The carefully planned, modified schedule that allowed us to breathe a little easier for the first time ever during the summer months came to a screeching halt. With the birth of our first calf, we became once again tied to the parlor, but our time was still manageable even with several rounds of various family members visiting on the weekends. Then more babies came (seven total now) and suddenly, I was overwhelmed.
Now, after two months, the calves are growing bigger, taking more milk, and the workload is lessening just in time for the holidays that will soon be upon us. Instead of making dairy products daily, I can make them twice a week. I'm catching my breath and beginning to settle into the rhythm of autumn that flows into winter. It's that feeling of being comfortably wrapped in a worn quilt with frayed edges, chosen because the weight and feel of it are just right. Comforting.
Unlike previous years, I have chosen not to continue supplying milk through a share program. I simply raise and train dairy cows for other homesteaders. To open our farm, our home, and our lives to a constant flow of traffic have been the norm for us for most of the seventeen years we've been married. We farmed for a living and we sold directly to the consumer whether it was hay, beef, produce, or dairy. Forced to maintain the presence needed to participate in direct sales, those are years for which I am thankful, for they allowed me to live my dreams. I am happy, nevertheless, that I no longer have to continue working directly with people on a daily basis. It suits my introverted nature to not have constant contact with the public. We are fortunate to be in a position where we no longer have to live with such open doors and I am not ashamed to say that I am enjoying the quiet and the alone time.
We have truly transitioned from career farmers to homesteaders. There is a difference and more than a fine line between the two. While homesteading requires some farming, farming does not necessarily mean one is a homesteader. Although Mike and I have always combined elements of the two, as a third-generation farmer, Mike's life has always been more focused on career farming. My life prior to meeting Mike was focused more on homestead living. I have experienced living without indoor plumbing, hauling water from an artesian well, and using a wringer washing machine to wash our clothing. We lived in cabins with only wood heat where the temperatures dipped to fifty and sixty degrees below zero. I've practiced survival camping in the wilderness of Alaska, Northern Montana, and the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Gardening and preserving the harvest have been a part of my family for generations. Now that Mike and I are semi-retired, our lives are a pleasant combination of farming and homesteading with more of an emphasis now on homesteading, being self-reliant, and providing for as many of our own needs as possible.
Note: Homesteading is about self-reliance, resilience, ingenuity, and frugal living. Things that bring beauty to a life that is often physically and mentally exhausting could be considered a luxury but I consider them a necessity. At least, beauty in the midst of hard living is a necessity for me. Sure, I could go out each spring and buy new flowers for my deck, but why do that when I can simply choose flowers that I can over-winter and with a little care, enjoy year after year.
I brought my Geraniums indoors last year and they did so well that I brought them in again this winter. Pay attention when you are reading stories of the homesteaders that settled the west. You will often find mention of geraniums that were brought indoors, placed in a south-facing window, and bloomed in the bleakest of seasons until they could once again be put outdoors.