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The Farm

AT THE OLD FARMHOUSE:

A REAL farmer would chuckle to hear me call what we have a farm.

I do not get up at 4 to milk the cows. Chiefly because we have no cows.
I do not muck out stalls before sun-up. Stalls require a certain work ethic which I do not seem to possess.
I produce nothing that we sell. Because I'm too lazy to run this like a business.

So why do I consider our little patch of dirt a farm?
Because I usually have dirt under my fingernails and mud on my jeans.
Because the critters outnumber the humans by about 5 to 1.
Because we eat eggs from our chickens.
Most importantly, because it smells like a farm.

What do we have on our farm?
Horses. Cuz they're pretty.
Goats. Because they eat weeds that nobody wants to weed-whack.
Rabbits. They're soft.
Chickens. For the eggs.
Farm dog. To keep all of the above safe and sound.
All other animals are house pets and are essentially shiftless good-for-nothin' moochers. But we kind of love them, so... yeah.



AT MY NEW HOME:

Not so much of a farm anymore, but I'm working on it.  When I moved in, the only thing "farm" about it was that it was across the street from one.  But since then, 

I've added chickens.  I keep laying hens, and I've raised meat birds twice here.  Thinking about building a chicken tractor for meat birds going forward.

This fall I plan on starting the prep work in the back yard for adding either two small goats or a goat and a hair sheep in the spring.  I'll keep you posted.

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