GOING THROUGH THE MOTIONS

It’s that time again.

As I write you I’m watching thick snowflakes stream down onto the somewhat startled rows of daffodils that made their cheery presence known along the creek banks this week.

I understand them and their current mood completely. Just a few short days ago I was in a tee shirt clearing brush with the sun on my face and a beer in my hand. This turn in the weather is disconcerting at best and downright rude at worst.

Now logically I know, it’s been a mild winter and we need the cold and the snow to ensure the bugs this summer aren’t completely insufferable. But to tease me with temps in the 60s, blooming buds and bewitching spring breezes only to snap me back into the arctic tundra is asking a bit much.

So here I sit, wood stove on full blast, appropriately layered in my winter warmest, sipping hot tea and trying my best to distract myself by planning for our upcoming trip to Hawaii. Three weeks. Cannot. come. soon. enough.

It’s been a full month at Hidden Meadow but seems like there’s not a tremendous amount to report on. Tim attended a conference in Vancouver. I held down the farm even though I adore Vancouver (Soup dumplings anyone??). This conference allowed him almost no free time which would have not been much fun for me. We went for our annual Valentines Day hike at Natural Bridge State Park and had a blast, and we dealt with rogue cows in our fields one morning, Check out that story here.

While Tim was away in Vancouver, I got back in the saddle, literally, when I joined a new friend for a delightful trail ride on one of her mounts through this breathtaking countryside. (photo below from one of her rides) It felt great to get out and enjoy the company of a new kindred spirit. I also got back in the saddle figuratively by joining a local chorale. It’s been fun to dip my toes back into choral singing. The spring concert is all pops, carousel, phantom, my fair lady, etc, so practice been a lot of fun.

Otherwise we had a harrowing moment earlier in the month when I discovered one of our remaining three hens had a huge gash on top of her head. I rushed to call my mom because that’s what you do in crisis. Tim was at work, it was snowing outside, and I was coming down with a cold. Perfect timing. Now this was the situation. It had been flooding for the previous week and the chickens decided to roost in their old chicken tractor and not the coop for some reason.

One quick aside here folks, if you’ve been following along you know that my chickens are Little Women themed names, because there were 4 hens and 1 rooster. But in the fall, sadly little Amy did not make it, you can read about it here. I since decided I was further tempting fate by keeping a remaining hen named “Beth”. If you haven’t read Little Women, what are you even doing with your life? Mostly kidding.

SO I decided that I simply named them incorrectly, that Beth was Amy all along and Amy was Beth, problem solved, literary gods appeased right?

Wrong. The very same week I decided this and started calling Beth Amy, she gets a massive gash on her head, seriously looked like her head was just split open to the skull. So I was more than a little worried.

Mom’s advice, separate her immediately, bring her inside to take a closer look, and put some honey on the wound (sounds weird, but it encourages the flesh to heal.)

Easy enough right? So here I am bundled up, I head out and know that I cannot just grab Amy first, because we have a massive rooster with spurs that are growing at an alarming rate who gets more than a little upset if he thinks we’re messing with one of his hens. So I prop the lid up and pandemonium ensues. All the chickens are running around screaming and panicking, Amy splattering blood everywhere she goes. Laurie (the rooster) is not happy with me. I somehow corner the giant beast and hoist him out of the tractor, It was at this point a gust of icy wind slams the lid down on the tractor and sends me to my knees, in the mud. To say that in this exact moment I was not thinking about my cozy downtown Denver apartment with all the city amenities a girl could want, would be an outright lie. Unladylike things may have passed my lips. I wanted this life, I tell myself, wiping some chicken poop splatter off my chin.

Let it be said for Amy, a massive head gash did not slow this girl down, unlike Meg who is super easy to catch and cuddle, Amy is wiry, and wily, and she made me work. At this point, anyone watching me would surely have tossed their popcorn in the air in a fit of laughter, as I scampered frantically on my hand and knees through the mud, chicken poop and snow. I summed up all my strength of will and with a final desperate lunge I grabbed her. Laurie is now throwing himself as hard as he can against the tractor from the outside, desperately trying to KoolAid-man through the wall and attach himself to my head. Amy is screaming bloody murder and thrashing in my arms and I’m yelling right back at her.

Now keep in in mind, Im still on my knees, and the top of the tractor was still down, so to open it I would need to slowly stand up and push it up with my back as I had no free hands. It was at this moment I realized I was very much wearing the wrong coat.

In my haste I grabbed my arc’teryx down jacket and not my trusty BD barn coat. So my options were, put Amy down, and go through the whole rigamarole again with no guarantee I could catch her and she may have succumb to blood loss by then, OR push my lovely down jacket up against the rough wire mesh of the tractor knowing it would 100% snag in some way.

My jacket now has a hole in the back.

BUT the good news is that Amy is alive and well. The honey and two days of separation did the trick. She’s such a good little hen, she even kept laying me eggs all through her recovery. (BethAmy on the left)

Otherwise, the only new thing is that we’ve been visiting a nearby country church for a couple of months. It is a complete 180 from any church experience we’ve had since being married. Its a very small, VERY old presbyterian church about 15 minutes from our farm. (pictured below) Tim was first interested in attending because he read that the church holds a forum each week where they discuss all things cultural, arts, nature, history, etc which seemed interesting and unique. Upon visiting we loved the setting and found ourselves enjoying a deeper sense of reverence and reflection in the weekly repetition. The familiar hymns and refrains were now strangely refreshing.

But more than that, the people. The people have been so warm, and welcoming, and genuine. It really feels like community. So we’re challenging ourselves on what church will look like for us in this season and in this location. Who knows if this is where we will land long term, but it’s been a good exercise to stretch us so far.

That’s it for now friends. Stay tuned for some obnoxious beach photos coming at you soon.

Until then.