I miss my chickens. I miss the sun being bright enough to wear a cowboy hat without self consciously feeling like I am trying to make a statement. I miss growing tomatoes, cilantro, figs, flowers, peppers and carrots. I miss the feeling that with practice and play I might grow up to be a real farm girl, baking, writing, quilting, herding hens, chasing children and being a little bit different from the rest of the pack. I didn’t know anyone else that traded a beach house for a bit of the wide-open spaces and a tractor. And even when we gave all that up, it was with the hope and promise that we were just moving to another farm, an Island farm with taller grass.

Chickenblog was going to be “Kai Kokoke Moa”… Chicken by the Sea. We had plans. Now we are here in Garage Mahal; not suffering by any means, but there’s no plan. There are no chickens.

I like the records and memories that Chickenblog has kept. I like that a friend can follow our ups and downs, stay in touch, share too. But if you came here looking for chicken talk and farm fare, homespun adventures, art and vegetables, well then please mosey on over to “The Pioneer Woman” and then consider visiting the woman that “…Lives On A Farm,” followed by a trip to “Farmgirl Fare.” I just found a “Kona Farmgirl.” Even Melissa Etheridge's girlfriend has her own farm girl blog. In fact, there are 4,670,000 farm girl blogs. (That may just prove that the Internet is bad place to feel unique or special.)