In A Bookish, Quilty Mood

It's been a summer of chickens, of guests and revisions. And a summer of the marine layer. I nearly added marine layer to the previous post of things which you never dream . Lol. I certainly didn't anticipate a marine layer figuring so significantly in my life. Mostly due to not realizing that living along the California coast would occur, nor how some summers that heavy cloud bank claims said coast without thought to those who call the coastal area home. But yeah, the marine layer wins again this morning. It's just about time to feed the chickens, 6.20 a.m. currently. If the marine layer wasn't so pushy, I'd get up from the sofa, put on sweats and a hoodie, then collect their feeder, walking to the coop, admiring planets still visible; Venus and Jupiter have decorated the morning sky most of the month, Mercury appearing along the eastern edge, thrilling me completely. Today the marine layer barged in before I spotted the smallest planet in our solar system, blottin...

  Roost in the coop. Heads-up: This is about my belief in Christ, America's further descent into authoritarianism, and how those notions weave in and out of my gray matter. Oh, and a little about chickens, quilts, and books. It's Saturday morning. Foggy. Gray. Warm for Humboldt County (Sixty-six degrees Fahrenheit). I wanted to write about the QIP (quilt in progress) in my Go Bag, as I'm prepping said quilt for further Round the World installments. But I also wanted to share the great roost my husband built a couple of days ago for the chickens, although they aren't super keen on it, yet. Only Owl gives it nod, again this morning hopping onto it, then reaching the second rung, then jumping to the floor. One of these days all the chicks will be perched on it, and not that far in the future. Go Bag quilt: Small. Pretty. Peaceful. Necessary. My heart this morning is torn; Washington D.C. is becoming a different city than what I visited a few years ago, what with the admini...

  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 GORGEOUS Anna Maria Parry fabric that HAD to be included. How it fits is shown below, past the chicken photo. Hard to believe it's already the eighth day of the eighth month of the freakin' year! I don't mean to malign 2025, but dude it feels (at times) like a year from, well, some back and beyond era that I thought was over. And then there's chickens.... Thankfully they remembered me after a five-day absence while I hung out at my daughter's residence, keeping an eye on those grandsons. My husband had chick duty, but yes I came back to pullets who still respond to my chicken voice, admittedly not as cute as my youngest grandson's chicken voice, but certainly familiar enough that last night one jumped from half a hay bale onto my shoulder! And it was a chicken that doesn't even like being picked up, whoa! Chicks this morning in the run.  It was sunny here today, in the mid-seventies Fahrenheit in our neck of the North Coast, and I soaked up some of thos...

My hubby has taken the grandsons to the beach this evening. I was up at stupid O-dark-thirty this morning, and while I went back to sleep (and had a half-caff tea at 2 p.m.), I am wholly TOAST now. But (BUT!) I have enough brain cells (barely) to craft this post. Because it's been days since I wrote more than notes to friends while at the same time encouraging my grandsons to write/draw letters for their cousins. And sometimes (SOMETIMES) a little plug-in to one's usual reality means the world. The week has sped past, as all weeks seem to do. The boys have enjoyed themselves thoroughly, although my youngest grandson is pretty much ready to go home. He's six and a half, could jump on the trampoline for most of the day if permitted. His elder brother could hunt for wild plums and sticks and play cards with me or watch baseball with Grandpa. We had sunny days to start, typical cloudy days for the finish. I drive them home on Sunday, spending a few days with my daughter as well...

Seven of eight chicks on a perch my husband fashioned. Their baby chick perch remains a fave spot too, lol. Nearly a week has passed since we moved the chicks into the coop. Their first few days in a new to them home was steeped in their adjustment to plenteous room, no feed overnight, and us attempting to coax them from said coop to the attached run. They seem to love more space, haven't minded waiting for breakfast (although they cried the first night when we turned off the light, and on subsequent evenings when not under the heat plate when that light was again shut off), and finally braved the strange opening to the outside world that of course is far more exciting than their spacious coop. Getting them back into the coop was a chore, and not for worms or scratch would they head up the ramp. We're still searching for an appropriate treat in which to lure them hither and yon; today I'll try some grated carrot (Update: they couldn't care less about grated carrot, sigh...

