A blog post on why I didn’t write a blog post.

When I began this blog, I made a commitment to writing posts twice a week posting on Mondays and Thursdays. This seemed reasonable and doable. Enough consistency on my end, but not an overwhelming burden to create content.

And then life happened.

Life happens a lot on the farm. In this case it was Sunday. I had a plan for a post to write Sunday and to be published Monday.

While Sunday should be a day of rest and reflection – an ideal time for me to write – this Sunday had me bustling to prepare soil in my newly (almost) finished hoop house.

My broccoli seedlings were bursting at the seams, another storm front was heading our way, and life was telling me I needed to get them planted now.

I happily worked in the hoop house, taking pictures along the way, knowing I could relax Sunday evening and write my post about the work I was doing in the garden.

And then life happened.

You see our cows escaped again a month ago. It was soul crushing. We got Helen back the first weekend, but Panda was proving to be a challenge. “Roguish” was what one experienced farmer called her. The type of cow you send to the butcher. We are not quite there yet; we want to work with Panda more first. Besides it was largely our fault the cows escaped again. While the fencing was complete, the gates were not up, and the girls were able to run right through the openings.

After about a week Panda showed up at our neighbor’s field. We were able to get her fenced in their pasture with their herd of cows. That’s a start. Getting her out was the problem. The ground around the feed lot where the cows get loaded into their trailer was muddy and nearly impossible to walk in. Especially if you are a heavy cow.

Every evening for two weeks, Mr. J visited Panda at our neighbor’s field. He would bring a bucket of feed and get her to come to him. He went the same time every night to build trust and develop a routine. During this time, we were waiting for the ground to dry enough for Panda to navigate her way through the feed lot to the barn.

With another storm heading our way, this past weekend was our last chance for a while. Panda would anticipate Mr. J’s arrival with the feed bucket and for the last few days would wait close to the feed lot anticipating his arrival.

Mr. J headed out the door around 5pm Sunday evening as I began making dinner. I still had plenty of time to write my post that evening.

And then life happened.

Mr. J calls, “I got her in the feed lot with the gate closed. Can you come help me get her in the barn?”

I drop what I am doing and dash out the door. Arriving at the field, a mile down the road, I find an agitated Panda, not happy with being closed in. At points she looks like she is going to break her way through the fencing. My presence is not making Panda feel better. O.K. Let’s rethink this.

“How ‘bout I go get a bale of hay. We can put it in the barn and see if that will lure her in.” I suggest.

I dash home, get the hay, and a jacket for Mr. J, because he will be playing a waiting game, it is dark, and the temperature is starting to dip.

After dropping these off, I have to head into town to get our son from his job. Driving back, we get a text from Mr. J.

“I got her in the barn.”

Good. Weeks of worry, fret, patience, and coaxing is paying off.

We head to the field and find Mr. J connecting our neighbor’s trailer to his truck. In the dark. I head home to get flashlights to help with the wrangling.

Then I get a call. “We got her in the trailer.” Magic! They no longer need me and I can get started on dinner.

It is 8pm. There will be no writing from me tonight. Dinner is on the table by 9pm. We pour some Prosecco to toast the return of Panda. Bone tired we climb upstairs and are soon fast asleep.

That’s o.k. I can write my post tomorrow.

And then life happened.

Monday, anticipating the storm’s arrival later that day we move from chore to chore trying to get everything done. More broccoli gets planted, the Jerusalem artichokes get a spot in the yard, all in anticipation of the rain. At 2pm I remember that I had promised a visit to an elderly couple from our church. My afternoon is spent finding their hilltop home and having a good chat. I head home at 5pm to make dinner and help get animals tucked in for the night. By 8:30, we have finished our prayers and find ourselves too tired to move. I can write my post tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be stormy, the perfect day for writing.

Tomorrow is today.

And life happens.

The wind, torrential rain, and thunderstorms make for a restless sleep. We wake to a power outage and a baby lamb demanding her morning bottle. Baaaaaa! Morning starts quickly on the farm.

Animals get fed, generator gets set up, water is boiled for coffee in the French press, and we finally sit down for a cup at 8:30am. I chat with Mr. J and contemplate what I can get done today.

At 9am I get a call that the tractor we purchased will be delivered in an hour. The power comes back on, and I quickly throw together breakfast before the tractor comes.

The truck and trailer arrive. I direct the driver to our driveway loop where he can turn his rig around and unload the tractor at the barn. Navigating the loop, his truck starts to slide, downhill, in the mud. The torrential rain from last night takes its toll.

An easy, straightforward delivery ends up taking all morning. I try my hand at pulling the delivery truck out of the mud with Mr. J’s truck. No luck. The driver must call in reinforcements. Lamb wants to be fed again. Then Hope and I watch as another truck with a crane arrives to tackle the problem.

11:30am. My morning is gone.

This is life. It happens. And it is Good.