After losing a day to a vicious but short-lived intestinal flu, yesterday I was able to work all day long, slowly and steadily. It was very satisfying. Above is my white hen, Yuki (I have no idea of her breed; she was a rescue) investigating the floor of the quarter of the sheep stall I had mucked deep bedding out of.
This bedding should have been mucked out at the beginning of last summer — i.e. when I was busy moving house. Now it is 14 inches thick, wet, dense, and stinking. I use a pick-axe and a pitchfork, and gradually peel off hat, jacket, and fleeces as I sweat. The load is so heavy I can barely keep the wheelbarrow upright to roll it out of the barn. It is slow work. To finish the entire stall will take 8-9 hours. I’m tackling it in two-hour chunks.
It’s a terrible job but I am relieved to have started. I lack confidence in many areas but I do have faith that once started on deep bedding in a stall, I will finish. (The lamb stall and the sheep addition are also on my list for this vacation — another 12+ hours of work. Given everything else I’m trying to get done, those two may have to wait for Christmas break.) Once this stall is finished, I will worm the sheep and trim their hooves.
Yesterday I also paid bills, spent a first hour unpacking my office, dug the compressor out of the garage, found our winter boots, went grocery shopping, picked up my repaired horse trailer from Mike, put the trailer away for the winter in my neighbor’s barn, got one of my recalcitrant mowers started, and moved 4×8 sheets of sheetrock off the porch out of the weather.
Somehow the day was so heartening that I suddenly realized: I can do it. Yes, there is awful mess everywhere I look but the overwhelming snarl is becoming thinner. I will eventually prevail.
“I’m really happy,” I told DH when I came inside to wash up and fix supper. “I only wish I had two hundred hours to get everything done.”