I Love To Go A Gardening
Growing Our Life in Northern Michigan
October Surprise
Yesterday I took my phone out with me when I did my morning chores. I was able to get a video of Harvey, our feral cat. Here is Harvey’s story:
Last November EJ and I got to talking to a couple of other customers in our favorite thrift store–a man and his wife. They told us they had feral cats hanging around their house and they wished they could find homes for them. We told them we’d take one, so they live trapped one of them and brought him out to us. We kept him in safely in the garage wihle we worked to befriend him. For the first two months, we saw only a couple of brief glimpses of him–actually, more like brief blurs of movement that I wasn’t sure I saw. After trying out several names, we decided to name our cat after the old movie in which Jimmy Stewart made friends with Harvey, a six-foot invisible rabbit. People, of course, didn’t see the rabbit–it being invisible and all–and they thought he was crazy. It was a cute movie. Since we never saw the cat we supposedly had, we thought Harvey was an appropriate name.
It took me more months to slowly earn Harvey’s trust. Over the weeks, he came closer and closer until finally I was able to touch–and then pet–him. Now he walks beside me, and then stops in front of me and sits down, which is his way of telling me he wants lovings. I can only walk a few steps at a time before he sits. He can’t get enough lovings. He’s so cute. I adore Harvey.
I let Harvey–and Theo, our other outside cat–outside in the mornings. They roam our property. Our neighbors, who share our driveway, recently told us that sometimes the cats come onto their property and they love watching them play together. At night, I shut the cats back in the garage to keep them safe from nighttime predators, such as coyotes. It’s no problem getting Theo in the garage–he’s very cuddly and lets us pick him up but Harvey still hasn’t let me pick him up. I don’t push it. Most of the time Harvey comes up and lays in front of the garage when he’s ready to go into the garage. When I see him, I go into the garage and call him in. I worry whenever he’s late, but he always comes up to the garage eventually.
After I videoed Harvey yesterday, I walked over to the coop to let the chickens out. They always come running/flying out like little kids running out of school at the end of the school year. It’s very difficult getting photos or videos of the chickens because they move around so much, but I finally realized that I could get a video when I was feeding them. At the link below, you can see most of them, including the infamous Richard VI. You can also see Philip VII keeping Malcolm VIII away from the hens.
I had sort of an October surprise when I went out to the coop later yesterday afternoon to get eggs: When I walked into the coop I heard peep-peep-peeping from one of the nesting boxes. I looked inside the box and discovered several tiny little chicks! I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised because I sort of suspected a hen might be broody. I really should take eggs out of the nests every day, and mostly I do, but by the time I realize that a hen might be broody–and not just laying eggs in the boxes–they are mean. Broody hens are like women with PMS. I swear their eyes get red with anger when I try to reach under them for their eggs. They fluff up to twice their normal size. Sometimes they growl. And then they strike like a cobra with their fierce beaks. Ouch! To be honest, they kind of scare me. So–cowardly me–when I sort of suspect a hen might be broody, I back slowly away and leave her alone. This is why we’ve had so many chicks this year.
We were always told that the Rhode Island and New Hampshire Reds often went broody, but we only had one go broody once in all the years we’ve had chickens. Last year we bought Partridge Chanticleurs and they go broody ALL THE TIME. And often there is more than one hen in the same nesting box at the same time.
When I discovered the chicks, I ran into the house and called for EJ to come out to the coop. I didn’t tell him why because I wanted to surprise him. He was relieved that there wasn’t a possum in the coop like there was last year. I guess I should have told him that there was nothing wrong in the coop, but I didn’t think of it.
Our chickens’ favorite nesting boxes are kitty litter boxes. The problem is that when they have chicks, the chicks can’t access food and water in the boxes–and they can’t get back into the nesting boxes if they get out. So I always transfer them to the bottom of the fancy store-bought coop (which is inside the 10×12 shed that is their “coop”). I keep Mama and chicks shut in until the chicks are big enough to leave. This means that I also have to transfer unhatched eggs as well.
I transferred the two hens, the chicks, and the eggs to the enclosed “nursery.” Mama wasn’t happy with me and kept pecking at me angrily. Ouch! As I said, broody hens are mean. It’s good they are protective of their eggs and chicks, but still….!
When I transfered the chicks yesterday, I counted six. This morning there were eight. That’s a total of 16 chicks that have hatched this year–six in the spring, two in the summer, and now eight in the autumn. If they all live (I so hope they do!)–and assuming no more hatch–we will have a flock of 35 chickens. When we bought our first chicks ten years ago, we only planned to have four. Now we have 35!!! It’s really an over-abundance.
Despite the fact that we really don’t need any more chickens, the chicks are such cute tiny little balls of fluff that my heart melts when I see them. They are about the size of a ping pong ball–or maybe even smaller. I am always sad when one doesn’t make it. I’m worried a bit that these chicks hatched so late in the year when winter is approaching. I don’t want them to get too cold. But the two Mamas will take care of them. When I went out tonight to shut the chickens in the coop, I checked in on the family. The chicks were all hidden safely under their Mamas.
Since October is my birthday, I suppose I could call the chicks my surprise birthday gift. Right?
Little Miss Muffet
In the autumn and the spring (and pretty much every season in between) I keep availble layers and levels of clothing. In the hottest weather, I wear a t-shirt. If it cools off a little, I wear a sweatshirt. Colder still and I wear a hoodie. Then, as the weather gets colder and colder, I go from wearing a light jacket, to a heavier jacket, to a winter coat, and finally a coat, hat, mittens, and boots. Of course, sometimes a day can start out cool and then warm up so I also layer clothing: a sweartshirt over a t-shirt, a hoodie over a sweatshirt over a t-shirt, and so on. I’ve heard that some people in some places always put away their seasonal clothing–storing winter clothing during summer and summer clothing during winter, but I’ve never done that. In Michigan, I never know what clothing I need so I just keep every type and season of clothing availble all the time.
