Just a few short weeks ago the Pacific Northwest was on fire.  The temperate rainforest region was warned of EXTREME fire danger as smoke blew in from neighboring counties in grey swirls and particulates.  The evening sun was red as it attempted to shine through smoke and clouds before it settled into the hills.

Little Miss Q was bundled in her footie pajamas as we traversed the back roads of the Coast Range to keep our processing date for our meat chickens in the Willamette Valley.  The main through fare had been closed for nearly 3 days and I could not afford missing our appointment.  I put my mom – car to use by bringing the dozing babe and a trailer full of birds to a sleeping suburban community outside of Portland at 11:30pm so I could be sure to get that poultry plucked the next morning.
The next day all was going according to plan as I left for the processor with the rise of the morning sun.  The birds were clucking, the forest fires had not closed any new roads and the drive was smooth.  Nearly there my eye contact lens decided to rebel against my body. It felt like glass was in my eye and no amount of blinking, rubbing, cursing, or squinting was going to fix it. 
My eyesight is extremely poor and going without that contact not an option so I tried every trick I could think of to keep that lens on my darn eyeball. So a few minutes later when I arrived for my chicken appointment with tears and mascara running down half my face I really regretted my choice to wear makeup for once.  As I started to unload the birds I was met by a teenaged boy who looked terrified to talk to me. I went to wipe my face only to remember that my hands were covered in bird excrement just in time, but I tried to smile at him.  Pretty sure I looked like a mess and came across as a creep as my right eye kept winking in response to the evil contact lens slowly but surely killing me.
After the birds were unloaded I cleaned up and began tearing apart my car.  I looked in every cup holder, pocket, bag, and storage compartment searching for a new contact lens. Frustrated I opened the glove box for the 3rd time only to find: the entire order of contact lenses from my last eye doctor appointment  (that I had lost nearly 9 months ago)!!! I heard a chorus of angels singing that my stars had aligned and I was willing to risk getting conjunctivitis by putting a new lens into my aching eye with my less than sanitary hands.  The relief caused an impromptu dance party in my car which resulted in me spilling hot coffee everywhere, but I was too happy to care.
Returning for my now beautifully processed chickens I had coffee stains down my tshirt and capris, make up streaks down my face, and was wearing romeos without socks. Beyond caring I weighed my birds only to find that these full-figured ladies were huge. Ranging from 5 to 8 pounds these chickens were the size of small turkeys.  Hoping folks would be able to fit them in their crock pots I packed up and headed back to my toddler.
Only in the Pacific Northwest can you have raging wildfires one day and the first rains of the season with rolling fog the next.  When Little Miss Q and I returned home from the sweltering 90 degree heat of the valley, our beautiful farm was bathed in mist and clouds. With our last crop of birds in the freezer, sheep grazing, and Q in her favorite swing it felt so good to be back in Melville

(Ted trying to look like he was guarding the laying flock)

Leaves fell as gusts of wind blew through the valley and carried away the lingering heat. Coastal dew dampened the grass before dawn as the first hint of Autumn awoke with the morning. The clouds hung low and the coyotes yipped their confidence in the shadows of dense tree cover.
Our idiot sheep showed no signs of fear as they pranced around in the cool marine breeze that smelled of fresh rain and salt. The laying flock even more brazen as they crossed property boundaries to investigate new pasture.  I served a breakfast of baked apples and eggs that were both collected the day before and poured Sweet Little Miss Q a cup of milk whilst dreaming about the pros and cons of owning a dairy animal.
This beautiful morning I glared outside at our meat birds that were eating us out of house and home.  Earlier this summer our first round of market chickens were processed by a licensed facility in the Willamette Valley.  It was the first time we have ever hired out the processing and were uncertain of the total costs when we originally quoted price per pound to our customers. The finished product was absolutely beautiful- vacuum packed, perfectly plucked, stunning whole chickens that we could legally sell to private consumers, restaurants or stores. Only problem: the finished product resulted in zero profit.

       {Good looking processed bird}

We had lost money and Hubby Dearest was less than thrilled. Indignant at the high costs of certified non-GMO whole grain feed, the processing fees for that perfectly plucked poultry, and my insistence that this was a good idea, he demanded a return of our investment. I have promised that next round of pastured poultry will be better, with the baseline goal of not losing money. Easier said than done.
Just the other day I made a trip over the Coast Range to the whole grain mill where we buy our GMO – free feed. About 200 miles later I was home with a mom – car full of feed bags, excited to eat lunch before I unloaded. However, a few minutes for lunch turned into a few days of procrastination and as Hubby Dearest opened the back of the car to open a bag he saw the feed tag that I hadn’t bothered to check: senior horse.  Going through each bag we saw a number of senior horse and other labels, none of which were the poultry grower that we needed and were for animals we don’t even have.  For some reason the hubs was was less than thrilled as he re-loaded 50 lb bags of senior horse pellets. His temper grew and I saw our potential “profit” margin dwindling as I planned to return the bags and get the chicken feed I required. I stuck my foot in my mouth when I mentioned that throwing those bags around was at least a great work out…and for some reason Hubby Dearest didn’t quite see it that way.
So as summer draws to an end and our second round of meat birds mature into the full rounded figures of succulent chickens, I hope we have a few buyers! In the meantime I will harvest the abundant fruits and veggies in the family garden, sell off the remaining  shares of our larger livestock and hope that Hubby Dearest sees the intrinsic value of raising quality meats and eggs for our family and community.

