Community. I’ve struggled greatly with this one little word. What is it? How does it work? Why do I need it? As an ex-military brat the concept of community is not foreign to me. Within the military community everyone strives to help one another. Life is hard and we all recognize it. Most of us are familiar with sacrifice and not getting what we want for the sake of others. We meet people easily and form long lasting relationships through the bonds of sharing lives.
Chickenmath. It’ll get the best of you. It did us. We buy EIGHT chicks, set up an indoor brooder and watch chick TV (which isn’t as terrible as it sounds ;). At this point we have four rhode island red pullets (baby girls), two black sex links pullets, and two barred rock unsexed chickens. I sexed these myself by wingspan and while I’m fairly certain these are cockerels (baby boys)-I’ve got a wait a few more weeks to be absolutely certain. Turns out one of
Continuing my chicken drama from the last post – our first flock bit the dust,so – Oft to the swap meet we go . . . We bought five more birds. Turns out two of those birds were roosters. Because I’m a newbie chicken mamma and believed the sellers when they told me they were hens!! The saddle feathers, large combs and wattles should have given them away, but what did I know at the time? I swear, those sellers saw me coming from a
In all of my years, I never realized how much I like birds. I don’t like just any birds. If you know me at all you know I like chickens. Okay-I love chickens. Well, if I’m entirely honest I’m obsessed with chickens. From what I understand, it starts with one and then chicken math kicks in and before you know it you’ve got chicken fever. It happens to the best of us. Homesteading has been a part of my spirit for awhile now and as the
One of my greatest struggles living with a chronic illness is the endeavor to have a positive attitude and keep a willing heart. A willing heart seems like such a natural part of motherhood. As mothers, we put everyone’s needs before our own and we do it joyfully. It’s part of being a mom. But what happens when we can no longer do that through no fault of our own? The joy exits the equation, the ‘mommy guilt’ sets in and Satan readies the trap.