WT....???

Good afternoon Me...or you...or whomever comes across this. 
You'll excuse I hope the sort of crass title of today's post.  It's mainly the thought I had earlier about the fact I had dribbled the day away - unable to take advantage of a HUGE chunk of uncommitted time to sit and write.  I guess it's true. I am not a writer.  I am not passionate about or committed to it.  I am unable or unwilling to sit and do what is necessary in the pursuit of this (so-called) gift I have.  By fluke or happenstance - actually, I think those are synonyms but I don't want to take the time out to check because if I go to a dictionary site I'll have allowed myself once again to be distracted from my self-appointed task - that of writing - I had ALL day to write, read, relax basically because a) I drove the college kid to her classes today and was not going to drive home and back again to put 140 miles on the 2 week old/new/old car, and I had to take said car to the dealership for some service thanks to the "check engine light" which was off when I picked up the car but showed up again a few days later and I got to sit in their rockin' lounge from 8:30 a.m. until 12:30 p.m.  and I had all that time to write.  Uh - oh - that is a seriously long run-on sentence but if I stopped to edit, I'd never get it written and then I'd get frustrated or distracted and there would go the attempt again. 

No, this isn't a rumination with direct bearing on or because of the farm...it's more like an ongoing thread that runs consistently through my life but does not seem to be turning into anything more than these periodic bursts of written blathering.  Which I am good at.  I should have looked into a radio or talk show gig early on.  Heaven knows if I can do anything it's talk.  I have been quiet for short periods of time throughout my life - shoot, I was even SHY back in the day when I would have preferred to DIE rather than speak in front of anyone, never mind strangers but now I do it on a regular basis.  Today I even asked a stranger if she would be willing to share a cupcake with me.  I was (still am) in Barnes & Noble at the Colonie Mall where I finally ended up after my morning at the service garage and I wanted that little extra sweet treat which as an adult I am now free to get whenever I want just because I want to and so I did, with the straight coffee, small of course to compensate for the extra indulgence and so after taking a little bite, I realized it was too sweet for me to finish on my own and I wasn't going to bring it home with me so I asked this young woman if she'd like to have half of it.  I knew she was interested because when she saw me with the cupcake, she asked what it was and I told her it was the pumpkin cupcake. She then looked at the dessert case and  decided she'd pass.  However, I knew that she would be willing to share because what probably held her back was her own inner voice saying, "no, don't need it, don't spend the money, don't indulge, you don't have enough" or some variation on that theme.  To be clear, I'm not advocating all out indulgence of the epcurion bent or the ignoring of Inner Wisdom, but just suggesting that perhaps she held back on the cupcake because it was too much but 1/2 would have been just right so I figured we'd both benefit and indeed, she was surprised but willing to share and so now 2 instead of 1 indulged a little bit but not overly so and can savor the pleasure of the unexpected.  And the yummy.  I like to share food although it seems others in my life circle would prefer not to.  It's not that either of us are fanantical about our positions; sometimes they share very willingly and I would prefer to keep my treat all to myself but overall, I'm the one who thinks it's a great way to cut calories and stretch the culinary experience.  It's also a reminder of dinner with my parents at Chinese restaurants back when I was a kid and we'd always share because that's just what you did and it seems ok to extend the practice to other cuisines and family/group meals.  Some people totally get this and others don't.  Like my hubby.  First date, I did ask if I could try a bit of his meal but even as the words reached his ears I was reaching my fork over the table and plunging it into whatever morsel had attracted my attention.  Apparently, it was a mark of gallentry on Dave's part that he didn't spear my hand immobile.  Apparently - anyone in his family growing up who committed an act like that would have been engaged in an act of overt hostility.  There was JUST enough to go around for everyone at the table, and almost never enough left over for seconds. You took your share and ate it.  And didn't waste.  I get it...I totally do - but it just didn't occur to me that someone I knew would have been in that position or would still be carrying the repercussions so far into the future.  Not that I was ignorant of scarcity in our world....but hadn't really experienced the intensity of another's formative experience as related to food.  Not that we didn't go through our own waxing and waning of economic stability in my own home.  I just never realized it.  I eventually remembered stories of eating spaghetti for days, or hot dogs as Mom & Dad economized when we first moved into our home in Matawan NJ.  I tended to remember the halcyon (hahah - I just wanted to use that word) days of stead a couple of times a week, (which haha, I didn't really appreciate especially since they'd make us eat EVERYTHING including the fat and gristle which made me want to puke).  I also remembered the days when no matter how many extra mouths were around for dinner, they were always invited to remain.  Dad (who did the cooking - thereby assuring our safety and continued living) would have preferred to have advance notice and ALWAYS let us know how annoyed he was when he didn't get it - still was the utmost gracious host in terms of assuring whomever it was that they were welcome to stay for dinner.  The story of the fishes and loaves almost always was re-enacted in our home.  Not that they would have acknowledged a relationship to that story or its origins but that didn't matter in the long run.  There was pretty much always enough. Since I don't want to succumb to the tendency of whitewashing the memories that nostalgia can distort I'm trying to think of a time when they said "no" to someone staying and I'm sure they did but what rooted itself in my being -as part of my formative years was that element of everyone was welcome at the table. I don't need to state the obvious - but I always manage to - it seems to me that this is what currently reveals itself in my own tendencies to insist that everyone is indeed welcome at The Table. 

