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  • Writer's pictureTina

Crossing Things Off Our To-Do List




Ever so slowly, we are ticking things off our never-ending to-do list on the farm. Sunday, the weather cooperated enough for The Bibbed Wonder to clean the barn. The fields have been too wet and saturated for the equipment to get in without ripping up the pastures and creating more work. The Bibbed Wonder keeps the shoveling to a minimum by utilizing the skid steer, the tractor, and the manure spreader. The individual stalls must be shoveled, but truthfully, a large broom can handle the cedar chips and small amount of poo that the small stalls acquire. I helped a bit with the shoveling, but The Bibbed Wonder ran the equipment.


It's rewarding to check off items on one's to-do list. Mr. Fuzzy Bottoms and I often compete to wipe things off the whiteboard in the soap studio. For whatever reason, erasing an item on the whiteboard is very satisfying. I am tempted to create a whiteboard for the utility side of the garage to help us stay task-oriented and give us another whiteboard to fight over. To-do lists can be an excellent organizational tool, or a daunting reminder of all one has yet to accomplish. For the sake of my workaholic husband's mental well-being, I have refrained from implementing another whiteboard.


With the beautiful weather we have been experiencing, I took the opportunity to clean out the little green chicken coop that houses my new baby chicks. My chicks are now four weeks old, and they are almost feathered. I liken this stage to that of adolescent children. The chicks are in what I refer to as their ugly stage. Their little legs seem too long, their new feathers are wonky, and their little beaks appear too big for their little heads. I removed their heat lamp, installed the roost, and hung their water and food troughs from hooks installed in the coop. I was happy to check that off my to-do list. Three of the little buggers escaped the coop, and we had to run around like mad men trying to catch them. My greatest fear was that Buster would join the game and kill one. However, he merely sat at the driveway's edge and watched us chase tiny chickens like we were mad.


I hope to begin bathing the goats this week. I have started taking a new medicine, and it is taking a bit of getting used to. Unfortunately, it seems to zap my already taxed energy levels. I remain hopeful that it will be a game-changer once my body adjusts. However, until that adjustment, I believe fighting with my almost two-hundred-pound girls will do more harm than good. Realistically, once The Bean finishes school, we can tag team the girls, and things will go more smoothly. My girl is on a money-making mission with upcoming trips and a new car on the horizon. She will be thrilled to help me bathe goats for an hourly wage. Okay, thrilled might be an exaggeration, but making money seems to make any task more appealing.


Along with our never-ending to-do list of farm chores, we now must factor in prepping for our weekly market, staying on top of social media, and, much to The Bibbed Wonder's chagrin, weekly grass mowing. The grass has gotten ahead of us with all the rain we have experienced. Eric hates to mow the grass. However, although he hates to mow the grass, he also obsesses about mowing. I am forbidden to touch the mower. Seriously, one little incident where I bent steel blades, and he has held that against me like I committed treason. Okay, there have been multiple incidents with the mower. I got it wedged between a tree and a fence post; I have ruined numerous blades by assuming it can grind sticks, stumps, or rocks; I have taken off parts of the swing set and almost slid into the pond. I will admit running the lawn mower may not be one of my strengths. It is okay for me to admit this. However, when I once again offered my mowing services to ease his burden, my darling husband informed me that I am good at many things, but running the lawn mower is not one of them. Sigh. Rude.


Someday, when I am retired and have time to pursue all my grand ideas, I will buy myself a little Kubota tractor with all the toys and attachments. I will then refuse to let The Bibbed Wonder look in its direction. Unless I get it stuck, need it maintained, or break something on it. He then will know what it's like to live with someone with cooler toys than he and not be allowed to touch them. It's called karma. I have big dreams.


On yet another lovely summer-like day, stay safe, be smart, cross things off your to-do list, don't be rude to people who try to help you, and keep washing your hands.




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