            {Waiting for breakfast}

Summer has been a blur of bright colors, high temperatures, and blinding sun.  Coastal natives are starting to resemble dehydrated fruits while unrelenting solar rays have dried our pastures, freckled our skin, and created a seemingly never-ending line of visitors to the Oregon Coast.  It’s a testament to my typical luck that the day I had scheduled for Sweet Baby Q’s outdoor 1st Birthday Party, it was forecasted to rain. 
Fortunately for our birthday shindig, there was only a light morning mist before the heavens parted to allow the sun to warm the afternoon. A chorus of chirping birds and buzzing bees was the music for Q’s party until five minutes after the party started the bee’s decided to attack a few of the guests.  Then screaming joined the chorus – which was significantly less serene.  Luckily everyone was able to rally and celebrate Miss Q in style.

As a self-proclaimed birthday enthusiast I might have insisted on celebrating Q’s birthday for an entire week.  She may not have understood why we were singing to her for every meal, but with huge toothy grins she danced along.  Then, on the day of her birth I turned into a mother of a toddler as she took her first steps.  I could only smile and laugh through my tears as she collapsed into a fit of giggles and clapped for herself.
It was during one of these sweet moments and family celebrations that Hubby Dearest became a hero.  Our faithful dog Ted was proudly swimming back to the lake-shore with a tennis ball in his mouth when another dog started pushing Ted under the water. Too far away I watched in horror as the scene unfolded in slow motion before my eyes. Seeing the struggle, Hubby Dearest dove into the lake and separated the dogs, which allowed Ted to breath and return to dry land.  A simple act that defined Hubby as heroic, selfless, and brave, I looked at that husband of mine with renewed respect and awe.
I watched my family love and laugh with eachother as Hubby wrangled out of his soggy clothes. My stresses of unfinished chores and unanswered work messages seemed to drain away with the drips falling off Ted and Hubby as they ran around the grassy embankment.  Observing the joyful scene before me I could forget about the meeting I wasn’t prepared for at work the next day, how the farm bank account balance couldn’t afford the increased cost of feed due to pasture decline, move past the insignificant bickering session that darling spouse and I had on the car ride over, and shrug off that I hadn’t done laundry in over a week. With a bursting heart and a fresh perspective I was able to appreciate the glowing sun as it dipped into the lake and celebrate my Sweet Baby Q turn one.

When the sun sets in Melville, there is nothing more beautiful.  As I drove home after a long day of diligent keyboard clacking for my day-job, I was in awe of the warm orange hues of evening sun.  Sunbursts streaked through growing shadows hinting at twilight, giving warmth to the farmers continuing to collect round baled hay from their pastures.  I rolled the windows down, felt the cool breeze whip through the car, and was able to breathe in the evening air. It felt like the first real breath I’d had all day.
I arrived home to giggles echoing down our hallway from Hubby Dearest and Sweet Baby Q going through the bed time routine.  There were dirt crusted baby sized clothes piled in the kitchen, toys scattered in every room of the house and dishes up to my eyeballs. Perils of Daddy – daughter bonding. 
As I threw some food in the general direction of my face I checked on my essay contest submission- my chance to win some cold hard cash and allow Melville Farms to grow into its potential as a business. Not that I have had a lot of time to spare writing essays, but starting Melville Farms has meant the world to me and I want to see it flourish.   Melville Farms isn’t only the family business it is the way of life for our family.  So as I fell asleep to the twittering birds and the soft clucking of roosting hens I hoped the Wells Fargo submission review team caught a glimpse of beautiful Melville through my essay.

Want to help support Melville Farms? Please vote for us by following the link:  https://wellsfargoworks.com/project?x=us-en_viewentriesandvote_16987_21

Summer is here.  Kids are out of school, sunshine streams through fluffy white clouds and causes the morning dew to rise off the county road in tendrils of steam, and Sweet Baby Q refuses to sleep.  I feel as though sometimes I loose perspective on how precious each moment is when I go through my day in a sleep deprived trance, but as I look back on the past fortnight I realise how special it has been.  The last few weeks have been filled with firsts:
First round of meat chickens have been harvested using a licensed facility(instead of getting up to our elbows in chicken feathers).
First time I got my daily cardio by chasing sheep with a jogging stroller.
First time opening a business bank account for Melville Farms.
First time I’ve chased a banker throughout the lobby to entertain my small child while opening said bank account. 
Q started crawling for the first time! Hubby Dearest suprised me with new speckled Sussex chicks (first time he brought new animals home instead of the other way around).
Completed my first official 5k race
First time I’ve cried as I reflected how Q is almost 1 year old- though I’m sure it won’t be the last
First time I ate an entire sleeve of Oreos… two sleeves of Oreos… ok  truth it was 7 sleeves of Oreos over the past few days..
And last but certainly not least we celebrated our first father’s day with our sweet baby. The sun warmed the cheeks of our little princess as I basked in the love my darling Hubby has for Sweet Baby Q.
So as I reflect over the most recent stretch of baby-induced-haze I have never felt so blessed that our life is filled with so many precious, exciting, and special moments.

I had to take a breather from chasing the liberated sheep..

..sheep thought it was a good time to socialize with the meat birds..

..after the ruminant returned to the correct side of the fence Q celebrated with a two handed wave!