Over several years, our chicken yard has been smashed down into dust. It’s nothing but dirt. On the other side, however, just a few cinder blocks away, is towering, lush greens that our chickens would love to have a peck at. I could mow, but that would be a waste of food for our fine feathered (or de-feathered, as the case may be) friends.
Instead, my girls and I have started letting them out to dine on delectable delicacies of the vegetarian kind. Every evening after supper, we let the ladies (and resident roo) into God’s restaurant. It’s fun watching them and trying to keep them contained. So tonight, we eagerly headed out, just like we’ve done every day for the past week.
Rooster (AKA Pretty Boy) is featured in the middle in all his glorious color, with one of our Barred Rock hens taking the opportunity to photo bomb
It’s been a hard two days on the chicken farm for this momma. I gave away two of my three roosters. Never thought I’d cry over chickens, but I’ve raised Rooster and Bird since they were hatchlings. Yes, we’re pretty original with the names around here.
The absolute worst is, I don’t know if they’re going to a farm or into a stew pot. I was afraid to ask. My neighbor told me her uncle had a farm; we sent our first rooster to the farm months ago, but I didn’t ask this time. I just asked if they still wanted roosters.
The next worst thing is that my pretty boy Americauna (Rooster) spent all day today calling me from his holding cell in the neighbor’s yard.
So, it’s been two years since I’ve visited “Life – It’s a Work In Progress”. Not because I haven’t had anything to share, but because life’s been too busy… well… progressing. A lot has happened, a lot hasn’t happened, and things are so very different than they were two years ago when I last wrote here.
There are a few things that haven’t changed, however – and not all of them should have stayed as they were. My attitude, for instance… Continue reading →
“Well, Mom, do you think I made a good choice?” We stared out the windshield of my parents’ van as my dad and new husband walked to the doors of a building.
She turned and looked me in the eye, one eyebrow slightly raised. “You really think it was your choice, Jahnelle?”
Memories of the past three years ran through my head. The first time I met this quiet, serious, shy guy who is now the Mr. to my Mrs., I was so full of mental anguish I couldn’t breathe because of it. At first, he was just a guy who went to the same church as me. Nice, but I wasn’t interested in – well, anything, to tell you the truth. I was lucky to get up in the morning and not fall apart.
For two years, he listened to me cry – hands in his pockets, warm brown eyes watching me. He became a friend, this calm man of few words. He asked questions, nodded at the answers or tilted his head to the side, inviting more. He listened as I worked through issues big and small. He was like those rocks in the middle of the Zen sand garden: peaceful quietude against my chaotic emotions. Continue reading →
Last time I published a post, I wrote about recently being diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Before that, I tried to find out what was wrong through the usual method of self-diagnosis: search engines. To tell you the truth, I’m not any happier to be able to put a name to it, especially since there isn’t much known anyway. Now I’m digging through the entire library of the Internet (which is, of course, absolutely huge) to find information. Continue reading →
About 3% of the U.S. population has it and approximately 83,000 are women. Although there’s lots of guessing by the medical community, there’s no known cause, no known cure, and most people consider it a “catch-all” diagnosis. Even some doctors believe it’s a psychological condition. Hypochondria, anyone? Well, it isn’t in my head. Continue reading →
A few months ago, my dad bought eleven chickens. He has since summed up the chicken caring experience like this, “Now I know when someone calls you a chicken, it’s really an insult.” Our little egg layers aren’t even laying eggs yet since they aren’t old enough to breed.
A few oddities:
One of our hens is a Silkie, given to my daughter by our neighbor who decided she needed a pet. J, who has unsuccessfully tried to name a series (and wide variety) of creatures Nala, now has a Nala of her very own. Apparently, Nala will be laying little eggs small enough that it’d take four or five to make a regular sized egg. I’ve never seen a chicken that looked like it had fur. Continue reading →