animal kingdom / DAILY FARM LIFE / FAITH / family / life on thomas run / LIVING WELL

hello, girls

06.20.12

There's an old VHS video clip I have of my grandmother, walking out to her sheep in the pasture, "Hello, girls." she calls to them in that voice I miss hearing. Immediately, they respond–a mix of warbled baa's from lambs who have their lips pressed to the earth ripping out clumps of grass and others strong and clear who already noticed her coming. Deep throaty baa's of mama ewes who know her voice so well.

hello, girls

My first lamb, when I was eight years old, came from my Grandmother's flock of Hampshires, Dorsets and Southdowns. I remember well, picking out Buttons that day. I picked him not because he was going to win blue ribbons in my first county fair, but because he came up to me and started nibbling and tugging at the hem of my sweater. He had been one of her bottle-fed projects. Now he would ride home with me purely for the fact that we'd become immediate friends. Standing in that barn while sheep and lambs swirled around us and a border collie crouched anxiously outside the gate.

hello, girls

For the next ten years I would show lambs in 4-H and state fairs. We'd win some years. Other years we'd learn lessons the hard way–like never tie your lambs to Japanese Ewe bushes while they wait in line to be sheared. All will be lost.

When I would graduate and go off to college, my mother would still keep a few lambs on the farm. She loved them as much as we did. She was the sheep lady whenever she'd speak at churches, garden clubs, and women's groups.

But eventually, the farm would be sold. I'd get married. And have children of my own.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, maybe the back of my heart, I'd dream and hope for the day, when things would fall in to place again. When the time would come again, when my children would get their first lambs.

Once we moved to Thomas Run, I'd try to figure out ways to make it work. Ways to afford the fencing we didn't have anywhere. The buildings we'd need, that didn't seem to exist.

Then a pony would come in to the picture and horse fence would go up. Fence that wouldn't work for lambs. And I thought maybe we'll end up being horse people. Maybe lambs won't be their thing. The pony was definitely meant to be.

My husband, who likes to remind me of how I should just trust him on this, has always said that I need to just sit back and wait. That the right things, at the right time, will fall into our laps. The doors will open when we're ready. When the time is right. We needent force anything.

hello, girls

So I sat back. And waited. Sometimes I let it go. Other times a sight or sound or memory would make me want to work and work to make lambs happen again.

But then, in a matter of weeks, the door would open. Out of nowhere. I'd look at a building on our farm in a completely different way and suddenly see potential. I'd get drawn into a conversation at a 4-H meeting that would get me thinking. I'd make one mention of it out loud, that I almost didn't say, because it just seemed too impossible to admit. 

Then, there'd be an email

And here we are a few months later. 

hello, girls

I waited. Not always patiently, I admit. But now it's here. It's happening. And it couldn't have arrived in any better of a package. At any more perfect of a moment. 

I am in love. We all are.

Hello, girls. Hello.

There's an old VHS video clip I have of my grandmother, walking out to her sheep in the pasture, "Hello, girls." she calls to them in that voice I miss hearing. Immediately, they respond–a mix of warbled baa's from lambs who have their lips pressed to the earth ripping out clumps of grass and others strong and clear who already noticed her coming. Deep throaty baa's of mama ewes who know her voice so well.

hello, girls

My first lamb, when I was eight years old, came from my Grandmother's flock of Hampshires, Dorsets and Southdowns. I remember well, picking out Buttons that day. I picked him not because he was going to win blue ribbons in my first county fair, but because he came up to me and started nibbling and tugging at the hem of my sweater. He had been one of her bottle-fed projects. Now he would ride home with me purely for the fact that we'd become immediate friends. Standing in that barn while sheep and lambs swirled around us and a border collie crouched anxiously outside the gate.

hello, girls

For the next ten years I would show lambs in 4-H and state fairs. We'd win some years. Other years we'd learn lessons the hard way–like never tie your lambs to Japanese Ewe bushes while they wait in line to be sheared. All will be lost.

When I would graduate and go off to college, my mother would still keep a few lambs on the farm. She loved them as much as we did. She was the sheep lady whenever she'd speak at churches, garden clubs, and women's groups.

But eventually, the farm would be sold. I'd get married. And have children of my own.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, maybe the back of my heart, I'd dream and hope for the day, when things would fall in to place again. When the time would come again, when my children would get their first lambs.

Once we moved to Thomas Run, I'd try to figure out ways to make it work. Ways to afford the fencing we didn't have anywhere. The buildings we'd need, that didn't seem to exist.

Then a pony would come in to the picture and horse fence would go up. Fence that wouldn't work for lambs. And I thought maybe we'll end up being horse people. Maybe lambs won't be their thing. The pony was definitely meant to be.

My husband, who likes to remind me of how I should just trust him on this, has always said that I need to just sit back and wait. That the right things, at the right time, will fall into our laps. The doors will open when we're ready. When the time is right. We needent force anything.

hello, girls

So I sat back. And waited. Sometimes I let it go. Other times a sight or sound or memory would make me want to work and work to make lambs happen again.

But then, in a matter of weeks, the door would open. Out of nowhere. I'd look at a building on our farm in a completely different way and suddenly see potential. I'd get drawn into a conversation at a 4-H meeting that would get me thinking. I'd make one mention of it out loud, that I almost didn't say, because it just seemed too impossible to admit. 

Then, there'd be an email

And here we are a few months later. 

hello, girls

I waited. Not always patiently, I admit. But now it's here. It's happening. And it couldn't have arrived in any better of a package. At any more perfect of a moment. 

I am in love. We all are.

Hello, girls. Hello.

15 comments on “hello, girls”

  1. It must feel wonderful finally arriving on this doorstep.I am with you – waiting is hard. Even if you know in your heart it will happen when it is supposed to. I struggle with that one too.But here you are.

  2. So lovely. Makes me want to add my own addendum to your story about how it feels to have them back in the barn too.

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