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. 

Wintering Den

Into my wintering den I shall go to hear more clearly the things I must know,

to see more deeply
the truth and the light
that will carry my spirit
through every long night,

to feel more surely
the path where my feet
tread softly and lightly
and eager to meet
each new adventure,
each joy and each sorrow
from days gone before
and perhaps with tomorrow.

Sheri Barker
November 27, 2023

The Remains of November

 I was awake before the Sun this morning, which is my preference. Although my sleep was rich with dreams, I slept well for the first time in quite a while, and I feel well-rested and eager to see what this day brings. 

50-something years ago my parents started trying to teach me to always do my chores first. Those lessons never took hold the way they wanted them to, but these days, my way of doing things works well for me. I have been sorting out a morning routine that helps set me up for a good day because it allows me to focus on what I really want to do. In other words, I get my morning chores done first, then I can have fun. Thanks, mom and dad! You were right. (love you and miss you)

Yesterday I pulled chicken carcasses out of the freezer and put them in my stock pot on top of the stove. Then I added water, carrots, celery, onions, garlic, salt, pepper, and some herbs and let the whole thing simmer all day long. It wasn't long before the whole house smelled of comfort and care, so I used that as a little boost for a home energy clearing ritual. Multi-tasking kitchen witching is a lovely thing, friends. 

At the end of the day, I separated the bones, meat scraps, and veg from the stock before pouring it through cheesecloth to strain out the tiny bits of left-behind stuff. The stock went into a pot to cool overnight in the fridge, and all the scrappy stuff into another for the same purpose. How strange when I woke at 6 am, that finishing up that kitchen work was the first thought on my mind. 

I filled a glass quart jar with the rich stock so I can drop it off to a friend today and poured the rest into silicone molds to go into the freezer. Then I spent about half an hour removing the bones from the other goodness. The veg and meat mixture will go in the freezer so I can use it to supplement chicken feed. 
Yes, this can be a controversial topic, and I gave it a lot of consideration before making the decision to give them the meat. The choice is between that or throwing it away, and I am working more diligently toward not wasting food or other resources. 

The bones will go into the forest later this week, well away from human habitation. What isn't consumed by a critter or two will be consumed by the earth, and the cycle of life and death will continue. 

I have a couple of other small projects to finish in order to neatly wrap up the remains of November. This time of year always brings an inward focus, and each year it seems I move ever more deeply into that space. This season is no exception. 

I hope this day brings you whatever you want or need; peace, fun, quiet time, excitement, comfort, love. 

Peace out. 

    

"

The 1st of November

It was 27 degrees when I woke at 5:30 this morning, which seems a fitting temperature for the first day of November. I knew it meant the end of the blooming Cosmos in the Cottage Garden, but hey...for everything there is a season. I also knew it meant I would have to thaw the chicken waterer once the sun rose and the birds were out for the day. But not in that moment. Not until the light came. Until then, I was willing to embrace my gratitude for my warm bed and the warm enough home that offers me safe holding. After the pup and the cats settled back down, I went back to sleep.

A few hours later, the chickens sounded the alarm. I looked out the window and saw them standing where I knew they would be, clustered around the waterer, raising a ruckus about the lack of service. The water in the shallow cups had frozen over, and they were unable to have their first-thing-in-the-morning drinks. Poor ladies. After I fixed their water, I offered scratch and mealworms to make up for the inconvenience they suffered, and they accepted.

All this time later, I have been at my desk. Reading and writing, thinking, crying, praying. When I felt cold, I was able to walk down the hall to fetch my sweater and gloves so I could be warm at my desk. If I really wanted to, I could turn up the heat, but I am being more mindful of the use of resources and budget than I probably have ever been. Plus, I'm a Gen-Xer on the cusp of being a Boomer, born to an upper-lower-class family. I grew up putting on slippers and extra socks, sweaters, or hats if I was cold. That's just the way we did things. 

I had hot tea and warm bread pudding for breakfast. I made plans to go to an orchard tomorrow to buy apples so I can make homemade applesauce.  I was able to text my children and message some loved ones. And nobody dropped a bomb on my house while I was doing any of these things. Nobody shot at me. It is most likely that nobody will shoot at me or try to kill me when I go to the market later on. 

