Roosters

One of my favorite sayings is, “the rooster may crow, but the hen delivers the goods.” Most people who read this statement often think that this is an ode to the value of women over men.  I however see this differently.  When observing my hens and one rooster in the barn, I have come to a new perspective on this idea. 

In the barnyard, hens busy themselves with foraging for food, bathing in the dust and sunlight, and laying eggs.  They communicate with one another in a similar tone and volume.  They wait for each other to lay eggs, they help each other groom their feathers, and they warm each others eggs, never taking note of whose eggs are under their downy soft feathers.  

Sometimes are loud as they move each other out of a nesting box, or as they fight for nutritional morsels of chicken scratch, but overall, they work together and are true to the idea of a flock.

Roosters on the other hand, are selfish.  Mine is no exception. He will spend time looking over his hens, like a prince in medieval times, standing on the highest hill to survey his land. He is loud.  He crows a lot and for no reason other than to make sure the entire barnyard knows he is there.  They can be outright mean. There are many cases where a rooster will peck a hen to death, for no apparent reason. Roosters are threatened by anything that tries to dominate them. My rooster recently tried to sneak up behind me and peck the back of my legs, a swift kick later and he now leaves me alone. He has his way with any one of the hens when ever he wants to by sheer force. He is alone, out only for his own needs and pleasures and it seems by his crowing that he wants you to know how beautiful and important he is.

I think people are a lot like chickens.  Not by gender, but by character. I have many hens in my life.  Today I had the honor of going to a tea at my friend’s home.  She is a true hen.  As she has endured hardship, she has continued to be thankful and generous in spirit.  She is always tickled by the blessings in her life. She takes nothing for granted and appreciates everything. She knows that the world is bigger than her, that she is a member of a “flock” and that she benefits from the flock benefiting. She is a shining example of the kind of woman I aspire to be.

By contrast I have several roosters in my life. Two specifically come to mind. One is male and one is female, so I am confident that I am not discriminating one gender over another. Both of these roosters are the first to tell you how right they are, how great they are, and how they can fix your life.  They crow more than inquire.  They are quick to tell you how it is or should be without asking a single question regarding your thoughts or feelings. 

When you walk away from time with a hen, you feel good.  They add to your sense of self.  Hens are supportive, but they will correct your behavior gently, should you, for example, stay in the nesting box too long. But it is never harsh, and it is for the benefit of the flock. The hens in my life are the people who tell me to pursue what makes me happy. They understand why I have left my lucrative career prospects to be a mom, at home, on a farm. They laugh and cry with me and allow me to make mistakes. They reveal their true selves to me and we truly connect with one another.

The roosters in my life make me fill ill after I have spent time with them.  My stomach literally hurts when I interact with these people. They can’t understand why I have made certain choices and are happy to make grand assumptions about what my life is like. One rooster in particular has not spent anytime asking me any questions about myself and has been very vocal to others about how terrible my decisions have been. At the same time this rooster boasts of their life and accomplishments. They fail to understand that even though I have the capacity to work full time and have a stunning career, that my life is on a different course. Additionally, I have found that many roosters are too afraid to crow directly at you, they would rather do it in a round about manner. Make a mistake in front of a rooster and they will hold it over your head forever.

The sad thing is that to have a healthy farm, you need both roosters and hens.  The balance of the two is necessary to have progression, not to mention new chicks! So maybe the hens put up with the rooster in the same way that I manage these individuals in my life.  Maybe they spend time with other hens to fill up their core in anticipation of interactions with the rooster, and maybe they race back to the wings of the other hens afterwards. 

However it may be for the hens in my barn, I know that I struggle with the roosters in my life. I can’t stand how quickly they can deflate my sense of self, how they can force me to question my intuition, my faith. I do want these people in my life, just not as roosters.  So I look to other hens to teach me how to balance time with the roosters. I thank God for small victories and pray for the continual growth of my own sense of self and knowledge of his will in my life. 

