Last week, a grassfire started in a field not too far from us.

The same area had burned the week before and by mid-afternoon, the fire was out.

Or so everyone thought.

Around 5:30 p.m., just as I was getting ready to leave the office, a few of us looked out the window and noticed it looked like the apocalypse had come to Great Falls.

Most of us had noticed the smoky smell but at first thought someone had burned the popcorn again (seriously, how hard is this people? Just hit the popcorn button and it's perfect every time. Every. Single. Time.)

Then we realized something was wrong.

Winds had shifted, a thunderstorm blew in causing the fire to pick back up, fast and wild.

Pretty quickly, the fire moved toward the city limits, coming within yards of a densely populated neighborhood and some blocks were evacuated.

Once that end was under control, it had sparked again on the northern end, which was moving toward us.

When it was all done, the fire ended up coming just about as far north as us, but stayed to the west by a few miles.

I'd planned to leave the office that day by 5:05 p.m., was ready to walk out by about 5:35 p.m., but ended up there until 9:30 p.m. when the incident was largely over.

Since that day, we've noticed some puffs of black smoke in a nearby field, which had been burned. The fire isn't considered completely contained until we get more rain and every puff of smoke makes me nervous.

One bit of smoke flared up during a major thunderstorm the other night, which included lots of lightning and high winds, and I kept my eye on that until I fell asleep. I noticed another bit of smoke this afternoon, just as high winds were blowing through the area.

For the most part, everything here is fine, but our fields are dry and little stands between us and the area that burned but more fields of dried grass.

Last week's fire was much scarier for those in its quickly changing path, but it was a reminder for us of how easily it could happen to us.

Wild fires and grass fires are major factors during Montana summers and there's been several significant ones since my first visit here in 2012.

It's a reality of life here and in the western U.S. Right now, there's a large fire raging in Hamilton, Montana, the town where we got our first batch of chickens, and it's forcing evacuations and threatening homes.

But as much as it's always a possibility, it's been one of those things that happens over there, or in the mountains or out in the county (yeah, yeah I live in the county). Maybe it's just like everything else when it won't happen to you until it does.

After the fire, I talked to the city fire chief and emergency manager about ways to prepare for fires and how to take care of yourself in an emergency when help might not get there in time for stories that ran in the paper.

Then I came home and realized we didn't have a detailed plan either.

Though, I've already pitched to M that we get rafts so in case of a tornado we can climb down into the cistern. Obviously we can tread water or float, the rafts are for the dogs. Of course.

That's how my logic works.

M nixed the raft idea.

As a kid, I took emergency planning to heart and had emergency kits in the basement that include water, batteries, flashlights, a radio and coloring books and crayons. My 10-year-old priorities were on the entertainment provided by electricity free coloring, but those kits came in handy on more than one occasion.

For whatever reason as an adult, that emergency planning went by the wayside, when really, I probably need it more.

All that said, my worst-case-scenario imagination is over here working overtime to think through possibilities, exit plans and to start putting together a new kit or go-bag as the fire chief calls it.

No one thought I was overly cautious when we spent a few hours in the basement in South Dakota as tornadoes blew through and I know I won't be upset with myself for being overly prepared if and when the worst-case-scenario becomes reality.

If anyone tells you farming, even on the tiny scale we're starting, is glamorous, they're lying.

Sure I love my chickens and my sheep and they're loads of fun, it can still be exhausting to care for them.

A few weeks ago, I was avoiding post hole digging or something of the like, so I went to muck out the sheep shelter instead. 

We'd laid hay on the ground previously but the sheep had worn it all down and made a mess, as sheep do, and scattered it all outside their shelter too. 

So in I went with the rake and spent longer than I planned raking it into piles so I could scoop it all into a bin for composting.

It might not seem like it, but large amounts of hay are heavy. The 60+ pound hay bales we bought last fall are tough for me to maneuver on my own and since we had at least one bale strewn all over the shelter, the piles made for many of my handfuls into the bin. 

The rake I was using probably wasn't the best suited for the job, but lesson learned. 

It was cool and I was trying to beat the coming storm, but I certainly worked up a sweat, made more lovely by dust, hay and sheep poop.

Once I hand scooped the hay into the bin, I dragged it out to the fence line, which I imaging was a bit comical since I almost dumped the whole thing while trying to pull the now 60+ pound bin over the lip in the shelter opening.

The sheep had of course run out, confused and annoyed by the disruption, but by then they were happily munching on grass. 

