Raising chickens (and wondering what else needs to be done)

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Nadia Barnevelder in the mood to pose. All photos courtesy of my husband.

As if I'm on the cusp of eighty instead of sixty, ahem....

Well, that's how I felt a few days ago when I considered this post. I've achieved some good sleep in the interim, but I am NOT the woman I was three decades past. This is in regard to spending ten days with my grandsons, finding my energy levels depleted in a weird way that I chalk up to being close to sixty in the general realm. That actually happens next spring, but oh my goodness I felt every one of my fifty-nine years after saying See you later to those adorable grandkids, their mum, and her mother-in-law.

Now that I've been home a full week, I am indeed rested and somewhat relaxed in the grand scheme. The previous post notwithstanding or how Washington D.C. is being enveloped in an evil attempt at a dystopian but all too realistic dictatorial takeover, I am not exhausted or feeling extremely aged. The chickens help; I've spent some calm and sunny late afternoons in the run watching them frolic or sunbathe. Recently when I collect their feed in the evenings, if I get too close to the half-hay bale, they leap toward me, wishing to land on my shoulder! I've permitted them to hop/jump onto my left forearm; Owl did it last night while one of the Clones was the first the previous evening. I want to have a good relationship with these pullets, but I am NOT into them perching on my shoulder.

Owl and two clones (Barnevelders that aren't as hard to tell apart as they were when tiny).

They have been thoroughly enjoying the misty mornings in their run, scurrying about for anything that resembles a worm or other insect-like creature. We might get rain this weekend, which will be a great test for how they act in truly damp weather. Camilla has a prominent yellow comb compared to the other Welsummer chickens Owl and Little Camilla. One of the Barnevelders, Nadia, also has a distinct comb, quite pink, so if they are cockerels, I don't know that we'll keep them. Fertile eggs aren't my jam, even if these two chickens are rather tame. Time will tell, as they are just seven weeks old, another good month before their genders are sufficiently on display.

Sunning themselves near the ramp back into the coop.

What will I have accomplished in those four to five weeks? I'm contemplating a machine-pieced quilt (because I am not very good at saying NO to a project that sparkles brightly), I have The Hawk Book Three to continue reading aloud before releasing it HOPEFULLY this month, ahem. Then there's Book Four of The Enran Chronicles that I want to publish next month.... My artistic license feels expired, LOL! Are the chickens to blame, is it feeling old? What about our horrible government, the awful disasters occurring around the world?  While my faith-life is sustaining (And believe me I am VERY GRATEFUL for that!), the corporeal realm feels so heavy. I think part of my world-weariness is indeed getting older, as I've never approached sixty before, LOL not LOL. I've certainly hefted several novels and quilts simultaneously, but not where I am right now, watching my fifties slip away as every day passes.

Not to sound obsessed with aging, but let me just say that it was one thing to turn fifty, or forty, or even thirty. Sixty however.... DUDE! That's an entirely different kettle of fish!

A year or so ago (10 April 2024 to be exact) I blogged about various hoo haa, then slapped the semi-retirement label amid other markers. I haven't labeled an entry as semi-retirement since October of 2024, six months with eight posts, but then America elected a terrible president, so maybe I was distracted. Maybe I was just trying to keep my sanity. Maybe.... I'll finish this soon, but my husband needs my help with making the roost, LOL!

Yes Nadia, I too wonder about the state of the world.

Okay, outside beams are placed. He's working on the actual roost posts, but lunchtime beckons in another five minutes. I made split pea soup this morning, hence no reading aloud (yet), just writing this blog entry. About aging and semi-retirement and being thankful for peace while wondering if I'm doing enough to sustain calm around the planet. Is that my calling too? Can't I just write books and sew quilts and observe chickens? Chickens; how in the HECK did poultry enter our sphere????

????

I don't know other than that's what was on God's agenda for us. And if I want to conclude this before having lunch, I can't really say much more. That's my life these days; a little bit of me here, some over there, some where Future Me can't even find. Because a huge hunk of myself is cloistered in a safe place where all the confusion can't reach. And now it's really time for SOUP!

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