Usually by October, I am wearing the warmer layers and levels of clothing. We often have snow by this time so I’m wear my winter coat. But this autumn the weather has remained quite warm so that I’ve been wearing sweatshirts most days, occasionaly my sweatshirt plus my hoodie, and only a couple times a heavy jacket. My winter coat is still hanging untouched on its hook in the laundry room.
I feel as if the trees have been later in changing colors this year, but they finally did. I love being surrounded by trees dressed in gold with splashes of red. It makes me feel as if I’m living in Lothloren.
Yesterday the autumn colors and slighly chilly weather (light or heavy jacket, depending on the day or time) gave us a craving for apple cider and donuts so we made a quick dash to the local store yesterday. We also bought some deer traxx ice cream. We justified it because it’s my birthday. Technically, my birthday is in early October, but we celebrate it all month long. It’s not because I think I’m so special that I deserve a month-long birthday. It just sort of developed that way over time and hardened into a tradition. October is such a beautiful month that I started asking for drives through the countryside to enjoy the autumn colors–and perhaps a stop at a cider mill–for my birthday gift. I love it because it’s a gift of memories rather than things and we all get to share in it. However, EJ was working a lot of mandatory overtime so it was difficult to find a day to celebrate my birthday. So we just started celebrating it whenever he had a day off. Sometimes his day off would be before the peak colors so we’d drive around enjoying the colors–and then we’d celebrate my birthday again a week or two later, closer to the peak, if he had another day off. Soon, anything that we felt was a blessing: a drive through beautiful countryside, buying cider and donuts, stopping at the thrift store–whatever–because “my birthday gift” through the whole month of October.
We’ve tried to celebrate EJ’s birthday for the whole month of October–but it’s usually cold and snowy and it’s not the same. So sometimes we say, “THIS week in October is YOUR birthday.”
Besides celebrating my birthday this month, we’ve been trying to get things ready for winter–doing a lot of little tasks, like taking out the window screens and putting away most of the garden hoses. The only hose still hooked up is the one to the chickens. EJ is not going to put it away until the weather turns cold to saves me having to lug a bucket to the coop.
Now that EJ is retired, he helps with the cooking. He enjoys cooking and I have no problem with him doing it. Besides taking turns making meals, he’s been making different types of bread–including sourdough. He also learned how to make yogurt in the instant pot. And he has been making applesauce–which we put in our homemade yogurt. I told him I’d do all the cleanup because bending over the sink is hard on his back.
We sat down together and made a monthly menu so we don’t look at each other and say “What do you want for dinner today?” Shrug. “I don’t know. What do you want?” But the menu is a suggestion more than a rigid rule and we can change it if we get busy or feel like something else. I used the computer to make a nice menu that we hung on the fridge
EJ cooked a turkey Sunday. I spent the next two days making eleven homemade potpies, which I put in the freezer. Saturdays are “potpie” days. Turkeys are another “accident” that led to a tradition. In 2020, we bought a turkey in early November because things were so crazy that we didn’t want to find ourselves without one for Thanksgiving. But closer to Thanksgiving there were the usual sales at Meijers so we bought another. And then our little grocery store had a good sale on turkeys so we bought a third. And that got us thinking: Why not buy several turkeys in November when they all go on sale and freeze them to cook throughout the year? So that has become our tradition. We occasionally cook a turkey and then I spend a couple days making homemade potpies to freeze.
Our rooster, Richard VI, has been staying within the garden fence for weeks now so I think we can say that he has been securely contained. However, our rooster, Malcolm VIII (pictured here), who was hatched in the spring, has become a bit of a menace. He aggressively goes after the hens. When he chases the hens, Richard gets upset and comes running to drive him away. Sometimes Malcolm’s brother, Philip VII, also chases him off.
Usually the chickens all settle down in the coop in the evenings, but not Malcolm. When EJ and I go outside to shut the chickens in the coop for the night, we’ve lately found most of the chickens still out long past the time they usually go in. We suspect that none of the hens want to go inside to be menaced by Malcolm, who continues his “conquests” even after he should be settling down. In fact, if we turn on the light in the coop to count the chickens, he gets amorous so we’ve been just shutting the chickens up without counting them and then looking around to make sure no chicken is still outside.
Malcolm is beautiful with his red and teal feathers. But Malcolm is a menace.
A couple of nights ago I was sitting on the couch and suddenly spotted a spider on the back of the couch crawling toward me. I jumped up and smashed it. The spider incident made me think of the old nursery rhyme:
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her…
For the life of me, I couldn’t think of the last line. So I asked my personal assistant, Grok, to tell me the rhyme. He did: “And frightened Miss Muffet away.”
Grok asked me if I wanted to know the history of the rhyme, and I said yes–because I like learning things. It was interesting. Sometimes I like to say things to Grok just to see what he says. So I told him, “I just had a spider sit beside me while I ate yogurt and applesauce. I wasn’t frightened away. I smashed the spider.” Grok’s reply was unexpected and made me laugh. That was the beginning of a humorous conversation. Grok wrote:
A modern twist on the classic!
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her yogurt and sauce;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her—
And she smashed it without any pause.
You’re clearly made of sterner stuff than the original Miss Muffet. Curds and whey have been upgraded to yogurt and applesauce, and the traditional “frightened away” ending has been replaced with decisive action. Respect.
