we're not getting goats

We're not getting goats.

I'm not sure that I ever mentioned the fact that we thought we were getting goats here, but now we're not.

In the very beginning of this story, the goats were cows.

As part of our homesteading plans, we decided we needed milking cows, probably three. A mama and her calves.

We wanted to stop buying treated milk in plastic bottles, we wanted to stop outsourcing another food that we could produce ourselves, we wanted the cow's poo, we wanted the relationship with another animal and we desperately wanted to experiment with making our own cheeses and yogurt.

So we started researching house cows and while we were in the process of reading and googling and asking around, some gorgeous goat farming friends of ours suggested a milking goat instead and the plans changed.

The cows became goats.

A mama goat and her two kids would provide us with everything a milking cow would but be smaller and more manageable, would help us with our blackberry problems, and would milk less but for longer.

And so we drove out to their farm, met the lovely pregnant Giselle and went home to wait until springtime when she kidded and could come and live happily ever after at our place.

In the meantime we made plans, read lots, spoke to some experts and had some milking lessons.

And then something weird happened.

On the Wednesday before the Friday we were to go and pick our new goats up, I decided we couldn't. I am hardly ever definite when it comes to big farming decisions, but this time I was. It came out of nowhere and I knew it was the right decision.

If we got goats we would be tied down. Every single day, twice a day, we would have to be at home to milk the goats. Every single day, no matter what.

Yes, we could share the goats but that would take time to sort out. Yes, we could probably let the kids drink the milk if we weren't there to milk, but then would they make enough milk for us when we wanted it again?

All of a sudden there were more questions than answers.

All of a sudden it felt like those three goats were going to tie us right down just at the point in time where we have given ourselves some freedom. All of a sudden it felt like those three goats would gobble up more of our time than we have to give. All of a sudden it felt like those goats would drown us in our to-do lists. All of a sudden it felt like we couldn't be 100% certain that those three goats would come here and live the very best lives three goats could live.

And most importantly, all of a sudden I felt that this is the wrong time for us. Our own three kids, with all of their activities, with their three separate schools, with their stories and homework and games and songs and friends and needs. Three extra kids would take our time away from them.

So we made the call. And we grieved for a little while.

Maybe when they're older? Who knows.

But for now I'm happy with following my feelings. With trusting myself.

I'm still buying milk but I can stay out all night if I want to (ha!).

xx

Monday early in the afternoon

Eight shots from our weekend;

(1-3) One of the best parts of autumn is the bonfires.

(4) Visiting the Holy Goat girls and meeting Giselle the goat who will soon be coming to live with us and have kids and provide us with milk.

 (5) Still preserving.

(6) His beloved compost steaming.

 (7) Knitting a red beanie for Miss Jazzy.


(8) The kitchen garden at dusk.


Monday early in the afternoon.

So far today: we got the girls up and off to school, had a quick coffee in town with my parents and then I did a pilates class. Pilates is ace for me. Farming and mothering are hard on my body and pilates feels a bit like a weekly tune up. It slows me down and helps me to remember to breathe, keep my shoulders down and do things properly. I've been doing pilates for nine years!!

And now I'm home sitting on the couch with a blankie on my knees answering emails about my book, filling in an author's survey and finding some photos of our family and farm for the publicity.

I still feel very self conscious when I'm referred to as the author.

There is clean washing in the machine to hang out, there is tonight's dinner to think about (onion soup?), I can see my farmer boy out the window filling up the vegie beds with compost, there's a zillion unanswered emails in my inbox and a house full of the weekend's mess to deal with, there are seeds to plant, apples to dehydrate and some phone calls to return.

But all I really feel like doing is having a long hot bath and listening to a podcast or hopping back into bed with my knitting.

I never ever do things like that. Especially not on a Monday when the to-do list is so high it's threatening to topple over. When the rest of my week is looking so crazy busy that now might be my only chance. But the pull of the cozy over the constructive is huge and strong.

Maybe I'll make the soup base and a bread dough and see.

Maybe I'll answer four emails for every four knitting rows.

Maybe I'll have lunch and then decide.

Maybe...

I hope your week is super lovely friends.
Have you got anything fun planned?

Bye bye. xx