I also spend time thinking about when I have been a rooster to someone else. When have I thought that I knew what was best for someone else? When did I start to tell someone what they should do before I asked enough to truly understand their situation? When should I have kept my mouth shut and just listened?  Setting time aside to think about this is important for all of us.

Another important thing to keep in mind is that a farm only needs one rooster to fulfill the needs of the multitudes of hens. Roosters are in the end, less important and expendable. Of course, we do need at least one, if for no other reason, then to provide a gauge for measuring the impact of self fulfilling self reliance on one's life. Oh, and to make baby chicks, which most farmers hope end up to be hens.

Chores

I really don’t like to do chores. I think it is the repetition that annoys me the most.  The knowing that what I am doing will need to be done again, and again, and again. But, in the barn, as in life chores are commonplace.  Yesterday morning I was in the barn. I had finished feeding all of the animals, and noticed that the portion of the barn where the horses run in and out was a bit of a mess, and since I didn’t have to take my daughter to preschool, I decided to grab my wheel burrow and pick and clean it up.  As I sifted through the sawdust to find the “gems” that lay underneath, I felt a calm come over me.  The day was cold, but I was warm enough. A light snow was falling over the horses as they munched hay in the barn yard a few feet away from me. I could hear the soft cooing of one of the hens laying in the nesting box, and the loud squawks of whoever the rooster had his eyes on.

As I worked through the first few feet of bedding around me, I started to think about how much I hate doing maintenance.  I always have hated it.  Laundry? Yuck. Vacuuming? Blah! Even in my career the parts I couldn’t stand could have been grouped in this category.  Updating reports? Gross. Filing? Double yuck! I always preferred the new, the project, and interaction with team members. Not sitting in my office typing by myself. I believed that my strength was starting new things and once established handing them over to someone else to maintain and monitor them. I was always on the lookout for what was next, what was new.

Even at home, when I was working I loved that I could have my nanny do the repetitive items.  I could come home and the toys would be picked up, the laundry started and the kids bathed. More time for me to start a new craft project or paint a random room in the house. Whatever I could start, that could keep me entertained and productive. I have friends who are awesome at maintenance. They are the friends whose homes are always clean; they even have clean laundry rooms! Not me, barely controlled chaos at all times. Oh how I have envied their ability to keep up with the repetition.

Moving through the space with my pick, I was filling up my wheel burrow when I started to really notice the barn life around me.  By being in the environment, but not working with the animals directly, I could observe them. I could learn about them from a different perspective. The mindless work I was doing, kept me warm, but allowed be to be in the scene. The barn cats played nearby and I noticed how healthy they all are. Several of the hens came and scratched the bedding around me as I cleaned. I appreciated how beautiful they are and how their feathers are so colorful and how dedicated they are to the task of overturning earth in the hopes of finding some unfrozen morsel. They don’t mind the repetitive nature of their daily task. In fact, besides laying and sleeping, this is what they spend the majority of their days doing; everyday!

My mind started to ponder the idea that if I didn’t take the time to do the mundane, I would miss out on the experience of being in a scene, but not directing the scene. I was learning a lot while picking up poop! I was learning that our hen Lemon drop, really likes to sit up on the wheel burrow while I am cleaning. She is very inquisitive and this gives her a great view of what I am doing. I watched our silver aracauna hen sneak into the bunny’s cage and lay her egg in Cinabunbun’s hutch. I witnessed who lays their eggs first and who is more concerned about food.  I watched as the pecking order of the horses played out over the finest morsels of hay. I noticed how the delicate snowflakes seem to just rest on their big furry coats. How beautiful the contrast of this is. I watched the cats investigate the opossum sleeping in the hay and back away after deciding this was not something with which they really wanted to tangle.

All of this made me realize the importance of the mundane, repetitive tasks in my life.  I am a thinker and a doer. These mindless tasks force me to slow down and be an observer. In the house, while folding laundry, I get to hear those sweet moments between the kids. I get to hear my oldest son, help my youngest put a dress on her doll. I get to hear my second son negotiate with his father about the need to have more than 2 hours a day for XBOX. I am able to slow down and witness the voice of my third son talking to himself in his room as he makes art at his desk. When picking up clothes, I learn about what each of my children prefer. What attire they wear most and in doing this, I learn more about them. As I clean out backpacks, I encounter notes of friendship that give me small glances into their worlds.

