In the final month of the impossibly long 2020, you don’t need me to tell you how messy life can be. Here at Star & Sparrow, we’ve had our share of lows, complemented by a parade of highs. We live in a valley that can flood without notice or quickly fill with smoke from distant fires. But we also wake up daily to spectacular views, embraced by nearby hills and the shadow of mountains.

Obviously, the biggest issue of the year was the coronavirus and its aftermath. We worried about our own health and that of friends and family. But we also felt our social life drop off, as the pandemic slowed our progress in a new community. After only seven months here in the valley, much came to a halt. Remote work, meetings canceled, no large gatherings. We still managed to deepen relationships with new friends over virtual and later real campfires… when allowed. And if we had to quarantine, at least it was in the midst of gorgeous greenery and wide open spaces. Also, I’ve had more time to improve my baking skills.

My planting efforts certainly provided downs, as well as ups. Our attempts at corn went wonky because I didn’t know to keep sweet corn separated from other varieties. But that meant free food for the birds. Of the many tomato plants that I grew, only a few were outstanding, most were okay, a few were duds. Still, I devoured several tomato sandwiches and my body weight in Sun Golds. Plus, I canned a bunch of whole tomatoes, salsa, and jam...and hey, more food for the birds. Almost no cucumbers but tons of squash. (You guessed it, more bird food!) I learned a lot this year and already ordered new seeds that should be better suited for our location. 

Maybe the hardest obstacles we had to face this year were those of tangible loss. The more animals you care for, the more likely it is they won’t all make it. As I mentioned in a recent post, some losses you anticipate. Others take you by surprise. 

Just before Thanksgiving, Bryon went to the poultry auction to seek out a new friend for our turkey hen. No luck there, since turkeys were in hot demand. Instead, he came home with twelve ducks. They were from various lots, and we didn’t have information on their ages or anything else really. A few days ago, I headed out in the dark to begin my round of feeding and noticed one Muscovy wasn’t standing with the rest. With a pit in my stomach, I opened the pen to confirm my fear. He hadn’t seemed interested in eating the night before, and we aren’t sure what happened. I wiped away a few tears bidding him peace, and Bryon made him a final resting place. But the sadness of that discovery was soon displaced. The very next day one of our Welsh Harlequins delivered our first duck egg. I did a little dance when I found it, while Wendell and Mary Berry quacked at my theft in dissatisfaction. 

We’re still early days here at our ever-growing farm. There will be many more losses, intentional and otherwise. There will be more crop failures, thanks to pests, weather, and user error. And as Bryon and I watch the months and years flip by on the calendar, aches and pains will hang on longer and more loudly. At the same time, we look forward to a day when we hatch our first duckling and our first gosling. In early spring, we will add pigs to our roster. And my fingers are itching to plop the new round of seeds into trays of dirt to watch sprouts emerge at their own pace. 

The line from a Sheryl Crow song just popped into my head—“Everybody gets high, everybody gets low. These are the days when anything goes.” As we look forward to a new year, that seems as good a motto as any.