Friday, February 26, 2016
The Farmer’s Daughter: Winter at Love Blossom Farm
By Shelby McDonald from Peg Cochran’s The Farmer’s Daughter Series
It’s winter on Love Blossom Farm. Snow blankets the fields and a cold wind is hammering at the windows and pounding on the door. Our old wooden farmhouse is creaking and groaning under the onslaught.
But we’re snug as bugs in a rug (wherever did that expression come from do you think?) with a fire in the fireplace, a pot of homemade tomato soup simmering on the stove—made from the heirloom tomatoes we’d grown this summer and canned for the long winter—and a chicken pot pie with puff pastry crust in the oven.
I hit save and got up from my computer to check on the soup. My blog, The Farmer’s Daughter, has gained more followers than I ever dreamed possible, and I love chronicling our life here on Love Blossom Farm.
“Moooom,” my thirteen year old daughter Amelia squealed as she came racing into the kitchen. She always manages to elongate the one syllable word into several. “Billy took my phone and he won’t give it back!”
I sighed. While I struggle to give my blog readers the impression that life here on the farm is idyllic, sometimes it is anything but. Like now with Amelia fighting with her little brother. Again.
“I’ll take care of it.” I wiped my hands on my apron and marched into the living room where the television is going full blast. That phone is Amelia’s most prized possession and she has no sense of humor where it is concerned.
Billy is sprawled on the sofa, one overall strap hanging off his shoulder and his feet, clad in dirty white socks, pressed against the back of the couch.
“Did you take Amelia’s phone?” I tried to sound stern, but the sight of his freckled face and the cowlick in his blond hair that refuses to be tamed, make my heart melt as always.
“Mom,” Billy whined, managing to elicit almost as many syllables from that simple word as Amelia had. “It’s right there. I didn’t touch it.” He pointed to a pink cased cell phone sitting on the coffee table.
I rolled my eyes, picked up the phone and marched into the kitchen.
Dinner is ready, and the children and I are gathered around the table, holding hands, prepared to say Grace. Oh, who am I kidding? Billy is hitting Amelia in the back of the head with his napkin but Amelia hardly notices. All of her attention is riveted on her phone and she is texting furiously.
And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. How about you? Isn’t reality sometimes better than fantasy?
Come meet Shelby McDonald and the rest of the gang in No Farm, No Foul, #1 in The Farmer's Daughter series, coming May 2016! Available now for pre-order at: