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As I write this, I am raw with emotion. Instead of crying and cursing, I find the only way for me express myself is through writing. Writing this will hopefully become the outlet for me to help myself and my family through what has happened.

Our one barn burned to the ground tonight taking our entire herd of dairy goats, meat goats and my youngin’s rabbits. All the 4H project animals were in the barn as well as many material items that can be replaced, but it just makes me angry that they are gone. The lean to addition to the barn contained our skid steer, air compressor and many other mechanical things needed on a farm. It’s where we stored our irrigation hoses.  Oh, the irony of that.

The skid steer was the very first piece of equipment that my husband and I purchased for the farm. We bought it used 14 years ago and use it practically every day on the farm. We will be lost without it. We won’t even be able to clean up the mess without it.

Of all the things that we lost, the item that makes me so sad is a little red wagon that my daddy made for my second son when he was two years old.  My daddy found all the discarded wheels at the junkyard, used lumber from the farm and made him the cutest, little wagon. He painted it bright red and yellow and my son loved his wagon. He used to pull it around everywhere.  We used to put a carseat in it and hauled both his two younger siblings around in it. Over the years, my son has used it to ride down the hills around our farm. He would pile all his siblings with him and go like crazy down the hills with no true steering or thought of how they could get hurt. Just last summer, they ended up in a creek with the wagon overturned, youngin’s spilled everywhere, laughing and rolling around in the creek. And back up the hill, all the youngin’s went pulling the wagon to do it again. The wagon was stored in the barn because my son used it to haul haybales to take care of the goats. Since he received the wagon, I know he has used it everyday of his life.

I’m so mad about that wagon.

I am so angry about everything. It hurts. It is gutwrenching and painful. I wish this lump in my throat would ease up. I’m done with cursing, I’m finished with crying and I’m so tired, I just want to go to sleep, but my thoughts will not allow me.  Why? Why? Why do these things have to happen?

My youngin’s are taking the goats especially hard.  Since all the new little goat kids were born, the youngin’s have spent alot of time with them.  My oldest son had two does who were to deliver any day now. It is heart wrenching to hear my children sob and cry themselves to sleep just so they can try to forget about this madness for a while, if only in their dreams. 

As I write this, my husband is still back at the remains of the barn.  The flashing lights of the firetrucks are reflecting on my windows. For as long as I live, I know I will forever remember the call at 3AM telling us that the barn was on fire. I never will forget racing down the road to the barns seeing the ball of flames, our barn fully engulfed in flames. That’s when I had that sinking feeling set in and know that there was nothing that could be done. It’s a horrible feeling and I would never wish it on anyone.

I know I have to be thankful that my children are safely tucked in their beds right now, my folks are fine (other than being shaken and extremely worked up) and no humans were physically hurt. It is an extremely cold, windy night so I am thankful that the fire did not spread to the neighboring barns, where hundreds of animals are kept or the pole barn which houses our tractors, equipment, and hay.

I know I should be thankful for so many things, but mainly right now, I’m pissed. I”m so sad. I’m raw inside and I want this to go away.

This is number 6 in the 52 week challenge to be in the photos with just myself and/or my youngin’s for one whole year. These photos were taken last week and my daughter had just received the most recent copy of Ranger Rick magazine, which she just had to look at right away. I was trying to take my afternoon siesta when she grabbed a pillow and proceeded to make herself comfortable on top of me.

I tried to give her my full attention but I was getting so sleepy.

But I never did get that nap. She made me look at funny fish, weird frogs and some horse/donkey animal called a khur which is native to India. And she would now like to own a khur because she would have both her “dream animals” rolled into one. She has been bugging for a donkey since she was 2-3 years old and would not mind a horse. Her theory is that she would save on hay and grain for just one animal. Yep, okay, we’ll see about that.

I’m really getting sleepy in this one. Dang gum, do you see my crow’s feet around my eyes? And all those wrinkles? Mercy, my years in the sun are catching up to me.  Golly gee, I’m starting look like to like an old horse/donkey myself. Oh well, I have earned every one of those wrinkles.  

