Chapter Two, Episode 158 - Newbies - Situationally Theirs

“What are those three talking about? They’d better pay attention to where they’re going. Oh, my goodness they’re going to walk right into the kitchen steps!”

Martha was in the mudroom at the window. She had seen Miss Em, her sister and Samuel coming in from the garden. Miss Em was hanging on his every word. Her sister was nodding, adding a comment or two. Samuel was gesturing in the direction of the orchard. They slowed their walk as they approached the kitchen steps. Martha breathed a sigh of relief. Back into the kitchen she said. “Looks like they’re fine, Elizabeth. Do you think they’ll tell us what that conversation’s about?” 

The back door opened. “You ladies, get on in there. I’ll just clean off my boots. Don’t want Elizabeth to have my hide and refuse me my sandwich.” Dez just laughed. “She wouldn’t refuse you anything, Samuel.” She and Em went into the kitchen. “Hi, you two. What’s for lunch?” Dez loved these two women like they were older sisters. “Just soup and sandwiches, Miss Dez.”

“Before you get your lunch, what were you three talking about so intently?” Martha couldn’t contain herself any longer. James always kept her out of the loop about discussions with Samuel unless it involved her role as housekeeper. Elizabeth was not quite as tight lipped, so she did know that her employer was going to be working with her sister. She had mentioned that they would be working together “outside”, but nothing more. Miss Em spoke up “Samuel has become my teacher about working the land. I’m listening to everything he has to tell me.” She smiled and took a seat at the table. “I’m quite excited about this farming thing. Getting out of the house and away from meetings, possibly even growing our produce for sale.” 

“My goodness, Miss Em. You’re positively glowing. What an adventure!” Martha had known Miss Em for a very long time. Had seen her through her years with Mr. Michael and the very sad time after he passed away. She had been very pleased that she and her sister had found each other. Had done very well during and after the pandemic. But farming? Would she be strong enough? 

“Everyone thinks I’m crazy to learn about farming.” She stopped suddenly “Samuel says I need to listen to the birds, feel the wind and be gentle with the bees. That’s right, Dez?” Her sister, already eating her soup, just nodded and gestured towards Samuel. He smiled in agreement. “We’ll get Miss Em all fixed up and have her knowing the land like the back of her hand”

