Patrick and I got the trailer hitched up to the truck. For the first time, all by ourselves. Before moving to the farm I couldn't back up a trailer. We loaded it up with a bunch of junk that will be headed to the scrap yard.
Yesterday we said goodbye to Philip's old 77 Dodge truck. And the Mercedes. Neither of them could start up after sitting out for over a year. I sold the "junk" vehicles to a young man. He came over several days to work on the autos and I was thrilled to see him and his dad start them up and drive them down the road. Philip would be so pleased.
Today we sold some lambs to a young lady. And Panda and Tenderloin and Boaz, the ram to a gentleman. I know it seems silly, but I will miss them. Especially Boaz; his distinctive horns and personality, not to mention all the beautiful lambs he has given us.
After we loaded up the calves and Boaz, the fellows who came to buy them wanted to take a look at the flock of sheep. The sun went down. Pink tinged the sky. The moist air felt like an embrace. I was glad to have to be outside this evening.
A little worried when I came in the house at 8:30 and realized we hadn't had our supper yet.
Thank goodness, we had some jars of homemade chicken stock (from the roosters) hanging out in the fridge. It was thick as jello, but melted right down when I put it into the pot. After it came to a boil, I added a generous splash of soy sauce, four raw eggs, scrambled, toasted sesame oil, a tablespoon or so, and several handfuls of spinach.
I didn't feel like cooking. But that soup was so easy it really didn't feel much like cooking. We scooted the piles of laundry to the side of the table, joined Nora with her homework and slurped our soup, Japanese style. I thanked God for those roosters and eggs. And spinach someone else grew. And for warm air. And for customers who buy our animals.
And now I thank Him for my bed. And children sleepily tucked into theirs.