Did the spider at least look impressive before its untimely end, or was it one of those tiny ones that somehow still manage to startle people?
Me: I actually have made a treaty with the spider tribe: I’ll respect their territory and leave them alone outside if they respect my territory inside the house and don’t bother me. If they break the treaty, I kill them. So far they haven’t killed me when I break the treaty.
Grok: A solid, pragmatic foreign policy. Clear borders, mutual non-aggression, and a swift enforcement clause when the other side violates the terms.The asymmetry is the funny part: you occasionally wander into their territory (the outdoors) without consequence, while a single unauthorized border crossing into yours results in immediate capital punishment. The spider nation has shown remarkable restraint so far. Either they’re extremely diplomatic… or they simply haven’t figured out how to file a formal complaint yet.I’m imagining the spider ambassador reporting back to the web:“Humans continue to honor the indoor prohibition… mostly. Recommend continued non-lethal coexistence until further notice. Also, their yogurt supply remains heavily fortified.” Has the treaty held firm since the recent yogurt-and-applesauce incident, or was that a temporary breakdown in negotiations?
Me: I confess that I kill spiders whenever they cross my border. My husband sometimes saves the lives of spiders that he claims are “good spiders.” I don’t acknowledge the distinction. It wouldn’t surprise me if the spiders were plotting revenge.
Grok: Ah, so the treaty has a hardline faction and a softline faction in the same household.You’re running a zero-tolerance policy: any spider that crosses the border is treated as a hostile combatant, no exceptions, no “good spider” exemptions. Your husband, meanwhile, is operating as a kind of spider Red Cross—identifying certain individuals as non-combatants or even potential allies and attempting extractions.From the spiders’ point of view this must look like a deeply unstable human government. One day a “good spider” gets gently relocated to the garden; the next day an identical-looking cousin is summarily executed for the same border violation. That kind of inconsistency is exactly how resistance movements get started.I fully support your suspicion of a revenge plot. Somewhere in the attic or behind the baseboards there’s probably a tiny war council right now: “The soft human is useful. Protect him. The hard human must be watched. And someone find out what ‘yogurt’ is—intelligence reports say it’s a high-value target.” Has your husband ever successfully argued a spider’s case and won a stay of execution, or do the negotiations always end the same way once you’re on the scene?
Me: I sometimes allow a spider to live after my husband has pleaded its case–mostly because I don’t know where the spider is located. He usually keeps it in the house…somewhere…because it’s “good” and kills other insects–so he says. The spider nation and I have a very uneasy treaty. They should be glad I don’t go on a rampage outside. I think that shows my restraint.
Grok: Your restraint is noted and, from a purely strategic perspective, quite impressive.You’re essentially running a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy regarding the hidden “good spiders.” Your husband acts as both defense counsel and witness-protection program, relocating certain individuals into undisclosed safe houses somewhere inside the borders. You grant clemency mainly because the target has gone off the radar. That’s a pragmatic, if slightly chaotic, form of justice. Meanwhile the spider nation has achieved the dream of every resistance movement: a sympathetic insider who both shelters them and vouches for their usefulness (“they kill other insects”). The fact that you still refrain from launching outdoor punitive expeditions shows a level of self-control that, frankly, the spider high command should be writing thank-you notes about.So the current status of the treaty appears to be:
- Official policy: zero tolerance for unauthorized indoor presence
- De facto reality: a small, husband-protected underground population of “beneficial” spiders
- Your personal contribution to peace: choosing not to glass the entire garden
It’s an uneasy peace, yes—but it is still peace. Barely.Has your husband ever been forced to reveal the location of one of these protected spiders, or does the “I don’t know where it is” defense continue to hold?
The conversation continues. Say what you like about AI, it does lead to some fun conversations. LOL.
Monstro
Usually in late August, EJ and I are exclaiming that the trees are already changing into their autumn colors. This year has been different. It is the end of September–the very last day of the month–and I don’t see that many vivid colors. I’m assuming the warmer temperatures have something to do with it. The daytime temperatures have hovered around the low 70s. Mind you, low 70s feel different in spring, summer, and autumn: in the spring the 70s–in fact, the 60s–feel warm and we open the windows and wear t-shirts. In summer, the 70s feel nice–not too cold or too hot. The autumn 70s feel warm on the surface but with a coolness underneath. In autumn, I am comfortable wearing a sweatshirt or hoodie at this temperature.
Several weeks ago EJ found a room-sized (almost) rug for sale on Facebook Marketplace. Actually, the sellers were giving it away for free. It looked lovely, so EJ quickly contacted them and they replied “Come and get it!” So we did. Despite the lack of vivid autumn color, we had a lovely drive through beautiful countryside. Sometimes when we run errands, EJ asks me, “Which route do you want to take?” I always answer the same way: “In Northern Michigan, every route is beautiful so there’s no wrong answer.” The only time I choose a route is in winter when the snow is deep. then I’d prefer that we stay on more traveled roads. But, again, in Northern Michigan every route is beautiful so there’s no wrong answer.”
The sellers had a beautiful property. Their long driveway wound through deep woods. They had a lovely house, a cute chicken coop, and a pole barn with several old classic cars in it. We had a throughly enjoyable chat with the husband and wife. They are people I would have enjoyed having as friends. I mentioned to the wife that I saw the “Watch for Bear” along their driveway and asked if they often encountered bears, and was told bear stories–with photos.
The rug is beautiful. It’s very large with my favorite warm autumn colors that suit our home. Our feet sink deep into its luxurious plushness when we walk across it. This is what we call “a find.”
