Lemon Squeezy Farms

Tag: nature

  • Mid-July at Lemon Squeezy Farms: Heat, Hard Work & the Sweet Rewards of Summer

    “Let us not grow weary of doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
    Galatians 6:9

    …….

    Whew… this heat!

    The past several days have been hot… hotter… and hottest. Extreme Heat Warnings seem to have become routine. If you have a garden, flower beds, livestock, or really anything living that depends on you, you know just how relentless this kind of weather can be. Water hoses seem permanently attached to our hands, and every afternoon begins with checking on animals, gardens, and flower beds to make sure everyone is making it through another scorching day.

    Despite the heat, summer is beginning to reward all those spring hours.

    Our garden is just starting to produce tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini, and yellow squash, with the rest of the vegetables not far behind. My herb garden is the best one I’ve ever grown, and I’ve found myself stopping more than once just to admire it. The flower beds have been especially meaningful this year. In honor of our nation’s 250th birthday, every flower I planted is red, white, or blue.

    Every time I walk past them, I can’t help but think of our two sons who are serving this great country. Their service fills me with tremendous pride, and somehow those patriotic blooms make me feel just a little closer to them while they’re away.

    One evening, while I was looking out the kitchen window, I noticed Marc had several of the goats sectioned off together. I had a pretty good feeling I knew what was about to happen.

    “Are you moving the goats? Changing their fencing?”

    “I am.”

    “Need any help?”

    “I think I’ve got it.”

    “Lemme put on some shoes. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

    With that, I set the walkie-talkie on the counter and headed outside.

    I had been looking forward to BLTs for supper, but they would have to wait.

    If you’ve followed Lemon Squeezy Farms for any length of time, you already know that every project has a funny way of becoming much bigger than we originally planned. Thankfully, this was one of those rare golden moments where everything actually worked!

    We reconfigured the perimeter of the electric fence, even routing part of it through one of our shelter belts. Somewhere along the way I found myself using a scrap 2×4 as a hammer.

    Forget Thor and his mighty hammer. I was Thor in a baseball cap wielding a 2×4.

    It may not have been glamorous, but it got the job done.

    The best part came when we finally opened the gate.

    Watching the goats explore their new pasture was pure entertainment. Rosie, Peaches, and Poppy have never had this much room before. They bounced, explored, and investigated every inch. Rosie and Peaches would stop every so often to call out to Fiona, making sure Mom hadn’t disappeared somewhere in all that extra space.

    Mable may have been the happiest of them all. She immediately made a beeline for the leafy branches. Goats simply cannot resist browsing leaves, and now they have a wooded area where they can snack, find shade from the summer sun, and even climb over the fallen trees. I’d say goat paradise is somewhere between a forest and an all-you-can-eat salad bar.

    Thankfully, the forecast looks much kinder this week. Mid to upper 80s will actually feel cool compared to the triple-digit temperatures we’ve been enduring.

    One confession…

    I did all that fence work wearing shorts and flip-flops.

    What was I thinking?

    The mosquitoes and flies wasted absolutely no time reminding me why I almost always wear jeans while doing farm work. This isn’t city landscaping. Around here, the bugs consider exposed skin an open invitation.

    No project at Lemon Squeezy Farms would be complete without plenty of supervisors.

    Naturally, the goats kept a close eye on every fence post we drove. But my number one supervisor is still Clementine. She watched every move we made and now seems to be training Walter and Jesse to do the same.

    If there was one distraction during the project, it was Jesse.

    He’s the kind of cat you simply want to scoop up and snuggle, even when it’s nearly a hundred degrees outside. Both Jesse and Walter are growing so quickly, and all three of our farm cats have become wonderful additions to life here on the farm.

    As I look ahead over the next few weeks, I know what’s coming.

    Tomatoes.

    Cucumbers.

    Zucchini.

    Yellow squash.

    Lots and lots of them.

    We’ll soon be knee-deep in fresh produce, enjoying the rewards of all the work that began months ago. Even better, my pumpkin patch is looking far better than it did this time last year. I already find myself imagining our animals enjoying pumpkins this fall.

    It’s funny how farming teaches patience. You spend countless hours preparing soil, planting seeds, pulling weeds, fixing fences, feeding animals, and wondering if all your effort will pay off.

    Then one day, without much fanfare, you look around and realize…

    It already is.

    Mid-July has arrived at Lemon Squeezy Farms, and as always, we just keep plugging along. One hot day, one project, one harvest, and one blessing at a time.

    Screenshot

    Mabel (center) and Jill (left) are eating what they can before the others beat them to it!

    Jesse – one of my supervisors. You can’t beat a ginger cat!!!

  • Mud, Melt, & Miracles

    There’s something about a northern winter that doesn’t just settle into the landscape… it settles into you. It lingers. It stretches. It asks for endurance.

    Just a week ago, we were buried under more than a foot of fresh snow. The kind that muffles sound and presses everything into stillness. The kind that feels less like weather and more like a season laying its full weight across your shoulders.

    And then, almost quietly, something shifted.

    The temperatures softened. The sun lingered a little longer in the sky. The hard, frozen edges of everything began to loosen. What once was white and pristine has given way to muddy muck, puddles, and rivulets of meltwater carving their way through the land. It’s messy. It’s imperfect. It’s beautiful.

    Because it smells like spring.

    You can’t always see it at first—but you can smell it. That damp, earthy scent that whispers, “We made it.”

    The Canadian geese seem to know it too. Their calls overhead feel like a declaration: keep going, keep going… north is calling. There’s something deeply comforting in their return, like a promise kept year after year.

    And then there are the animals.

    Maybe I’m placing too much of my own emotion onto them—but it feels like they know. The chickens, who have spent weeks tucked in and waiting, are venturing out again. Watching them free range, scratching and exploring with renewed curiosity, feels like witnessing small celebrations scattered across the yard.

    Even more, they’ve started laying again. Quiet, steady signs of life returning.

    And our goats… oh, the goats. One is due any day now, with others not far behind. There’s an expectancy in the air, a kind of sacred anticipation. New life is just around the corner, and you can almost feel it pressing in, ready to arrive.

    All of it together—the thaw, the geese, the eggs, the soon-to-be babies—feels like hope unfolding in real time.

    Because if I’m honest, it has been a long winter. Cold. Dark. Heavy in ways that go beyond the temperature. The kind of season that asks a lot from your spirit.

    And yet here we are.

    Mud on our boots. Water pooling in the low spots. The air carrying that unmistakable promise.

    Spring doesn’t arrive all at once—it seeps in. It melts in. It calls things back to life one small moment at a time.

    And with it, something in me is coming back to life too.

    “See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come.” — Song of Solomon 2:11–12

    These herbs on my kitchen window sill brighten my spirits.

    It’s free ranging season again.