things that seem wrong

especially in a small town

but hey, I like to say "you go with your bad self"

chicks: before and during

Baby Chicks. One of the cutest things known to man. They keep you guessing with their soft yellow downy fuzz - wondering what they're going to turn out to look like - and growing into their feathers that will soon appear.

We picked our Heavy Breed (straight run) Special from Reich's Poultry at the Post Office on May 26th, they were all a day or two old. We had ordered 50 - when you order that amount, they throw in five extra, and when I counted, we had 56.

There is, along with the element of surprise, an element of dread as well when raising baby chicks. With life, there is death. And so it is. There is the possibility that one or several more of these chicks will not survive for whatever reason - natural or man-made - and you will have to deal with it.

As far as the "after" that is missing from the title of this post:

Although we are raising these chicks with the high hopes that there are lots of hens (with a 'straight run' order, you get the hatchery's choice, or leftovers, of sex) there is the reality that there are more roosters than we want and so at around 10-12 weeks, we will slaughter them, process them and henceforth put them in the freezer.

The hens will remain here at Hope Farms for the rest of their lives - chickens can live to a ripe old age of 30-35 years, although their average lifespan is about 15 years. They provide great free entertainment too. It is always interesting to spend time with chickens and note their freakiness dispositions, the hierarchy of the flock, and how they respond to you, the human.

And now I leave you, potential chicken whisperer apprentice gentle reader with this video, which should make you a.) smile b.) want to order a batch of chicks and c.) somehow know that your head needs examining 3 weeks into raising baby chicks in your spare room, which now smells -strangely - like baby chick poop.

on growing stuff

It's not easy being green.  But it's more expensive to "buy green". Also, there's something refreshing and soulful about nurturing a plant, from seedling to full fledge blossoming and producing, fruits and vegetables springing forth, gaining size and color every day.  Eating the  gleaning is in and of itself an entirely separate fulfillment.

This is the cute part of gardening.  All of it tucked in neat little compartments, taking up little space and enjoying the warmth of the sun.  

Then, here we have the somewhat ugly task of mulching to control weeds, which isn't very pretty, but neither are the weeds.  I saw a quote once, and can't remember it verbatim, but it basically said that weeds are mother natures' flowers popping up where we don't want them.  Isn't that the truth?!

What we have here is the poor-man's version of raised-beds.  We composted manure, grass clippings, leaves, and added composted cotton-seed hulls and made our own unconventional "raised rows".  So far, they've worked great.  Ed mows between them with the push-mower and I hand weed the little rascals that show up in between and around the plants.  

I've culled the cabbage plants after harvest and am halfway done doing the same with the potatoes.  We have two rogue Corn plants each with one ear of corn on them.  We've been joking about who gets them since there are three of us.  It'll be like a fight between two one-armed men.  Not really, I just wanted to see if I could use that joke in some form of a sentence.  I'm sure Eddie will get both of them, he's the corn lover.  

Next year our 'beds' will be even more 'raised' - as we'll add more clippings, manure and other green and brown goodies.  Maybe in a few years they'll be waist-high and we won't have to bend over.  I'll keep you posted on that.

So when one garden's organically, one gets holy (holy? know how sometimes you type a word and it just doesn't look right?  this is one of those moments for me....)  hole-y produce.  I don't care. It's my way of sharing.

Speaking of gardening, I'd better get out there and tend to it.  

Happy Green Thumbing!

how to tell when you're having a really good day

Sometimes the phone ringing can be just another distraction to me.  Other times it is quite literally a lifeline to the "outside world".  And then there are those times when you just want to turn the ringer off and/or unplug it.

It was one of those days that started out "uh-oh" and then became an "aaahhh".  How did I know that I had reached the "aaahh"?  Because someone called me and had the wrong number.  And I was nice.  EXTREMELY nice.  So nice that they thanked me for being so nice.

I made friends with Ma Bell at that very moment.