Part of being a GenXer/c/Boomer is that I thought the world would go one of two ways. Either the grownups would sort out all the hatred and violence and it would be done by the time I became a grownup, or we would all end up living some Mad Max kind of life. I thought we would educate and love our way out of racism, misogyny, and genocide. 

But we haven't. And while I logically and practically understand it, I cannot, at any emotional or spiritual level, understand or accept it. It has been part of my entire life; it has shaped me and wounded me, burned and strengthened me, but still...I am left with mouth and soul agape at the seemingly casual response to the genocide being manifested in Gaza. 

There are so many words wanting to pour out of my fingers onto the page, and I have to find the courage to let them out if for no reason other than maybe one person will read them and not feel so alone. 

The meaning of this season is upon us. What shall we do with it? What shall I do?

Sunday night memories

It is 8:00 on Sunday evening and I just showered after cleaning the chicken coop, then put on my favorite soft, old pajamas. Having just gone outside to see a bear across the way and fireflies all over my gardens, I now happily have nowhere to go. It seems I am going to ignore the million things I have to do because my mind is traveling down memory lane and this is a trip I am happy to take. 

My parents have been in my thoughts quite often recently, even more than usual. Of course, I miss them and often wish I could sit down at their dining room table to talk with them, sometimes about important matters, but mostly about everyday life which, I suppose, might be the most important matters of all. Funny and sad that I cannot conjure up clear images of what they looked like when I was a small child, in my mind they almost always appear as they do in the photograph below. I think they were both in their 60s when this was taken. I can piece together image memories by looking at other photos of them taken during my childhood but that isn't quite the same thing, is it?

Tonight my memories are focused on the Sunday nights when home was a safe and happy place to be. When I was little enough that coming in before dark to have a bath and put my pjs on was a source of comfort and not conflict, when my mother still washed my hair in the tub and used water running from the faucet to rinse it, when she was always careful not to get soap in my eyes. 

I cannot recall how it was decided who sat where in the living room, but my favorite seat was always on the couch, safe behind the little comma of my mother's legs. Sunday nights were for Wild Kingdom and The Wonderful World of Disney and even my dad watched those shows with us. This all reminds me of his love of fudge ripple ice cream and how often that was the ice cream treat for everyone in the summer. 

Too many memories to spill onto a page, electronic or written, but tonight they are filling my heart with feelings of being loved, safe, and happy. 

I am grateful. 

This is How the World Goes Round

This is How the World Goes Round 

I didn’t want to walk this morning.
But the swallows are flying over the water
and I needed to see the way their wings flutter,
the way their bodies shudder and stutter
until the moment they dive and become pure grace.

I didn’t want to walk this morning.
But a fish broke the surface near the edge of the lake
and the ripples are spreading,
changing the world without making a sound
and I needed to see the new pattern so I can find my way.

I didn’t want to walk this morning.
But a blue heron is flying overhead,
great wings stretched wide, great legs dangling behind,
going from one place to another without telling anyone where or why
and I wanted to wish him an excellent journey.

I didn’t want to walk this morning,
but the river is rushing along next to the path,
gems glistening and glimmering on her gown.
She’s singing a ballad, still drunk and happy from last night’s rain,
and I wanted to hear the story in her song.

I didn’t want to walk this morning,
but there woven between tall stalks of lambs quarter
a spiderweb shimmers in the sun,
here one moment and gone the next
and I must learn that ancient magic.

There’s a black snake slithering among the rocks
on the edge of the path, body twisting and curving as it moves.
The red-winged blackbirds are falling from the sky,
darting to the ground, trilling their songs.
Geese and ducks sail, turtles amble along,
and this is how the world goes round.

I didn’t want to walk this morning
but the bees are in the lavender, buzzing and humming
in ways that I am certain weave all of creation together
and I simply have to know their secrets. 

(c) Sheri Barker
June 2023 

 

 

 

Chicken Update - Long Overdue

After some disruption and schedule shuffling, I am finally easing back into my normal Sunday routine with the chickens. I find it comforting to be back on track, and I will anthropomorphize enough to say that the chickens do, too.