Catching up

It's been a few days - no make that weeks since I've written.  I've written several wonderful columns in my head.  Yep, at least I'm consistent that way.  I did re-connect with one of my cousins who used to write...we have the same style...we write well in our heads but fail to actually get the words down on paper - or online.  Turns out, I have a friend who is also part of the "I'm a writer who doesn't write" school of writing.  From what I gather, it's actually a very popular style...but underground more than a well publicized trend.  Anyway - I've had some thought re: the campaign, kids, the farm, all kinds of things and they have now vanished. 

Why I Burnt the Bacon.

Sunday mornings are the time we most often have pancakes, eggs & bacon.  I decided yesterday that I was not only going to make breakfast, but I was going to use some of the very ripe peaches waiting to be what's the cooking world word,  these days: oh yes, repurposed. I was going to repurpose the peaches into something not totally other than what they were but different enough than eating them straight off of the pit.  I thought about how I would do that all the way home from the church were I had preached.  It was very quiet when I got in....the night before there had been a little bit of a confrontation with the teen girls in residence and it appeared as if they wanted to remain out of sight, out of mind.  In the silence of mid-morning, I put the bacon on and began preparing the pancake mix.  Yes, boxed...I wanted lunch done sooner rather than later. As I checked the bacon, the door bell rang and yes, without turning down the heat control I went to answer it.  Living where we do, the person on the other side could have any number of reasons for being at the door but in the broadest stretch of my imagination I would not have guessed what he wanted.  (It was a really good reason but my wishful thinking went unfulfilled...Bruce had not lost his way nor did my fairy godmother decide to surprise me.)  Anyway - Bob was the one on the other side of the door and he said he had a weird story to tell me.  I responded that I love weird stories so he continued.  I walked outside and as I did saw 3 people standing alongside his car which he had parked by our driveway.  It turns out that earlier that day, Bob noticed as he walked by the car a small pair of what looked like feet hanging out from underneath the car.  He called his wife over and they discovered that attached to the feet was a small chicken.  Bob - perhaps rhetorically, perhaps not, asked his wife Carolyn, what it was that was hanging from underneath the car.  Her obvious response was, "it's a chicken."  Which it indeed was....but Bob wanted to know what it was doing underneath their car.  Carolyn remembered that on Thursday, she thought she had hit a chicken while driving past a farm but when she went to look, didn't see a sign of one running off nor did she see anything which would lead her to believe that the chicken and the car connected.

