We spent last week at the farm, sleeping in a yurt in the sheep pasture, and it was just about the perfect vacation.
By far, the best moment was watching triplet goat kids being born. Susie asked Hannah if that was her first time seeing something be born, and sounded surprised that it was, but I realized later that other than Hannah, it was the first time I’d seen something be born – at least in live action. Growing up in suburbia, dutifully spaying and neutering our animals means there’s not a lot of opportunities to see that happen. The transformation from dead-looking floppy thing to frolicking bouncy goat was astonishing.
The funniest moment was when I learned just why the phrase “goat rodeo” was coined. Hannah had to go out to feed the two bottle-baby goats. I remembered that the three milk goats where shut in the same stall, and I went with her to make sure they didn’t cause her any trouble. Because, clearly, it was just fine if they caused ME trouble, which they most certainly did. As soon as we opened the stall door, all three of the big goats rushed the door and escaped into the barn. I wrestled one back in, got the second one, opened the door to get her in, and the first rushed right back out. The next ten minutes were like a Keystone Kops movie – one goat in, one goat out, around and around, all with Hannah yelling and jumping around in the background updating me on what the goats I wasn’t wrestling were doing. For the record, it is remarkably difficult to convince a goat to go where you want her to go, but I finally managed to get ALL the goats back in their box.
The bummer was not having a camera for an entire week – because one of my bags got left behind at the hotel in Harrisburg. We got it back on the trip home, but there are no pictures from our stay to share.
The farm is another place of profound soul quiet; long stretches of time to do nothing, but with the routine of caring for the animals that drawn you back into the world of the here and now. Suffice to say, it was a deeply restorative week.
Re-entry has been easier than usual, probably because we came home on Friday night and had two days to get back into the swing of things. And there are always good things about coming home from vacation – which brings us to this week’s Ten on Tuesday.
Ten Good Things about coming home from vacation
- Sleeping in your own bed. Even when the vacation spot has comfortable beds, nothing compares to mine.
- Seeing your pets again, and laughing at their efforts to express their displeasure at your abandonment. There’s little funnier than a cat desperate for loving, yet intent on making sure you know you’re a jerk.
- Cooking for yourself again. This trip had the benefit of delicious home-cooked meals for most of it, but I love meals I cook myself.
- Having the proper space to store your stuff – I hate living out of suitcases.
- Having all my stuff – while I have no problem with traveling light, after a week or so, I get tired of not having all the things I might want close to hand.
- Not spending 13 hours in the car.
- Surprises that came in the mail while you were away.
- (Specific to this trip) Having a bathroom right next door to the bedroom, and not in the house that’s 100 yards away. In general though, being back in a space where you know exactly where everything is and can navigate it in the dark.
- Telling everyone about your awesome, wonderful trip, and sharing their stories that your tales bring to their minds.
- Getting back to the normal routine. I’m happiest when I know what’s coming and how things are going to happen. Vacations aren’t conducive to predictability.