“Why don’t you three join us for lunch. If we’re going to make a team, we might as well start.” Dez patted the seats beside her. When James came out of his office for his lunch, he saw this little knot of friends and was pleased.

~~~~~

“You know, Matt, I really don’t think my wife is cut out for farming. She’s been a socialite for far too long. I just can’t see her hands getting all rough from a days work.” Jeremy had finally said it out loud. As long as Emelina was a ‘woman of breeding’ - that’s what his mother would have said - there was no room for the life of a farmer, orchardist or beekeeper. It was all right for his sister-in-law, but not his gentle wife. “If you want my opinion, I don’t have one. My ex didn’t like getting her hands dirty. That was our biggest argument. Never wanted to come out and help with any of the farm. I figure if Dez’s sister wants to try to do the work, why not.”

Jeremy had taken Matt up on his invitation to help him out at the orchard. He had no idea what he could do, but thought that if he could sew people back together and diagnose diseases, he’d be of some use to Matt. Now he was staring at a tractor with no idea what to do. Matt laughed in a burst. “It’s not going to blow up. It’s just a hunk of metal. All I want you to do is move it across the yard to get it out of my way.” Jeremy had been confronted with heart attacks, trauma victims, hysterical children, people dying of COVID 19 …..any thing that came in the ER doors, but this little green tractor was terrifying. “Jeremy it’s just like your car, without the bells and whistles. You turn it on, work the clutch and gas,……….” Matt saw the frozen look of panic on his friend’s face and decided to help. “Here, let me show you. Get up in the seat. The key’s in the ignition - she’s a pretty old girl - get your hands on the steering wheel.” Matt spent most of the morning getting Jeremy acquainted with his equipment. Muttering to himself, he said. “Sorry I got him out here! Wonder how Em’s ever going to manage?” 

“Did you say something, Matt? How’m I doing?” Jeremy was having the time of his life now that he sort of knew what he was doing. “Just talking to myself. Do that all the time, especially when I’m working on my own.”

“Matt, I’m beginning to see the attraction of working out here on your own. In the hospital it’s all call bells and p.a. systems and telephones. Patients and nurses asking for help - lots of times with no answers for them. Out here, it’s just the silence of the trees, the birds and butterflies.”  He had relaxed for the first time in weeks. A different sort of relaxation, he thought. “Like all the noise has been turned off and I just have to drive this tractor. Mow the grass.” He grinned. “And follow Matt around.”

He looked at his watch when he felt his stomach stir. “Let me take you for lunch, Matt. I have been more trouble than a help this morning and want to do something for you.” On his forklift, Matt wanted to keep working, finishing up stacking the empty pallets but he was hungry and an offer of lunch sounded good. If he’d been on his own he would have just kept on working. There wasn’t anything much in his fridge anyway. Parking and turning off the forklift, he jumped down and knocked the dust off his pants. “Let me go in the house to change first.” Only gone minutes, Jeremy had time to look around the yard and see what he could see. New and old equipment, some he had never seen before. For the first time, he had a better understanding of what Em might be looking for. What he might be looking for.

“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something.”

~ J.R.R.Tolkein, The Hobbit

The Weather Deals

Endeavouring to play with the cards dealt can be most curious. This time it’s just weird. Two of the potatoes I stuck in the dirt last February just sprouted. Why did I plant potatoes in February in Saskatchewan? For February, it felt like it was almost spring? What do I do now? Let the beautiful plants keep growing? Pull them out? I guess I’ll just protect them from any frost, get them inside pretty soon - but I hear we’re due for some warm weather soon! 

Where is the dedication in all this? In my farmer genes. Haven’t much of a green thumb, but if the weather just hints at me, I’ll plant something!

“When all is said and done the weather and love are 

the two elements about which one can never be sure.”

~ Alice Hoffman,  Here on Earth

Chapter Two, Episode 147 - Turning the Soil - Situationally Theirs

Turning the Soil

Stories spin themselves. But when Samuel Forrester gets hold of them, he adds sparkle. The twinkle in his blue eyes tells of the joy he feels when the dirt runs through his fingers in the spring. The satisfaction he feels when he digs up potatoes in the fall. He had been on the land and of the land since he was a boy. But he has never told his own story. As a boy, he walked beside his father as often as he could. It was from his father that he learned the story of the land and how precious it was to the Beaufort family. Now, he had come to believe that all land was precious to the wider world. Not just on the Estate, not just the city of Hartley, or even the country of Canada. He didn’t talk much about world events. “Don’t need to. Just have to watch the birds, the sky, the weather and all the changes. We’re not so special that just our little corner of the world has been messed up. ”  He claimed he was an old farmer. “No chemicals touching this ground. Organic they call it. Just like my dad and his dad before me. The old Mr. Beaufort and Grand-dad planned it all out. When horses, cows and chickens ran this place, this garden was the healthiest its been. The manure pile is long gone, but when it was here, they had a system worked out. Rotated the fresh cow manure with the composted manure. Same for the chicken pellets. Don’t know whether they ever mixed the two.”

                                              ~~~~~ 

Samuel, Matt and Dez had spent the day going over the needs of both orchards, the apiaries and, of course, the Beaufort garden. Matt and Dez wanted to do as many things the same as possible, to reduce their work load and align their expenses. Samuel was the best resource for what was needed on the estate. Matt and Samuel believed in much the same manner of farming. So much so that Dez was doing a lot of listening, with little to contribute. So, like a good student she took notes. When there were discrepancies in the plans they were stuck on, she was the arbiter. The Beaufort land had been organic for generations; Matt’s land had been non-organic. He had been working with a Land Board, but was still in the stages of conversion to organic. A time-consuming and expensive project. Until the conversion was complete, they would not be able to mix their fruits or anything used on Matt’s farm. “Put a hitch in your plans, Matt. We’ll work it out.” Dez was already doing some research about how they could work. 