For the next 4 days, Carolyn and Bob went about their routine business as well as entertaining friends  visiting from Oregon.  They made their rounds throughout Columbia County as well Massachusetts to go grocery shopping and do vacation-like stuff in Great Barrington.  Little did they know that they were being accompanied by a small fowl.  Meanwhile, back at a certain farm in Columbia County - Rooster Haven Farm to be exact, one particular farmer, (that would be me) was trying not to indulge in another round of sorrow at losing a chicken.  One of 3 chicks which had been born earlier in the season had just lost it's life after getting into the dog run - with the dogs in it.  Sometimes the dogs ignore the chicks - sometimes not...in that case, not.  So, it was a bit distressing that only a week after that loss did it seem as if another one of the survivors of a larger clutch had met her demise, although I couldn't be sure as she just completely disappeared.  So, farm life goes on as loss is a very real part of it and there was nothing I could do. BUT - it was our farm that Carolyn had passed by when she thought she hit a chick and so retracing her route - came back with her hubby, friends and a little chick in a box...a chick they rescued from under her car.  Carolyn - being a compassionate person felt so badly that she did not want to be the one to tell me that she thought she hit my chicken. That's why it was Bob at the door telling me this story of how that morning he saw the little chicken feet.  When I looked in the box they had put her in, at first I thought it was one of our other chickens because it was on the small side.  When I looked again, I realized it was Baby...baby chick.  I couldn't believe it.  I now have 2 stories of chickens that got hit and lived but I would never have guessed that not only could a chicken survive but live for 4 days - 4 whole days without food or water after being hit by a car.  Not one of us could really wrap our heads around this small miracle.  Carolyn's friend was hoping to see a heartfelt reunion between Mama & Baby or at least between Baby & her sister but that wasn't exactly in the cards.  Mama had reached the point, earlier in the week of deciding the "babies" were old enough to be on their own and Sissy didn't seem to care one way or another what had happened to her sibling.  Carolyn was just so thankful that the chick wasn't hurt and that I wasn't upset.  I told her that I considered it something to be happy about, because a)  the chick was ok & b)  she cared enough to find out where it had come from.  Of course what came my mind was that I along with countless others through the ages were able to rejoice over that which had been lost, was now found.  With that, I offered them a dozen of our farm fresh eggs, and we all said good-bye.  I went back to the house where I discovered some VERY crispy bacon.  That was so repurposed that it wasn't going to be used for anything so out it went.  I went back, put more bacon in the pan, mixed the pancake batter and cut the peaches which got turned into pancake topping.  At that point Dave came home and our son came to the table and over brunch I told them what happened.

I don't know if there's a deeper meaning to be found in this event.   Since this was the 2nd time this year a chicken survived being hit by a vehicle (Red & the truck) I am grateful for these little miracles. On the other hand, more chickens died after being hit than not, so who knows.  That's what one would expect.  I guess it's just an example of the fact that you just never know how something will turn out.  And that's a rumination for another day.  Welcome home Baby Chick.

P.S.

Just a thought:  How does one determine (through careful discernment - yes, I know) those times when to let things go...and the times to act?  I look at it this way.  One can say, don't add fuel to the fire...let it go even if it means swallowing pride or hurt or whatever.  Responding/reacting to certain things can increase the upheaval.  BUT...(of course there is a but)  but how about those times that the unattended spark or ember grew into the inferno that destroys everything around it?  How many devastating fires have occurred because no one paid attention.

Random thoughts

It's a lovely day.  Straight up - as the kids say, absolutely lovely.  It's cool...I got my bike ride in...I just finished hanging the laundry and now I'm engaging in my writing.  What I always say I want to be doing.  What I do REALLY well in my head but somehow never get to the next step of actually getting the thoughts from my mind to the blank canvas - whether a piece of paper or on the screen.  But hey - I'm doing it now so let's just keep going.