We had decided to try wood chips for bedding, so carrying six bags of pine chips that had water in the folds of the plastic wrapping added to my messy state of clothing.

By the time I was done, I was a soggy, filthy mess, covered in dust, wood chips, hay and sheep poop. Lovely.

One the walk back to deal with chickens, it started to rain.

It's always a bit dusty in the chicken barn and well, they poop everywhere, so never go in there without muck boots or ratty sneakers on.

When it's hot, it can get stuffy in there. We have plans for better ventilation for the birds, but mostly for us when we're working in there and being swarmed by birds.

They're mostly polite and docile birds, but they'll peck at anything. I learned the hard way they like shiny things so I don't wear my watch around the birds or they'll go for my hand when I'm filling their feeder or water. 

A few weeks ago one of them got me just above my boots and I was wearing shorts. That left a nice, big bruise for awhile. Thanks bird, thanks. 

Hauling water to the sheep and chickens isn't so bad, but never do it in work clothes when you're running late, or you'll just get pooped on and have to start all over.

Sometimes, you'll fall in a hole because you're off balance with the water buckets and on the lookout for snakes and not entirely looking where you're going. Of course, every.single.time. I walk back there, I'm on the lookout for snakes. Unless it's winter. It might be -20 and you're carrying a bucket of water into a cuts-to-the-bone wind, but there's no snakes.

Or you'll be lying in the dirt to stabilize a post and crouching in weird positions to staple the fencing to the post. Try as I might, I can't entirely escape fence duty.

Or you'll spend three hours on the tractor and not come close to finishing mowing the field, but be a roasted, dirty mess and a little high on diesel fumes.

Turns out M has headphones with a jack so I can plug my phone in and listen to music, or podcasts, or books on tape. I'm almost looking forward to my next day spent on the tractor. 

Just now I took another bucket of water to the sheep and Little Kitty followed me. Earlier I thought, surely a 10 pound cat won't scare 200+ pound sheep. Nope, they were definitely spooked and I was just praying, to anyone who would listen, that the sheep wouldn't bolt through the fence. It would be harder for them to pull that off now than the last time, but I really, really, really don't want to spend another day searching for a runaway sheep and dragging it home like that last time.

Between a full-time job, getting back into running, serving on some boards and life in general, I'm already a scattered mess, but I think the bloopers of us figuring out this minifarm thing keep me more grounded than anything. Luckily, our livelihoods don't depend on my not-so-green thumb or me learning how to clean, spin and dye that wool right away. 

It's a total blast with the farm animals and I wouldn't trade it, but there's nothing glamorous about it. At the end of every day, it's just our life and what we make of it.

Once upon a time, I was basically dared to run a 12k with a bunch of Air Force boys, so of course I did it. 

Then my former roomie talked me into a half-marathon.

I ran about six more after that. 

Then I got tired. 

For awhile, running was good exercise and a good, healthy way to burn off stress.

It was an early morning routine, or a nice evening jog.

When I got Grover, it was a free, easy way to burn off his unending energy and chewing. He's easily distracted and not too good at running in a straight line, so he was interval training. We'd run as fast as I could for a few minutes, then walk, then sprint, then walk, until one of us couldn't take it anymore.

Once we moved here, things started to change.

Grover had a pup friend in Moxie and they could play in the yard and entertain each other. We still went for runs together though, until he broke his back and now I worry too much to take him running. 

Living in town for a few months, it wasn't hard to walk out the front door, run a mile or so and hit the trail.

But out here in the country, it's tougher.

M mowed a path around the fields for me once but I'm so terrified of snakes and the ground is uneven, it was just miserable.

Running on our road is nuts, since it's 70 mph, with one lane each direction, almost no shoulder, and I imagine snakes in the grass off the road. 

So basically, I stopped running since it took more effort to get up earlier, drive to the trail, drive home and somehow managing to get to work on-time-ish.

M assembled the treadmill last fall and it gave me less excuses to avoid running, other than hating the treadmill.

But slowly, oh so slowly, I'm getting back into it.

First it was slow runs on the treadmill while catching up on tv shows I never get to watch. Then it was longer run/walks while watching silly girl movies I've seen a million times. 

Once the weather got better, it was Gidget's turn to be my running buddy and we hit the trail. 

A friend talked me into a 5-mile race in April, then another friend talked me into a 10K in May and another 10K last weekend. 

