Category: On the Farm

All I Know about Chicks

.Reading time 2 minutes.

Sorry to disappoint, but I mean the cute feathered bird.

Last week, just as we were celebrating Valentines, we got a shipment of baby chicks. (shipment of chicks? that sounds like they came via UPS, which is not the case)  This happens about twice a year, and so for a week we eat, breath and sleep chicks, until they are big enough to take care of themselves.

 

 February 07 010
See? Here they are, I know they’re soo cute you all just want to hop right on over to our place to see for yourselves.

 

Now, here are the rows.  Lots and lots of cages filled with chicks. When I was young, I thought these rows would never end, they’re so long. Young was like three years ago.  I still think the rows are too long.

February 07 007
That cart is called “The Feed Cart”.  We ooze creativity around this place.  And that little thing that Elena is standing on?  I call it “The Stand.”  The stuff Brandt is sitting on? It’s “The Feed”.  Gene is dumping feed into each cage, which is what we do every day until the chicks can take care of themselves.  That’s “Becoming of Age”.  It usually happens by the time they are four days old.

 

Sitting on the Feed Cart is like being in your very own portable sandbox.

February 07 014
Except it is dustier. And flakier. And smellier.

 

February 07 013
A little feed dosen’t hurts anybody.

 

February 07 019
Here I am doing it all by myself for about two minutes, which drug on for an eternity, while Gene was busily fixing a water leak.  I always jump at the chance to wear a bandana and Gene’s Strober Building Supply T-shirt.
Myth: Farm girls always wear bandanas.
Fact:  Just girls who think it makes them more like a true-blue farmer.

So if you stop by and you can’t find me, I’m probably up in the chicken house. 

Gene says that was a cheesy way to end the post. So goodbye and goodnight.


 

Notes from Last Weekend

.Reading time 3 minutes.

   Pros:

       My mom & sis visit me
     No meal planning required

Cons: 

No chest to rest my bleary-eyed, messy-haired head upon.  Oh wait, I could have rested it upon Elena’s but she’s not as broad as Gene.  Plus her little feet were too busy digging into my gut and pushing me away.  And her hand was busy stroking my ear, which is not at all romantic coming from your three year old child.

No funny drywall stories that make me laugh until I cry.  Like the time he picked up a glue tube only to discover it was full of pee, (not his) and dumped it over himself.  Those drywallers are a scary bunch.

No sighing loudly in the middle of the night and poking his arm just to wake him up.  Because I am awake.  Because one of the children is awake.  And he promised “for better or for worse”, and I take that very seriously.  So seriously that I must wake him up to experience the “for worse” with me.

We had phone calls to update each other’s lives. I don’t like ‘em.

No glancing out my window and seeing the rugged man himself chasing an errant heifer or delivering a newborn calf.

No one to take out my trash. I might break a nail, you see. (Of course I saved the bags for him, I don’t like for him to get too rusty with his abilities)

No one to tell my dreams to.  Oh wait, I did tell Sherry about the dream I had about her needing to go back to Ohio to pick up some anti-diarrhea medication.  Like we don’t sell that in PA or something. 

So it’s really great to have Gene back into my life.  Now we can get on with our busy schedules, daily fun chit-chats, and obsessive cereal eating.

Anyway, I had a great time with mom, Sherry, and Sherry’s children. (city slicker Miller kids, that don’t actually live in the city)  I don’t know if they had much fun though, because we didn’t  do much but laze around my place.   We were going to do some cool things, but all the kids got sick.  Yup that’s right.  So instead of doing cool things, we brewed pots of coffee and lazed around all weekend.  I didn’t do much work because, well, I didn’t.  I get all lazy when I’m around my mom, and then she picks up my slack and does my work for me.

Here’s the quote of the weekend
Gene’s dad walked in the house

Wynn asking Elena:” Is that your grandpa?”

Elena: “No, it’s my daddy’s grandpa”

Wynn(knowingly):  “Oh, then he’s your uncle”