The First of December

No snow here, but still James Taylor's sweet voice has been drifting through my mind off and on all day, and matched the slow, steady tempo of my movements as I dealt with outside chores this morning. 

The temperature was not unpleasant, but a light rain was falling when I went out the door in my pajamas and yard sneakers to ask Hamish to come back inside. The adventurous fellow ignores the door for long periods of time, then spends days in a row taking every chance he can get to head outdoors. A few nights ago I followed him all around the neighbors' yards and waited while he explored under a shed before he finally let me pick him up and carry him home. Today he realized he does not like rain, so he willingly came to me for help getting back inside. 

I returned the cat and signed out the dog, who you might recall holds the title of Farm Dog. Morning chores are his thing, and today he helped by keeping predators at bay outside the fenceline while I gave the chickens scratch and mucked the coop. This was a day early (it is usually a first Saturday chore), but I went ahead and applied lime to the coop to help control insects and mitigate the smell of ammonia. 

The chickens are all healthy, and seem to finally be reaching the end of their molt cycles. They are still laying anywhere from 5 to 8 eggs a day, which is good for this time of year. There are currently 22 residents in the flock, and right now I think if I lose any birds this year, I will not replace them. The space we have can support that many birds, but it is a lot of work.

During the Hamish round up I noticed that the chickens' water cups were all empty, which meant the rain barrel somehow ran dry. Hank helped me pull the hose around from the south yard to fill the barrel, and try to figure out what went wrong. There's a tall pipe at the barrel end of the waterer which can be uncapped so I can pour supplements into the line; the bottom has a cap that comes off as well. Only guessing, but I think during the last freeze, when I poured hot water into that pipe, the ice pushed that bottom cap off just enough for a slow leak to happen. Everything is back in place, the barrel is full, and I washed out the water cups and cleaned the steps for good measure. 

The cabbage plants are still alive in the veg garden. I don't know exactly what they should be doing, but they haven't died and that counts, I guess. 

My parents and some other ancestors visited in a dream last night, and today that has me thinking about generational trauma and healing, and how that healing takes place in so many dimensions at so many different times. And of course that can be part of what makes "the holiday season" so hard for so many people. How many times can I say "so many?" 

Be kind to yourself, and to others. Don't overextend, don't do things you don't want to do, don't feel obligated to give or accept or acknowledge. 

Annie Lamott tells us that "No" is a complete sentence." 

Give yourself permission to use it. 

Hold onto your peace, friends, and share it if you are able. Protect the littles, let them have the magic of this season. The world will try to steal it away soon enough. Remember that learning is a process, and gentle teaching gives the sweetest rewards. 

Much love from Bear Path Cottage.