When I feel that I am continually driven to “just do it” all of the time, I am challenging myself to “just be”. For me, embracing the inevitable tasks of maintenance has opened up a new perspective. I finished cleaning the bedding and took my wheel burrow outside to dump its contents into the manure pile. As I did, I thanked God for teaching me something about life and his wishes for me. He really wants me to be present in each moment of my day. To observe and take in this glorious world that he has placed around me.

Walking back into the barn, I stopped to appreciate the fruit of my labor, the run in was clean, the bedding all soft from its grooming with the rake. I pictured the delight the horses would have later when they came into roll and eventually bed in the barn, on the clean bedding. To rest their weary bodies on the very spot that had enlightened me and filled my soul with gladness for the mundane routines in my life. In recognizing my contribution to their happiness, I felt fulfilled.

Perspective

Buying hay is an important part of farm life, unless you are blessed with acreage and machinery that allow you to grow your own. We typically buy hay once or twice a year. The horses generally go through two bales a day, so when the hay arrives, there is a lot of it.  In August we bought 400 bales, enough to get us through the winter and then some.

We buy the bulk of our hay from one farmer who lives a few miles away from us.  He is the owner of the barn where our horse, Cheval lived before we moved out to the country; we were boarders at his barn.  When we moved to the farm, he was very helpful and was my go to when I had questions.  He even gave me my first chickens. In fact, it was because Cheval was housed at his barn that I had occasion to drive around this part of Minnesota. I’m not sure that we would have thought about moving to Carver if it was not for the time I had exploring areas around the barn to and from riding.

So last night, I got a text from my hay supplier. It read “I have not gotten my December hay payment yet”. That’s all, nothing more. No “happy holidays”, no “hope you’re well”, just a simple statement. Why did such a simple sentence raise the hair on my neck and make my stomach feel tense? I immediately felt indignant. We had no formal timeline for payment. I have never missed a payment or left him in the lurch. Was he insinuating that I didn’t pay appropriately? I had planned to pay him this week and it’s only the middle of the month.

My first internal response was, “Is December over yet?” Then I thought, maybe I should text him back and say, “I dropped off cash last week, you didn’t get it?” or some other flippant answer. I called my friend and horse partner to commiserate. She had gotten the same text and had similar feeling to mine.  Why did we both feel defensive? A simple sentence on my phone was really getting under my skin.

So I started thinking, why would he send this text. He could have simply called and inquired about payment. We had no formal contract, just an agreed upon priceto be delivered once a month until paid in full. No specific day of the month. We had not missed a single month, so what was this about.

Now, I know there are moments when God speaks to me through my thoughts, not with angels and burning shrubs, just simple little thoughts. I believe that last night he whispered again. I started to sense thoughts leading me to wonder if the message was simply a question, no judgment, just a desire to know when the payment was coming. Maybe he needs the money for Christmas. Maybe one of his adult kids is in trouble, so he’s calling in cash.  Maybe he wants to take his girlfriend out for a special night and needs to know if he will be able to do that.  Maybe he just took a pay cut and is worried about the mortgage. Or maybe he is just an awkward guy who was nervous in asking and so he just went the blunt route. 

The point is this, why did I react SO defensively? Why did I read the text as negative? It is an interesting question to ponder, do I expect the best of others or am I suspicious of their motives.  Am I defensive because I am worried that I’ve let someone down? After I took this whisper to heart, I ended up texting him back and let him know that we would be delivering a check that week.  Take the high road, I thought!!

Fulfilled, I put my phone away, only to notice my blackberry flashing a red light; an indication that I had another text message. With an open mind I read the text. He replied with a simple “ok” and a smiley face.  I decided to take the smiley face as a positive sign.