~~~~~

“Let’s call it a day, you two. Elizabeth’s making us supper at the Estate kitchen. Should just have time to clean up. If I don’t, she’ll have my hide.” Samuel cleared their coffee cups from the table. “Guess we’d better clean up too. She’s not any gentler with Matt and me. See you up there, Samuel.” The couple pushed their chairs up to the table and set out for Dez’s place. Matt was still looking troubled. “Matt, it will be ok! It’s just going to be more work than we planned. We’ll get your place organic and this place growing fruit again. It did not bad last year but unattended as it had been, it’s been struggling.” She squeezed his hand gently. “It’s just that I don’t want to damage your orchard.” Then he let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulders as they walked. “You’re right. We’ll just get to work and keep the guidelines from the Land Board so at least our corner of the world has special treatment. Let’s get ready for supper.” He kissed her forehead. They smiled at each other, stopped their walk home for a quick hug. “Race you, Matt!” He was already ahead of her with his long legs, but she grabbed his belt loops and pulled herself past him. “Last one there has to serve Elizabeth her supper!”

“Agriculture is the most healthful, most useful 

and most noble employment of man.”

~ George Washington

Chapter Two, Episode 106 - A Day Trip to Beacon Hill Children’s Farm - Situationally Theirs

Both Photos at Beacon Hill Children's Farm

A Day Trip to 

Beacon Hill Children’s Farm

The Beaufort Estate seemed a quiet place. Yet, despite the pandemic, there had been two marriages, and a couple of relationships established. Only Giles, the chauffeur had seen it all happening. But there were at least two more. Abby Richardson, going on seven years old and her brother Ben, almost 12 years old. Where there are children, there are big ears. Abby and Ben, with their mother Joanie, lived a short way from the Estate manor. On Mondays and Wednesdays, they came to see Cook and their Grandma after school. “Mom has to stay late, again.” Abby, blond and blue eyed, would rather her mother came home. She was still needing her mom. But when she was told she could go to see her Grandma and Cook, she wasn’t so disappointed. Ben was boring. He’d grab a handful of cookies and do his homework. Abby would try to do her reading homework, but she would rather listen to the two older women. They talked about the parties Mrs. Crawford used to have when she was Mrs. Beaufort. She heard about how things changed with the pandemic. The stories about Miss Dez and her new boyfriend. Cook never said anything about Mr. Forrester, but Abby had seen them together.  

On the bus after school one day, she and her best friend, Laurie sat together as they always did. Abby always told her friend things about the Estate where her Grandma worked. Today it was about Cook and Mr. Forrester. “I may only be seven years old in two weeks, but I think they’re in love! Can you imagine! Two old people falling in love!” Her friend gasped “Really! In love! How can you tell?!” Abby giggled and whispered “I saw them kissing one time. And another time they were holding hands.”

Laurie looked puzzled “Did you think that when your Grandma married Mr. Digby? That it was kind of gross?” Abby got quiet. “That was different. Mr. Digby ~ I call him Papa James now ~  never said anything to Grandma for years and years ~ that’s what Grandma told Mom one day when they were talking ~ and then he just asked her to marry him. They weren’t secret about it like Cook and Mr. Forrester.”

As sudden as a gust of wind, their conversation changed. Laurie said “We’re going to my Grandma and Grandpa’s up island this weekend. We have to take a ferry to get to the island they live on. They have a boat so we’ll go fishing. Fishing is kind of boring. What are you doing?” Abby wanted to keep it a secret til school on Monday, but Laurie asked and she didn’t want to tell a lie so she told. “Grandma and Papa James are taking me and Ben to the Children’s farm in Victoria. We’ve only been there once before but that was before the pandemic and I was really little. That’s when Ben was still nice to me. Now that he’s almost a teenager, he just gets mad when Mom wants him to take care of me……..Like I need taking care of like I was a baby.”

