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!

This morning I woke up to the mist blanketing the farm and surrounding hills. The low cloud cover seemed to spill down into the valley only to hush the song birds and cause the spring flowers to drip with morning dew. Dawn was bringing a new day whether I was ready for it or not and Pteridactal the rude hen took that moment to screech outside the nursery window successfully waking Sweet Baby Q. Good morning Melville.
I had to hustle my bustle to make it to to my day job by 7.30am. I may be wearing an outfit that resembles a certain purple dinosaur- for the second time this week-, I may have mis matched socks, I may be wearing a hat to cover the horror that is my hair, but Q and I began our office work shuffle right on time.  In the middle of finalizing a sizeable contract that sweet baby of mine began a powerful poo. She was in the front pack so I didn’t realise until it was too late how that poo exploded into the front pack, covered Q, and was seeping into my sweatshirt.  Grimacing, I pushed forward to finalize the contract and mail it, feeling the poo juice continue to spread. 
After I completed my office tasks for the day and opened the front pack to release Q it was worse than I imagined.  Unable to tackle the crappy problem in the back of my vehicle due to a 125 lb mineral block for the cows, or the back seat due to more farm paraphernalia, changing her in the front seat was a struggle to say the least. Q was then happy as a clam at high tide, but I remained aromatic and damp from our recent adventure.  Needless to say I felt very chic.
Q and I now push onward into our Friday.  We are off to feed animals, visit family, and attempt to “train” for the 5k I am running this weekend.  Poopy, happy, and busy I try to treat every day like a new adventure because ready or not the world is bringing me another one tomorrow.

A few weeks ago Melville Farms welcomed two hair sheep into the meat- growing- melee for 2015.  I brought the twin lambs home pleased as punch with my purchase and settled them into their temporary pen. We named them Batman and Robin and sweet baby Q and faithful dog Ted were over the moon with the new animals.

Unfortunately, within the first 24 hours Hubby Dearest and I made the worst rookie mistake – we separated them.
Sweet Baby Q was in her front pack as Hubby Dearest and I set up the two strand hotwire fencing , shelter, feeding area and mineral block for Batman and Robin, the spunky twins waiting to be turned out onto pasture.  They were by no means tame, but Hubby had no problem grabbing Robin first  and carrying him over to the fenceline. After putting down a seemingly happy sheep Hubby turned around to walk back up to get sheep number two and wouldn’t you know it, Robin got anxious and ran back up to where I stood with Batman. This is where we should have recognized that if we led the contained sheep to the pasture and waited for the other to come over they’d be happy. Did we realise that? Nope.
Hubby tried to chase Robin back into the pen which spooked Batman who attempted to ram into me (and baby Q) so I jumped out of the way to save the babe and successfully let both sheep out of the pen.  Not overly fond of the way events were unfolding Hubby Dearest got a little testy.  He attempted to herd those mischievous ruminants as they tried to become best friends with our pigs, tore our hotwire down, and  spooked the pigs.
I was ready to help when Hubby told me to back up. Easier said than done.  I became tangled in some blackberries so when I turned for a split second to step around them, that was the moment Batman and Robin made a break for it off the property and down the county road.  Oh the things that came out of my sweet husband’s mouth as he sprinted down the double yellow line.
Luckily Toby, the majestic neighbor horse, distracted the sheep and they tried to break into his pasture instead of continuing down the road.  From that point on the situation seemed to unravel at an alarming rate.  Many of our neighbors came out to help catch our sheep as we chased them all over Melville. 
Batman and Robin ran up and down the county road, neighboring pastures, logging roads, landscaped back yards, horse barns, apple orchards, cow fields, timber land, and faced off with a pack of aggressive dogs.  At one point when we lost them into a young stand of Douglas-fir, all the neighbors looked at us with pity.  It was cougar country and there was nothing but 8 ft tall trees and brush as far as the eye could see. Through sheer luck and perseverance Hubby Dearest not only found the sheep but herded them back towards our crew of neighbors and friends.  As he came back through the brush the ‘Friends’ theme song began playing in my head. We were two idiot young farmers and a baby, at dusk, chasing sheep through everyone’s property, and here were our neighbors happily helping us. 
“It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear when it hasn’t been your day or week or month or even your year...”
As the sun began to set we were able to herd the twins into a corral, rope them, and get them back home.  We were all tired, frustrated, but bonded in a way only friends and neighbors can be after a 3 hour sheep – chasing ordeal.
“I’ll be there for you…. cause you’re there for me to..”- the Remembrandts.

This weekend Hubby Dearest flew off to a conference for work and I along with sweet baby Q were left to our own devices. The first morning after his departure we woke up to farm animals yelling for attention, fog horns drifting in along with the morning mists, and chicken sh*t getting dragged into the house on Ted’s paws.  As a mother of a blossoming baby who’s goal in life is to put everything in her mouth, the chicken poop had to stop NOW.
After completing the circus of bringing Q into my office for a morning of emails and paper shuffling we continued our journey of errands. I’m not sure I will ever be able to replicate the packing of t-posts, fencing, pig food, groceries, and day – job paraphernalia into my little SUV cross over. Baby Q was thrilled with all the new “toys” shoved around her carseat and giggled as she poked at melting ice cream on the way home.
We arrived on the homestead to find the warm coastal sun cooking the chicken doo onto my front porch. I attempted to dodge and weave the land mines and pooping chickens as I unloaded the car – strengthening my resolve to eliminate the poop on my porch for good.

Thus, I strapped sweet baby Q into the back pack and began fence construction.  I pounded t-posts, I put up fencing, I cleaned the coop, washed the baked butt juices off my porch and wrangled chickens all the while my sweet little babe slept peacefully. 

Needless to say when my chicken run was complete I felt pretty bad ass.  A temporary solution until we move the coop across the creek, but well worth the few hours of labor to keep my baby from ingesting chicken sh*t as a snack.

A special happy birthday to Frank with all his grace and dignity.