Speaking of the sun…here is another sunset on the pond.  Can you tell our pond is my favorite place in the world? Is it that obvious?

And just one more for kicks.

Well, not exactly,”wild” and it is just one dog.

Is it just me or is this odd that my little dog fell asleep here?

It’s just me. Oh. Well, what about this?

Little John fell asleep on the arm of the couch, waiting for me to get off the computer. I have to admit, he has alot of patience. And he is odd, right?

I know, I know, dogs only take after their owners…I can explain. It’s not my fault I am a little loony and that I can fall asleep anywhere!

Well, it seems the only thing that keeps me blogging these days is the 52 week challenge. (That’s where we, the momma’s of this blogging world, get in front of the camera instead of behind the lens.) This is a great idea so that later in life, my youngin’s will have some photos of their crazy, whack job Momma. And these photos will hopefully bring back many fond, vivid memories of their wonderful childhoods (with me) on our family farm. Or else, what they say about the digital photos not lasting more than 50 years may come true and there won’t be any photos of them or me, their crazy Momma. Never fear, we have the internet and the world of cyber now. Yes, right now, in 2009! I’m so excited, I plum forgot what my point was. Oh, no matter, I will think of something to rattle on about.

Okay, here is this week’s challenge photo taken by my second son.  Notice that he was more concerned about getting his prized Nubian dairy goat in the photo more so than his wonderful, loving Momma. That’s okay. Cassie, his goat needs the attention of this blog. She needs to feel the love from my blogging friends. You see, Cassie somehow managed to pull off Grand Champion 4H dairy goat at our little county fair and now, it seems she craves the attention that this title affords her. She thinks she is royalty and prefers to be addressed as “your royal highness”.  I now have to ask her before milking if I may milk her and always address her with, “if it pleases you, your royal highness, may I commence with morning (or evening) milking?” Cassie really digs this star treatment and she becomes like putty in my hands. Or rather her teats become like putty in my hands…ha he he. I kill me.

 So, without further explanation of Cassie, here she is, in all her glory. She really is a sweet girl when she isn’t on some high trippin’ self indulgence kick. 

Did I ever tell ya’ll that I love milking? I would rather milk than make supper. I would rather milk than mow the grass (and I love mowing the grass too.) I would rather milk than blog and I really like blogging too.  I love the smell of the cow or goat when milking, the smell of the milk itself and the whole overall process of making and taking of milk.  It’s such a beautiful thing. I never think of milking as a twice daily chore. To me, it is just one of the finer things in my life…being able to give my family raw milk in it’s truest, most nutrient induced state. 

I did not grow up with our own milk. Both of my folks came from farms where they milked cows and when my folks set up housekeeping, my daddy said, “Let’s try starving before we milk cows for a living.”  They ended up milking in the beginning of their marriage anyway.  When they first got married, they headed to South Dakota to help on my great grandparent’s farm. My great grandparents then packed up and returned to Pennsylvania for a year, leaving my folks with the South Dakota farm to run and the cows to milk. I guess they had some pretty lean times, especially just being newlyweds with a new baby (my annoying blind brother) on a farm in the middle of Bumfart, Idaho…oops, I mean, South Dakota. My momma always tells of saving the cream off the milk and that’s what they used for spending money, the cream check. They milked Brown Swiss on that farm and when they moved back to Pennsylvania, they inherited a herd of Holsteins when they bought our current farm from my grandpa. They ended up milking them until the barn burnt in 1974 and they lost their cows in the barn fire.  After that, my daddy switched to beef cattle and pigs and no, they never starved. We always ate pretty good, except we bought our milk at the store.

I always wished that we milked for a living. I can remember visiting our neighboring dairy farms and taking in the smells of the dairy barn. I always thought silage was the best smell on this green Earth (and still do).  So, when Cranky and I started the process of taking over this farm, 15 years ago, the milk cows came back. Not on a huge scale, just enough for our family of nine to have raw milk and our own cheese. Although, Cranky is not thrilled at the idea of being tied down with milking. He does not milk at all and will never help milk, as this is ALL my idea. I am reminded of this fact every time he wants to go somewhere, but that’s okay. I do not need to go anywhere anymore. I have seen as much of the world as I want to and I am just as happy to stay home.  Home is a good place and I feel safe here. Plus, I have raw milk here on the farm.

