day six of thirty days. writing myself silly for my own jollies.
Its dark out. pitch. Its slightly before seven am on a Saturday. My weekday alarm went off by accident, one of the two kids in my bed reached over my head to shut it off. Yes, two out of three.
The clocks change this weekend which always fucks me up. And I realized I’ll be doing chicken chores in the dark this week, which bites it. (I guess, I mean I’ve never fed 1200 chickens in the dark. I’m guessing its going to be fairly messy. I should invest in a head lamp maybe. Am I going to have to deal with coyotes? fug.)
I’ve been feeding the chickens at my friend’s farm twice a week. I deeply love it, once I’m there. I do. Its a challenge physically, and mentally, and I need that kind of challenge. It gets me out of the house, away from the projects and the ‘must do’ list, and outside, with 1200 little things that love me for my feeding potential.
I can see this as a way forward, once the kids are out of the house. How deeply I need something to let me love them, and care for them. How deeply I need something to run towards me with confidence and love.
Man, you got to see chickens run. It is such a delight. Little dinosaurs.
And that, my friends, is what I’m thinking about this morning, at 6:56 am, with a temperature outside of 28 F. For my brits, and irish and italians, that is slightly below freezing. I’m not doing chickens this morning, thank god. Love of warmth wins out today.
Love you, bear with me during these less pithy posts.