It’s summer here.  We are re-siding the barn and re-building a woodshed and all the while, limp babies in hot cars trend on Facebook.  The be oken hearted Mama’s don’t trend though; I’m sure they lay desolate and alone plotting their own self imposed punishment.  A different kind of fiery hot end.   As I monotonously fire the nail gun into the cedar shakes, I cry for both of them.

The farm is surging with life right now,  a good reminder of the decent and redeeming things.  Puffy little chicks chase their mamas around looking for food.  The crows circle and everyone heads for the tree line.  Our milk cow’s calf is gaining on her in size and if we would let him, he would drink close to four gallons of milk a day.  We don’t.  He is shiny and black and full of curiosity.  The cats tease him on the fence line, never letting him get quite close enough.

The big girls are in swimming lessons.  They smell of chlorine and sunshine and sometimes of diesel if they’ve been playing on the tractor.   When I wash Lewie’s hands the whiteness of them highlights the dirt continuing up his arm.   Maybe he’s not as tan as I thought.   He broke his collar bone last month and a little knot is all that is left of the ordeal.

I kill a lot of cucumber beetles during the day.

Those are the little bits of our summer.  Things my five babies will remember as the hazy  memories of childhood.  Oh God, let that be all that trends in my life.  If I could be so fortunate.

Photos from this spring