Chickenblog Monday

Hello, and welcome to Chickenblog Monday.

Some days I sit at my computer and I have as much trouble thinking of what to write, as I did ten years ago, when I first began blogging. When I had no idea what a blog was, or why anyone would publish their ideas and pictures, like a coffee table diary, for the world to browse. This line of thinking frequently leads me to the notion that Chickenblog has run its course, that I've said about all there is to say, that in fact there is no call for leaving this personal journal out on the coffee table. Then I make a unique connection with someone out there in the world, I share a laugh, a comforting cry, and I feel like, obscure as I am, strange as this new medium is, it serves some purpose, somehow. William and I were talking about how ten years of deep thoughts and other musings really is a rather significant thing... maybe not for history's sake, but at least for our own. Which is why, I suppose, that even when I cannot think what to write, I still sit here and share something... for our own sake, for our story, for next year, or ten years from now, when we wish to recall the Monday, in May when we were here.

Here, balancing and playing, on our teeter-totter. With our goats. Making things, sharing ideas, facing our challenges, and celebrating whatever success and occasions move us.

This partition used to be against the garage, where there is a shower head. It's battered, and inadequate to most tasks. When we moved here, Geoff took it out and was sending it to the dumpster heap, but I took pity on it, and we've been using it as a tool corral. The unsightly heap of tools and gardening detritus was slightly improved, hidden behind this semi-square. And now it's enjoying a third incarnation as three fourths of a goat corral.

The barn gets cuter and cuter, and I promise an update, soon. It's not finished. Two doors need to be hung, and there's still some trimming to do. Other projects are competing with completion of the barn. And even when the barn is done, there will still be the chicken run and goat pen to build. Honestly, none of this disappoints me, or makes me feel anxious. It's really quite amazing to see all the progress that has been made, especially when I think back just two years, to where we started. Those memories do make me anxious... what a frightful mess I made of my poor farm.
The goats are growing. Why didn't we weight them and measure them when they first arrived? Gah! Now it's been a month, already. That went so fast. We've been laughing and shaking our heads, every day since they arrived. I don't mind admitting that I still feel like a novice, learning as I go, but I cannot say I regret any of this... they are dear, they are fun, and even the chicas have gotten (somewhat) comfortable with their new farm companions. Next up: weaning them from their bottle, before we leave for Maker Faire! Or should we just bring them, and their bottles with us?!
Just a peek, so you can see progress really has been happening. Geoff and William designed and built a Dutch door for the front of the barn. The top is split, and William made a handy shelf for the bottom door... he's leaning on it. Maria thinks it will be a useful ledge for her farm stand sales. I think the whole barn is looking so adorable, I could squeee!
Dill, potatoes, and peas. These are the first potatoes I have ever grown. And truthfully: I didn't grow them. All of the many, many, many potatoes growing around the Bird House are because of "bad" spuds tossed into the compost heap. I'll never disparage a "bad" spud again. Also, thanks to the compost heap, we are growing pumpkins, and tomatoes. Our deliberately planted peas and carrots are doing quite nicely. And the spinach... well, it's been phenomenal.

I remember, my gardening and farming frustrations, eight years ago, when we were renting in the TreeHouse. We had no place to plant our garden, and no idea when we could hope to have a place of our own. I am still recovering from all the strains and frustrations of being a renter, from the damages, and my own inability to stand up for myself. It was... it was. And maybe the crud makes the blessings we enjoy now extra sweet, but please: let's not say that 'the crud was necessary,' or that 'the hardships are the reason I can be happy now.' I was plenty prepared and willing to be happy, and thankful, without all that crud. No, I remember those days, and just feel tremendous relief, perspective, profound gratitude for these days, here. It feels like a constant prayer: thank you, thank you, thank you.
We are still making bread. One more memory: Max and I were planting in a barrel, at Garage Mahal, and Max described a wish he had... to grow a real vegetable garden, to have fruit trees, too, and to make a meal entirely from everything we grew and gathered in our yard. To bake bread, to use our own eggs. Max is descriptive, and his ideas come in great detail, with all the specifics. He created such a beautiful vision, describing his homesteading wish, that I have not forgotten how much I wanted to see his wish fulfilled. I think this summer, we may enjoy some of those meals Max envisioned... a garden to table dinner.

Deep thoughts, and other musings, on a Monday morning.