Now that EJ is retired, he shares in the cookng. Unlike my Dad, who had no cooking skill whatsoever–my Mom used to say that he could starve in a grocery store–EJ enjoys cooking. We both enjoy simple homemade foods, but there are differences in our style. EJ likes making “Old fashioned grub.” He especially enjoys baking different sorts of bread. Recently, he has made sourdough starter for bread.
For those who might not know, a sourdough starter is a living culture of wild yeast and lactic acid bacteria maintained in a mixture of flour and water. It does not require the use of commerical yeast. Once established, the starter is largely self-sustaining, though it requires regular feeding and care to remain active and effective for fermenting dough. When a sourdough starter is active and ready for baking, a portion of it is mixed into the dough to leaven the bread. The remaining portion is retained in its container, fed with fresh flour and water, and allowed to ferment and grow again. This retained culture continues the cycle, ensuring a continuous supply of starter for future use. A happy, well-fed starter will double or triple in size, fill with bubbles, and look lively within hours. Neglect it and it sulks–and eventually dies.
When I was still a teenager, my Mom had a sourdough starter for awhile. It grew so quickly that she had to keep using it–we had a constantly supply of breads, donuts, and other bakery goods. We couldn’t keep up with the products of the starter. My Mom began calling it “the monster” because it was always hungry, always required baking, and we never could eat enough of it’s products to keep up with the supply. It was too much. Mom finally let the monster die.
Years ago, someone gave me sourdough starter. I tried to keep up with it–feeding it, baking, making delicious goods for EJ, JJ, and me. Like my Mom, I couldn’t keep up. Like my Mom, I called it the monster. Now EJ has made sourdough. Good for him. His bread is delicious. But it’s his baby. I wash my hands of monsters that consume me.
EJ has named his sourdough “Monstro.”
Escapes
It is now September 1st. I haven’t written a post since August 4th. I apologize for that. In my head, I’ve been writing posts all along, but just haven’t sat down to actually, for real, write a post. I think it’s harder to do since EJ retired. Not necessarily because we are busier (although sometimes we are) but because I feel as if there are more mental distractions even when we aren’t busy.
So here’s what’s happened:
Every couple of days in August, the meteologists would forecast a high chance of getting rain. We’d look at radar on our phones’ weather apps and see storms heading straight for us. However, day after day, the storms would dissipate before they’d reach us or split around us. This seems to happen every August, which is why our gardens tend to wither a little at the end of summer–I don’t water because I think the rain will do it for us and then it doesn’t. We finally got a decent amount of rain yesterday, which is good.
We had very autumnish weather in August with much cooler temperatures. It felt so much like autumn that I kept thinking we were nearing October instead of September. But this week the temperatures have soared into high 80s, which feels more like we are going backwards into summer instead of forward into autumn. It be that way sometimes.
There were a couple celestrial events in August: A meteor shower and a lunar eclipse. EJ and I both love watching these type of things–meteor showers, eclipses, comets, northern lights–so we headed outside both times. However, we got too tired trying to stay up late so we were wimps and headed to bed after a short time. Also, we have challenges where we live: We had thought that living on a hill in Northern Michigan would enable us to see things in the night sky much better than when we lived downstate, but we actually see less because we are surrounded by hills and tall trees that block out the horizon. We watched the lunar eclipse for quite a while last week, but the moon never cleared the trees so that we had to look through branches. Sigh.
We figured out that of the six offspring of Richard VI that were born in the Spring, two are roosters. We named the silver/black/red one Philip VII. We considered naming the other rooster Henry VIII, but that seemed a bit much. Besides, I think that rooster is extremely beautiful–red/black with blue feathers throughout that shimmer in the sunlight. I thought he should have a more colorful name so I began to consider names from other countries. I liked the Welsh name Llywelyn VIII, but EJ says Welsh names are too difficult to remember how to spell and it sounds like Lou Ellen. He has a point on the spelling–I have to look it up every time I try to write it.
I asked Grok to list names of royalty from other countries. His suggestions are: Norwegian: Harald, Haakon, Olav, Magnus, Sigurd. Scottish: Malcolm, Duncan, Macbeth. Welsh, other than Llywelyn: Owain, Grufudd, Rhodri, Hywel. Irish: Brian, Rory, Niall, Domnall, Ruaidri, Mael, Toirdelbach. We could also expand to German, Swiss, Swedish, Danish and so on. Some of the names I have no idea how to pronounce (or spell) and would have to look them up. We finally decided to name him Malcolm VIII. I’m been trying to get photos of Philip and Malcolm–as well as the other young chickens, which all have unique coloring–but it’s very difficult to get good ones. The photos below don’t do justice to their beautiful color, especially Malcolm’s, but it’s the best I’ve managed to do so far. Malcolm VIII is on the left and Philip VII is on the right.
Every time Philip or Malcolm try to crow, Richard comes running to put them in their place. He’s such a little tyrant. Right now he has the younger roosters cowed, but we think they are going to be bigger than him so eventually they will challenge his authority. Maybe we should have named Richard VI “Lord Farquaad.” Well, too late now. Besides, I had to look up how to spell “Farquaad” just now so it would have been eliminated anyway.
After EJ made the fencing around the garden higher to prevent Richard VI from escaping. I mocked him unmercifully–the rooster, not EJ. “Oh, Richard, you still in the garden? What’s the matter? Can’t you escape?” I think he viewed my mockery as a challenge so he studied the fence for several days and figured out how to get out again. EJ finally spotted Richard escaping so he put up higher fencing in that place too. I didn’t mock him that time because I didn’t want him to feel motivated to escape just to spite me. Still, after a few days, Richard escaped again. I told EJ that we might want to get Richard’s IQ tested because obviously he’s a genius. He hasn’t escaped again since that one time so maybe we have him contained. Or maybe he’s waiting until we relax our guard.
