The Enchanted Hobby Farm Life



Photo of my nieces by Marianne M. Smith





Many who have never farmed harbor the idea that living on a hobby farm is an enchanting experience.  And most days it is!  But as fellow farmer Peggy Marchetti says:  “It ain’t all banjos and butterflies!”

Maybe Mars was in retrograde and the moon was full, but this week all the animals at our farm have been in a total uproar.   And normally my animals soothe me, but this week all they have done is jangle what seems to be my last nerve.

Just yesterday I came home to find that our eighty-pound Weim pup had eaten the mud-catching doormat at the most used entrance to our home.  I’m picking up shreds of the rug, and hear one of the housecats heaving while the other one leads the overly excited dogs on a chase through our too-small house.

While attempting to block the dog/cat exchange, I slide across the wet kitchen floor (dogs have upset their water bowls), ramming into the island.

I am momentarily further distracted by the screaming of an older but beloved goat who has developed an untreatable and unnerving condition.  (Just to clarify, the goat does live outside.)




Collected Photo/ Photographer Unknown



The donkeys are braying loudly for their dinner, and I haven’t even landed yet.  My husband walks through the door in time for the dog /cat ritual to begin again.  He pulls dog hair off his office clothes and grabs for one of the ever-present slobber rags.  The Newf has his head in the remaining water and we have exactly four seconds to respond before being totally covered in drool.

We get the dogs and the floor mopped up and attempt to get the pups out the sliding doors, which now totally block the lovely view outside because they are coated in slobber and muddy paw prints.

The dogs then chase the barn cats, who have decided to take up residence on the porch just to torment the dogs.  Then the barn cats return to the porch to torture the inside cats.  I’m yelling at both sets of cats while my husband is trying to decide whether to offer me wine or go on vacation alone.

One of my usually relaxed barn cats  Photo by Marianne M. Smith

We head to the barn to begin the nightly feeding rituals, and the usually complacent barn cats are hissing and spitting and carrying on with each other.  The hay-laden Gator runs out of gas half-way between the barn and the pastures.  It’s quite late, and I’m tired, hungry, and overwhelmed.  The garden still needs to be watered. 

When I have days like this, I have to keep repeating to myself that I love having a hobby farm.  And that the animals bring me great joy and purpose.  But this week, even to my practiced ear, that mantra sounds like the ranting of a madwoman.

Today my “day off” consisted of steadying drugged donkeys in the barn after our spring gelding party.  Doesn’t everyone live this way?   Now, about that vacation…  Did you just volunteer to be our farm-sitter? J

Marianne M. Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com