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You are always growing. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually—however you are progressing, it is enough. — This little chickie baby who needs a name
Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm
The new chicks are out of my bathtub and out into the grass. Not only does this mean my bedroom no longer smells like the rear end of a chicken, but: I get to watch the joy of chicks experience grass for the first time. It’s as tall as they are and full of exciting things to peck at.
This morning, one found a grub, grabbed it, and started screaming with excitement. Of course, her screaming attracted all the other chicks. Soon, everyone was running around the pen screeching and trying to get a bite of the grub. As a person who has spent years working in television, I absolutely support the writer’s strike. But if we’re still striking months from now and there’s no new TV to watch, y’all can just come over here and watch NetChicks with me.
A funny thing happened this week with Ms. Veli Belly. Last year, right after the Fourth of July, Veli decided she no longer wanted to guard the sheep. I’d take her out for night duty, and she’d run back to the house minutes later. I always assumed that it was the fireworks that rattled her confidence.
On Wednesday, though, I took her out with me to check the flerd and….when it was time to walk back to the house, she didn’t really want to go. She just sat in the mix and looked at me as I walked away. I called her a few times, and she eventually joined me. The same thing happened on Thursday. Could it be that she’s ready to go back to her job?
Maybe I am anthropomorphizing, but it also struck me that the timing of Veli wanting to guard the house meshes almost perfectly with the timing of Chris and I separating. I never minded Veli guarding the porch because I was living alone in the middle of nowhere. Recently, Todd has been spending more and more time here. It almost feels like Veli knows it’s safe to go back to watching the sheep.
I’ll let her be the guide on this. Going into fall and winter, when predator pressure increases, I would love to have her out in the fields. But if she remains a porch guardian forever, that’s fine too.
Here’s What I Loved This Week
I read a LOT of Mary Oliver poems when I was living alone. Most nights, I get maybe 15 minutes of reading time between dinner and bed. Novels take forever in those tiny snippets! But poetry is one of those things you can pick up and put down in fractions of time throughout the day. So this McSweeney’s piece “Welcome To Mary Oliver Garden” made me chuckle.
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