…on a Wednesday night. About an hour or so past my bedtime. But an hour or so ago I was eating supper, last night’s leftovers, cobbled together after getting the animals to bed and re-visiting the garden for an impromptu salad. Which happened after 5 hours of planting and weeding. Which happened after market. Which started after getting up at 4:15 this morning to prep. I still barely got things ready for market in time.
Tomorrow is CSA day. Harvest and wash all day, pack bags, deliver. Up at dawn again, home by 7:30 pm, give or take. Supper. Yeah, something… whatever, is there wine? Send out the CSA newsletter. Friday is less busy. The turkeys arrive, I have to make soap. Our poultry tractors need work. Maybe I should build another one. Fuck it. Maybe I can wire together the holes in the netting. Clean the house for Saturday guests, get ready for Saturday market. Hope to make a few bucks. Hope to survive. Yo Noodle Guy, pump my veins full of the life-giving Breakfast Thing.
As July rings in so do WWOOFers and visitors. The WWOOFer camper renos aren’t finished yet. The house… will it get clean? I can’t see the kitchen… where is the kitchen? I smell dead rodents. Maybe I should shower. Which goats am I milking tonight? Who am I? Supper. Yeah, fuck it. Omelette or KFC? Fuck it… moldy cheese and Wasa crackers for the win.
Hay. We’ll be starting any day now. While we have visitors. Fuck. Did I plant those sweet potatoes yet? I can’t see the lettuce for the weeds. The goats are out and closing in on the herb garden. Fuck. Will crying help? Probably not. Get me a fucking shovel. And wine. And a bucket of feed. The goats like feed. Right?
Oh shit. I didn’t finish weeding that carrot bed.
If I seem distant, aloof, pissed off, frazzled, incoherent, unsociable I apologize. I thought things would be easier this year, but they are not. The horses are not getting ridden, the bike rides are not happening either. The soap is barely getting made. Summer is upon us and work is on my back like the world on the shoulders of Atlas. Success weighs a fucking ton. I am proud, I am happy, I am stoked that things are going so fucking well. I am exhausted. I am swearing a lot.
Something has to give soon. Stay tuned. Shit is about to get real!
Rant over. Sipping a Spanish red and checking out. Way past my bedtime, but who sleeps?
Tomorrow comes quickly.