Hibernation

The weather has turned so very cold over the last few days.  I prepare to go down to the barn and am in the process of covering any bare skin, when I see the thermometer. Negative five below zero. Yikes.  Maybe I should go back to working in an office. If I still had a day job I would be toasty warm in my office sipping a latte, not heading into the freezing tundra to feed barn animals.

I tighten my sorrel boots and head out the door.  A blast of cold air greets me as I put on my sunglasses to shield my eyes as the sun bounces off of the snow.  I see birds at the feeder, but there is no sound, it is far to cold to expend extra energy in song.  I walk through the snow down to the barn and as I open the door, I am greeted by the clucking of my hens and the crow of our rooster. It is morning in the barn.

As I run through my routine, I really sense the cold. Normally I can manage tasks without my gloves, yet today I dare not take them off.  I feel as though everything expends extra energy because of the temperature. Taking a bale of hay I walk out the Dutch door into the pasture and spread out the hay in to neat piles allowing each of the horses to have their own serving. On days this cold, I also put an additional bale of grass hay out for the horses. This allows them to keep their metabolism up throughout the day. My fingers are stinging as I unwrap the twine from the hay bale. My face feels as though it might simply shatter. This is insanely cold!

Back in the barn I notice how still all of the animals are today. Our three bunnies are still below their individual heat lamps. When I peek in at them they hardly glance in my direction. Belle, the miniature horse is slowly eating her hay in her stall, making no effort to open her stall door per usual. Thanks much, but it appears she is all too happy to stay inside this morning. The kittens are snuggled together, all three of them, on the heated bed under their heat lamp. All rodents are safe this morning as not one of them dear lose their spot.

The hens are the only exception, they are moving around quickly looking for grain on the floor. I take a scoop and throw out more to keep them occupied and busy. Steam rises from the water tank, evidence that the heater is working overtime this morning. I find two eggs already laid, and already starting to freeze in the nesting box where they have been abandoned for food.  I scoop them up and place them in my pocket. Now I need to get back into the house, it is time to get the last two of my four kids off to school.

Once inside, I disrobe from my frosted garments in the mudroom. I step into the kitchen and the warmth of the house touches my skin and fills my senses.  It is in moments like this that I truly understand why bears hibernate. Why they hunker down and lay low during these frozen months of winter.  As human beings we refuse to let the seasons dictate our productivity or lifestyle.  We are 100% all of the time.  I ponder the idea that maybe we are not built to be that way. Maybe like the barn cats, there are just times that we are to hang out in the warmth and let the mice get away for a day. 

See I really like being at home.  Big deal you say? Well, it really is for me.  I have spent the majority of my adult life needing to “do” things all of the time. I was up and out of the house everyday, weekend and week day. I could not imagine a whole day where I didn’t leave the house and now I pine for opportunities to stay at home all weekend. My girlfriend once told me that I did more on a Saturday morning than she did all weekend. Productivity drove me. Accomplishment made me tick.  At that time, I worked full time, raised 4 kids, volunteered at church and was taking courses for my MBA. I felt fulfilled and important.

Please don’t get me wrong, it is important to do things. To be a productive member of society, but I am always stunned by the number of women who can list off what they have accomplished in a day at the drop of a hat. I secretly giggle at my friends who can’t sit down when I stop over for a visit. What is wrong with putting down the sponge and truly being present in a conversation with a friend?

I think I first started to transition this thinking in my life when I started to learn how to knit.  I hated to sit and watch TV because I felt as though I needed to “be productive”. Knitting was the perfect solution since I could enjoy my favorite shows and make beautiful items for friends and family. I would even take my knitting with me to friend’s homes when we were visiting as it helped me feel like I was accomplishing something with the time we spent there. Thinking about that now I can’t help but laugh at how uncomfortable I was with the idea of not doing, but just being.