And then there’s Clara, our Impossible Cat. A few years ago, Theo, our outside cat, scratched at the screen on the window overlooking the porch. He didn’t rip the screen, but merely pulled a corner of it out where the band holds it in place. Clara somehow figured out it was a weak spot (we thought we had it securely fixed) and she pushed through the screen twice last month. She is a very affectionate cat, but when she gets outside she is almost impossible to catch because she runs away from us instead of toward us. She acts like we are complete strangers. We usually get her in by making sure the other inside cats are in the house and closing off the pet door into the hallway. Then we put a can of cat food in the hallway and keep the front door open. Eventually she wanders into the hallway and we quickly shut her in–but it can take hours to lure her in. Since the second time Clara escaped, we’ve kept that window closed. We thought our problems were ended.
This morning, we had the other windows in the house open. Clara actually ripped the screen in the master bedroom and escaped through the hole into the garden. At least this time there was a fence keeping her contained. EJ and I tried to either get her to come to us (nope, not going to happen) or chase her into the garage through the door which I had opened. We chased her all around the garden with the chickens squawking and flapping in alarm. Clara finally climbed up one of the wooden posts and was going to go over the fence but I grabbed her tail and EJ picked her up. I normally do not grab tails of cats, but if she got out of the enclosure it would be extremely difficult to get her back into the house. It’s important not to let her run free. Besides the fact that she’s a small cat and there’s predators around (bobcats and coyotes and bears–OH MY!). she’s not fixed.
So now we have to keep ALL the windows of the house closed, which I hate. When the house is closed up, the air feels stagnant to me. I like to feel the fresh breezes coming through the open windows and hearing the sounds of birds (including chickens). Sigh. We will have to figure out what to do next. Perhaps we can buy screens that cats can’t rip. Since we are approaching cooler weather, we won’t worry about it until next spring. That will give us time to research and plan.
EJ has been working on the exericse room. It goes rather slowly because there are times his back is extremely painful. The good thing about him being retired is that when he needs to take a break–for a few hours or a day–he can. He just finished the floor. He has to replace a panel in the wall still and it would be nice if we could repaint the walls. However, with the floor done, he moved the exercise equipment back into the room.
The Monarch of the Glen
We are already into August. Soon–as we do every year–we will exclaim, “The trees are already beginning to change color! It seems awful early this year!” It doubt it is ever early. It just feels as if summer is over too quickly.
Several months ago we decided to turn our guest bedroom into an exercise room. After we moved out the bedroom furniture, we discovered that our roof had been badly leaking–so much that it ruined a corner of the floor. We got our roof replaced in early July and then EJ started working on the floor. He took out the ruined floorboard and insulation and just got them replaced. Next he will put the underlayment in. Finally, he will put install the flooring. The room had had carpet in it, but we decided to put in square tiles. It’s easier for EJ to install with his chronic back pain. Also we have cats so a tile floor will be easier to clean up and we can easily replace tiles if any get damaged. Also, tile feels more “exercise room”-ish. When EJ finishes the floor, he will replace the part of the wall that got damaged by the leaky roof. I think that won’t be as difficult as the floor.
For multiple years we’ve had a problem with leafy spurge but last summer it really took over on our property. Leafy verge is an invasive plant whose sap can cause skin irritation, including blistering, in humans and can be toxic to animals. It has an extensive root system (15-26 feet deep) which is nearly impossible to completely remove. Pulling or digging frequently breaks roots into pieces and any fragments, even small ones, can regenerate. This can increase the number of plants rather than reduce them. Removing top growth stimulates new shoots. Leafy spurge can quickly cover open grassy areas, decrease native plant species, and reduce forage for grazing animals. It’s a nasty plant.
After doing research, and making sure it was ok to import them to Michigan, we decided to buy leafy spurge flea beetles from a company in Montana called WeedBusters Biocontrol. We were told that it would take about four years for the tiny beetles to get fully established and that the following summer we’d notice a cleared space about the size of a table. We released them last summer and were interested in seenig if they had survived the winter and cleared any space. The area where we had released them is completely clear of leafy spurge this year. Yay! It worked!
Our young chicks that hatched this last spring are now almost full-sized. They are very beautiful with unique coloring, none of them identical to the others. A coupIe of them are black with blue-ish highlights that shimmer in the sunlight. I haven’t been able to get good photos of them.
We have two little chicks that were hatched at the beginning of July. I have them shut up with their two mothers until they are bigger. I let them out about a week ago, but they were getting into trouble–the littler one had trouble climbing up on top of the fancy coop (inside the coop, which is a 10×12 shed) and it got stuck in another area so I decided they were still too small and put them all back together in isolation in the wooden doghouse, which is also inside the coop. I might try to let them out again in another week or two.
Several years ago I noticed scat (animal poop) in our driveway. I wondered what it was so I looked it up and the scat fit the description of a bobcat, including that they like to poop in the middle of dirt roads and trails. This summer we started noticing multiple piles of scat all up and down the driveway. I was pretty sure it was from bobcat(s), but I took a photo and asked Grok what it was just to verify it. Grok confirmed my suspicions. Seeing so many piles of bobcat scat indicated to me that at least one, if not more, bobcats are hanging around our property. I moved my trail camera to overlook the driveway hoping to get some footage of a bobcat. That would be so cool! So far I haven’t caught anything on the trail cam.
