Visitors

A white Volvo came up the driveway today, got to the top of the hill, and then backed down slowly. At first I thought it was someone who thought our road went somewhere, but a few minutes later, some people appeared at the door. They were wondering if anyone had a few minutes to show them around the farm.

Nancy was downstairs because we were having our weekly check-in, which we usually do while we're cracking eggs together, but Earl is on a panel at a forage conference today and I had to crack my share of the eggs when he was still here to watch the kids (45 dozen in 31 minutes--a new record for me). So Nancy and I were in the kitchen, working on how to make sure our employees are getting milk for their households while we're short of milk, discussing how to best get organic coconut now that our regular supplier has instituted minimums that far exceed our use, and all the little things that make up our work. I was also baking the cookies that Harley and his visiting friend, Charlotte, had mixed up and helping Laila, Charlotte's six-year-old sister, work on a quilt project we're doing together. Oliver was asleep on my back, the laundry pile could comfortably hide a family of stowaways, and the phone had rung three times in the last fifteen minutes. Nancy had piles of invoices, statements plus the rest of the 2007 wrap-up to do. Erik was busy bedding and feeding and watering and taking are of all the new calves. He was also fixing the grain bin that Noodle had managed to break apart and get her head stuck in. Travis was cutting firewood for the outdoor furnace that heats the house and office. Jay and Steve were running milk with Bill, who looks like St. Patrick's Day was a little hard on him. And so we had to tell these nice people, "No. We really don't have anyone who has even a few minutes."

Earl really likes to show people around. He's proud of what we've got going here and thinks that there's nice stuff, like inspiration and education and good will, that people can take from a tour. But it's also hard on him to get interrupted in the middle of his work, which happens often enough anyway, and it eats at him to have too many half-finished projects. Me, I like a little privacy. I don't like the way it feels to sweep aside all the things the boys were expecting--popcorn or homemade playdough, or a trip to the library or finding the Playmobil pirate with the peg leg and the shiny sword--every time someone stops by. Earl doesn't want people to think we have anything to hide. I understand his point, but I do have some things to hide, like our underpants on the clothesline, the endless clutter on the counters, and the trash that the dog got into that is now frozen into the snow.

So we're compromising. We're planning two open farm days this summer, between cuts of hay. Earl will make a round bale maze with the new hay and I'll scoop some ice cream cones and Earl and the boys can show people around. Kids can check out the tractors. Folks can walk the lane and visit the cows on pasture and see the new calves in the barn. We'll put some curtains in the kitchen window, rent a port-a-john, and keep all the action up by the barn and creamery, where it belongs, of course. We'll try to make it really nice. Hopefully it will be fun for everyone who comes, and for us. Maybe even for me.