The bus stopped at Laurie’s home. “Bye! See you on Monday. Message you from my computer this weekend…. If I’m allowed.” The bus driver frowned at her. “Get on home, young lady. I need to get the rest home before supper.” Laurie waved, shouldered her back pack and left the bus. Waving from her sidewalk, she turned and ran home.

~~~~~

“When are we going to get there, Grandma?”

Martha looked at James. He was grinning almost impishly, uncharacteristic for serious James Digby. “Have you kept count of how many times we heard that since we left?” Patient Martha was losing her calm with her granddaughter. Ben was drawing and had no time for his little sister.  “Abby, dear, we’ll be at the Children’s Farm in about ten minutes. Save your questions for the Farm, dear. Do you have your coins still in your pocket for the donation slot?”

Martha had given both her grandchildren loonies and toonies before leaving the Estate. She and her husband had decided on this day trip for the children to Victoria. Since school had started on the Island, she had seen little of the children. Their mother, Joanie, had at least a weekend’s work to catch up on. A teacher’s lot. The children were more than happy to get away from Hartley. Seeing their friends after their summer off and after the pandemic restrictions were altered, had been exciting. Chatterbox Abby, now almost seven, told everyone in the car about her new teacher, how many friends she had, her best friend Laurie was just the greatest, which boy she thought was the cutest and what her favourite class might be. Ben could have cared less. She was just an embarrassment at school. A quiet boy, he just wanted to learn what he could, get his homework done and to high school as soon as possible. His 12th birthday coming up, and only in his room, he was practicing being ‘cool’. Part of being cool was ignoring a little sister.

~~~~~

And there were many questions when they got to the farm. Ben just wandered on his own under the trees. He seemed especially interested in the pigs. He asked the farm workers about them, how old they were, what food they liked and did they stay on the farm all winter. Very studiously he asked “Do you think I could have one? We have a back yard. I’ve heard of pet pigs.” The farm worker talking with him said he’d have to ask his mother and do some research. “Find out if your backyard would be enough for a pet pig.” 

