There’s this guy I know.
He works with a bunch of girls. Girls with attitude. Sass. Hormonal girls.
Pretty much all his co-workers are female. And a lot of them are usually in a pretty cranky mood.
Everything in his workplace is pink. Hot pink.
His business partner is kind of ridiculous, often showing up to work with some newly painted sign she wants him to hang in a precarious spot.
And he never complains. Somehow he always seems to find a way to feel grace.
Because this guy I know. He’s not like any guy I’ve ever met.
He’s smart. The science of cheesemaking is not just something he’s interested in, he studies it. He’s driven. Being a small business owner is something he sees as a gift, not a burden. He’s talented. Not only is he a trained carpenter, he’s also a musician. He is equally creative in both. He’s kind. He’s funny. Shoot, he even likes to cuddle (even more than I do). He fills my world with a kind of love I didn’t know existed.
It’s never been a secret that this farm was something I started with a different man. Our biggest product was pork then and the dairy was something only I was passionate about. In fact, the dairy didn’t exist. It was a dream I was clawing and fighting to make happen as the rest of my world crumbled around me.
It’s a dream that did happen. But, it’s not because of me.
Matthew is, without a doubt, the backbone of this dairy. I can say, without any reservation, this dairy would not exist without him. No really, even if I hadn’t fallen in love with him, he is the carpenter that I hired to finish construction. I was so broke in the midst of my divorce I paid him in pork (not a metaphor).
Of course, the rest is history, we fell in love, we got married, we had a baby, and, we got licensed as a Grade A Goat Dairy.
Somewhere in that whirlwind year the farm changed. What started as a utilitarian farmstead fell into a state of disrepair and then blossomed into the magical place that is now. Five years ago you couldn’t pay a worm to live here. Now, much to Giz’s delight, every single overturn of a rock or a stick reveals a whole host of worms.
There is life here. Real life.
And suddenly, The Farmstead just doesn’t seem to fit us anymore.
So Matthew and I made a big decision this weekend.
We’re sloughing off our past and emerging as something we’re really proud of.
We’re becoming the Lost Peacock Creamery.
I’ll say it again because I love it so much.
Lost Peacock Creamery
What the heck does it mean?
Anyone who has been to our farm has noticed our peafowl. We started with 4, a purchase we brought home in anticipation of our Summer wedding at the farm. Those 4 peacocks have morphed into 9. 4 of them were hatched here and one, a beautiful pure white peahen, just showed up one day. We have no idea where she came from. We have no idea why she stays. In fact, why do any of them stay? Before we brought home peafowl everyone warned us if we let them free range they wouldn’t stay. The thought of penning up these amazing birds was too painful to imagine, so we took our chances.
And now they are everywhere.
Have you ever seen a peacock in real life? They are SO BLUE. If someone showed you the color of a peacock on a paint chip card you would say to yourself, there’s no way that color occurs in nature.
But it does.
If you had told me a love like this existed in real life I would have said there’s no way two people could be so well suited to each other.
But they are.
This creamery, this silly little goat dairy, it’s our love story.
Sometimes on your way to a dream you get lost and find a better one. And sometimes a lost peacock stumbles upon a new place, and calls it home.
That home is now the Lost Peacock Creamery.