The milking goats came to the farm as a 4H project for my second son, who could not bear the thought of selling his animals like his older brother does in the 4H Livestock Club.  So, he asked for a registered dairy goat for his 8th birthday and we bought him two, Cassie and Greta. And thus it began…the goat thing. I found out I really like goats and I really love milking goats. We are working on expanding our herd as time and money allow. Registered dairy goats are expensive. My second son really loves his goats and I have found that milking is something we share together.

My boy is a born milker too. I’m so proud. I guess we won’t have to starve either.

There was a hit and run accident on the farm this weekend.

Here’s my version…which varies somewhat different from the version my youngin’s are sticking to.

Friday night, we were finishing chores and supper on the farm when the neighbor showed up to visit a spell.  Our neighbor, Tator was out joy riding on his John Deere 70 because he had just put in some new plugs or some mechanical term that I did not understand. It was a nice night out so we were standing around outside shooting the bull, because that’s what we do around these parts.  Plus, Tator really likes to talk. He was talking about the weather, farming, his tractor which he just had completed overhauling to get more compression or something like that, his father who got wrapped up in the PTO shaft while grinding feed and is still in the hospital, more farming talk, more tractor talk… and we just listened. Because that’s what you do with Tator. He’s a good neighbor so we don’t mind.

The youngin’s decided to take the John Deere gator out for a spin while Tator was talking and we were, well… listening. It was dark.  It was the first warm spring night we have had this year so far and it was Friday night which meant the youngin’s were wound tighter than a hydraulic winch. This is a proven recipe for disaster.

What happened next is from the investigative report that Cranky and I were privy to. We heard a very loud thud and crash.  Cranky immediately went into some type of cardiac arrest or at least, that’s what it seemed like. I swear that Cranky was so hot, bothered and angry that I thought for sure that I saw smoke coming out his ears. Tator immediately got on his tractor and got the heck out of dodge. He did not want to be subpoenaed as a witness for any of the crimes…the one that had already happened or the one that might happen next.

Here are some of the crime scene photos.

A hit and run involving the a sheared off post where the farm mailbox used to stand. (The culprits somehow missed the neighbor’s mailbox.)

The ATV vehicle which suffered considerable damage. It was covered in mud with a broken ty rod and a twisted front axle (which Cranky and my daddy spent all day Saturday trying to fix).

And here are the perps…

They sure look like shady characters, don’t they?  Don’t let their innocent little faces fool you. They are bad eggs and belong in a juvenile detention facility. Trust me.

When I arrived at the scene of the crime, I saw eight legs spread out on the ground looking at the damage to the axle of the gator.  I heard my second son, who is a mechanical genius tell his siblings, “Holy Shit! It’s really bad, guys.”

The next conversation that I overheard was my oldest, the foursome’s fearless leader say, “We need to focus and get our stories straight.” Nice…I have taught them well.

After surveying the crime scene, we set into motion their farm detention program.  Most of the time, Cranky and I will use corporal punishment for their offenses, but they were expecting this tactic so we switched up and tried something new for their punishment. 

We made them use the post hole diggers to dig a new hole for the mailbox post and then, they had to install the post and put up a new mailbox.  After this they were not allowed to do anything they enjoy doing on the farm. This includes fishing, catching frogs in the swamp or playing in the creek.  They are also banned from anything motorized; the gator, the 4-wheeler, or their motorboat, indefinitely. Looks like it is the shoe leather express for the youngin’s these days.

They also had to personally apologize to their grandparents for shearing off their mailbox. This hurt the most because Granmum and Pops are the ones who the youngin’s can count on when life gets rough but this time it was tough love from their grandparents.