But, if we never take the time to “just be” we miss out on so much. We miss out on the whisper of God. When we are too busy, we can’t hear his voice, we are mesmerized by all of the bright shiny objects in our lives. Managing time and stuff can keep our ears muffled from hearing his words. We miss out on the deeply satisfying relationships we were meant to have with one another.  Overburdened schedules leave no room for patient conversations with one another. And perhaps the most treacherous piece is that we fail to really know our own thoughts.  Spending time being still, allows you to think, to dream, to imagine.  Pondering brings enlightenment and self awareness.

As I head upstairs to wake the remaining sleepy heads up for breakfast, it dawns on me. Winter is a wonderful time to “flex” the lay low muscle.  With the gardens asleep, the air too cold for a trail ride, and my new found love of just “being” at home, I think I will definitely have well defined muscles in this area.  I encourage you to build in some “down time” to practice this exercise too. So, turn off the phone, build a fire, light some candles, pick up a good book, or grab some knitting and lose yourself in your thoughts. Take some time to hibernate; it is the perfect time of year!

A little morning perspective

The snow has been falling all day today. It has been a perfect day to stay inside and prepare as Christmas exactly 22 days away. Fortunately for me, the kids had the day off of school so I slept in until 8:30 AM this morning.  A real treat compared to the 6 AM wake up of most every other day of the week.  I luxuriated over a cup of coffee and welcomed the house awake.

Eventually I made my way down to the barn. As I stepped out of the front door of the house, I felt eyes upon me.  Four horses staring at me. “Is she finally coming down?” I thought I heard Charlie say. Then Doc whinnied at me as if to echo the question I had sensed in Charlie’s expression.  “Yes Doc, its breakfast time.” I called.  “Oh, thank God! I’m starving to death!” Cheval murmured under his breath. “Doesn’t she see that the grass is gone?”  “Don’t worry Cheval, I didn’t forget you!” I said as I walked to the fence with a basket of apples.

The horses, being about 20 yards away from the fence, were unsure if they should walk to me at the fence or if they should head the other way into the barn where brunch was sure to be served. I saw Belle, our miniature horse and only female of our herd look up from scrounging for green morsels in the snow. “Belle, will you please show these boys what to do?” I asked. Without hesitation she stepped in my direction. As she approached me her pace quickened, having eyed the apple in my hand extending in her direction. “Good girl Belle!” I praised her. Having reached the apple, she mouthed it momentarily before she bit the daintiest of bites.  Her eyes, lit up, as if to say, “Ahhhh, fresh!!” Her paced quickened as she knew that once the boys figured out I was bearing food, that she would be pushed aside. Her petite frame and rank in the herd left her no chance of challenging their advances.

Seeing her eating, the boys finally stepped forward, as if she were the king’s food taster and had just given the “all clear” call to the court.  Charlie came up first, too slow to actually get a bite as Doc advanced hot on his trail. After Doc, Cheval graced me with his presence and allowed me the pleasure of serving him. Apples were ingested and we moved in the direction of the grand feast in the barn.

By this time in the morning, the barn has been awake for hours. The Chicken’s spend the night literally “cooped up” so they are always clamoring for the door to get out.  During the day, they are allowed to go where ever they want to in the barn and pasture, even up to the house on rare occasions. But at night, our fear of coyote keeps them penned up.   As I opened the barn’s entry, I heard the rooster, Chanticleer bellow his “cock a doodle do” a warning to all in the barn that some one had arrived. 

Entering the main section of the barn, I saw 3 sleepy faces greet me down the way.  The three youngest of the barn cats were still stealing sleep, probably having stayed up too late as I had. “Morning kitties!” I said as I turned on the lights. They yawned and stretched up from their heated bed. The bed, which I am convinced is now folklore amongst the other neighborhood felines, has brought many a belly laugh from locals who think I’m crazy to feed my barn cats, let alone provide a heat lamp and heated bed for their sole use. Don’t even ask me what they think of the fact that I take my barn cats to the vet!

