Yesterday, I talked to a mom of two littles (I have five kids) about how no, five kids is not harder than two. It's not. Two kids is the hardest. Five is hard, but not as hard as two. I promise. No really. Because right now, I'm having this conversation with you and my oldest is making lunch, and my second is changing the baby's diaper and the boys are digging in the dirt. Always digging in the dirt. And in the same meeting, she gave me some milk from a cow she didn't plan on milking while my dairy goat has her milk withheld because I had to give her some medicine. Milk on our oatmeal for breakfast was thanks to community.
We dropped off some of our hard work at the fair this morning for judging and learned that, while we had packaged everything completely wrong, the people behind the counter and behind us in line took pity on the new kids and got us all set up with the right plates and wrapping. We might not steal the show, but my daughters worked so hard making cookies, arranging flowers, painting rocks and landscapes, polishing eggs, and picking the prettiest veggies. It's hard when you might not win after all that effort, but I'm working to teach them that their best effort...and competing at 8 and 10 with adults who've been doing this for longer than they've been alive!...is the victory.
The thing that has touched me the most about moving from an albeit friendly suburban community to a rural, farming community, is people's willingness to stop, talk, and teach. It seems to bring people great joy to answer my endless questions about why my goat is acting funny...and what really is funny behavior vs just normal goat antics...and how the right cut of alphalpha can do wonders for milk supply.
They love to walk me through the pros and cons of different breeds of piglets and what things can be water bathed and what things need to be pressure canned. Why one person freezes green beans rather than canning them because that's the way her husband likes it. Another person taught me all about bidding on market animals at the fair by telling of her father's 30 year habit of buying the meat animals of the children of his customers. As the parent of 4Hers, I love the idea that there are people in the community who are willing to take the time to honor the children's hard work. Did you know they have work they have to do, above and beyond just feeding and maintaining, every day? Our friend's son shows a cow every year and this 10 year old boy has to go walk the cow and work with her on handling every day! It's hard work and a huge commitment...and a 10 year old handling a full size Holstein! (think black and white dairy cow).
This is community. It's not just people near each other working on common tasks. It's lives intertwined, sharing what works...things you can never learn from a book, or the way things "should" be done. There is no substitute for an 80 year old farmer who has tried every method under the sun and really believes that teaching the next generation is his duty. His pride is in his work. His honor is in his word. His joy is in passing on the information so that I can have a successful crop, or herd, or even stack of hay that won't fall over, or warm fire in my fire place.
Now, when I milk my dairy goat, I think of Deb who talked me through the process, and came and checked on my goat in labor when I was....perhaps freaking out a little because it was my first time as a goat midwife. When I make salsa, I think of Katie who talked me through the three main methods of canning. When I think of piglets, I think of Amber, whom I've never met, going back and forth with me in countless emails about how to pasture her heritage breed pigs that we are considering getting to add to our homestead.
And I think of Kelley, in labor with her latest baby, knitting her first shawl and how honored I am that she asks me for help and guidance. Hopefully I'll come to mind when she wears it and it will be a tangible reminder of how our lives are entwined forever.
