When I moved from a quarter-acre suburban lot in sunny Florida to a farm outside Memphis a few years ago, I traded worn-out flip-flops for boots. With all the farm chores, which at first included tending pigs, rabbits, and chickens, it didn’t take long to wear out the first pair so I headed to my new favorite store–Tractor Supply–for a second.
They may look spiffy in this photo, but it wasn’t long before they were as dusty-dirty as the first ones. So my third pair are heavy-duty black.
I seldom wear them anymore. Two of the pigs were sold and the other two ended up in the freezer. The rabbits and their offspring have gone to a new home. And the chickens–well, let’s just say the foxes and raccoons ate heartily. (The experience was so unnerving I doubt I’ll ever raise a chicken again.)
Years ago, while living in that Florida suburb, I got a strange whim I never expected to come true.
In a strange turn of events, God gave me not just one but an entire herd. Yes, my friend, even pipe dreams come true sometime.
During this season of my life, I’ve done things I’ve never done before. Like watch a newborn alpaca take her first steps, surprise a fox that was a little too close for comfort, and shoved one of those huge pigs into a dog crate all by myself.
We won’t talk about the deer leg one of the dogs brought into the house.
But this amazing, enriching, exhausting, incredible roller coaster of a season is coming to an end.
Next week Griff, Rugby, and I will be leaving this place I’ve come to love and returning to the Sunshine State.
Another place I love.