The only good thing that I can say for the youngin’s and their unfortunate criminal incident, they all took the fall together. Not one of them would rat out the others and they all stuck together. Cranky and I still can’t get it out of them who the driver was.  So, as much as I was disappointed in them for their stupid and careless federal offense, I secretly am so proud of them for their loyalty to each other. I’m not sure how this got turned around that I am proud of them for their devotion to one another but I’m sure not telling them this information anytime soon. 

Nice…I taught them well. Even though they are little juvenile delinquent thugs.

Okay, I could not come up with anything original this week so it’s back to the goat barn.  The Boer goats finally delivered one set of twins and one set of triplets this week.  That’s a great time for photo opportunities with the kids, youngin’s and Momma Cheesychick. The goat kids are so cute, the youngin’s are still dirty and Momma Cheesychick still has her beanie hat on. If you must know, I never take my beanie off during the winter. That hat stays on all day long whether I am in the house or outside. The only time I take it off is to eat dinner, shower and sleep.  I’m thinking that it is okay for me to leave it on at the dinner table but Cranky says all hats off for dinner, whether you are male or female.  And whatever Cranky says, goes!  Yep, okay…right. (Wink)

And there I go again, off on some totally different subject. Oh, what was my point about the beanie hat?  Oh, I know…I have not had a cold in a long, long time. I owe it all to my beanie hat.  Yes, I know that colds are spread through virus germs but I’m not conceding that my beanie doesn’t fight those viruses with some of it’s black belt karate chop moves. My beanie knows all the right moves to keeping me healthy.  So, basically my point with that information is that you will continue to see me in that beanie until at least April.

I had hoped to touch base with some of my favorite blogs and have time to blog myself in this past week but I have been much too busy to even get on the computer lately.  I knew this would happen when spring came but I did not know it would be so soon considering spring has not showed it’s face around these parts.  Maybe this coming week will be different…

Here’s the triplets…God help me, they are so stinkin’ cute.

I would like to say see ya tomorrow, but let’s get real, I’ll be back with #4 of 52 weeks next Thursday.

Dang gum…I have been busy…I’m just not sure what I have been busy doing. I haven’t even had time to blog much at all. Oh well, it’s not like it’s a world crisis if I don’t get around to blogging.

Here is my #2 in the 52 challenge . It was taken about a half hour ago. We just came in from the barn…and the cat shot in the house (which is not allowed per Cranky). I told the youngin’s to catch the cat and put him out before their father saw “the @#%* cat” in the house. They ignored me as usual, so to avoid the expected hassle over “the @#%* cat” in the house issue, I decided I would just catch Mr. Brown. I have no idea why the youngin’s named him, Mr. Brown.  I personally think it is unusual name for a cat but nonetheless, that’s the @#%* cat’s name. Then I remembered it was Thursday and I did not have a photo for the 52 week challenge. “Here, kitty, kitty, come to Momma and be my photo op buddy.” And he did. He is so accommodating, that Mr. Brown.

Okay, there’s #2 for my year long quest to get out from behind the camera…Whew…only 5o more to go! Let’s hope I can get a little more creative for the next 50.

Oh, and can we keep this between you and me…about the @#%* cat in the house? There really is no need for Cranky to know.

I need to get this post up quick because I want to get to bed…to sleep. I’m tired. I had planned on taking some photos tonight with all the youngin’s for the 52 week challenge but that just did not happen. I had to drive to Bumfart, Idaho today to pick up a ton of  feed supplement for the pigs. Okay, it really wasn’t Bumfart, Idaho but it felt like it! Isn’t that a funny expression? “Going to Bumfart, Idaho.” We use that expression all the time to describe a long trip. Why? I don’t know. The only thing I can come up with is Idaho is a long way from Pennsylvania. And what’s up with that “Bumfart” part of Idaho? I hope that does not offend anyone with the second half of that word. I apologize for our  my ignorance and if anyone really does live in Bumfart, Idaho. I wonder if we lived in Idaho, what would our expression be then? “We had to go to Bumfart, Pennsylvania today and it sure was a long trip!” Now, what was I talking about in this post? Oh, oh, yep, I remember.

