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This morning at church, one of the gentlemen who just got back from a short mission trim to Guatemala, shared a very interesting observation.  Here, in the U.S., most people who i've met, myself included, have a tendency to put on a picture of who they want everyone to believe they are, on the outside.  While on the inside, at home when no one's looking, there could be hell going on.  All the dark stuff is hidden. The observation the man shared was that in the city they visited, the outdoors, the streets, were like a place of war.  Men who walked the streets openly carried automatic weapons and shotguns, to protect themselves, their homes, and their families.  But the homes, carefully guarded by iron gates and often, armed family members, were just the opposite of the streets.  They were places (at least the ones visited by this person) of peace.  They were clean and pleasant and full of helpfulness and encouragement.  The opposite of the streets. This contrast spoke to me

I have always been a person who enjoys the early morning. But when you don't really need to be anywhere at any particular time, early morning can get away from you. Now, that i leave the house earlier than i used to get out of bed, i have re-embraced, truly early mornings. The blessings: 1.  Quiet.  It's like the air itself is quieter early in the morning. 2.  Happy chickens:  they love getting out at the very first crack of dawn. 3.  No hurrying:  I get up earlier than i have to because i love to be on time and hate to hurry. 4.  Time in God's word:  I am making a habit of having breakfast while reading His word.  That way my spirit and my body are fed at the same time.  This morning's (one of many) really awesome tid bit: I shall run the way of Your commandments, For You will enlarge my heart.  Psalm 119:32 5.  It's 6am, and i'm ready to go, and it's not time yet, so i get to drop you a note. Have a lovely day, my peeps.

I have hesitated to write here lately. My mind preoccupied (temporarily, i insist) with non wannabe-farmer information, i was afraid to bore you. I was also afraid that i would lose readers because of the non-farmy writing.  After all, the big deal of "going to work" isn't exactly interesting to most of you.  I mean it's pretty normal, right?  Does doing what everyone else does while trying to do what everyone else doesn't qualify as interesting? Then i realized that i was doing with this blog, exactly what i renounced in my daily life - performance.  I was seeking to give you what i think you're expecting, instead of giving you what i have and who i am. Please accept my sincerest apologies. And if this new phase of my life, a means to the same wannabe-farmer end, bores you, and you don't want to subscribe anymore, it's cool.  It just is what it is, and i'm cool with it. And i'll keep givin' you what i have when i have it, and i

If there's one thing i should know, it is that things change.  Especially plans. For example, i thought and planned that i would never go back to work again, specifically not to the same job where i'm about to go. My mom always told me to never say "never" to God.  My mom always knows what she's talking about. And then when i decided i would go back to work for the exact same job i said i'd never go back to, i thought it would be next Tuesday. This morning, i started feeling a little pre-panic about the idea of having only a week left at home to fuss over chickens and dishes and swept floors and crochet projects and . . . I kept reminding myself that my life doesn't end when i go back to work.  That i will still come home and clean out chicken coops and doctor chickens and hatch eggs and crochet scarves and slippers and wash dishes and . . . Then, this afternoon, after a lovely visit with an old friend -- and also my first crochet customer --

I must have mentioned that we're downsizing around here. Yes, i definitely mentioned that. I have just a little over a week before i start back to working away from home, and with no more slaughter dates in our near future, i was in a a minor pre-panic to "re-home" a grand slew of chickens, many of whom were raised for meat but whose slaughter dates had been lost in the proverbial black hole of our big transition.  I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but the point is that we needed them to move on. Today, i was blessed with friends who came and hauled off most of the grand slew.  Followed by a neighbor who hauled off a 8 more, leaving 5 beautiful hens who are scheduled to go to their new home on Sunday, my two beautiful roosters (i may have mentioned them once or twice), Rocky and Edgar, and 9 Buff Orpingtons, who will be my new flock. Nine. A couple of months ago, i had almost ninety chickens.  That's ten percent. I think my remaining chickens were

Ever since i was a little girl with my first lock-in-key diary, i have aspired to be a professional writer.  And a couple of years ago, when i became a stay at home wife, i decided to see what the interwebs would offer me in the way of freelance writing opportunities. The answer was "not a lot."  But i did write four little articles for ehow.com.  When my royalties didn't add up fast enough, i lost interest and didn't pay attention to ehow anymore.  Until i started finding unexplained money in my paypal account, which i traced back to my ehow articles. Well, while i wasn't paying attention, ehow did some business remodeling, and i am no longer allowed to write for them, mostly because i wasn't paying attention.  But my articles remain, and from time to time, i get a few dollars in my paypal account, thanks to the web surfers who click on them. Well, the other day, i realized that i have become a professional writer, when i received in the mail a 1099 tax

Four years and some months ago, when i started blogging, i was doing it at a different address and with no thought of being a farmer anywhere in my scope, or my peripheral vision, for that matter.  My blog was called "Re I.D. Me," and it was born out of a hint of a clue that after nearly 30 years of intermittently "walking with God," i still had no idea what it really meant when church friends and mentors told me "you have to find your identity in Christ."  I knew how to say it, and i knew that i wanted it, but i didn't really know how i was missing it. So the title of my blog was a prayer.  "God, please give me a new identity.  I don't know who i am.  Please help me know what it means to be a child of God, and what it means to have my identity in Christ." The posts i wrote on that blog have now been incorporated into this one.  Some of them are vague and pointless, but they're what i said at the time, and they're here for pos

Since y'all are my favorites, and because you read my posts, and because i don't want you to be left out of the loop, i want to let you know that our little farm is doing some downsizing, and that anyone who reads this blog and is interested in my rabbits or some of my chickens (not all of them) could very well get some pretty discounted prices on some additions to their own wanna-be farms.  I'm not a professional breeder or anything. I simply offer you sturdy, hearty stock that lay yummy eggs and make yummy meat and don't get sick easily. Please keep in mind that i took these pictures today, one of the coldest days of the year for my poor Texan chickens, and they're kind of fluffed up and disliking the weather. I have barn yard Rhode Island Reds, various ages  a few Barred Rocks, about a year and a half old and some black sex links a male cockerel, about 20 weeks female black sex link pullets I also have some beautiful mixes that i call Terra Cottas,

I was commissioned by a facebook friend to make a scarf.  I was given the parameters of multicolored, and "she's not picky," and this is what i came up with.  I have to say i'm kind of happy about how it came out.  It's 8 inches wide and 64 inches long (taller than i am).  I hope she likes it.  I am awaiting approval.  If she doesn't like it, however, i won't be heart broken.  I think i am definitely going to make more of these.  I really dig 'em.  And i may want one for myself.