FROM THE FEET UP

 
 This summer; trimming the hooves of our favorite beast, Tyrandelion. Clad in coveralls because sometimes you want to hug your favorite buck but you don't want to smell like him. Miss you, Ty. We hope you always get hugged while your hooves are being trimmed! 

This summer; trimming the hooves of our favorite beast, Tyrandelion. Clad in coveralls because sometimes you want to hug your favorite buck but you don't want to smell like him. Miss you, Ty. We hope you always get hugged while your hooves are being trimmed! 

Two years married. Six years together. Baby coming any day. Working hard to start our own farm. Unsure of where we'll live or what we'll be doing in a year's time. That's the pulse. Tonight we'll feast on a roast from a goat we raised ourselves. Mark will surely crack one of his few remaining tart cherry saisons, and Sam will opt for a cup of tart cherry juice. We will toast to this life we have cultivated in marriage; the mystery and the magnitude and the magic of it all more real than it's ever been. I suspect our baby will spend the evening dancing around and teasing us from in utero.

We could wax poetic on how totally wonderful marriage is, but we'd rather just let the year keep moving and be along for the ride. Maybe in fifty years we will have sage advice or wisdom to drop, but for now it's just coffee in bed every morning and laughing at how unpredictable and fun our life is together. Thanks be to God for a beautiful two years! 


—M&S