3 years and 208 days ago, God gave us a vision that was a real game changer for Team Robinson. So, we packed up the house and moved way out in the middle of nowhere to give our kids the great outdoors and live off the fat of the land. Oh, to give our offspring the chance to breathe deeply the smell of fresh air and feel the sun's warm glow on their sweet faces. Wouldn't it be wonderful to gaze upon the stars at night, unhindered by the smog and lights of the city? Since we're going country, why don't we try our hand at farming?
We knew it would take time to adjust and that we might not be good at it at first, but we were determined to give it a go and see what happened. We are hard-workers, not scared to put our hands to the plow or afraid to get a little dirty. Well, three years and 208 days later, I have determined that no matter how handsome my man looks while driving the tractor....
We.Stink.At.Farming!!
Two winters ago, when Dean brought the tractor around and plowed up the acre of land where my grandparents tended their garden, I had such high hopes. Each night I nestled all snug in my bed while visions of cucumbers danced in my head. I spent hours collecting homemade salsa recipes - in vain, it seems. If my expectations were more realistic, I would've been more prepared for the overwhelming disappointment I feel every time I dip my tortilla chip into commercially jarred picante sauce - mild, because we've got some newcomers 'round here that aren't quite up for the heat of hot yet. Every time I pick up a bag of frozen peas at the Piggly Wiggly, I'm reminded of the fact that all of our crops died. Actually, the only thing that we've managed to grow here is two stalks of corn, which by the way, grew by accident from the feed we were throwing out for the ducks.
Aren't we a sad, sad song?
It gets better...or worse....however you want to look at it. Our failure in farming is not limited to just the crops. We kill animals, too - and not like real farmers who do it on purpose. We have learned a lot about what not to do with farm animals, that's for sure! The first to go were the ducks. We waited too long to put them out on the pond, and they kept waddling back up to the house. I guess they got a hankering that fateful day for the sweet faucet water in the backyard and just didn't see Jethro coming. Apparently, they also forgot they could fly.
The free-ranging chickens were the next species to experience casualties. Two of them free-ranged a bit too far from home and couldn't outrun the dog next door. Poor gals. And then there was Brownie, poor Brownie the goldfish thief. She just wouldn't stay out of our vehicles and eventually ran out of lives. We had a funeral one Sunday afternoon for that hungry girl, which is crazy by the way. The whole time I'm thinking, "What are we doing? It's a chicken. Aren't we going to eat the chickens anyway?" Maybe we didn't explain this whole farming thing to the kids correctly?
If I may give you a word of advice here: If there is a food shortage, and you get it in your mind to head toward our house for help, you'll get here and be hungry with the rest of us, folks. You might want to revamp your backup plan.
Now that my sob sorry is all out there, I'm finished feeling sorry for Team Robinson. It's time to look toward tomorrow. God isn't finished with us yet. All of this failure is for a purpose, and we trust Him. Inspired anew and enamored with He who cast the vision, we're ready to try, try again. We're no quitters! We gave our little fieldhands a pep talk, cut down some pine trees that had grown up in the garden and got the tiller back out. We're planting corn- on purpose this time - along with beans, squash, onions and pumpkins, for our fall garden. I have a feeling it's going to take off and grow like never before.
After we get the seeds in the ground, the chickens are getting a new pen, and we're firing up the incubator for some new little chicks, maybe even some new ducks. No more free-ranging birds, but they'll have plenty of space to roam in their colossal pen. Fencing is also going up for the herd of goats we're buying. Yes, it's a herd. Some people get a goat or two, but not us. We go for the whole herd. Go big or go home. That's what they say, right? (Please, Lord, bless our hands at goat keeping that the goats may live long, happy lives.)
It's going to be a busy week between all the working, farming and schooling that has to get done. Dean says farming is a lifestyle and we'll get the hang of it. Okie dokie, then. I guess we'll see now, won't we?
We'd love it if you'd say some prayers for us this week. We're going to need them.
We knew it would take time to adjust and that we might not be good at it at first, but we were determined to give it a go and see what happened. We are hard-workers, not scared to put our hands to the plow or afraid to get a little dirty. Well, three years and 208 days later, I have determined that no matter how handsome my man looks while driving the tractor....
We.Stink.At.Farming!!
Two winters ago, when Dean brought the tractor around and plowed up the acre of land where my grandparents tended their garden, I had such high hopes. Each night I nestled all snug in my bed while visions of cucumbers danced in my head. I spent hours collecting homemade salsa recipes - in vain, it seems. If my expectations were more realistic, I would've been more prepared for the overwhelming disappointment I feel every time I dip my tortilla chip into commercially jarred picante sauce - mild, because we've got some newcomers 'round here that aren't quite up for the heat of hot yet. Every time I pick up a bag of frozen peas at the Piggly Wiggly, I'm reminded of the fact that all of our crops died. Actually, the only thing that we've managed to grow here is two stalks of corn, which by the way, grew by accident from the feed we were throwing out for the ducks.
Aren't we a sad, sad song?
It gets better...or worse....however you want to look at it. Our failure in farming is not limited to just the crops. We kill animals, too - and not like real farmers who do it on purpose. We have learned a lot about what not to do with farm animals, that's for sure! The first to go were the ducks. We waited too long to put them out on the pond, and they kept waddling back up to the house. I guess they got a hankering that fateful day for the sweet faucet water in the backyard and just didn't see Jethro coming. Apparently, they also forgot they could fly.
The free-ranging chickens were the next species to experience casualties. Two of them free-ranged a bit too far from home and couldn't outrun the dog next door. Poor gals. And then there was Brownie, poor Brownie the goldfish thief. She just wouldn't stay out of our vehicles and eventually ran out of lives. We had a funeral one Sunday afternoon for that hungry girl, which is crazy by the way. The whole time I'm thinking, "What are we doing? It's a chicken. Aren't we going to eat the chickens anyway?" Maybe we didn't explain this whole farming thing to the kids correctly?
If I may give you a word of advice here: If there is a food shortage, and you get it in your mind to head toward our house for help, you'll get here and be hungry with the rest of us, folks. You might want to revamp your backup plan.
Now that my sob sorry is all out there, I'm finished feeling sorry for Team Robinson. It's time to look toward tomorrow. God isn't finished with us yet. All of this failure is for a purpose, and we trust Him. Inspired anew and enamored with He who cast the vision, we're ready to try, try again. We're no quitters! We gave our little fieldhands a pep talk, cut down some pine trees that had grown up in the garden and got the tiller back out. We're planting corn- on purpose this time - along with beans, squash, onions and pumpkins, for our fall garden. I have a feeling it's going to take off and grow like never before.
After we get the seeds in the ground, the chickens are getting a new pen, and we're firing up the incubator for some new little chicks, maybe even some new ducks. No more free-ranging birds, but they'll have plenty of space to roam in their colossal pen. Fencing is also going up for the herd of goats we're buying. Yes, it's a herd. Some people get a goat or two, but not us. We go for the whole herd. Go big or go home. That's what they say, right? (Please, Lord, bless our hands at goat keeping that the goats may live long, happy lives.)
It's going to be a busy week between all the working, farming and schooling that has to get done. Dean says farming is a lifestyle and we'll get the hang of it. Okie dokie, then. I guess we'll see now, won't we?
We'd love it if you'd say some prayers for us this week. We're going to need them.
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