t matter what the news says, what the highways look like, the ice factor, what is left on store shelves, who is closing early or how low the temperature will drop. The baby chicks never stood a change as the front wave of this storm, and in our hearts, we all know that. We did the best we could, and sometimes Mother Nature defies our understanding. Sometimes thing happen that make no logical sense to us if there is a God and right is Might. These babies were shuffled about in and out of freezing trucks and it is a day we will never forget. In a bittersweet way, I am thankful that their lives were only 3 days long.
As I look outside to the beauty and the visual feast being laid out before us, I am inclined to accept it as a token of Mother Nature’s sadness, but also as a gift of the quiet stillness that only a day like this can bring. I am sure she does not relish loss of life, and perhaps there is a balance or a reason that we have yet to know. I can’t help but come out of the farm house kitchen with the sense that I am blessed in so many ways, and despite that battle we lost, there is a bigger and more beautiful image to take in today. Surrounding us is a white wonderland that is more breathtaking than any image sent in to the weatherman. It is a non-stop picture of perfection that most people will live their lives without seeing. More importantly it is a deep knowing that the cold outside means nothing in comparison to the warmth around me. On any day and for any reason that the rest of the city would shut down, buyout the stores, cling to their TVs and give in, I am happy to be in the company of the few with hearts as big as those belonging to my farm family.
Spring is just going to have to wait a little bit longer.
Farm Girl’s Top Ten List of Things That Are Really Really Awesome Today
1). the sun is out and shining brightly.
2). the Estate side cottage renovation is ahead of schedule and Martha Stewart called (again) to say she loved the colors, finishes and details I selected and uploaded to my Pinterest Board (which apparently she stalks because she doesn’t have anything better to do…..).
3). the Willy’s Jeep is ready for it’s inspection and subsequent shenanigans sometime next week.
4). I was NOT attacked by my pet goose who thinks he’s a pit bull, unlike yesterday. Ouch!!!!!
5). The greenhouse beds are cleaned up and ready for Spring, and I could probably put some farm poo mix if:
a). My fingers weren’t already at frostbite level from doing nothing at all.
b). The cow poop was firmer instead of the RPG fired poop slowly making it’s way down the stall walls of the barn.
6). That we are taking a farm family field trip to go see the Professional Bull Riders Association tonight and everybody’s wearing real cowboys boots.
7). Kuhs Cowboy Nick is cleaning out stalls, which as a man cleaning, is tremendously sexy in and of itself, but he’s doing them in a sexy pair of khakis…..meow
8).Our dear friends Beth and Nate who are getting married here in less that 8 weeks, are on the verge of finally picking out the invitations and caterer. (As a wedding present, Lauren and I are starting on designing their baby room for their as yet unconceived child, so that hopefully it will be finished before Beth and Nate have to leave for the hospital.)
9). We have apparently been elevated to rockstar status by our local Tractor Supply Store, and are now able to enter from the back door of the store, wag fingers, snap a little and poof!!!!!…….10 minutes later a full strapped and loaded trailer is ready to roll so we can go grab Mexican and get one of those fishbowl size Mango Margueritas in Lauren by 2pm.
10). Babe the pet pig is taking a break from rooting up and destroying my beautiful lawn – opting instead to laying in the bright light of the sun next to the barn, and from my sunglasses, looks by be getting a red pork belly. Besides, the ground is frozen and it too damn cold to try to shovel plow you nose through frozen ground. Duh!!!!
Xo,
FG
In which we hunt a mouse
A mouse is raiding our snack supply in the studio … We attempt to catch him, unsuccessfully.
Movie Monday: Kuhs Gets Musical
Yup, this actually happened!
More on Farm Narnia / Why it is a Good Thing I Got to Change My Shoes
So, in the TS Lewis series on Narnia, Narnia was always finding Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy and sucking them back into the magic of that world. Now, I drive a Volkswagen up to the magic, honk and roll right on through the gates into Farm Narnia – no waiting around for the magic to find me! It is always an anything can happen at any time sort of place – and anything and everything usually does happen!
So, I do have a real job that mostly requires sitting at a desk all day being on a computer and talking to people on the phone (no, really – I do not live or work at the farm!) except for the days when I am running here, there and back again. Granted, my office is in a mall (which probably could be its own blog), which is more fun than your average office cubicle setting, but comes with its own challenges (how many of you walk past Cheesecake Factory on the way to your car every day?). So twice during the work week, I change from my office clothes into my barn clothes and head out to Farm Narnia – but I don’t change into my farm boots until I’m actually at the farm. This means I walk through the mall looking confused with three or four inch heels combined with crappy jeans, t-shirts with horse drool stains and ratty fleeces on. I’m OK with this – it is better than dragging dirty boots around, right?
It had been a slightly weird day with an upcoming event and a TV appearance causing the usual mayhem and drama that always seems to happen if I leave my desk. As I’m pulling up the road, Farm Girl comes out of her driveway and tells me to hurry up and park in the grass and get in. Our missing dog Lucy (weird, right? Narnia!) has just been sighted. Not knowing where we are going and still in the 5 inch booties pictured, I opted to grab my farm boots and change footwear in the Rogue Rocket.