Abby loved the goats. “They’re called ‘kids’, dear.” But Abby didn’t hear. She had already found the brushes and was sitting on a stump brushing whatever goat came up to her. She had questions about all of the other animals - why do the chickens have such beautiful feathers, why are the llamas so tall, why do the sheep have been clumps of wool gone. But when it came to the little goats, she was quiet and very loving. 

~~~~~

“They’re both asleep, James. We’ve had a good day.” Martha continued in a whisper. “It does look like Ben is trying to stay awake - after all he is almost a teenager.” They smiled at each other and fell silent. Any more chatter and questions could wait for another day.

“When we are children we seldom think of the future. 

This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. 

The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.”

~ Patrick Rothfuss,  The Name of the Wind

Seeding?

Seeding?

“Energy that hasn’t existed before?”

Uncle Thomas seemed confused and he didn’t even have white hair yet. My parents named me after him but everyone called me Tommy. When I grew up, I wanted to be called Thomas. I thought I was pretty grown up already because I would be seven years old on my birthday this month. But people keep asking me what I want to be ‘when I grew up?’ Don’t they know I want to be a farmer like Uncle Thomas, and I kind of am already. I guess I got pretty confused too about the energy thing so when I asked Uncle Thomas, the best farmer in the world, and he just asked me back I was worried. See, I was going to plant beans in the spring when it was time. The ones that climb on bean poles - I guess that’s why they call the poles ‘bean poles’ - and they have red flowers. But the beans I had for seeds looked dead. Like there was no growing kind of energy in them at all. I didn’t want to plant a bunch of dead seeds and be the worst farmer in the world when I was just starting out. Uncle Thomas gave me the bean seeds and a little patch of his garden for my farm! Well, I guess it’s not really a farm yet, but you have to start somewhere, you know. Uncle Thomas isn’t mean. So I decided to ask him the energy question that made his forehead wrinkle up. 

“Tommy, do you remember where those beans came from? Remember we talked about it last fall harvest. We talked about all kinds of seeds. Wheat, oats and beans and peas and all the things your aunt and I plant in our garden and in the fields.”

“Now, I remember! The plants get energy from the sun and the rain. Nitrogen and oxygen from the rain. And the sun……is the word photo….something?”

“You’ve got a pretty good memory, Tommy. The word you want is photosynthesis. All that energy goes into growing the plants and making the seeds so a new plant can grow in the next year.”

“But why do the seeds all look like they’re dead?”

“Well, they look dead but they are dormant. Being dormant is rather like keeping a secret or maybe sleeping. Their secret is that they are alive. When you’re sound asleep, you are still breathing and your heart is still beating. Sleep lets your energy build up at the end of a day. When seeds are dormant they are doing the same thing, except they can stay asleep for a long time. It’s up to us farmers to wake them up. With beans, we wake them up gently by soaking them in the house before putting them in the ground. But why all the questions about planting? Spring is too far off to get your garden growing.”

“I think every farmer should know this stuff and I didn’t want to wait until spring to ask. What if I forgot my question or you were already in the field and I couldn’t ask you? So I’m glad we had this talk now.”

“So am I. Let’s go out to the kitchen and work on my new jigsaw puzzle. Aunt Marg has some hot cocoa and cookies for us. When it’s not planting time but feels like it should be, it’s almost a sad thing. I think we could use just a little cheering up - don’t you?”

“Kids don’t remember what you teach them. They remember what you are.”

~ Jim Henson

In Memory of David Glagau

Photo of David Glagau not available to me.

My memory of David is a slow south Saskatchewan drawl. He passed away June 12, 2019 and will be sorely missed by his loved ones. David’s smile, slow to come to his serious face, hid a very dry sense of humour. Previously my brother-in-law, I didn’t know David Glagau well. What I do know is that he was loved by many. When I think of him, I think of cattle, farm machinery, horses and the land. Rest in Peace David. The wide open spaces past this earthly life are now yours to roam.

“The trail is the thing, not the end of the trail.”

~ Louis L’Amour

Community Action on the Prairies

So many of us forget where our food comes from. Most of us, especially those raised in urban areas, don’t know the people that grow our food. My dad was a farmer. Most of his friends were farmers and if they weren’t, they were working within our small farming community. Teaching us, running our grocery stores, selling farm machinery, creating active church communities, teaching figure skating, guiding the 4-H Club members and so very much more. Long freight trains stopped at our grain elevators to load and carry the grains grown to far flung markets after all the dirty dusty work that our farmers had done. As a child raised on one of those farms, I saw the green heavy headed wheat, blue flowered flax and yellow flowered canola grown in vast fields on either sides of dusty dirt roads. Our gardens grew most of our food as did the gardens of other community members.