If you want to find out about this challenge, go to wyomingbarnetts.blogspot.com, and Carin will explain everything. It’s a really neat idea and I will try to get better organized for next week. Okay, like that is really going to happen. Ha he he.

The following photos were taken last week in the barn and one of the youngin’s took the photos. Not sure which one…they all took turns taking photos. It actually was fun taking the photos and trying to see if we did not cut off each other’s heads in the photos. I guess that was the point of the 52 week challenge…to have fun, which I can assure you, we did. Enjoy the 1st of 52! I’ll try to do better for next week.

I just love goats. This is Renee and she is a very sweet Alpine dairy goat. Oh, yeah, it was supposed to be a photo with my kids, not goat kids. Okay, no troubles. Got that covered with the next photo.

Not sure what that youngin on the right problem is, but he is looking a little goofy. And look they only chopped a little off the top of my head.  Well, it is a relatively high forehead anyway. I do not need all that forehead in the photo. Obviously, which ever son took this photo already knew this and decided to take matters into his own hands. Like I said, we will do better next week…or maybe not.

 My youngins’ spent the day working at their fort. They had to clean up following the wind storm that swept through our area this past week. Apparently, the wind came sweeping down the valley and took their front porch off. 

This was my Christmas card photo this year, which by the way, I never sent out…yet. Yes, I am going to send them out sometime in 2009. I look at it this way. I’m not really late for the Christmas holiday, I’m just really early for next Christmas. I am president of the local chapter of Procastinator’s Anonymous, you know?  I have to keep up with the  membership rules. Anyway, this photo was taken in December 2008 and notice the front porch which the youngins’ are seated under. Well, it’s gone.

The original fort was built 28 years ago by myself and my cousin who used to live with us. It was the cutest little fort which we built with discarded lumber found on the farm. We learned how to use a hammer, handsaw and how to shingle a roof when we built this structure. We painted it white with green trim, planted flowers, had a clothesline and even had our own little garden every summer on our little piece of paradise. My cousin, Billy and myself wasted away plenty of summer vacation just hanging out at our fort.  We certainly were proud of our little oasis and took great pride in home ownership.

Fast forward 28 years to 2009. My youngins’ discovered the little fort sitting on the farm, filled with my daddy’s prized collection of junk, oops, I always mess that up. I mean, usable merchandise.  They hauled out all the loot and claimed the fort as their own homestead.

They added a crude lean to addition, a front porch, put in a woodstove, and installed indoor plumbing. Okay, well, it’s not really a bathroom . It’s an old cow waterer with a pipe through the wall, but all the mechanics are there and it works.

So, today was a work day for the boys. They, after all, have to keep up with the precidence of home ownership that my cousin and I started many years ago. Don’t ask me exactly what they are doing in this photo.  I have not fine tuned the art of article reporting yet. I forget to ask the important questions that go with photo opportunities. 

This photo is pretty self explanatory. My third son is working hard while my second son wastes away his day sitting where the front porch used to be. (Yes, I well aware that I need to patch my son’s jeans, but it is pretty pointless. He will just put holes in the patches.)

My youngins’ told me that the insurance adjuster had come to visit the damage to their fort. The bad news was that insurance would not cover the blown off front porch so they decided to just tear it down. Ironically, Cranky’s good friend had just visited and he is our insurance agent.  I’m thinking this is where they got their information on their lame insurance policy.

Look! They keep house as well as I do.  I reckon they learn what they see.  After I took this photo, my third son was appalled that I took the photo with the toilet paper sitting out on their stump chair.  He promptly moved the toilet paper to it’s proper place in that organized chaos.  And some people think I have issues?

Pretty sweet digs, don’t ya think? So, what do you think of today’s improvements? I think “improvement” is a strong word to use with this little shack. I’m throughly convinced that they are ready to move to West Virginia and live deep in the Appalachians. Warren, what do you think? Do they have what it takes?

I know one thing for sure. I will not sign any loans for them to start any general contracting businesses. I don’t think anyone will be asking for any home improvements from their construction company anyway.

