Simpler Living column, part three

When I submitted February's Simpler Living column to my editor on Tuesday, I realized that I'd never posted January's installment about making do with less.

"One of the reasons we moved to the country was to get away from the buzz of modern suburban life. Even though we knew the dangers of living next to the Joneses, there was always that pressure to keep up or, even worse, get ahead. But that usually meant spending money, and it had us stretched to our limits.

We wanted off the consumer merry-go-round. We wanted to spend less and live more." (Read more here.)

Truth be told, I probably forgot because we've been pretty busy lately trying to figure out how to make more. Money, that is. While it's true that we've cut down our variable spending quite a bit since moving here, there are still nasty things like mortgage payments and property taxes.

Making a living, while living our life, remains our biggest challenge and while we've got loads of possibilities, this darned "global economic downturn" isn't helping much.

So between that and dealing with various kid infections and the inevitable fallout (turns out we've done a great job teaching our kids to share: unfortunately that means sharing nasty little microbes and viruses -- with us) I haven't been blogging much lately.

So sorry, folks. Just bear with me a bit longer.

In the meantime, click here for the previous month's installment of Simpler Living.

Random moments of happiness #6, 7 & 8

It's been a few days since my last post but we've had a week of kids sick with nasty colds and parents fighting them off (the colds, not the kids.)

But rest assured, the goat hasn't turned us off farming.

I've got loads to write about -- our farewell to the goat (tomorrow, bright and early); our first "successful" visit with the farrier (notice the quotes around the word "successful"); the solution to our "how on earth will we be able to manage our 30 plus acres of hay field with no tractor?" problem (no, we did not buy a tractor); the organic growers meeting I attended last night that connected me with some local farmers doing amazing things with market gardens, hops and even yaks (yes, yaks!) and the crazy weather we're having that is bringing new meaning to the words "poopy mess." (I'm listening to a torrential downpour of rain right now... did I sleep through the rest of winter?)

But in the meantime, all I'm good for is posting a photo.

Here's one of Henry's random moments of happiness, keeping watch over his farm.

Okay, two photos. Just look at those ears!

Maybe, just one more: It's an equine conga line... cha-cha-cha! Okay, time for bed... I'm starting to find myself far too amusing.

Click photo to enlarge

What else can I say but "thank you"

I've got to say, there are some amazing knowledgeable people out there in the blogsphere and I feel very privileged to have connected with them.

I wrote this post about Oscar mostly to get the feelings I was experiencing out of my head and on to paper (the process helps me work stuff out.)

As I said before, I was quite nervous about writing because I didn't want to come off sounding foolish or weak. Or worse -- like this was "my fault" due to ignorance or inexperience.

There was quite a good response in the comment section on both the GRIT blog and here -- and it was some of the best advice, both practical and philosophical, I could have expected.

One reader wrote: "Believe it or not it's harder if you name the animals. Something about giving a name more than “brown kid” or “leghorn rooster” makes it easier to get attached to the animal. I’m an animal lover and have a bad tendency to name even the stray cats we find sharing our own cat’s food bowl on random occasions so this was a hard thing for me too. By not naming the animals like the pigs and chickens we aren’t going to keep its easier to be reminded not to get too attached."

A friend of mine wrote: "My old farm gran said "goats can kill a child; they can be mean as hell; and they are sure not going to change if you got a bad one" and she has been around a farm for a long time- 76 years on hers and 93 in total! You hardly want top live in fear of a freakin' goat and have the kids and you wearing helmets in the barn... So don't feel bad- get on with it, it won't be the first or last. Even if you were in the petting zoo business- that goat would have to go!"

Mama Pea wrote: "I believe that animals don't spend one second thinking about when they will die. They are creatures programmed for living in the moment. Although I can hardly stand to think of any animal suffering, I do feel killing animals for food is a necessity that must be done but as humanely as possible. If you and/or your husband aren't able to come to terms with this, you may want to reconsider having animals. But also remember that as long as you have an animal on your farm, it will have the best life it possibly could."

And finally, Barbara wrote: "It really does get easier and even the best farmers have to learn where to weed out the unproductive or hard to get along with animals. It's not a matter of failure or success. Every animal has it's own personality and it's idiosyncrasies. Some are just naturally flawed and even the most dyed in the wool farmer can do nothing with them. It's just part of nature. So don't feel guilty over something that you can't control. Instead feel good about the smart decisions you make to better everyone else's lives on the farm be they people or animals."

I often feel like we're working and living in something of a vacuum here. We haven't yet connected with any local, small-scale farmers (though I'm working on that.) So while books are all very informative and first-hand experience is imperative, I really appreciate hearing from the been-there-done-there, "I know what you're going through but get on with it" set.

So thank you for being firm, yet gracious, with your advice. I appreciate it. And I've decided to keep raising goats, at least for a while. We'll continue to give them the best life that we can and not feel guilty when it's time to say goodbye.

P.S. After I wrote the post, I knew what I had to do with Oscar. He's going, one way or another -- and pronto. Lucas is going to call around on Monday to see if someone will butcher him for us (eventually, I would like to do that ourselves -- that's what self-sufficiency and reliance is about, right? -- but not with one that I'm so emotionally entangled with.) Failing that, he's off to the sales barn on Tuesday. I'll keep you posted.