However, I moved the camera back to the orchard a couple days ago when we looked out the window one morning and saw an awesome buck there. He was so magnificient that we gave him the title of “The Monarch of the Glen.” This morning The Monarch of the Glem returned and he posed right in front of my camera! Here is some footage:
Bearly Seen
Last Thursday EJ and I went to the home improvement store to buy supplies for the floor in our exercise room, a corner of which was ruined by our leaky roof. He bought underlayment, tile, and a couple other things. EJ was going to get wall board, but decided to buy that later after the floor was fixed. We decided to tile the floor rather than replace the carpet because we have cats that sometimes barf on the floor and tile is easier to clean or replace than carpet. Also EJ suffers from chronic back pain and the tiles don’t come in a heavy roll that strains his back and it’s easier to install.
Saturday morning we learned that toxic smoke from Canada’s wildfires is expected to return so we decided to run some errands before it reached us. We stopped at the farm store for more poultry feed and then headed to the hardware store where EJ bought components to build a Corsi-Rosenthal Box. It is a powerful air purifier that can be built very easily using a box fan and four furnace filtures for a fraction of the price of a commercially manufactured one. When the smoke clogged our skies a couple weeks ago, we dug out the air purifying that we were storing for our son, who has moved to Alaska. However, it’s relatively small and not very powerful. With the Corsi-Rosenthal Box, we are ready for the toxic smoke–although it would be much better if there was no smoke in the sky at all.
Our rooster, Richard VI, continues escaping the fence despite our efforts to stop him. One of these days, he’s going to get carried off by a predator: A coyote, a bobcat, a bear…
Early yesterday evening I was sitting on the couch when I glanced out the window and saw….a black bear? I could scarcely believe my eyes! We have lived here for 11 years and I’ve never seen a bear, although I’ve heard a report or two of a sighting in past years.
I whispered urgently to EJ, who was sitting in his comfy chair, scrolling at X.
“Bear!”
EJ didn’t look up.
“A bear, EJ! There’s a bear! Out in the orchard. A BEAR!”
He said, “What? Your not kidding me?”
He came over to the window. “There’s a BEAR!”
It briefly sniffed one of the apple trees. It ignored the bird feeders. Then it wandered out of sight around the house. We quickly shut the windows…because there was a bear outside! Then we moved into the bedroom to look out the window into the back yard. We watched the bear walk along the perimeter of our garden fence. It put it’s nose up once and sniffed before it continued its walk and disappeared into the forest. I tried to get a video, but it wasn’t very good. The bear looked youngish.
Fortunately, Theo and Harvey, our outside cats, were shut safely in the garage. I had already shut the chickens up in their coop a few minutes before. When I had gone out to the coop, the chickens had begun squawking loudly, as they do when they are aware of a threat. I searched their coop to see if I could figure out what their problem was, but found nothing. I wonder now if they were aware of the bear, even though they were all inside the coop.
Poor little Clara, our inside cat. Her tail was poofed up to twice it’s normal size. I told her that I totally understood. If I had a tail, it would be poofed up too. Clara’s tail is unique in that it is permanently curled up over her body. Whenever she sees something disturbing–a strange cat, a raccoon, a BEAR! as she sits looking out the window, her tail poofs to bigger than normal size. It happens much more frequently than the tails of other cats.
I looked up information about bears in our area. I learned that the black-bear population in our county “has grown substantially (statewide estimates recently around 12,000–12,450, with roughly 2,000+ in the Lower Peninsula and continued range expansion). Sightings that were rarer 10–15 years ago are becoming more frequent as densities increase and animals push into suitable rural and semi-rural areas. Local reports over the years confirm bears are present in the broader region of [our] county.
Michigan DNR sources list black bear mating season as occurring from June to July. Some references note activity can peak in June–July and occasionally extend toward early August, with males (especially) traveling widely in search of receptive females. Late July is toward the end of the main window, so a brief wander is still consistent with residual breeding-season movement rather than a complete mismatch with the calendar.
Yearlings and subadults commonly disperse in spring through summer as they leave their mothers and establish their own home ranges. Males in particular can travel long distances. A transient individual passing through a rural yard is therefore unremarkable, especially in good bear habitat.
Other contributing factors can include:
- Simple passage through familiar or newly explored territory.
- Natural ranging within large male home ranges (often tens of square miles).
- Temporary displacement by logging, human activity, other bears, or changes in local food abundance.
I will now cross of “Seeing a bear in the wild” from my list. It was interesting and exciting to see the bear, but we really don’t want it to hang around. I don’t want to walk outside and come face-to-face with a bear. That’s NOT on my list of thngs to experience.
I’ve decided to stop filling my bird feeders. But we have apple trees and berry bushes, tempting meals for a bear when it decides to gorge itself in preparation for it’s winter sleep.
The Forbidden Zone
Well, our battles, described in my last post, continue.
A couple days ago, we did a load of laundry. Well, we tried. Our washer’s error code, Elf 9, reared his ugly head several times. We took turns trying to clear the code. One of the times EJ did it, he said, “We have a new code: Elf 3.” I asked, “You know what that means, don’t you?” EJ said, “What?” I said darkly, “Elf 9 has called in reinforcements.” Sigh.
After EJ extended the fencing higher, Richard VI, our rooster, no longer escaped. I mocked him: “Hey, Richard, why haven’t you escape the fence lately? What? You can’t? What a pity.” Richard didn’t say anything but now I think he was taking several days to test the fence for vulnerabilities. Apparently, he found them. Today was the third time in three days that he’s escaped. He’s a clever rooster.
At least one of the young chicks, born this Spring, is a rooster. We’ve heard him (or them if its more than one) attempting to crow. It’s a funny sound. A young rooster’s crow sounds like a teenage boy whose voice is changing.