Anyway - not only is the weather lovely but so is the place that I'm living at.  As I hung the clothes on the line to dry, I got to listen to the little chicks peeping along, following their mom who from all impressions is just the best chicken mom ever.  The intermittent squawk of a rooster - one of several who live here - hence the name of the farm, breaks the calm. I can hear the breeze blow through the leaves and although faint, the sound of young children playing in their yard some distance away.  All this leads to a lovely time of reverie and reflection and then...."Jo, imma do the dishes later."  Umm - sure, later.   Ok - where the heck did this imma come from?  Who is Imma, I want to ask.  And then I move from "oh lord, if my parents were around to hear the complete disintegration of our language", to the inevitable song segue - "Baby, Imma want you, baby Imma need you...you're the only thing I care enough to hurt about....' and so on.  Yep "Imma's" been around since the 1970's - the olden days.  I've heard that song for the last 40 years and  I really like but it still irritates the heck out of me to hear - "imma."  Who knew that Bread was so ahead of their time?  "Bread."  Such an innocuous image...a slice of bread...could be white, could be whole wheat...pumpernickel even.  Well, back then that was about the extent of one's choice...oh wait - don't forget rye.  The waitress always made sure to ask when you ordered a sandwich, "will that be white, wheat or rye?"  And that was about it.  Now, asking what kind of bread the eating establishment offers, leads to the spin-off the 31 Baskin-Robbins flavor menu.   White, country white, whole grain white, non-bleached white..yes, getting to the wheat, regular wheat, whole grain, 9 grains or maybe 12....artisan, local, and so on.  You know, maybe I'm not really hungry but thanks for asking.....

Oh yeah - this was about sounds, language, grammar...no, grammar's been done. To death....not sure there's anything else to add to that discussion.  But there's that "imma" thing and the inevitable self-query as to how we got from I AM to IMMA or in a similar vein from "GOING TO," which has somehow become, "GONNA."  Or if really trendy - "GUNNA"  Ick.  Although I do it myself, it's hard to when I'm writing.  Even that odd form of writing known as texting - although it could be argued that texting is a cousin to haiku or some other form of short poetry.   Well, maybe that's tweeting...more to the point.  I mean we get the idea across either which way don't we?  Oops - J doesn't like that phrase - either which way.  I'm not sure why as it works for me when I'm trying to make a particular point.  O.K. - just keep going.

Outdoor sounds, imma, song memory, back to camp in my mind.  And for real tomorrow. I'm attending the annual alumni dinner at Camp Matollionequay in Medford, NJ.  It's a chance for former campers to come back and hang out, sing camp songs and hopefully touch base w/good friends from the past.  Nowadays I have mixed feelings about going.  Last year - I took the kids (foster) and it wasn't the best experience.  I only knew 1 or 2 people from my time and apparently I've also turned into an old fart.  The present day campers, as part of their evening enjoyment sang every song that they ever learned.  Now, I love the camp songs...I will sing them any time, any where as we travel around but there is a difference between singing and screaming &/or shouting.  Ok - I know, we sang loudly as well.  But not from the time we sat down until the time banquet dinner ended.  Or did we?  Geez...I clearly remember sitting at our tables and singing but also being told not to scream; by at least one or two of my counselors.  Don't I?  Don't I remember that happening?  Well anyway - even my 3 who are not averse to making or listening to their own noise were distinctly uncomfortable.  We finished dinner and then walked around then left.  So, I missed the banquet night play and green feather ceremony - (description will come another time)...and headed with the kids back to a friend's house were we spent another couple of days.  This particular friend is someone I grew up with.  So here we go round and round again - back to those lazy, hazy, crazy days of the summers of my youth.

Well, that's enough randomness.  I have a few other things to write but they're more for my C2C blog....Jersey shore girl getting ready to leave the farm and head off on another XC trek, following my passion.  NO!  Not biking...but biking to end the cycle of poverty.   It's not camp but it is a really great way to spend a summer....

I have a wealth of material hidden in the mine of my mind.  Well, some of it is not so hidden but hope I don't pass up any possible nuggets which could then be pressed into gems.

Anyway - it's funny how, years after the fact, a conversation, event or memory can boomerang you right back to the first time you experienced that moment.  It seems - at least for me - that no matter how much therapy, reflection, attempts at letting go, evolving or any other related effort I engage in, I can still feel 7 or 9 or 11 years old in a nano-second.  Grown up me is fully well aware of the passage of time but it seems that those early imprinted experiences never actually dissipate or disappear. (Redundant, perhaps but a tried and true writing device to MAKE A SERIOUS POINT.)   They just fade into the background until that moment in the present when any number of factors - so numerous that one cannot really keep count - triggers the past and while it's not Back To The Future all over again, it's The Past Is Baaaccck. Sometimes it hits hard. Other times it's more like a stealth weapon, creeping up sooooo sloooowly that when it is revealed, I'm completely bowled over...(boring phrase), knocked for a loop, left speechless, (ok, now that is hyperbole) and I'm not sure what to do, if anything.  Do I do nothing?  Well, I could argue that I am constitutionally incapable of doing nothing but that doesn't really fly with those who know me.  Of course my life seems to have been one, ongoing lesson in how to let things go, but I don't seem to have quite gotten it down.