Milestone was a community that pulled together to feed each family whether home or farther afield. At any time of extreme need at seeding or harvest time, whoever was available brought machinery and food to plant or to harvest the large fields waiting for the farmer’s hand. Yesterday on Facebook, I saw that same passion in action following the death of a long time community member. Milestone, Saskatchewan still is a community that pulls together. Twenty farmers with their combines, four giant grain carts cleared this man’s wheat fields to ease the burden on the family, along with as many friends and neighbours that could help. To the all farmers and their families, I salute you and thank you.

“The greatness of a community is most accurately measured 

by the compassionate actions of its members.”
~  Coretta Scott King

Salt Spring Island She Shed Tour 2018 - She Shed #1

Our first stop on the winding Salt Spring Island roads was at the Thistle Rock Forge. Alison Sparshu is a farrier by trade as well as a blacksmith, window dresser and artist. She welcomed us onto this normally busy farm, where much more goes on than artistic ventures. The forge was quiet for this special day, tidied up in expectation of many visitors. Alison lead us back to her She Shed, where we discovered a work in progress filled with a jumble of materials for art pieces, keeping her art supplies separate from the forge work space she shares with her husband. Two art pieces on display were a life sized sheep used for a Christmas display and a bouquet of poppies for a Remembrance Day. To explain sheep at Christmas - there were two of them that pulled Santa’s sleigh as there are no reindeer on Salt Spring Island.  Outside in the farm yard, a black potbellied pig wandered up and sniffed my leg, much as a dog would, and allowed us to pet him. The shaggy family dog roamed the yard. It was a warm and friendly visit, a lovely welcome to this first She Shed, fundraiser for Salt Spring Women Opposed to Violence and Abuse. 

“Be an artist, in whatever little faculty possible. 

For the Earth, without ‘Art’ is just ‘Eh’”

~ Jasleen Kaur Gumber

See more of the artistry and work of these hard workers on their 

Thistle Rock Forge Facebook page and at

Thistle Rock Forge and Design

Desert Blooms

Desert Blooms

The desert was like a vast dry ocean. Shallow rippling ridges shadowed by the lowering sun. The only coolness, if one could call it that, was on the porch. The only greenery were the succulents and cactus strewn across the desert and nestled up against the house. I was waiting for Emily to arrive. In the distance I thought I could see the kick up of her dusty old Land Rover. She had been to town all day for meetings and farm business and groceries. We had been married for over 20 years and my heart still seemed to flutter when I knew I’d see her soon. As a young boy, I had been too shy to say much to her. My mates hadn’t had the same problem with the girls they wanted to date. As we grew, our paths separated, our lives took different paths. Every now and then we met by chance. With a bit of maturity came the perspective that if I didn’t get over my boyhood shyness I’d better do something, so I finally asked her out. Slowly our lives took on a comfortable rhythm and we decided to marry. Emily moved to my farm out in the no man’s land of the desert. This was where our interests really came together. Emily had always been concerned about the environment and I had learned about hydroponic farming on the deserts. We found ourselves in long involved conversations, until we ran out of words and just walked quietly through this land that so many had turned their backs on. So it became our sanctuary. An errant breeze stirred the sheer white curtains on the open windows behind me. I had wine and glasses chilled. Our supper table was set with our old chipped crockery, salad was cooling in the fridge. Emily pulled up and jumped out looking as lovely as ever, at least in my eyes. “Oh, Norman darling. I don’t look lovely at all. I’ve been meeting-ed till I am exhausted, my clothes are a mess, my hair is stringy - but I accept your complement. I’m just glad to see you - I could hardly wait. Keeping my foot off the gas was almost more than I could  do.” I unloaded the groceries and put them away while Emily set our supper out. The moon rose as the night air cooled and was still.

“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen and 

waste its sweetness on the desert air.”

~ Paul Hoffman, The Last Four Things

Author's note: Edited February 14, 2024

Shorty's Story

Ducks at Beacon Hill Children's Farm 2014

Writer’s group on Friday afternoon had a ten minute writing assignment. A small group of seven, our host offered each of us a lovely green pottery bowl filled with bits of paper. We pulled two words. In ten minutes, write a story to join the disparate words. My words, Farm and Puppy, were pretty easy, but ‘garbage and tulips’? Fun, a tear or two and memoir were penned while the timer ticked. Here is my ten minute story. Make sure I’ve used both words! 

Shorty's Story

