spring and snow and slowness.

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The first calf of the season was born. After spending a day trying to coax the mama and calf up to the barn from the back pastures (instead of say going to a cool local farming event, or doing any family day activities), this healthy, strapping calf was called Dimanche. A good early-in-the-season reminder that weekends are not guaranteed.

 

 

A week later, he’s still in top form. He still disregards fencing to hang out in the hay shed, but is venturing out further with his mama and is gaining well.

 

 

Thanks to three wily calves forcing their way through the flock’s netting repeatedly last week, the coop area’s fencing kind of screams « optional » at this point and they’re often out exploring.

 

 

The new snow, covering the deep mud field around our (construction zone) house and putting a pause on the Manure Smell of the spring thaw, made this place gorgeous for a slow weekend.

 

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Proof. The quick-sand-like mud was (and will be) real. But on that note, we made the decision to move our driveway to the back of the garden this year, between the garden and the corral in front of the barn, so this will be grass and play area later this spring-summer. It’ll up our safety game ten-fold to not have large farm machinery/farm traffic/any traffic so close to the house.

 

 

Sun times and pasture play. Complete with my 1.5 year old walking away from me to (try to) go hang out with our dairy cow.

 

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« C’est un soleil qui fait plisser les yeux, maman. »

Indeed, mon coeur. Indeed.

 

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trauma and p.o. boxes

 

A few days ago, a three year old was found in a second story apartment with the corpses of his caregivers, his father and his father’s girlfriend. They had been dead for at least two days, according to reports. The cause of death appears to be overdose.

I can’t stop thinking about that three year old. I can’t begin to imagine the trauma inside that little body. Walking around that apartment alone for so long. Dark overnights by himself. Distress I can’t even fathom. The whole thing is just so tragic.

 

I wish there was a way to store all the warmth and thoughts people are feeling for that little person right now. Wish there was a way for that care to be bottled and saved for him, so that he knows down the road, when things get hard(er), that so many of us just wanted to hug him to safety, to bring him to the people who love him and to support those individuals as they mourn and struggle too. Or to be those loving people should he need them.

I wish Canada Post had p.o. boxes for stuff like this. To hold those messages for 5 or 10 years. Prayers. Words of solace. Drawings from other kids. Cheques for post-secondary education. Whatever people felt compelled to send.

I wish we, as a society, were better at dealing with trauma and addiction. I wish so many didn’t have to go it alone.

 

Dear world, please look out for that kid.