Life, here on the farm certainly offers me numerous opportunities; the unexpected death of an animal, whether or not a pet, has an impact and I sorrow at the loss but it is so much a part of this life; the weather certainly cannot be controlled and while we haven't experienced the loss this year that our farmer friends and neighbors have (mainly because we haven't reached their level of production) we do have to take  weather events into consideration when trying to plan for planting, reaping, sowing, harvesting; all the vagaries of the uncontrollable just have to be acknowledged and accepted otherwise one would go "quite mad" in the attempt to deal with it all.  Then there are the personal circumstances that also leave me at a loss....

I come from a place which has left me wanting to explain, to be understood, to communicate, to work things out as best as possible to that it's always a win-win situation.  Guess what I have to let go of.  But it hit me again - just prior to sitting down to write - that I still carry the hurts around - even though I've spent a life-time working on healing.  Now, this isn't to say I haven't experienced some healing and moved forward but it is a reminder of how deep the scars can remain when they aren't attended to - whether because of ignorance, inability, or whatever other reason that might keep one in the wounded rather than the healed place.  Even as I prepare to go on the XC bike ride next year, I am still held captive at some level by the memories of things people said or did that were hurtful.  Whether or not it was intended...hurt happened.  And yes, it's 5 years later - just like it's 40 years later from my 12 birthday - but some of the poison still seems to remain within.  It even affects my relationships. Damn.  That's bad.  As our 16 year old posted recently - it's hard to know when to walk away and when to try harder.  And then I shared my wisdom, accumulated over lo, these many years of how it's not necessarily about trying harder - but trying smarter.  She wasn't sure what that meant....so I explained. It's like the fly who keeps slamming himself against the screen to get out of the house when all he had to do was turn around and fly out the open door.  (At that point my 30 year old UNHELPFULLY pointed out that maybe it was better he was stuck inside - what if a bird had been waiting outside and ate him...thanks J.  J also is one of those people who wears a t-shirt that says, "the light at the end of the tunnel may be an oncoming train.)

So, how do I "try smarter" to let go of things that reek of injustice, unfairness (in relationships - not the "life isn't fair" kind of unfairness), mean and hurtfulness of others...Yes, as I've been told, consider the source.  Yes, if it's nothing I can do anything about - let it go...But what I realized earlier is that letting go happens over time, and the hole where the hurt was now needs to be filled with something else...self-love, love of others, good things...things which reinforce that healing has taken place and I'm not 6 or 11 or 15 anymore....God, I KNOW this...but even out of the blue I can find myself needing - needing to attempt to set things right - between people....between myself and others...family and friends.  Yikes....well, no answers are forthcoming at the moment...but who knows?

Wait - an answer did arise out of the moment - Grace....God's healing grace.  However one understands the terms "God," and "Grace" I heard an answer earlier today as I was reading about Grace...how sweet the sound....

Animals are not always warm and fuzzy.

Another day on the farm, another lesson to be learned.  Last week, I got the chickens fed and when I got to the cage where the 7 teen-agers were, (5 from Agway in Schgaticoke and 2 from the hatched eggs that were originally 13 in number*) I came upon another sign that animals are not always as sweet and warm & fuzzy as we would like to think they are.  There was a mauled carcass, lying in the cage, dead as the proverbial doornail and with the obvious evidence that the other birds had been the cause of its demise.  The night before, all seemed to be well and everyone was getting along.  Then, within a 12 hour period, life for one of those creatures ended...surely unprovoked.  I continue to contemplate the reality that while we humans are charged with the wellbeing of animals in our care, the animals themselves don't always want to cooperate. *We can safely assume that the numbers dwindled as a result of the local predators such as the coyote and fox population.