One thing does warm my heart.  They definitely take after their momma. Would you look at that Christmas wreath hanging on their fort. They are totally ready for next Christmas!

Oh, the girl.  What was she doing when they were doing home construction, remodeling and tending to the home front? Nothing much… 

Just out hunting and gathering for food with her homemade stick and baling twine bow and arrow.

This is my life.  I love it.

My friend, the one who enlightened me on the different definitions of the word, “cheese”, who only lives 15 miles away from me was wondering what the caboose looks like inside.  Are you curious too?  I guess not many people have actually seen the inside of a real caboose so I’m going to take you on a tour of my caboose.  Now,  my friend will probably point out the different connotations of the word, caboose.

She’s a real beauty, wouldn’t you say?  I think this caboose is a “she”, don’t you?  I say it’s a girl and that’s the way it is.

Well, come on, let’s climb on in. Just so you know, I didn’t know you were coming over today or I would have cleaned a little. Cough, gag…ha ha, yeah, okay, me? clean?  Funny.

Up the rusty steps…

Open the rusty door…oh, my cheeks are red.  This is sooo embarrassing.

Oh mercy, I really should have picked up a little.

Like I said before, if I knew ya’ll were comin’ a visitin’ today, I would have at least swept up (or used a leaf blower to blow everything out the back door! A fame thrower would have worked too.)  Maybe I should have made up the beds…yep, that would have really made a huge difference. Sorry, my bad.

How about I clean off the table, heat up some water on that little Coleman stove and we will sit a spell with a cup of tea and a piece of pie?

You can wash your hands in this cute little sink.  Let me turn on this beautiful antique light so you can see.  Sorry about the bird poop, I hope you can still eat your pie.

Do you need to use the “facilities” before we conclude the tour? Oh, mercy, now I am a tad embarrassed.  I could have least scrubbed the john. I never was Little Miss Suzy Homemaker.

Okay, just one last look from the kitchen and then we better head out. I have some work to catch up on. (Really?)

How about we enjoy the view from the front porch?

And a look down the side like a conductor would have seen daily.  Oh, looky, it’s my shadow again.  Gees, I tell you I have the cutest shadow ever!  I am so modest, not the least bit conceited at all.

Okay, here’s the scoop on my caboose.  It was delivered to the farm on October 6, 2008 so I have not had much time to gussy it up.   It was delivered as is, with all that junk, err, um I mean all that usable merchandise, especially that beautiful antique light and the million Sweet -n-Low packets all over the floor.  I bought the caboose by placing a bid over the phone to an auctioneer, who was selling a whole bunch of antique engines, tractors and one caboose.  This isn’t my first caboose that I have bought but it’s the only one that ever was delivered to the farm.  The first caboose deal fell through, after Cranky and my Daddy had already played John Henry and laid railroad track.  Don’t you just hate it when your caboose deal falls through?  So, we already had the railroad track laid, why not try to find another caboose?  My Momma actually saw this one listed in one of our local farming newspapers.  I never saw this caboose in person, just photos over the internet which the autioneer provided for me. 

In case you are wondering, yes, I got a good deal.  It has to be a good deal for me to purchase something.  I am a cheapskate and that’s official.  I have always wanted a caboose since I was a little girl.  So, when I want something, I, more or less, just keep harping to Cranky until he just can’t take it anymore and lets me get a caboose.  That’s how it works in our marriage.  Although, there was that one time that I really wanted that 1942 Russian Luftwaffe airplane and Cranky firmly planted his foot and would not move it.  That’s still an issue which I will not get into any further.  Let’s just say a little blessing to my husband right now.  They are considering him for sainthood for putting up with me and my crazy ideas all these years.

Of course I got a great deal on the caboose.  Did you see all that crap inside of it?  I’m not sure how I lived all these years without all that stuff.  And there was an extra set of tracks thrown in to sweeten the deal.

Anyone interested in an used set of railroad tracks? I’ll give you a really good deal. 

Ohh, ohh, ohh, just a thought…I could get another caboose to go on those tracks.  Gotta go, I have to go talk to Cranky.