The Farm

It all started when I was in the office telling some friends that I would be going home for Easter Weekend. One of them told me to say “Hi” to the goats for her.

“Sheep,” I corrected her.

“Wait, you live on a farm?” asked another.

And somehow, everyone in the department believes that living 5.7 acres, being from Boerne, TX, and having sheep constitutes living on a farm. My arduous attempts to disuade this notion led to nothing.

“This makes so much sense,” said my associate editor.

My eyes rolled.

 

But I came home to my siblings playing washers in the backyard.

We helped my dad out with yard work and drove a tractor/lawn mower.

And my mother makes her own peanut butter.

 

IMG_9240

IMG_9254

IMG_9256

IMG_9262

IMG_9275

IMG_9277

IMG_9282

IMG_9287

IMG_9296

IMG_9299

IMG_9313

IMG_9320

IMG_9323

IMG_9330

IMG_9337

IMG_9343

IMG_9359

IMG_9366

 

Advertisements