Having progressed to feeding the cats some wet food (I know, I know, who feeds barn cats wet food??) I moved over to let out the hens, and finally ready the horses feed.  As I opened the door to the coop, hens poured out running with loud utterances, expressing their individual need to be first out in order to lay first in their favorite spots.  I waded across the sea of hens to secure the door and found two remained behind in the coop. One had already secured her most envied nesting box and the other looked on with a pained expression.  Never mind that there were 3 other open nests right in front of her, apparently chickens, like women, are very particular about their labor and delivery needs.

Moving on I fed the horses and bunnies, collected two eggs and replenished water buckets. I decided to head back up to the house. I turned off the lights, wished everyone a good day, climbed the stairs and shut the door.

Back outside, the snow was now falling and big light flakes twirled to the ground.  I paused and looked back at the barn.  The horses munching on their hay outside were the only animals in view. 

It is usually at this point, in my twice daily journey to and from the barn, that I wonder what happens in there when I’m not around.  Do the kittens get on with catching mice? Does our Miniature horse Belle explain to Agnes (the aged and probably senile hen) “just one more time” why she has to stay in her stall and eat only grass hay, while the other horses are out in the pasture eating alfalfa hay?

I imagine Cinabunbun, the lion faced rabbit, express her desires for the grey Aracauna hen to please lay her egg somewhere other than in Cinabunbun’s burrow. Or does Cinabunbun actually like the company in her pen? Do the Chickens dare each other to walk out into the deep snow, or see who can stand on the ice the longest before their toes freeze? Do they all like the classical music selections I play, or is Earl, the big grey male rabbit, “just dying for a little Def Leppard?”

Who knows? Isn’t it true, that no one really knows what goes on behind closed doors except for those closed in behind them? I might be dead on about the happenings in my barn or painfully off course.  Do I assume too many human traits occur with my animals? The farmer down the road from me might think so. But that is my perspective. I can’t escape it. It is what I see from my vantage point processed through my thoughts and analyzed by a database of my experiences. It is nothing more, nothing less.

Why does this matter? With out intent my perspective can make me hurt others. It can help me rush to judgment. I know I do this all the time. It is a hard habit to break. But it is an important wall we each must work to tear down if we truly seek to reach our full potential as human beings.

So, the next time you think you have a situation behind your closed barn door, all figured out, think again. Take time to open the door and interact with the players in the scene that you find there.  Seek to understand rather than to rush to give advice. Acknowledge that we are all fallible and let humility be your guide as you enter the barn. And when you mess up, which you will, you should take the advice of my friend Glenn and be “convicted, not condemned” by your mistake.  Make a change, not a federal case.

I guarantee that this approach will keep you from having to save face as often, it will help you to have closer relationships, and it will give you the opportunity to be appreciated. But most importantly, when you allow others to SHOW you what is behind their door and you diligently work to leave your perspective AT the door, you can be the different light in the world that leaves a positive and lasting impact on others.

Remember to always leave others better than when you found them!

Which came first?

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? I am going to place my bets on the chicken.  If you had told me 5 years ago, that I was going to raise chickens I would have laughed at you. At that time I was busy pursuing my MBA while raising 4 kids and working full time as a sales manager. My focus was in moving up in the organization and life in general.  I lived for meetings, my blackberry and the things I thought made me “important”. I worked and commuted to Downtown and I loved the rush of the business life. Where in the world would chickens fit into that?

Fast forward to 2008, we had settled in to the farm house the previous summer and had a few horses and cats.  My friend and hay supplier asked me if I would be interested in hens he was giving away. Having no prior experience with chickens, I immediately thought that this was a great idea, to try out a few older hens and see what we thought. I believed that chickens were brainless birds and that there was a small risk in taking on this new animal.  I was comfortable with the idea that if things went badly and there was casualties, that I could handle a few old broads dying versus cute Easter chicks.

My husband went over to pick out the hens as I was previously occupied. Carrying a big cardboard box, he carefully selected 4 ladies.  I would come to understand that 2 were jersey giants (I named one Gertrude), 1 was a barred rock (her name is Margo) and 1 was a silver laced Wyandotte (named Agnes).  The Ladies settled into the small room-turned coup in the barn and we set off for the house.  I was so excited to get eggs in the morning!! 

