07/05/2026
A farm is about life. It's about growing and nurturing and caring. But because it is about life, it will invariably, at some point, be about death. Now, we understand there's a natural cycle. We raise animals for food, and we're okay with that. But this isn't about that. This is about loss. Its about grief.
We lost three this week. Three sweet, precious goat kids. Babies we helped birth. Babies we cuddled and pet every day. Babies the Cactus Roots kids named. But the damn parasites didn't care about that. We fought hard with every piece of knowledge, experience, medicine, and skill that we have learned over a decade of doing this. But this week, it wasn't enough. Two of these three would have one day gone to freezer, yes, but that should have been after a long life well lived in the free air and sunshine. Not like this.
We share this not to tug your heartstrings, although this should, but so that you'll know it isn't all rainbows and sunshine. There is a heavy, heavy responsibility in the stewardship of the lives the Lord has entrusted to us. The sanitized "cottage core", Insta-ready homestead influencers don't talk about this part. But it is just as real. Sometimes it's joy and sunshine. Most of the time it's a lot of sweat and aching muscles. But sometimes its on your knees in the dirt, covered in three kinds of poo, ugly crying over a blanket and praying for the words to tell your youngest farmer his favorite didn't make it.
I don't have a happy ending to this story. I have another young goat that turned up this morning with runny poo. I have chores stacked up inside and outside because of all the time spent trying to save these three. I am questioning all my life decisions, particularly the ones that involve goats. But in all this, I am still blessed. I am sustained. I am thankful.