I have a number of friends who believe in animal rights - the notion that animals should be accorded the same level of care that a human being is entitled to...(and you can see how well we handle that).  I believe that animal welfare is our responsibility - but what I don't do - or at least anymore is ascribe human characteristics to the animals.  Yes, its true that we are finding more and more proof that animals have a higher level of intelligence than we initially thought.  Or maybe it's a higher level of capabilities - a fine distinction I acknowledge, subtle, but defining a difference.  I have no doubt that they have a level of awareness that allows them to be upset or scared and yes, even caring with the attendant compassionate behaviors that express that - (Come see me sometime when I'm sick, the animals know it...at least the more domesticated ones, like the canines and kitties).  But what I wish my animal loving friends could see or acknowledge is that they can also be cruel and viscious.  That little bird was decimated for no apparent reason.  Although perhaps there was a reason that I can't comprehend because I am not a chicken but whatever it might be - was it any less painful to the chicken so cornered?  Since living on the farm, I have seen numerous examples of animals turning on other animals.  I have seen how the "wild" animals will think they hit paydirt because they can come into our little refuge and leave after feasting on an unexpected banquet.  And have you ever heard cats going after one another?  Holy toledo...it doesn't do much for your nervous system to get that wake-up call. 

Then there are is army of rats - dear things.  I actually don't mind rats.  I've been around domesticated rats and they are intelligent and engaging.  I'd have one as a pet if I didn't have enough animals to care for in the house.  The ones I refer to are the ones that live in the barn and the chicken house.  Now, there must have been some understanding that they came to because it does not appear that these rats actually go after the chickens.  Or even the eggs.  This is probably because we are feeding them....via the chicken feed.  They live in hog heaven...so to speak.  (Our 3 little pigs are pretty happy with their lot in life as far as I can tell.)  But these rats are not helping enhance our little world.  They are eating the chickens out of house and home.  And since these guys aren't domesticated, they probably carry disease carrying fleas.  Although the fleas are probably happy.  But I don't want any plague type infestation to take place.  Soooo what to do, what to do?  Should we humanely trap them and find them new digs?  Where would it be that they would stay and settle in, making a new home for themselves?  And then when the next group heard about our place, what would stop them from moving in?  We can't continue to support the rats.  I don't want to kill them but I don't know what else to do.  In very simplistic terms, it can be compared to our weeding endeavors.  I mean, the weeds were here first and they aren't really hurting anything.  But actually they do.  They divert nutrients that the food plants need.  If one is going to plant produce or similar type products, one has to kill the weeds so the needed plants can grow.   - The rats are weeds in the struggle for life.

Then there was that racoon episode.  I entered the chicken house one day - while talking on the phone thereby being somewhat distracted - and I heard something in the corner.  Not 2 feet from me was a raccon - doing his best to get away and GET OUT.  I didn't want him hanging around either but he was basically backed into a corner. And cornered animals aren't happy animals.  What he was doing there in the middle of the day leads me to believe he may not have been well.  When you see a wild animal up close and personal at that time it is not a good thing.  Fortunately, the chickens were protected by a wire wall, keeping them away from the critter.  Had he been able to get to them, the carnage would have been horrific.  It would have been a scene from a disaster movie.  Yep - those cute fuzzy little critters are NASTY.  If you want a racoon, get a stuffed one.  Now Dave feels no love lost for the beasts as one nearly committed homicide (using human terms) a few years ago on his beloved dog, Debbie.  The thing got her collar and twisted, trying to strangle her.  I guess they do have reasoning skills.  This one was bound and determined to end Debbie's life.  Dave finally saved her but he does not adhere to the idea that the animal world is one in which have reached where the lion and the lamb can lie down together in peace.  He took care of this 2nd rogue racoon and the chickens were saved.

We look forward to the day when the vision that Isaiah shared will come to pass but we aren't there yet. 

Chickens Are Cannibals a

 

It's been a long, overall lovely day but the reality of life with animals continues to reinforce itself as we live on the farm.  One of the dogs killed a chicken which got into the dog run.  I HATE when it happens and we try to be attentive to roaming chickens but this one got into the pen and couldn't get out and I didn't know until too late what had happened. It's a reality.  As much as my dear animal

Really!?!

