Farmlife Revisited

Well. It has been a loooooooooong time since I've posted on here. This is mostly intentional. I find it just too painful to deal with anything regarding the old farm, chickens, and especially goats. Honestly, I never intended to post again or probably even look at my blog, and probably wouldn't have if I didn't finally have something to say. I have had a surprising number of supportive emails and comments from devoted readers of my blog, which to this day I am still in awe that such things even exist. I am incredibly flattered, comforted, and heartened to know that so many people out there really give a crap about what went down on my farm. I have had classmates come to me who stumbled upon my blog from my myspace status, and one girl even said she sat down and read the whole thing in one go and cried for half an hour. I couldn't believe it. It all seems so distant to me now that I sometimes think it could have been a dream, or more appropriately, a nightmare. Don't get me wrong, the first 10 months were probably some of the happiest of my life, but the final few after the dog attack negated any good feelings from the previous.

My brother, Eric, lives there now with his wife and two adolescent boys, William and Kyle. They still have the remaining goats and chickens that I did not sell, namely Tierra, Mumble, and Sable, broken neck and all. I have only seen her once since moving, and she was still small, thin, and with patches of hair falling out. Needless to say it didn't quell the bad mental picture I had of her. Since then, though, my mom reports that she is still the same size she was just after the attack, at about 4-5 months old, but now downright fat and glossy, which does my heart good. I think the trauma of the attack and her broken neck were just too much for her growing body and permanantly stunted her growth. Tierra is doing well, and this is the first year of her life that she has not been bred, which is a welcome change, I'm sure. There is a slight chance that Mumble, the Nigerian Dwarf buck, might have found a way to get at her, but as of yet she's still showing no signs of pregnancy. Mumble is doing well, too, and is the tiniest little buck I have ever seen. He'd probably be worth a fortune with his small size if it weren't for the horn scur he has. But hey, he was my very first disbudding and by all accounts bucks are very difficult to keep from scurring due to their extreme levels of testosterone. Every single girl I disbudded turned out beautifully. Eric has since gotten a pig and a horse, if you can believe that, and though I have yet to meet the horse, I guess she is gargantuan. Eric, a carpenter by trade, has redone the barn and I hear it is quite nice now. My mom tells me the horse goes right into the barn with the goats and Tierra, who is no tiny animal herself, walks right under the horse's belly without even ducking her head. Wow! I didn't know what to be more shocked by, the fact that Tierra is ABLE to walk under the horse's belly or the fact that she WANTS to.

So a couple of people have told me that I should turn my farm blog into a book. While extremely flattered, at the time I laughed it off. But recently I have gotten the writing bug, and I would love to write a book, but unfortunately I have absolutely no imagination, so fiction is out of the question. So that has left me brainstorming for anything in my life interesting enough to even talk about, let alone write about. My escapade as a farmer is one of the stranger things I have done, and now that I am thoroughly submerged in a "normal" city life, every so often, such as while sitting outside my Microbiology classroom at college, somebody will mention that they grew up on a farm and I'll blurt out, "I used to have a farm in Walterboro. I raised milk goats." Inevitably all mouths stop and all eyes turn to me. Here I am, a young woman with what has been recently dubbed "funky red hair", tattoos, and sporting more than my fair share of facial piecings, claiming to have been-there-done-that-goat-farming. I understand their confusion. So I'm thinking about writing a book about it. Or at least attempting to write a book about it. My father wrote five books, something that was brought to my attention only a few years ago, so it could even technically be said that it is in my blood. ;) I know when I was starting out as a farmer, I would have loved to read something like it.

I started it today. I am as of this minute on page TWO, mind you! That would be exactly 845 words into it, and if wikipedia can be trusted, it only takes about 25,000 words to be considered a book. But honestly, if I incorporate the actual blog posts, it puts me at over 51,000 words... suddenly seems a lot more feasible, doesn't it? And that doesn't even include pictures.

Here are a couple of updated family photos, just to keep you all informed that we are still alive and kicking. I recently got accepted to the Medical University of South Carolina (kind of a big deal, apparenlty, who knew Charleston had it's own little Harvard? haha!) and I start nursing school August 17th. I'm thrilled, scared s***less, and overwhelmed at the prospect of juggling 32 hours a week of school, plus a reported 15-20 hours of study time each week, a husband and a kindergartener all at once. Thank goodness the program is only 16 months, so I'll be graduating with a Bachelors Degree next Christmas (2010). The plan is to get my Masters in Midwifery.

I know, he's beautiful! Every time I see this picture all I can say is, yea, that came outta me!

Here's the aforementioned "funky red hair," including new tattoo. Yes, I've gone completely to the dark side and covered my upper back in tattoo ink, dyed my hair an unnatural shade of red, and even got my lip pierced. Blame city livin'! Or finally being old enough to do the things I've always wanted to do and a boss who will let me. (I'm currently working part time as a bookkeeper/assistant to a woman who arranged continuing education for teachers.)