“He had floppy ears. His left eye was blue with a big black patch around it.  Otherwise he was as white as snow. Shorty was his name because his legs were just too short. But because he was a puppy with big feet, he hoped to grow up to be tall and handsome. Shorty had three sisters and two brothers. They were born in the barn in the big hay mow. Once they were big enough and strong enough, his mom took the whole family around the farm to see all the interesting things that would become his playground. Old tires, chickens to chase, and a pond for the ducks and for the puppies to swim in. As he grew up, Shorty did get taller. So much so that his name didn’t seem to fit anymore. Each one of his brothers and sisters were taken away. Mom said they had been adopted. For a long time, Shorty missed them. He had no one to play with. It was much more fun to chase chickens and ducks with someone else.  He also felt neglected and left out, sure that he had not been picked because of his one blue eye. Then Farmer John began taking him hunting and showing him a bigger world than just the farm. He had been given a special place on the farm. He was also the protector for all the farm. Anyone that came in the yard would be checked out by Shorty first - sometimes before they could even get out of the car! But Farmer John would tell him who was ok and who wasn’t. Shorty would lie down on the front porch and snooze until he heard sounds that didn’t belong on the farm. Shorty had started out a cute, short funny looking puppy and ended up guarding their little farm world.”

“I suppose there will never be a lack of things to say, 

of stories to be told and shared.”

~ Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

Author's note: Looks like I didn't use the two words: 'garbage and tulips'!!

Out of My Comfort Zone

Pumpkin field at Michell's Farm

I took a drive this afternoon ~ Not to the movies, or the beach or even down to the ocean.
This wonderful, clear and hot day reminded me of farm and summer on the prairies.
A trip outside of Victoria to Michell’s Farm for their freshly picked vegetables satisfied me.
I was not curious at all about where clouds may be hiding.
It’s been a beautiful, hot day ~ a real summer day!

“I love how summer just wraps it’s arms 

around you like a warm blanky.”

~ Kelli Elmore, Magic in the Backyard

Thanks to Volunteers

When the pay cheque is not in dollars ~ just keeping busy is really not enough
So what’s a person to do!

At Beacon Hill Children’s Farm ~ Volunteering is the solution. Mucking out stalls, picking up after goats, feeding the animals, chickens and ducks, grooming the miniature horse, Peanut Butter, and her corral-mates the donkeys.
Many the tasks that keep the Farm running and humming for families and children, large and small, that come to the yard.
Sounds like a lot of hard work ~ and it is ~
Work done willingly by many volunteers of all ages
with great hearts and steady hands, smiles and cheer 
trusted to come for a short time or long and some are back year after year.

“Volunteers do not necessarily have the time; 
they just have the heart.

~ Elizabeth Andrew

Monday at the Farm

Monday morning at the Farm is a pleasure.
I do have a clarification from my blog last Monday ~
I said there were llamas ~ and I was in error!
Clarification:  Alpacas, sheared and sleek, long legs gracefully walking in their yard
Sadly one alpaca, Donny, passed away earlier this year.

In the neigbouring pen are deep voiced, insistent and wooly Jacob sheep








And in the corral across a narrow lane is Peanut Butter, the resident matriarch and miniature horse, who turned 24 years old in June!

Her companions are two donkeys (only one shown here).

Today, on my way having finished my work, there were a group of volunteers raking one of the other yards.  Volunteers with physical and mental challenges. Volunteers giving their all for the animals at the farm. 

Many of the children who come to the Farm are getiing a very first opportunity to see animals outside of a story book, getting down in the woodchips with the baby goats, or watching as a sow lays on her side to feed her babies. There is much wonderment in the Farm each day.

“What was wonderful about childhood is that anything in it was a wonder. 

It was not merely a world full of miracles, it was a miraculous world.”

~ G.K.Chesterton

Not Much of a Challenge

It really wasn’t much of a challenge ~ a short couple of hours at Beacon Hill Children’s Farm this morning helping with some clerical work. The goats were still in the barn. One brown headed, white blazed head peered over the gate to watch the outside world, his ankles (do goats have ankles?) resting on the wooden gate, hooves tipped over the edge. After a bit of looking around, with a glance at me as if to say ‘who are you?’, he let himself down on the straw covered floor to await the Goat Stampede ~ and of course the prize at the end ~ breakfast.

Beacon Hill Children’s Farm in Victoria is filled with farm animals ~ clucking chickens, rooting pigs, woolly llamas, white ducks, a little brown donkey and furry guinea pigs and of course goats with springs in their knees. Miniature goats that race down to the Petting Area for a day of running, butting, and being brushed and loved on by children, teens and adults alike. The babies come out when they are only days old ~ just for a bit - but are usually found with a protective mom in a stall in the small barn in the Petting Area. 

The sky was clear, old oaks throwing dappled shade, peacocks strutting and resting high in the trees. As I said, not much of a challenge!

“There are times when we stop, we sit still. We listen and 

breezes from a whole other world begin  to whisper.” 

~  James Carroll