While wandering around on the internet, I came across Cold Antler Farm's blog. On the sidebar, there is a picture of a diseased heart.
One with a disease that will infect and take hold of your heart.
That's right, Farmheart.
I think I first contracted in in early childhood.
My grandmother's friend had sheep.
They were soft and woolie and just fun.
I would tell my grandmother how I was going to be
a farmer and a stained glass window maker and a veterinarian.
I guess I would have been very busy.
I also remember going to my great grandfather's farm. He had tons on ground bees living underground.
In the hot summer, they were fanning out their hives. My brother and I stomped on those bees out of fear.
I remember the anger our great grandfather had at the sight of this.
These were valuable pollinators.
His dear friends.
He explained how everything on a farm worked together.
Maybe that's what I love about our little backyard homestead.
We work on it.
We dream about it.
It brings us all together.
Having a bad case of farmheart gets me through those rough times.
When the "hen" is actually a rooster.
When it is cold and things need to be done.
When it is 100 degrees in the shade and canning needs to be done.
But it is also a rewarding disease.
How many diseases can you say that about.
Because of it, I've seen my son hold a little baby chick so tenderly and whisper in awe,
"Isn't it a cutie?"
Because of it, my kids know vegetables don't come from a store.
Because of it, my daughter will sit next to me and tell me how she wants to wear a sheep as I knit (on a sock!)
(Insert silly mental image of a 2 year old with a big sheep on her back.)
Because of it, I sit hour after hour at night
sipping on tea (that I grew)
dreaming of the garden while pouring over seed catalogs.
Because of it, I yearn to get dirty.
Are you infected too?