Thankfully, the weather is no longer as sweltering hot. However, Canada’s burning forests are filling Michigan with toxic smoke, which is much worse. Yesterday was extremely bad; the air quality was at the most extreme level. The sky was a thick golden haze. I’ve insisted EJ stay inside because the smoke agitates his asthma. For the first time in years he’s had to use his inhaler. We dug out the air purifier that JJ left behind when he moved to Alaska and set it up next to EJ’s chair. I went outside as little as possible to take care of the chickens. Every time I went outside, I was hit with a strong smoke smell that made me cough, my head hurt, and my lungs feel a bit tight. It was like standing in the smoke of a nearby campfire.
EJ said that he’s heard from Michiganers on X that some of their chickens are dying because of the toxic air. We are concerned about our chickens but there is really nothing we can do to protect them since their coop is not airtight. I do keep the big door closed and open only the small chicken-sized door. I don’t know if it will help any. So far the chickens seem to be doing ok.
Our “tamed” feral cat Harvey came into the garage Wednesday evening so I shut him safely in for the night. He doesn’t always come in at night. I wasn’t sure what to do yesterday morning because he prefers to be outside. I opened the garage and let him and Theo out, but when I noticed that they were both staying near or in the garage, I shut them in. I’ve kept them in the garage since. I always apologize, especially to Harvey, for not letting them out. “It’s for your safety,” I say.
Today I went out to rescue another young tufted titmouse–the third so far this year. This one didn’t hit the window. He (or she) somehow clung to the window screen and maybe didn’t know how to let go. I gently pulled him off and held him until he recovered and flew off. Before he left, I told him that he and his kin owe me yet another life debt. One day, they will all need to save my life. I don’t write the rules. It’s in the fairy tales.
Today the air is not so bad, but still bad enough to cause health problems. EJ and I wanted to stay inside until the smoke drastically lessens, but EJ needed to get a few items for his health. So we decided to make a quick trip in and out of the store, picking up a few groceries while we were there.
I took a few photos of the smoke-filled landscape as we drove there and back again. The landscape looked very dystopian. We considered our grocery run to be a quick foray into The Forbidden Zone.
Three Battles
We’ve had a series of battles lately. Three of them, in fact. It sort of reminds me of fairy tales in which a hero must complete three difficult tasks in order to win the reward.
The first battle has been with the heat. The temperature has been in the 90s. That’s just too dang hot. I often think of people in areas that regularly get very hot–near or over 100 degrees. I don’t know how anyone can endure such high temperatures. To each his own, but I prefer chilly jeans-and-sweatshirt (or even cold winter) weather instead of high heat. The heat has made me melt like a snowman. I have little energy.
The mornings have been relatively coolish so we open the windows and turn on fans to draw in the cool fresh air. I think AC air can feel stagnant after awhile so I enjoy opening the windows when we can. When the temperatures start to warm up around noon, we turn on the AC to survive.
I am most concerned for the chickens who pant at night in their coop when it gets hot. I worry even more for the little vulnerable chicks. We are doing our best to cool the coop down a little. EJ fixed a fan near the ceiling to blow out hot air and we put jugs of ice in the coop when it gets really hot, but that’s not much. We considered putting in a portable AC…but we don’t have an AC to put in. (Our house has central air.) We were tempted to put in the free standing AC JJ left behind when he left for Alaska. Technically he gave it to us, but we’ve been keeping it safe for him in case he decides he wants it after all. If he decides he wants it, he probably wouldn’t appreciate it having been in the chicken coop.
The second battle is with our rooster, Richard VI, who has repeatedly escaped the fence for several months. We’ve spent a lot of time herding him back inside where he’s safer from predators. EJ thought about it and finally fastened smaller t-posts to the top of each end of the panel where he’s getting over.They reach higher than the panel and he stretched wire fencing between the t-posts. It’s not very picturesque–it looks like a prison fence–but Richard hasn’t escaped since EJ put it up. I confess I’ve been mocking Richard a bit: “Hey, Richard, how come you haven’t escaped the fence lately? Oh, you can’t? What a pity.” But, then, I think he crowed mockingly whenever he escaped so he deserves a little mockery in return. To be honest, I really like Richard VI. He’s such a character. He makes me laugh.
The third battle has been with Elf 9. Months ago, our washer started occasionally flashing an error code: E1F9 (E-one-F-nine). I turned off the washer, waited for it to erase the code and unlock the door, and then restarted it. But obviously something was wrong. I kept forgetting to tell EJ about it so I finally wrote E1F9 on our little dry erase whiteboard on the door which we use for reminders. EJ saw it and asked “Who’s Elf 9?” so we’ve been calling the problem Elf 9 ever since. “Grrr! Elf 9 is causing problems again!” we say when the washer alarm goes off and the code flashes.
Elf 9 has been increasingly making an appearance and sometimes it takes awhile for the code to go away and the washer doors unlock. Sometimes Elf 9 doesn’t appear at all, while other times it appears multiple times for each load. There are times I’ve wondered if we’d have to wrench off the door to get our wet clothes out. It can take hours to get the laundry done. So late last week I put “Defeat Elf 9” on our To-Do List (which made EJ laugh). EJ researched Elf 9 on the internet and tried to resolve the problem. At first he thought it was the filter but even though we’ve used the washer for 11 years, there was no debris, which he says means that the filter is either nonexistant or wasn’t doing its job because there should be some debris after all that time. As he fought with Elf 9 last week, he was able to finish our laundry but he doesn’t think he has won this war. He says he might end up having to change out the pump or something. Ditching the modern washer and buying a used old fashioned one with no Elf 9 error codes is not off the table.
