The Farm: An Introduction

As I’ve mentioned before, the Farm is a wee-one–a little over five acres with only three of those being of the usable kind–the rest makes up yard and the woods that run behind. Three acres is not a lot of space, but what we have, we put to good use.

In it there is a garden which produces enough for us the whole year long (with a bit left over, for sharing), an orchard consisting of twenty-four trees of the apple-cherry-peach-pear-and-plum varieties, a berry garden made up of neat little rows bustling with asparagus, berries of the cran, black, rasp, hip, and blue type. And of course, the rhubarb. There are nut trees, both wal and hazel, the chicken yard, the pig corner, and the pasture. For the sheep. At least that’s what it used to hold. For five years it saw lambs born and grow up and have lambs of their own. It saw sheering and milking (these sheep were of the milking sort) and this summer it said good-bye to all such things. You see, the pasture is an acre. Just an acre. And the sheep, the way they were producing, were in the way of needing far more than that. At our peak we had eleven. Eleven sheep on one acre. It would not do. We, the Farmer and I both, refuse to keep animals in any way that is not beneficial, for both us and them. So we found homes for the five we had left, and now our pasture lies resting. Waiting. Wondering what will come next. Turkeys? Maybe. A cow? It’s possible.

It’s all possible.

But, truth be told, I miss the sheep. I miss their little tails wagging when they hear me coming, bottle in hand. I miss their way of hopping around when they think no one’s looking. I miss their rich, creamy milk and all it has the chance to become.

“In order to have that milk, you have to have lambs,” the Farmer says. “And we had way too many of them for their own good.”

I nod. I know. But still…I miss them. Almost enough to see about getting more land somehow. Almost enough to think about moving to a new Farm all-together.

It’s possible.