Let me spin you a yarn from a couple of weeks back, right after a whirlwind period here at the farm that saw the arrival of a bouncing batch of new lambs. I had shared this little adventure in a previous note, sparking curiosity among some of you. Lo and behold, an email pinged in from a nearby customer, filled with a longing to witness this lamb-laden spectacle. "Why not swing by?" I replied, the weather's smiling, and the roads are good.
Cue the arrival of Bev, her husband, and Ginger, the dog who's more fluff than huff, rolling up our driveway a few sunsets later. I was out in the barn, so they made their way to the house to greet Anne. They had navigated the hour's journey for a simple yet profound reason: to see the lambs. And perhaps, to sprinkle a little human connection into the mix. We had first crossed paths a year prior, amidst a delivery run that brought our farm's offerings to their doorstep.
Once gathered, we ambled over to the bottle lamb pen, nestled within the machinery shed by our house. The sight that greeted Bev was the epitome of fluff-fueled joy—a tableau of tiny lambs darting about, their every move a testament to the unbridled cuteness we'd been touting. While Bev basked in the lamb glow, her husband and I embarked on a tour de farm equipment, an array of machinery as alien to them as a spacecraft, yet just as fascinating. Sharing the tales behind each piece, I felt that familiar spark of pride and joy in opening up the world of farming to those whose roots lie in different soils.
After a session of lamb cuddles—because, really, is there any better way to bond?—we ventured to the big barn to introduce Rita the guardian dog and the rest of our woolly wonders. This detour from the day's routine was a breath of fresh air, a reminder of the joy found in new encounters and shared stories. The farewells were warm as Bev and her crew set off on their return journey, leaving us in a quiet reflection of the day's simplicity and the connections forged.
As dusk draped over the farm and we settled into the evening's calm, a thought meandered through my mind, prompting a conversation with Anne. "Do you think there'll come a time when we can do something like that, just take a drive to visit a farm?" Anne's skepticism was gentle, but I'm tucked away in the hopeful corner, believing that someday, we too will get there.
This visit, seemingly mundane, was a gentle nudge—a reminder of life's shifting priorities and the beauty found in the simplest acts. It's a tapestry of moments like these that weave narrative of our lives, urging us to pause and appreciate the now.
Until next time, keep finding joy in the unexpected.
Your Farmer, Rod
Keep Finding Joy