In the morning, I was to discover the first of many things I needed to know about chickens.  A hen does not lay everyday. It took a good week for me to start to get 1 egg every other day. But I was so excited when there was an egg! I thanked my ladies for their gifts and gave them scratch grains in return for their efforts. I would cradle the egg in my hand and upon returning to the house I would rush to find my husband and share a viewing of my new treasure. We saved these eggs for our special meals, ones that would showcase their amazing yellow yolks.

One morning I happened to stumble upon Agnes laying her egg.  You must know that I will never look at eggs the same again, and not for the reasons you may assume.  As I watched her lay, I realized the similarities between her delivery and the birth of a child. 

Since then, we have added 16 more hens to our flock and I have had the pleasure of watching several hens lay. I still marvel at these ladies.  Some of the chickens actually pace, like I did at the hospital, before they lay. Some are very quiet, while others take after me in the birth of my first child and seem to be screaming their heads off. Some spend their time prior to delivery scratching in the dirt for a morsel to eat, some sit in the nesting box and prune the bedding around them.  Since chickens tend to lay their eggs in the same area as one another, some are waiting patiently for their favorite space to open up, while others are busy telling the hen in front of them to hurry up!  Each hen is different and has a different personality.

The egg, when laid, is pliable and instantly hardens when oxygen hits the surface of the shell. Within a matter of moments it is hard and able to be handled.  After the egg is laid, some of the hens will scurry off to find some food, while others will sit on their egg until someone or something makes them move.

I have several hens that are incredibly smart and actually move their nests around as soon as I locate them. I am forever trying to find where they are laying. It has happened where I struggle for days to locate any of their beautiful blue-grey eggs, but then I will stumble upon a clutch of 20 eggs weeks later in the most random of places. Some days I stalk them to try to see where they are going to lay, but I know they are on to me and typically walk me all over the barnyard until I tire of the game.

 

Each egg can take several hours to be ready to come out of the hen. Several hours! Can you imagine spending several hours laying an egg almost every other day? Sounds like the true definition of “labor” to me. The process their body goes through and the effort they expend in order to provide for us one of the simplest of kitchen staples, truly amazes me. I really thought that chickens just sat down and egg came out. But it really is SO much more to it.

Now, please understand that I share these thoughts with you not to keep you from enjoying eggs, but in the hopes that as you learn about the process, that you appreciate the gift that has been given to you. That you understand that the action of laying an egg, is a birth of sorts and as the consumer, we need to appreciate the effort and the providers.

So the next time you come upon a chicken, at a farm or perhaps a county fair, take a moment to appreciate this amazing creature, to look into her eyes and let a moment of silence pass between you two.   Maybe even utter a small word of thanks to the hen and to the creator of this amazing gift.

Day one of a New Journey

So often I have heard the words, "that is SO funny, you really should write this stuff down", "you have had an amazing journey the last few years, you should write a book". I have pondered the idea of sharing my stories for some time.  What IF I wrote it all down. Would anyone read it? Would it be fun? Would I earn a new chorus of voices telling me how wrong I am or would I open up my world and find loving support? What would my husband say?

In order to take on an adventure like this, I have  prepared to be transparent, to let it all out in the open. A scary proposition for even the most secure of folk.  But, with a gentle nudging in my heart here goes.  Love me or leave me, I promise to be true to the events I share.

Five years ago my marriage was in jeopardy. My kids were not my priority, and success, money and power took center stage in my life.

Two years ago my husband and I faced foreclosure and bankruptcy in a prestigious suburb, I was unemployed and a bit scared.

Today, I am happily living on a small hobby farm with my husband and kids.  I am still unemployed, and my priorities have changed drastically. I wake up each day ready for what ever comes my way.  I am far from what the world would tell me is successful, but I think my life is perfect.

I hope that as we enter this journey together that the time you spend reading my words is of value to you. I hope that you find comfort in some of my stories, warnings in a few and inspiration in all of them.

Blessings!