I cannot be a channel of peace unless first I own it. Sometimes I forget I'm semi-retired. Books to write, quilts to make, chickens to feed.... Chickens, at my age? I'm in my sixtieth year for crying out loud. What were we thinking when deciding to get baby chicks? I'm tired, but not too weary to write a post. Just finished the dishes, not many, but our oatmeal bowls, my teapot, the stuff we need for the morning. Our kitchen is...old. Lol. No dishwasher, but a decent disposal. Big sinks. Lots of room to handwash all the dirty dishes we make. And thankfully we have an ancient concrete double sink in the equally aged laundry room to wash chick feeders and waterers. Hot water only, as the other two taps are hooked to the washer. For which I am also VERY GRATEFUL. Despite feeling exhausted, peace has been flowing through me in healing waves. Despite needy chickens, a despotic president, and other world traumas (like what's happening to women in Afghanistan for instance) , I...

  Chick party tonight! Chicks are pretty funny. One has earned a moniker for her behavior at the feeder; Camilla relentlessly roots out anyone near her slot, taking it back if someone manages to push her aside, and scratching while eating. My husband suggested the name when I mentioned that Camilla thought she was the new queen, but no one could take Queenie's place in my heart. Lol. We didn't plan to name any of them until personalities emerged, and Camilla takes the freaking CAKE for personality right now. The rest are figuring out their places in the pecking order, yet not a single one has managed to actually grasp the perch rungs, hah! They are starting to play under it, attempting to fly on top of it, a lot of wing-flapping this morning when I opened the brooder. A dear friend is visiting, who saw them last week, and she said they have grown! Which was good to hear because we think they're bigger, but we see them daily and other than a few tail feathers having sprouted...

So named for the dark gold tiara on her head, Queenie was a feisty and sweet chick, bless her! It was bound to happen; we lost another chick last night, my beloved Queenie. She was fine early in the day, but became shy, staying under the heat plate that we've nicknamed Mama. No obvious malady was apparent, and after dinner my husband checked on the chicks, finding Queenie just past Mama, lying on the shavings, already in chick heaven. Sigh.... Today's adventure was finding another chick suffering from suspicious poops. I diagnosed coccidiosis, then headed out for Corid so I could dose the entire flock. Was this what struck Queenie? Perhaps, but we'll never know as we didn't witness her eliminations. (Sorry if this is chick TMI.) For the next five days the chicks will drink water spiked with Corid, then have a two week break, with four more days of treatment to follow. The afflicted chick was out and about this evening, and I cleaned out under Mama, not wanting them to s...

The original ten chicks. They never used the tap-waterers, so those are now gone, as is one of the gold chicks, sad face. Been a busy few days, what with friends visiting, chickens arriving, and the reality that not all baby chicks survive into a third day. A gold star chick who I call Queenie due to the tiara-shaped dark gold on her head. She's a very docile, sweet gal! Aside from that last sobering truth, the rest of the weekend has been AWESOME! Chickens, dude, lol! They scurry from one edge of the brooder to another, to under the heat plate, then back out again. They napped for over two hours not long after we brought them home, so of course we fretted (needlessly) until they started peering out from the sides of the heat plate, then emerged into the brooder proper. Today they were active most of the day, scratching chick crumble out of the feeder, investigating the perimeter and finding interesting spots to peck. I held several (hopefully all of them, although five look very s...

For MANY reasons I have been especially thrilled for lengthening days and warmer temps, although gobs of rain have stymied a bit of spring's arrival, or the sense of its presence. The last two days have been GLORIOUS, and today will also be lovely. Tomorrow a little less bright, but certainly warm, then rain returns. This has been one of the wettest March's I can recall. One question is will April remain soggy, or will it dry up as though winter never occurred, as the last two April's have been. Won't know that answer for over a month, but it will be fascinating to discover. In the meantime, I have books to peruse, currently focused on The Hawk Book Two, which I began reading aloud today. Brave the Skies is the title; I'm still getting used to each installment having a title, lol. I'm also becoming accustomed not only to the joys and healing properties of spring, but of an idea my husband introduced a few weeks back that has been growing on me. We're consi...