26 July 2026

Good evening from Briden Farm.

This morning began much as yesterday ended—with Roscoe.

After everything that happened yesterday, I was relieved to find him resting comfortably this morning. He didn’t head outside with the other dogs right away, which isn’t unusual for him. Instead, he came over and settled into one of his favourite places, under the footrest of my Lazy Boy, right at my feet.

I checked him over once again. He’s still limping, but he’s using the leg more than he was yesterday. His nose is cold and wet, his eyes are bright and alert, and while I’m sure he’s still sore, he seems to be telling me that he’s doing just fine. I’ll continue keeping a close eye on him over the coming days, but seeing him a little better this morning was enough to ease my mind.

With the last several days being so busy, I had planned for today to be a quieter Sunday.

I should know by now that the farm doesn’t pay much attention to my plans.

The regular chores still needed doing, but beyond those I was hoping to slow the pace a little.

Then there were those hay bales.

Before heading over to the barn, I left Roscoe at home where he could rest, with River staying behind to keep him company. Little Beau came along with me and proved to be excellent company all afternoon. At one point he managed to find the pond and came back looking considerably muddier than when he left, but before long he had cleaned himself up again. I suspect the cool water felt pretty good on a warm July afternoon.

The poultry and pigs ended up waiting a little longer because one job led to another, and before long I found myself tackling what had been weighing on my mind for several days—getting the rest of this year’s hay under cover.

Last night, while discussing different ways to move six and seven hundred pound round bales, someone suggested I go back to the old ways.

That simple comment stayed with me.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I went back to the beginning.

Back to the original helpmeet.

Actually…

I had two.

Never underestimate the power of a woman.

Today, Mary and Lynn came to help.

Now, I think both of them would probably tell you that I did most of the pushing and lifting, and they’re probably right. But that doesn’t diminish their contribution one bit.

When you’re moving something that weighs several hundred pounds, another set of eyes is every bit as valuable as another pair of hands. There were times when they helped steady a bale as it tipped. There were times when they helped roll it into position. There were times when simply having someone watching from another angle made all the difference in getting things lined up safely.

Using my shoulders, my back, my hips—whatever part of me would push—I worked each bale toward the tipping point, rolled it onto its side, then rolled it into its new home beneath the carport. Most of them were stood back upright so they’ll be easier to feed from this winter.

At one point I found myself chuckling.

When we started, I was convinced I was at least two pallets short.

By the time we finished, I somehow had three extra pallets.

After thinking about it, I suspect the mystery wasn’t much of a mystery after all. By using a few boards, a handful of bricks, and arranging the spacing between the bales more efficiently, we simply didn’t need as many pallets as I had originally thought.

Funny how solving one problem often solves another you didn’t even know you had.

By the end of the afternoon, every single hay bale was safely under cover.

I have to admit, standing there looking at them all lined up, I almost got a little emotional.

Yesterday I didn’t know how I was going to get it done. There had been more than a little worrying, a fair bit of fretting, and yes, more than a few prayers.

Then help arrived.

That weight I’ve been carrying for days simply disappeared.

To Mary and Lynn…

Thank you.

Your hands helped.

Your eyes helped.

Your encouragement helped.

And simply being there made all the difference.

After finishing up at the barn, I finally had a chance to sit down and enjoy the lamb that had been cooking all day in the slow cooker.

It turned out that what I thought was a roast was actually the second half of a crown of lamb. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to mind. Cooked slowly for nearly ten hours with tea, garlic, onion powder, rosemary, oregano oil, salt, liquid smoke, and just a little cooking liquid, the meat was tender and full of flavour.

Those ingredients weren’t chosen by accident. Over many years I’ve developed my own approach to cooking. I always strive for proper food handling and proper cooking methods first—nothing replaces those. But I also like choosing ingredients that not only complement one another in flavour, but have long histories of helping preserve food as well. Every little bit helps, and when good cooking meets good ingredients, the results are usually pretty rewarding.

I trimmed away the silver skin and excess fat after it had finished cooking, saving those trimmings for the dogs, then pan-fried strips of the lamb with a couple of baked potatoes left over from yesterday.

Simple food.

Good food.

The kind of supper that reminds you the best meals don’t have to be fancy.

As I write this, the chores are finished except for one last walk out at dusk to close up the coops for the night.

The hay is finally under cover.

Roscoe is resting comfortably at home.

The animals are fed.

And despite today not turning out to be the quiet Sunday I had imagined, I don’t think I would have wanted it any other way.

Sometimes the best days aren’t the easiest ones.

They’re the days that remind us that problems often have simpler solutions than we first imagine, and that life is a whole lot lighter when we don’t have to carry its heaviest loads alone.

Until next time…

Brian
Briden Farm 🌾🐑🐐🐖🐇🐓🐕