So, I'm awake.  STILL!  I've been up for about 5 hours now.  I first awoke at 3 a.m. and after a quick jaunt downstairs, headed back up to bed to finish out the night's sleep.  Well, that didn't work.  And yes, I will blame it on hubby's snoring.  Since his snoring doesn't bother him, I've attempted to adjust to it for oh say 15 years.  Well, it's not working.  But there are no free beds in the house at the moment and the couch was taken by the 2 dogs so I tried to take advantage of the early morning quiet.  Well, it was sort of quiet.  I sat outside in the cool thinking I would use that time I keep saying I want to spend with God.  It worked - sort of.  And I did have a chance to notice things about the night that those of us who sleep through it don't normally get to appreciate.  I enjoyed the sounds of the bullfrogs and they were very vocal this morning.  It was a genuine Hollywood production going on.  Then one of the cats slipped outside after pushing the storm door open.  (It hasn't yet changed for the season - there is no screen in place so it's still technically a storm door - isn't it?)  And after the one came out - another one also joined the night adventureres.  Both cats sat around for a bit and after some fits and starts finally made their decisions about what they wanted to do.  One went on her way down the road and the other sort of followed me back into the house.  However, when I picked her up, she decided she preferred being outside.  Which is good since she is the one who rids the place of the roaming rodents...we have enough rats to make up a regiment  - ok - maybe some exaggeration is in play but they are getting bold - in spite of the fact that this household houses about 7 cats - 3 indoor, 2 indoor/outdoor and 3 outdoor.  Then I spied a woodchuck racing from the wellhouse to the carport (where there is no car - just miscellaneous stuff) and I thought that this is ridiculous.  I wanted to develop an animal sanctuary - but not for the wild critters to take over.  Anyway - I also got to see Venus & Jupiter (had to look it up to determine what I was looking at) and the sight inspired me to write a poem...or reflection of the view.  Unfortunately - I didn't seem to experience that really powerful inspiration that changes ones' life and gets it going with full motivation and the productivity that so many others seem to experience.  At least that's what they say in their writings.  Me -I just had more ideas which may or may not ever see the light of day....haha...but I can say that really all I want to do is sleep.  For the rest of the day.   I did get the morning chores done and I did tell hubby I won't be going to church this a.m., either service, but so far, it's just another day which may or may not result in the log jam being broken through and I either move forward with this life-long thing that's nagged me for almost ever or I just make a half-hearted attempt to fulfill the destiny and then let it go again.
But I'm definitely not going to church.  It's rare - but periodically I miss service and a chance to be in a place that means community (imperfectly) and a place to be where I'm reminded there is something more that exsists than my individual piece of the puzzle.
Well, what a whine.  I could rename this blog - Rooster Haven W(h)ine.  Although we don't make wine here, there can be a lot of whining.  With 2 teen-age girls and a 9 year old boy plus one 30 year old son and an 18 year old guy who would probably rather be any place than here....it can get emotional.  Although the 30 year old, the 18 yr old and hubby tend not to give in to emotion...that leaves the rest of us.  The 18 yr & 16 yr old girls, the 9 yr old and myself.  Dealing w/each other in sometimes difficult circumstances....trying to make the best of having to be in foster care and trying to provide good care and wanting to be normal (whatever that means) and trying to fulfill obligations, dreams, opportunities.  Yes, I'm rambling.  I've been awake 5 and 1/2 hours now.  I think I started this out by mentioning that.  I got up, went back to bed then thanks to the snore machine, got up again and have been awake ever since  - listening to a little night music and trying to add some vocalizing to the melody.

