Life on a farm is a school of patience; you can't hurry the crops or make an ox in two days.
It wouldn't be so hard to wait if the arrival of kids wasn't tied up with such a variety of goodness. The first birth means the start of: fresh milk, delicious cheese, summer nights watching the antics of herd of all ages set free in the field, early mornings that for some reason feel invigorating instead of painful, hours of snuggling tiny goats in a stall, and visits from great people interested in beginning down the same wonderful road or just stepping into a different world for a few hours. There is no time of year which is so overwhelmingly rich with delicious anticipation. And yet although all five of our mama goats look nearly ready to burst, they are not quite ready to let the season begin. They tease us with plaintive bleating that suggests they are ready to give birth and then let another day pass without sharing any cute babies with us. Meanwhile the cats stay close in the stalls, touching noses with the pregnant mamas, seemingly content to wait out the next few hours or days and provide a watchful eye. Inside the house, we pretend to sleep, ears tuned to the barn baby monitor, eyes forming colorful kids and tasty containers of chevre in the darkness. In a week I'm sure part of me will look longly back on the lazy mornings of winter, but for now my patience is stretched thin and if all the does went into labor tonight I would definitely not complain!