All of a sudden, I feel like I might have another half marathon left in me.

Don't get me wrong, I don't actually enjoy running.

My left knee is starting to ache more often, a nagging back injury flares up sometimes and those two years off the running wagon resulted in added pounds that are proving harder to lose than I'm happy to admit. (I'm not giving up wine, so pass the carrots please)

But, when I first got back on that treadmill with the full intention of getting back in shape, I hated it. 

Running more than 30 minutes felt like torture.

Now, albeit almost a year later, I don't mind spending an hour on the treadmill or the trail in the morning and 4 miles is my new norm, even if I walk part of it.

Saturday morning, this happened. 

I maxed out the treadmill. And ran 4 of those miles.

I'm certainly no faster than I was when I started, but I dig in, power through and get to whatever goal I set for myself on most runs now. 

Sometimes, it just sucks and it's too hot, or I'm too tired, or too something and I don't push since I'd rather just have a bad run than hurt myself. Plus, I know, a better run is in my future.

Like the 10K I ran with a friend last weekend and we didn't stop and cut 7 minutes off our time from the 10K we ran the month before. I had planned to make it at least 3 miles without a break, but made it all 6.2, minus a few minutes for a water break and that was it.

It might have been that my race number turned out to be 406, as pictured above. I was so excited about it, I skipped. 

406 is Montana's one and only area code and the core of about half of the state's marketing efforts. So registering at the last minute that morning worked in my favor. 

We also made friends with a fellow slow runner who happens to be an agriculture expert on the weekly Montana call-in agriculture show that M and I watch regularly. She's a Montana-version celebrity.

Running wasn't fun to me when I was running half marathons and it's certainly not fun now that I'm years older, but it's one of those things that is solely within my control and there's something incredibly satisfying about recognizing the progress you've made through sheer force of will.

There are two marathons this fall I've got my eye on, I'll keep you posted. Plus, a glass or two of wine is the perfect reward for a good, long run, so there's a calorie-math victory right there.

Remember that cat I found under my car hood when I got to work a few weeks ago? No, the recap is over here. 

After that adventure, she was in the garage, only to be kicked out by the first stray cat that we acquired, aka Kitty. 

This little one, she's really just a kitten, is known around here as Little Kitty. 

We're real creative with the names, eh? But they're barn cats, not pets to us. Plus, I'm not a cat person in the slightest. 

But, Kitty has done an excellent job hunting mice around here and being an all around decent farm cat.

Turns out, she hates Little Kitty.

So there's a lot of hissing, shrieking and swatting when they see each other. Hopefully, they work it out since I'm partial to Little Kitty and we could use a second farm cat. There's a lot of mice around here, yo. (Yes, I did just type yo. M and my sister use it and apparently, they're rubbing off on me.)

Little Kitty also doesn't seem to have learned how to hunt because she's still awfully skinny. There's food and water in the garage, but Kitty does so much hunting, the food is there just to add to that and keep her around. If you give them too much food, they won't hunt. And if they don't keep mice out, I'm not keeping cats around if I can help it.

Grover is really not into cats, so that's been interesting. Kitty is pretty big though and can totally take him, as he's learned through claws to the face a few times. 

Little Kitty though seems lost in the world, so I'm hoping she can make nice with Kitty and learn some farm cat things. 

Otherwise, I'm not sure what to do with her, other than take her to the overcrowded shelter that already has a ton of cats. 

She's very social and sweet, but kind of a problem when you're carrying a 5-gallon bucket full of water and she's weaving between your legs. Or jumping on you while you're pulling weeds from the garden. Or getting into a hissing match right by your face when you're filling chicken water buckets.

This morning she was wailing in the bedroom window and seems to like following me everywhere when I'm outside. She got stepped on a few times this morning when I couldn't see her or anticipate her nuttiness with the 50 pounds of water I was lugging to the sheep. 

But, of all the cats in the world, she might be my favorite, so I'm hoping she gets it all sorted out.

It's hard to believe the sheep were just sheared in April with how much wool they've grown back already.

The sheep have been spending time lounging in the shade since it's been in the 80s and 90s for a week or so now. They seem to be managing just fine, but they're certainly drinking more water. Every morning they come running when I have a bucket of fresh water and get closer than normal since I have something they want. Big George lets me pet him on the nose some mornings and the little ones let me pet them while they drink water, until they notice I'm touching them. Goofballs. 