I still have 20 chickens, but the rooster, Mary, has been gone for a while now. He moved on to a small homestead with someone much more experienced in dealing with an aggressive rooster. There are three other roosters there to help keep him in line, and he's adjusted well to his new life. The Cottage chickens are a lot happier and more mellow now that he's gone. 
In a funny twist that amuses and frustrates me, since his departure more of the ladies have gone broody than ever before. First Bree, then Bree and Gussie, then a break, then (surprisingly!) Jazz who is the oldest, then Jazz and Mae, then Gussie and Elke at the same time as J and M. There are currently four chickens sitting broody, with two of them hogging the nest box. What the ever-loving fluff, girls? Get over it. Jazz sits in there and purrs like a dinosaur from the first Jurassic Park.

The new watering system is great, and I am glad I made that change. This morning I added supplements to the system and it was so easy to do. I just turned off the water feed from the rain barrel, then drained the pvc system which holds about two gallons of water. 
I added Hydro Hen (2 scoops) and Poultry Booster (2 teaspoons) to a gallon of water, poured it and one more gallon of plain water into the pvc pipe, and turned the system back on. Easy peasy.

They seem to like the flavor of this Kool-Aid mixture, as there is a lot of talk among them while they are drinking. 

Greens from the gardens - both wild growth and things I've planted - are a great addition to their diet this time of year. This morning I pulled redroot pigweed, which is a species of amaranth, out of the south yard for them. I haven't seen it here before, so it must be a gift from some visiting birds. I also give them comfrey, nutsedge, lambs quarters, roses, bee balm, yarrow, salvia, and whatever else I find that they can have. 

                                                      Redroot Pigweed

Egg production has slowed down, probably because of brooding behavior. They get occasional production quota talks, but don't seem to care. Right now they are laying 8-9 eggs a day. 

I have decided to cover more of the run with some kind of roof. I think I'd like to use the clear or green polycarbonate panels to allow more light, but this is probably going on the autumn project list. I'm just not happy with how muddy the ground gets in the run, and I don't think its healthy for them. 

Best part of the Sunday chicken routine - time on the swing, watching the chickens be chickens.

Peace out. 

Choosing Battles

 The world "out there" is overwhelming today. I look, sometimes simmer, acknowledge what is going on, and occasionally discuss a topic with someone I trust.

But I'm not wading into that fire. No, thank you. I stay informed enough to know what I need to do, and I already know what I can do, so those are the things I am focusing on.

The world is burning while I am tending my physical, emotional, and spiritual gardens. If I become consumed by fighting every fire, I will have nothing left to give. So I'm nurturing the soil, planting, building, watching life bloom all around me, and I am listening, observing, and loving what needs to be loved. Taking action when action is the right move for me to make, choosing my battles instead of swinging at pinatas.

I'm feeding chickens, filling waterers, gathering eggs, slinging dirt, and talking to plants and spirits and ghosts. Loving my darlings, kitchen witching, summoning and cajoling words, making and living magic. This is what I've got.

#onthebearpath

#bearpathcottage

#cottagewitch

#chickentales

#cottagegardens

Lemon Balm

I am anthropomorphizing the behavior of birds in the garden. It is too early in the day to do anything that requires the use of such a big word, so I simply choose a different way of explaining my own ideas and behavior to myself.

I am a goddess, am I not?

I can do anything I choose,

bring anything down to its essence,

and that includes reinventing

the game.

The day.

Myself.

~~~

Breezy, chilly, cloudy with the promise of rain coming. I’ll soon be ready for a big mug of tea made with full moon water, but I’m not quite ready to step away from this gorgeous, riotous springtime energy.

Goddess April

 Oh April, you brilliant, sassy goddess!

Please, do try on all the outfits and then

Strew them across the garden when

They don’t fit quite right or

Look creative enough or hit all the power cues

or just don't feel like you in that moment.

Wear the yellow daffs and grape hyacinth with all those shades of green.

Muddy brown looks good on you,

Highlighted against dried milkweed stalks and a rainbow of tulips.

And how you dazzle me now,

A shimmering dream in your black velvet

Evening gown beaded with snowflakes,

The train flowing endlessly into the night.

s. barker

2022

#bearpathcottage

#cottagewitch

#cottagegardens

#onthebearpath

#pollinatorgarden

#nativeplants