look who arrived this morning!

So now we're onto baby chicks! Rory sent me a text yesterday of a video of two cats on a large hamster wheel. When one got off, the other jumped on and the wheel never slowed down. When that one jumped out the other jumped back in. He texted below it, "you and me."

And strangely I found it totally touching and romantic. Because that is us right now. We are a complete team, totally dependent on the other.

Oh here's a story, speaking of being a team... The vet casually mentioned on that early Monday morning, "and then in a week, just take these stitches out." Sometimes things like that are said and you are left thinking, "who do you think I am?" It's a similar feeling to when they let you walk out of the hospital with your first baby. They seem to think you're going to figure it out. Same with barnyard animal stitches removal, apparently. So Rory and I went out to the barn a week later, feeling quite green. He had to hold the Ewe down so I was the one who had to remove the stitches. Or, more accurately, the shoelace that was zigzagged around her back side. I made a cut but nothing budged. I'll spare all the details, but I did have to get a pliers and in the end, we got that shoelace out. Rory let her back up and came right over to me with a huge smile, "I am so proud of my farm wife right now." And he gave me a big kiss.

Hilarious. What a moment! The two of us have been through so much in the last 2 1/2 weeks. That morning with the Ewe and the vet was bonding in a way we had not bonded yet. Like we went through a really traumatic incident together. And now we're looking ahead and have these 51 chicks hanging out in our bathroom until who knows when, a goat who will deliver any day now, a lamb who still needs to be bottle fed every 3 hours (3 hours fly by so fast!), and gallons of sap waiting to be evaporated into syrup. And we're heading to a tractor auction on Saturday, looking for a mower and a rake in time for the first cutting.

I should say that the night of the big snow fall, I dropped the middle of the night feeding. Pa Ingalls once taught me that you shouldn't go out in a windy snow storm, lest you lose your way. And as of that night we have dropped the middle of the night feeding. And we feel fine about it. Plus, my big moon disappeared, making those late night hikes fall more into the spooky category, than adventurous. Miracle is still thriving, we feed him every 3 hours now instead of 4, and everyone is happier because Mom is getting better sleep...