I've made little to no progress on cleaning my wool. We've been busy with other projects and I've been slammed at work, with irregular schedules and obnoxious overwhelm. Lucky for me, the new girl started so things should start to normalize a bit. A friend of a friend is a master spinner/dyer/knitter and she's promised to help me get going. 

In the meantime, I've been busy dealing with my 21-hen flock. The new batch just started laying this week, so we're about to be overrun with eggs I think. Keeping track of all that will be interesting. 

We've been recording how much water, feed, grains and such we use for all the animals and how many eggs each day to get a better handle on our costs and possible profits. Some mornings, it's a wonder I get anything accomplished and forget to write in the record book, but some semblance of routine keeps me from coming unhinged during busy, wacky weeks at work

My garden is starting to show promise, after a rough start this season. Right after I transplanted tomatoes and peppers, it was ridiculously windy and hailed. The peppers are still going, but small, and only one of those tomatoes survived. I picked up a few started tomatoes from my favorite girl at the farmer's market and they seem to be doing fine. 

The bush beans that I had entirely given up on sprouted in the last week and then more of the bush bean seeds sprouted, so I'm counting that as this season's miracle. ​

They got a late start, so fingers crossed we get some beans out of them.

The corn seemed as if it was just refusing to grow when I dropped seeds in the dirt, despite being quick to sprout indoors and then never survive. But, now we have a few going pretty strong and another that just popped up in the last week. I'm not sure why, but the prospect of eating corn I grew myself is thrilling. I really love corn, even when it all gets stuck in my teeth. The corn we bought at the store last week was entirely disappointing, so good, fresh corn will be a joy. 

I read somewhere that corn should be knee high by July 4, but not letting that get me down since ours isn't quite there yet. It's an early-harvest variety, so I think we'll be just fine.

The carrots don't appear to have worked at all this year and I keep fighting the urge to drop in more seeds. I've not been particularly aggressive about weeding that section and it just frustrates me when I start. Maybe once we've mastered corn and peppers (haven't had an edible pepper in two years, third season is a charm right?!), I'll get back to carrots. You'd think they'd be easy, but whatever variety we've tried the last two years didn't turn out too well and I have a tendency to overcrowd plants, so that's a challenge to tackle another season.

Broccoli and cauliflower also seem uninterested in growing for us this year, but it has been so hot that I think they may be revolting. A few have sprouted, so I think I'll just plant more later in the season since they're a cool season crop really. But maybe the few that sprouted will turn into something edible. 

The community garden I'm sharing with a friend is rebounding. We had a rough start there, planting all seeds in early May, to be followed by snow, 30s, wind, rain, hail, and heat. 

A few of those seeds did well, the others we replaced with starters from the farmer's market. I'm just thrilled that the squash seeds I planted there and at home are doing pretty well. My pepper seeds there never sprouted, but the starters we added a few weeks ago seem to be doing alright. We're planning dinner parties with our bounty later this summer or early fall. 

When the weather is good and not too windy, we've been working on the temporary chicken run to get those birds out in the sunshine until we're ready to put the whole thing together. 

And when I say we, that's mostly M. He's a serious workhorse around here.He's been hard at work rebuilding the farm truck this week, and well, for months really.

I hate to think of myself as a housewife who does laundry and dishes and cooking and cleaning, but I'd rather do most of those things than dig post holes. So, I help outside as much as I can, but if I'm trying to avoid some of the manual labor outside (especially post hole digging) you can almost certainly find me vacuuming. Besides, I'm starting to like cooking more than I ever have, especially when it's not blazing hot in the kitchen like it is now. 

My 'bama roommate, co-worker and dear friend sent me this cookbook as a wedding gift and I'm having fun trying the recipes. In the fall, I imagine I'll go nuts testing more recipes and baking up a storm, but for the hot summer days, I'm avoiding the oven like the plague.

If you follow me on Pinterest, you might have noticed that I went on a bit of a bender pinning macaron recipes and I keep wanting to have a baking day to learn to make them, but as mentioned above, it's too hot. But, until it cools down a bit for baking, I'm acquiring ingredients like almond meal, lavender oil and other odd ball ingredients that are harder to come by in Great Falls. I think I'm about to order this lavender extract. Do you have any recommendations?

And just for a dose of real life, this is what our desk/work space looks like right now. This is what happens when you're mid-renovation and nothing really has a home in the house and you're behind on a million things, like this blog. Not pictured, my giant glass of wine.