06/08/2026
Almost 14 years ago, we bought a Jersey cow named Bessie.
The plan was simple.
Zachary and I would walk her five miles home on the 4th of July.
What could possibly go wrong?
About two miles into her grand debut as a one-cow Independence Day parade, Bessie decided she had participated long enough. She planted her feet and informed us she was done.
Scott and his buddy Donny ended up rescuing us from the side of the road with a trailer.
That should have been our first clue about what life with cows was going to be like.
Tomorrow, the last two cows will leave Wallace Homestead.
One of them is the final calf born here, arriving just two months before the world I understood imploded.
For nearly fourteen years, cows have been woven into the story of this farm. Some stayed a long time. Some didn't. Some escaped more than they should have. All of them left hoofprints on this place and on us.
Through herdshares, calves, many (many!) escaped fences, muddy boots, frozen water buckets, and countless memories, they helped shape a life I could never have imagined.
I don't know exactly how to feel tonight.
Sad. Grateful. Nostalgic. Relieved.
Probably all of the above.
Tonight feels like the end of an era.
One I never wanted to end.
Not just because two cows are leaving.
But because tomorrow closes a chapter that began on a hot July day with a stubborn cow, an overly ambitious plan, a young Zachary, and a man who always rescued me when the plan went sideways.
Goodbye, girls.
You were part of a much bigger story than you ever knew.
