I think I’ve lived a year in the past month. We just thought all the stress and a million and one things to do were because the creamery wasn’t open yet and once licensed and producing we could breathe. Oh, the universe must be laughing up a storm at me right now. Frankly, I’m in awe of myself. Every week since we opened there has been something to fix, repair, move, add to the list of stuff to do, all while hand milking my goats and making cheese and running a boarding kennel in the middle of summer vacation for everyone. Oh, and let’s not forget the twisted knee from not moving my feet as I stood turning back and forth weighing and packaging the cheese, and a mysterious toothache that three dentists have not been able to identify the cause of. I’ve only cried once, when the tooth was so painful I couldn’t eat a delicious dinner of salmon and pasta salad that I’d made. I’ve learned what has somehow eluded me in 58 years of life. It gets done because there is no one else to do it. This is my baby. This is what I wanted and it’s up to me to keep it going. So I do it. And I don’t even mind.
Perhaps it has something to do with loving what you’re doing. Even when a doeling has scours and I’m having to force drench GI Soother herbs down her throat. Even when my new doeling arrives with mastitis and almost looses her udder, or even when the temperature probe goes out in the middle of a vat of cheese and I have to dump the whole thing and have a part overnighted. Even when the humidity is already 80% at 6am and I have to move the fencing for a fresh pasture. I just do it. And that’s pretty cool.