Holding On for Spring
It’s been that kind of week...
Murphy’s tail thumped on the floor as I came into the living room. He was laying in a patch of sunshine coming through the window, warming his aching joints and tired bones. At the ripe age of twelve, my old farm dog has been struggling more and more this winter. Somehow February has seemed almost as interminably long as January, and I feel like Murphy and I are both holding on for spring….
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In This Post:
February on the Farm
Age Catching Up With Murphy
Keeping Busy
Holding On For Spring
Community Updates
February on the Farm
🐓The farm has been quiet—no chickens, lambs still five weeks out, the garden buried under several feet of snow. With one of my heating zones out all winter, the kitchen, dining room and bathroom have all been perpetually cold. Sometimes I don’t want to work in that part of the house and baking has become a game of strategy and resourcefulness.
Typically my federal tax return provides 💵 relief this time of year, allowing me to purchase seeds and supplies to get the growing season under way, pay off bills or make much-needed investments in house and farm. This year, however, with the IRS delay for those claiming the Earned Income and Child Care credits, it’s put me behind. Worst of all, until those funds come through I can’t take Murphy to the vet and I’m trying not to worry too much about my best pal.
Unfortunately, there’s not much to do for it but wait.
So this week, I did what any self-respecting homesteader does when the farm gets quiet and the walls start closing in—I baked things, moved my body, and tried my best to stay useful.
Age Catching Up With Murphy
🐕James Murphy turns twelve this year. He came to me through a Black Friday adoption event hosted by the Franklin County Animal Shelter back in 2015. He was about a year old then, and has been my devoted shadow ever since. Always the perfect gentleman (no, you go first—I insist!), well mannered and well trained.
Thanks to his diet and farm-dog lifestyle, Murphy has been the picture of health well into old age. Having younger dogs in his life and foxes to ward off has kept him active and full of spirit. It’s been difficult to watch age catching up with him.
🕒It began a few years back when Murphy decided he no longer wanted to wait hours for me at the edge of the garden. He’d opt to avoid the black flies and the heat, much preferring the cool interior of the house and his spot on the couch to all of that nonsense. Mom would be in when she’d finished her work, he knew.
Then, when Beebe would entice him to join her on walk-about, running and exploring the surrounding forests for hours, there were days that inevitably followed when he was too sore and lame from their adventures to jump or even move much at all.
While Murphy isn’t the first older dog I’ve watched go downhill, he’s certainly the most dear to my heart for our decade-plus relationship. Forever my shadow and dedicated companion. The man in my life when I had no man. Always loving and wanting only to be loved in return.
He’s still eating his meals with gusto, which is some comfort. But he’s been losing weight, his hips and back legs are failing, and I know with a sinking heart that this is the beginning of the end.
No longer does he follow me upstairs at bedtime to occupy the other half of the queen-sized bed. The stairs have become too dangerous for the old boy to manage, and I’ve had to press him to remain on the first floor of the farmhouse.
Hoping the tax funds would be in, I’d scheduled appointments with the groomer and the vet for this coming week, but it’s looking like I’ll have to delay them a little longer. Meanwhile, I try not to think about the inevitable…for now he is still with me and that’s enough.
🍪❤️So I made cookies for the dogs yesterday. Sourdough-discard peanut butter dog treats—to be specific—and they were SO easy!
➡️Click on the note to get the recipe and try it for yourself! Save big bucks by DIYing yours!
Keeping Busy
🥖Baking has been both a comfort and a challenge this winter. With one furnace zone out since fall, the kitchen hovers around sixty degrees most days—it’s tolerable, but less than ideal for bread.
BAKING
I bake on warmer days when the oven can heat the tiny galley-style kitchen as much as the food. For yeasted breads, I rely on my homemade proofer—a plastic tote with a seedling heat mat on the bottom, a couple of cooling racks to keep the dough off direct heat, and a thermometer/barometer to keep an eye on conditions. It works, mostly...
🥶During the arctic blast a few weeks back—there was a batch of multigrain loaves that refused to rise despite hours in the proofer. I ended up baking them off anyway out of sheer stubbornness, and the three loaves came out dense, small and entirely wrong.
But that’s the way it goes sometimes… 🤷♀️
This week I stuck to sourdough—safer territory in a cold kitchen. I fed Genevieve, my starter, and got a loaf prepped and fermented overnight. I’ll bake it off today to accompany our Sunday supper. I’m looking forward to it in the way you look forward to small things when the days are dragging.
PRUNING GIGS
✂️For the last few years, BraeTek and I have performed fruit tree pruning services to the local community. Partly to generate some early spring income, but largely because I just really enjoy working with fruit trees—especially the really old and gnarly ones.
There’s just something about their ancient wisdom and the value of the food these trees produce that attracts me to them.
I managed to line up a few gigs for March before belatedly realizing that neither my pole saw, nor the short ladder I use, will fit inside the compact car Dan is graciously allowing me to use. So, whether any of those gigs actually happen this spring remains to be seen.
MY BODY-IMAGE JOURNEY
🤸♀️I’ve also been exercising more regularly—something I’d sorely neglected this past year as I’ve barely kept up with my yoga habit. Working as a school lunch lady last winter paid the bills but cost me in other ways; I missed the planting season entirely, lost the physical rhythm of farm work that usually keeps me honest, and gained weight I’ve been carrying ever since.
Perimenopause hasn’t helped. My body has been changing in ways I didn’t anticipate and don’t love. Determined to grow as much of our own food as possible this season, I know I need to prepare my body for the work ahead. What’s more, I know that exercise is key as we age, so I’ve decided to do something about it.
Nothing dramatic—just showing up for myself most mornings before the day gets away from me. I’ll have more to say about this as the season progresses, but for now it’s enough to say that reclaiming my body before the growing season hits feels as important as any other farm prep I could be doing right now.
Holding On for Spring
🌷In the evenings I settle into the living room—the warmest room in the house—and Murphy settles too, wherever his body is willing to take him that day. On a good day he’s up on the couch beside me, pressed close for some extra loving care, but those days have been rare this past week. More often he’s on his dog bed or the floor, still near, still watching me with those patient brown eyes. Still close to mumma.
It’s been that kind of week, honestly—the tax refund taking its time, the situation with the car, the vet appointment Murphy needs that keeps getting pushed out. One thing after another, none of it catastrophic, but all of it accumulating into the particular weight of a February that just won’t quit.
But the refund is coming. Murphy will get to the vet. I’ll get my darned onion seeds, and new lambs will breathe life back into this small Maine farm. The days are getting longer. Spring is coming, and we’re holding on. I know you are, too.🙏
Sending love and good juju to you and yours.
Your friendly neighborhood farmer,
—Sam
Community Updates
➡️In case you missed it, here is a link for this week’s how-to article:
➡️Weekly share threads via MHL Chat: Monday Check-In and Weekend Wins.
➡️Office Hours coming soon!! Stay tuned for more about that in next week’s post!
➡️Thank you for following along with my farming journey! If these stories resonate with you, consider buying me a coffee or making a one-time donation through PayPal or Venmo.
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Dear old Murphy. I had to put one of my working dogs to sleep a couple of weeks ago. It was brutal. He was 17 years old and so loving - literally wagged his tail as I carried him into the vets. He always loved the vet. Hope Murphy keeps plodding along for a while yet!
You have lots and lots of empathy, from me and our boys, 2 tuxie brothers, dudes, as I call them!!!