Life can be so challenging...friends, colleagues, family, in-laws...the more people you add the more complicated life seems to be. I struggle with some of my family and old friends...we all seem to change so much when we marry. I feel as though I have changed so much that my old friendships feel like they don't fit so well anymore, but I hold onto them nevertheless.  Maybe I am just maudlin. Before we all had careers, jobs, husbands, and my shackle (so everyone thinks)...the farm, getting along and talking seemed so much easier. I never thought living and working on an organic farm would cause so much strife in my personal relationships. It is a way of life that very, very few can appreciate let alone fathom. Being an organic farmer, I feel as though I am a member of a sub-culture of a subculture...a lonely place indeed. But it is the work that must be done, I feel. There are over 200 families counting on me, the boys, and the organic/non-gmo movement itself. And the animals...they are the most satisfying aspect of being here.

As I look back at picture of my childhood, I often had photos taken of myself with an animal, more so than my sister. We had rabbits we showed for 4H, cats, and dogs. Now, I have lots of milk cows. Milk cows are very special, especially Jerseys. Raised properly, they are so sweet and docile and I enjoy immensely the time I spend with our milk cows. One of my favorites, Olga, just had her first calf on Saturday. I watched her all day in the pasture waiting for that baby to come, since she might need help.

When I was off doing something with boys outside late in the afternoon, her calf came. Luckily, I went out to the pasture to check just moments, I think, after he was born. Once there, I discovered the sack was still over the front half of his body. I thought he was dead as I had no idea how long he had been laying there. Remembering Doug's instructions, I immediately tore away the sack, then thinking of my own birthing experiences, I stuck my fingers up his nose to clear his nasal passages. Then I got him sitting up as he had flopped back with his head on the ground, nose up, and began massaging his lungs. He began breathing! Success! Kilian said we should name him "Bullseye". It was such a special moment and my only "regret" is that he wasn't a heifer, for obvious reasons.