Finally Signs of Spring on the Farm


| 4/15/2014 9:15:00 AM


Tags: spring, Maine, HOMEGROWN, Dyan Redick,

Seashore Near Bittersweet Heritage Farm in Maine

Mornings in Maine come softly and quietly. My days begin with tending flocks and herds. Then Penny, my English Cockerspaniel, and I slip up to Harborside Market for a cup of coffee before heading to Marshall Point Lighthouse. As Penny runs along the rocky beach, across the hills surrounding the lighthouse, and through the woods behind, I sit on a granite bench engraved with a local family’s name. I drink in my coffee and the view. Islands dot the watery landscape. It’s March, and they’re still dusted in white.

I take time to do this each day. It’s more than just the dog needing to stretch her legs. These trips remind me of the history of the people who, for generations, have worked these waters. Likewise, there are those who have eked out an existence working the lands that hug these coasts. It’s not an existence for the faint of heart.

Sometimes, usually when I least expect it, I get rewarded for keeping at it. Small things, like a tiny newborn goat kid laying its head on my shoulder after a bottle feeding. A doe in labor, resting her chin on my knee in the stall, awaiting her new arrival. A lamb falling asleep in my lap as we sit in the sun on a hay bale. On days when my patience has worn thin from spending time repeating the same daily tasks, I’m reminded why people before me chose this life.

Sunrises and sunsets here remind me why artists are drawn to coastal regions. Whether a cold wintry morning or in the heat of a summer sunset, colors intensify around the water. Who cares about the weight of a hay bale when you step out the barn door and are greeted by such stunning skies?

Turkeys on Bittersweet Heritage FarmSome people say farming is too much worry. Worry that predators, either overhead or on land, will snatch up a tiny one when you’re not looking. Worry that winter snows will never melt and uncover buried fences, leaving flocks vulnerable. Worry that the hay won’t stretch through until next season.




dairy goat

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