When people write us to tell us we have a perfect life, we often smile. We love our lives, but nobody who lives on a farm with sheep and donkeys and dogs and cats has an ideal life or expects one.

A perfect is not only a fantasy, but it would drive me mad with boredom.

Part of the charm of living with animals for us is that they are constantly testing and stretching us to re-think what we think we know. You end up doing things you never imagined you’d be doing.

It’s Spring and time for us to figure out what to do with the impressive pile of donkey droppings we call Mount Manure. All winter, when we shovel out the barn in the morning, this is where the stuff goes.

I always suggest hiring somebody to haul it away, and Maria insists she wants to do it. In past years, friends and gardeners lined up to take most of the manure away; there are no takers this year.

Over time, I’ve realized that labor on the farm is healing and healthy for Maria; she really does love it, as long as the work is her choice and not somebody else’s command.

When she needs to think, heal, or ponder something, she goes to walk in the woods or to work.

In our oddly- gender twisted relationship, I am constantly arguing that she shouldn’t be doing so much hard labor, and she is always insisting she can and will.

That’s where it stands, especially as I get older, and there is a rather long list of things I can’t do. I choose to be grateful, not complain. And I can help, shoveling the manure into the wheelbarrow and helping spread it around the pasture.

We have a lot of fun working together.

Maria’s newest task (the fencing is almost done) is to eliminate the big manure pile, wheelbarrow load by wheelbarrow load and spread it all over the pasture for natural and organic fertilizer.

I know several people who would be delighted to haul it away for pennies; donkey manure is the best fertilizer we’ve ever used. We save half of the mountain for our gardens and raised beds.

I suggest she hire the Amish girls to help; they love to work and would get the job done in minutes.  She loves working with them, and I enjoy seeing them together.

But so far, she insists on going alone.

It’s up to her; I’m not her boss. God help anyone who tries that.

When I headed out to the gym this afternoon to loosen up my legs, I looked over to the pasture and saw Maria hauling wheelbarrows down the hill.

I decided to accept reality and take some photos, which was always the next best thing to hard labor.  Next time, I said, I’ll help shovel.

I told her this would take her all summer, and she shrugged. “No,” she said, “just a week or two.”

Stay tuned.