At times it is hard to drag myself out of bed when it is still dark outside.  My sweet baby sleeps sprawled out over the entire queen size bed, the heater is on, and the pillow calls to me.  Alas, the dog’s tail is thumping against the wall as he asks to go out, I can hear the chickens waking up just waiting until the first rays of sunshine peek over the trees to start screaming how hungry they are, and the pressure to feed miscellaneous other creatures before work starts setting in.

This morning, just as I masterfully extracted myself from the blankets without waking the baby, I stepped on my husband’s sock drawer (that he forgot to push back under the bed).  True to form, I begin to fall reaching for my faithful dog Ted who jumped out of the way –uncharacteristically agile – as I bit the dust into the desk chair.  That sweet sleeping baby turned into a screaming ball of fury.  Thank you hubby dearest.

So sweet baby Q and I proceeded to feed our little farm one-handed, in the rain, and in our jammies.  However collecting eggs with one hand can be tricky.  It involved me holding the nesting box hatch door open with my foot, leaning baby Q away so she doesn’t get chicken goodness all over her and reaching into the nest box to pluck each egg out to delicately drop onto the ground.  Not sure if any of you have seen this 6ft mamma in athletic shorts and barn boots completing this charade, but I think I make it look good.  You may be asking, “ why doesn’t she devise a clever hook to keep the nesting box hatch open?”  Good question and yet I seem to forget. Every. Time.

It can be a pain in the tush to complete the farm-feeding-fun at the butt-crack of dawn in soggy jammies, but the pasture-raised eggs, the free range pigs, the hormone free beef are all worth it.  I am able to feed my family, my friends, and the community.  It is a blessing I am privileged to take part in.

The rain always seems to stop as soon as I am done with chores and today was no exception. The sun rays began to pierce the fog to create beams of warmth and rainbows.   The trees dripped rain drops onto the pasture to create percussion beats to the songbirds’ sweet melody.  I nursed sweet baby Q, ate my ridiculously delicious eggs, looked over my little farm and thought good morning Melville.