Utopia

I love Big Daddy in many ways and for many reasons. But the most selfish reason I love him is because of his unconditional ability to let me be myself and his acceptance of who I am (which is no small feat!) I tend to be a bit of a handful…and on top of that, my sometimes “unusual choices” (in addition to the circumstances life throws at me, through no fault of my own…) takes a person of strong character and constitution to, well, understand.
We are very different people, and I occasionally worry that the things I find funny and interesting are “not-so-much” to Big Daddy…and sometimes I’m right. I would be lying if I said that, now and again, my “it could only happen to me” strangeness was met –not with a concerned and/or interested nod of approval--rather, with eyes rolled DEEPLY back into his skull, head slowly shaking back and forth as if to say, “here we go again…” But never if it involves a “farm story.”
In fact, BD has grown quite fond of the farm (after all, it IS the “most magical place on earth”…at least to me…) which tickles me pink! So I was quite thrilled this weekend when BD asked if he could take the kids and follow me to the farm this past Sunday. Unfortunately, they were unable to watch me milk due to our strict biosecurity practices, but they were able to walk the chores with me…I had more help than usual! M wanted to help me carry buckets and BD helped carry water. Filling water buckets became a family affair…BD and I supervised while M turned the water on and V directed the hose. I was over the moon excited that EVERYONE was into helping out!
As we walked out of the barn, Big Daddy asked me, truly dumbfounded…
“How do all the animals here get along…I mean, you have cats, dogs, chickens, guinea hens, rabbits, goats, a donkey and a sheep,a cat, a horse and a handiman ALL named “Bob!” How do they all get along?! And Why?”
A huge smile crossed my face…BD had discovered the wonder of the farm. Everyone co-exists and everyone, for the most part, gets along. It is truly a mini-Utopia, and everytime I travel down the long winding driveway, everytime I am greeted by two blind pot-bellied pigs and a beautiful Great Pyenees named Sophie I feel that, in a way, I’ve come home. So my heart sang with delight that my family could share in my little secret, my little gem…my farm.
M was very interested in helping me carry the buckets of milk to the “kids” [baby goats.] Aside from milking the does, carrying milk to the babies is the most important job on the farm. The youngest babies stay on the covered porch of the farmhouse. They are secured by a waist-high gate that latches automatically. As M passed me the baby-bucket full of milk, he noticed that the gate locked behind me.
“Momma!” he squealed with glee… “You’re locked in! You’re locked in!”
“Yep! I sure am!” I replied, as I replaced the bucket for the playful kids.
“This must be your LOCKY day!” M announced with delight! “GET IT,” he said, “Your LOCKY day?!”
If only he knew how right he was. It was my LOCKY day, my locky day, indeed.