A New Day

Today is....February 27, 2012. I've written about 500 essays in my head, none here, none in a note book, none in any medium. Why or why not? If I had the answer to that question, I'd be so far ahead of the game...ick, another cliche. Anyway - it's almost planting season and there is a lot to do this year. We are leasing land to a local CSA operator and looking forward to the connection. This is a prep year which means we will be doing plenty of backbreaking land work - bush hogging - or is it brush hogging? Whichever one it is, there is a lot of land that needs clearing so JR can get a ground cover planted and then be ready to produce the produce next year. He also plans on having some animals for grazing which is fine by us. We plan to add to the menagerie as well in the near future. Aside from the cow, horses, and chickens we hope to have a couple of sheep and maybe even 2 donkeys join the farm crew. And then the very special addition of Zeus - a young Freisian who is currently being trained to both pull a carriage and take a saddle. He is very big and handsome and we plan on offering carriage rides as part of the farm endeavor. Everything is moving along but a steady inflow of capital would be helpful. I've tried to bring some money in through some part time work and as part of a networking market effort but not sure it's the way to go. What I have discovered is that I want to be here on the farm, making the improvements, tending to the animals and being present and focused on the task at hand. Having too many things to deal with tends to make me unproductive. We did discuss a short term plan for me to find some way to produce income but the amount of time and work it will take to do that seems counterproductive.

The duck returned last week. I am not sure what happened to its partner but it showed up again after having left the farm last fall. Sometime in spring, Mr & Mrs Duck arrived - quite loudly announcing their presence. At first we enjoyed having them join us all but they proved to be quite rude. They took great delight in chasing the chickens around - acting as feathered terrorists to the residents of Rooster Haven. It's not the first time I've seen animals treat each other so shabbily. The horses chase the cow away from the hay, one chicken will face off with another, the pigs - when they were here had no reservations about snacking on the feathered neighbors who made their way into the pig pen. Yes, I'm saying what you think I am saying. We lost a couple of chickens to the swine who had no problem dining on the misguided birds. Chicken wings, legs, breast - the whole kit and caboodle - or should I say the WHOLE BIRD. All that was left after these unexpected feasts were some feathers and a rather beat looking carcass. And you can be sure that the 3 little pigs felt no regret or sorrow for their actions. They are pigs - that's what they do. I was upset mainly because I love my birds and didn't want to lose them prematurely. Of course the resident red tale hawk also needs to be watched out for as he too - or could be she - hangs around waiting to snatch it's snack from the ground. Talk about a take out meal.
I say all this to make the point that as much as we try to ascribe human traits to our furry, feathered or finned friends - they just won't cooperate. There are in fact animals who do share some of the traits we recognize and name as human but overall, they run on instinct. Do my dogs know when I'm sad? Absolutely. Or perhaps I should say they are aware of a change in my demeanor or presentation. But that awareness didn't keep my beloved Caleb from biting me when I didn't get out of the way of a dog fight he was engaged in with our other dog, Tobias. His intent wasn't to hurt or injure me but that is what happened. I did not get out of the way and as a result needed stitches for a what was a very deep bite. Thank God the officers, police and animal control came but handled the situation with restraint and caution. Neither dog had to be shot but in the end, Tobias succumbed to his injuries. Had he just left Caleb alone, he would still be here, making us laugh. And the point I hope that people can take from this is that while we have been given the responsibility to care for our animals, to see that they don't suffer and to enhance the world that we all live in, we cannot say that they are just like us...or that we should live like them. Unlike the world of animals, we do have a choice as to how we will live out this responsibility...and some of us may in fact decide that there is no reasonable case to be made for eating them. I can go along with that. But to say that they can teach us how to live peacefully and without harm is ignoring the fact that they are controlled by a brain that does not have the advanced capabilities for reasoning that we do. Again, I'm not saying that this doesn't occur at some level, with SOME animals, but not enough to justify saying that animals are somehow better than people. Certainly, as people we fall short of maintaining our responsilbity to the whole of creation by the choices we make. But after living on the farm and seeing on a daily basis how animals do live, I believe that there are better arguments to be made for how humans should live, other than that of saying that animals never hurt anything intentionally. Oh, and as far as the duck is concerned, the rest of the animals seem to have become a bit more assertive in their response to the duck. S/He isn't getting away any longer with just chasing the birds around. Jerzee - our NJ cat - has become protective of "his" birds and he will run the duck off when he can. The rest of us also keep an eye out for the duck and as long as he remains courteous and keeps to himself if he can't hang out nicely with the rest of the gang.