Well…
Here we are.
Day 284.
For those keeping score at home, the average cow pregnancy is somewhere around 281 to 286 days, which means Blossom is officially in the “could calve any minute… or could continue making me question every life choice I’ve ever made” stage.
When we first bred her, I was feeling pretty confident.
“I’ve got this,” I thought.
“I can count.”
Friends…
It turns out counting is not one of my spiritual gifts.
Somewhere along the line, I managed to convince myself Blossom was due much earlier. I had my bags mentally packed, my cameras charged, and enough towels laid out to deliver half the cows in Lincoln County.
Blossom, meanwhile, just kept chewing her cud and looking at me like,
“You done embarrassing yourself yet?”
Every morning became…
“Today’s the day!”
Nope.
The next morning…
“Okay… TODAY is definitely the day.”
Still nope.
At this point, I think Blossom is intentionally holding that calf in there just to watch me pace the pasture with my coffee.
She’ll look at me.
Look at the barn.
Look back at me.
Swish her tail.
Then go take another nap.
I swear she’s laughing.
Then there’s this calf.
Good heavens.
I don’t know what we’re growing in there, but I’m beginning to suspect it’s part kangaroo, part gymnast, and maybe just a touch extraterrestrial.
This baby doesn’t kick.
It rearranges furniture.
I’ll be brushing Blossom with her beloved curry brush when suddenly her entire side starts rolling like someone dropped a bowling ball into a waterbed.
I’m standing there with my hand on her belly saying,
“Well… that’s either a calf or you’ve swallowed a tumble dryer.”
Blossom just sighs.
She’s clearly questioning why she picked me as her emotional support human.
The funny thing about homesteading is you quickly discover that Mother Nature is incredibly patient…
…and completely unimpressed with your plans.
You can read every book.
Watch every video.
Talk to every dairy farmer.
And then one sweet Guernsey comes along and politely says,
“That’s adorable. Now let me teach you how this actually works.”
This is our first dairy calf.
We’ve made mistakes.
We’ve second-guessed ourselves.
We’ve changed plans more times than I care to admit.
And you know what?
That’s okay.
Because every mistake has taught us something.
Every day we’ve become just a little more prepared.
A little more observant.
A little less convinced we know everything.
Which is probably the biggest lesson Blossom has been teaching me all along.
So here we wait…
Day 284.
Coffee in hand.
Camera ready.
Checking on Blossom approximately every seventeen minutes like an expectant grandmother.
Will it be today?
Tomorrow?
At three in the morning when I’m finally asleep?
Probably.
Because if Blossom has taught me anything, it’s this…
She’ll have that calf precisely when Blossom decides it’s time.
Not when my mathematically challenged self says it’s time.
And honestly…
I wouldn’t trade this journey for anything.
(Although I would appreciate a little warning before she decides the barn has officially become a maternity ward.)
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