Good thing because the next thing I know I’m walking through a rough tilled farm field on spongy ground, in the dark calling and whistling for Lucy. Farm Girl and I head in different directions and before long I am at the top of a hill all alone, scanning a giant flashlight across the landscaping and still calling for Lucy. My phone then rings and I see a truck coming across the field towards me. Captain Crabby picks me up (otherwise I would have been walking uphill both ways) and he tells me the good news that Lucy made it back home!
I firmly believe that someone took Lucy (heck, she is super friendly & will hop in anyone’s car), got tired of dealing with a dog and just opened the door and kicked her out. She was a nice solid weight and in only 9 days she lost 14 pounds and her ribs and backbone became prominent. But, she’s back where she belongs out at the farm now where she is getting a ton of TLC and being fussed over by everyone.
So, as we celebrated Lucy’s return, I still had to move my car out of the grass where I had ditched it and feed Sampson at the barn. Farm Girl hung out with me briefly and went back to the Big House to tuck Miss Lucy into bed. I finished up with Sampson and led him back into the crisp and clear evening. I stopped for a moment to simply stand next to the fuzzy warmth of the horse and see the vapor curling out of his nostrils. Away from all the city lights, the stars looked incredibly bright in the velvet textured sky overhead with Orion rising over over the big tree in the bowl. Then, I saw it. A gorgeous and all too brief flash of blue streaking across the sky. A falling star . . . less poetically (and certainly not Narnia-esque) known as a meteorite. That old childish charm came to mind:
“Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might get my wish granted tonight.”
But the thing is . . . I can’t say that I had much else to wish for in that moment. Would you?
The Farm Narnia Time Zone
When City Chick first started coming out to Farm Narnia, she noticed Farm Girl had this tiny little habit of running late. Five minutes, fifteen minutes, an hour. Maybe two hours. Now City Chick functioned on, understandably of course, City Time. She didn’t realize that when she drove through the gates that she had crossed over the Farm Meridian and landed in Farm Time.
Yes, dear readers, much like the Prime Meridian, there is a Farm Meridian, thus giving Farm Narnia its own time zone, otherwise known as Farm Time. Farm Time is rather interesting in its ability to run about two hours behind normal city time and sometimes just stops all together. Farm time is both dreaded and adored by City Chick and many farm regulars, visitors and volunteers.
You see, while Farm Time co-exists with City Time, it doesn’t operate on quite the same principles. Farm Time allows the farm magic to extend a mere moment into minutes and hours. It is what gives us a chance to breathe in the cool clean air after a thunderstorm while watching the ducks party down in a puddle or to watch a retro-hued sunset with cotton candy clouds drifting by or simply stand by a magnificently gigantic draft horse munching quietly at her dinner, marveling at the sheer size of such a creature. It is also what allows a huge amount of work to be accomplished in what seems a very short amount of time because it is just so much fun to be in Farm Narnia that you forget to pay attention to the minutes and hours that just seem to slide on by.
Farm Time does have its drawbacks, of course. Most often when you have something else to do in the city and just HAVE to be back at a certain time. I think everyone who has been out to the farm and had somewhere or someone to meet afterwards knows what I mean – just standing and chatting for a minute quickly goes by into an hour in real-time, even though it is only five minutes in farm time. You get so caught up in doing something or enjoying something that you completely forget about the time (or in City Chick’s case convince yourself that it can’t possibly be that late yet) and when you finally do manage to glance at your watch realize you should have left an hour ago. City Chick’s husband is pretty reconciled to this phenomenon by now, but she has heard stories from other Farm Narnia visitors and friends that weren’t quite as understanding about Farm Time.
Farm Girl is also quite talented at sucking you into what City Chick jokingly refers to as “The Vortex”. This almost always starts with her walking up and saying something to the effect of “Hey – come with me, I have this really cool thing/surprise to show you!” This usually coincides with starting on a project you’ve promised to help with or vowed to take care of (this is more the case with City Chick . . . she gets on a mission, you know) and you think it will just be five minutes. Two hours later with a hammer in your hand or wrestling a goat on a completely different part of the farm, you start to wonder how the heck you got there. City Chick can tell you what just happened – you got sucked into the Farm Girl Vortex and it deposited you in a completely different section of Farm Narnia. You see – sometimes Farm Narnia gets the best of all of us and directs our energy where it needs it the most. Farm Girl is merely the space and time continuum conductor.
Farm Time is most pronounced in the summer with the seemingly endless hours of daylight to ride for miles, put up fences and go on off-farm adventures (Farm Time is in full effect in the Rocket Rogue. Just because it has left the property doesn’t mean it still doesn’t belong to The Farm, operating on Farm Time.). But the winter will surprise you too – there are so many good indoor projects to work on (you know the ones we swear we will work on when it isn’t so busy with weddings and everything else that goes on in the nice weather) and the lack of daylight should be forcing us to focus on reducing the clutter, repairing and improving the interiors of the buildings and working the boring business side of the business. While the clutter busting, repairing and improving is happening, the cold and the dark are surprisingly feeding a new vein of creativity and taking us on new paths with new opportunities.
So, if you’ve experienced the phenomenon of Farm Time – share a comment. City Chick is guessing that there might be some funny stories about people getting into trouble for being late on City Time. Or maybe you have a special place that has its own time zone too?
Kuhs Farm 