SUNRISE, SURPRISE, NUTMEG HAD A COLT

The farm will teach you, if you let it, that life keeps its own calendar—and it does not trouble itself much with ours.

This morning, just as the sun was easing up over the edge of the pasture like a quiet promise, we were met with a small and sturdy miracle: Nutmeg, our gentle long-eared girl, had brought forth a foal in the hush between dark and daylight. No committee called it, no clock marked it. It simply came, as most good things do—unannounced and right on time.

Truth be told, none of us were expecting it… and in another way, all of us were. That’s the way of a farm. You learn to live ready for joy.

And joy it was—especially for Lily, who claims Nutmeg as her own, not by paper or purchase, but by love and daily tending. And besides Pop gave her the donkey that she so named. I reckon there’s no bond stronger than that.

By all signs, this new little one is a jenny—a girl. And that seems fitting. There’s a strength that runs through this place in the form of daughters and granddaughters, of women who carry both tenderness and grit in equal measure. Three of our donkeys are girls, and now one has stepped into the sacred work of being a mama. Around here, we don’t make much fuss about such things—but we do take notice. We call it what it is: a blessing.

I’ve got a feeling—one of those quiet nudges you learn not to ignore—that we’re not done yet. There may be two more little surprises waiting in the wings. And you can rest assured, I’ll be keeping one eye on the horizon and the other on the herd, watching and waiting like any good steward ought to do.

I’d be remiss not to tip my hat to John Goodwin, who shows up day in and day out to feed these animals like clockwork, rain or shine. There’s a kind of faithfulness in that work that doesn’t ask for recognition—but today, we’ll give it anyway. I’ve gone ahead and named him the grandpa of this little one, whether he likes it or not.

Names are already being tossed around like seed in the spring, each one offered with a bit of hope and a story behind it. But in the end, the choosing will belong to Lily. That’s as it should be. After all… it’s her donkey.

i’m sure Claire Bear will be asking when her donkey Coco Bean will have a baby and I’ll have to tell her that God only knows. And that’s the truth.