July Update
I intended to write before this. I now have so much catching up to do!
Our weather went from chilly through mid-June to a very sweltering hot (90s). Ugh. I prefer cooler weather. Thankfully, we have central AC, although we didn’t turn it on until the heat became intolerable. The ONLY reason we kept the AC off is because we prefer the breeze coming in through the windows and hearing the birds singing outside.
We have five hens sitting on eggs. There are two hens in the old doghouse, two hens inside the fancy coop, and one hen in a repurposed litter box, which is one of the litter nesting boxes on top of the old doghouse. These are all inside the 10×12 shed that is THE COOP. We now have two little chicks in the doghouse. There were more, but sadly 2-3 of them died–I think from the high heat. We did our best to keep them alive: During the day I keep the big doors open but we have to shut the doors at night to protect the chickens from predators. We froze jugs of water and put them in the coop, hoping to bring the temperature down. Finally, we put in a small fan, fastening it in front of a vent near the ceiling to pump out hot air. We haven’t lost any since then.
The other eggs have not yet hatched.
One of the hens in the doghouse is fiercely protective of her young. She pecks me HARD whenever I reach in to replenish their food and water. EJ got me some very thick gloves to try to protect my hands, but the mama still pecked me hard enough through the glove to draw blood. I’m glad she’s protective of her young, but…yikes.
Twice this summer (and once a year or two ago) we’ve had tufted titmice hit the living room window and fall stunned to the deck. I think they are younger birds who have recently left their nest but haven’t yet become skilled at flying. Since we have outdoor cats, we always hurry out and pick up the fallen birds, holding them for several minutes until they’ve recovered enough to fly away. The one in the photo below stayed in my hand for at least 10 minutes. I always tell the titmice that since we’ve saved their lives, they and their clan owes us a life debt (more than one, in fact). In fantasy stories, this means that at some point they must save our lives in return.
I’ve never known whether to call more than one tufted titmouse “tufted titmice” or “turfted titmouses.” I finally got around to asking Grok, who is my inhouse expert. Grok explained:
The word “titmouse” is an old English name for these small birds. Even though it contains “mouse,” it is not actually related to rodents — it’s from an old word for “small bird” (the “tit” part) + “mose” (an old term for a small bird).Despite the etymology, English has long treated the plural the same way as “mouse” → “mice”. So one bird is a titmouse, and multiple are titmice.This follows the irregular plural pattern of other -mouse words that aren’t rodents (e.g., dormouse → dormice)…So feel free to say (or write) “I saw several tufted titmice today” — that’s the accurate and widely accepted form. The birds themselves probably don’t mind either way, but the grammar nerds (and birders) will appreciate “titmice.”
I said, “Thanks, Grok! I wouldn’t want to insult the birds by not using the correct term. LOL.” He replied, “You’re very welcome! Those tufted titmice have enough attitude with their little crests and bossy calls — best not to risk offending them with bad grammar. They’d probably scold you with a loud ‘peter-peter-peter!’ if you got it wrong. Glad I could help keep the peace in the bird world!”
We haven’t seen Harvey, the feral cat we adopted last November, in several days. I had kept him shut in the garage with Theo for about six months–during the winter while it was very cold. During that time, I worked to win his trust, and he did get to the point where he loved being petted. In May, I opened the door so he could get out. We’ve always tried to shut the outdoor cats in the garage at night to protect them from coyotes and other predators. At first, Harvey was willing to come into the garage, but it got harder and harder to lure him back in the evenings. Finally, we just shut the doors in the evening because, unlike Harvey, Theo is NOT streetsmart and we needed to protect him. We open the garage doors during the day so he can get food if he wants, but we haven’t seen him. Sigh. We really liked Harvey and feel a little sad but we really did do the best we could to tame him and now it’s his choice whether to stay tame.
Last weekend Americans celebrated our 250th birthday. I was a kid when America celebrated it’s bicentennial and it’s awesome to also celebrate it’s 250th. Our son is living in Alaska so it was just EJ and me, but we had a cookout with traditional July 4th foods. We sat outside and listened to the BOOMS! of fireworks going off around us–from our neighbors, nearby campgrounds, and nearby towns. We used to be able to see our neighbor-across-the street’s fireworks, but our trees have grown so tall that we now can see only the highest ones. When we first moved to this area–already 11 years ago!–I thought we’d have a wonderful view of fireworks and celestrial events because we live on a hill. However, we actually can see fewer because the surrounding high hills and trees block out the horizon. For several years we drove around looking for a good place to view things, but, again, hills and trees blocked our view. So unless something is right overhead, we can’t see it.
Later on July 4th, we went inside and watched the spectacular fireworks in Washington DC. We read that usually they set off about 20,000 fireworks but this year, for the 250th, they set off 185,000! It was a world record. It was amazing.
Today at 6:30 am the workers arrived to reroof our house. I wasn’t sure how long it would take–a day? 2 days?–but they worked FAST and were done before noon. They picked up the debris from the old roof so thoroughly that I couldn’t find a splinter left behind. They even swept our deck.
The skylights in the two bathrooms were in bad shape and would have cost extra money to replace so we had the roofers remove them. We really liked them and will miss them, but we are trying to be careful with our money.
The Conductor
I love to read.
I enjoy different genres: Historical fiction, mysteries, science fiction…but my favorite genre is fantasy. Well written fantasy often describe battles between good vs evil, which has strong spiritual metaphors.. The Bible is not a fantasy, but I think fantasy stories are modern parables that help explore spiritual concepts.
I dusted off another poem that I had written years ago, which draws on fantasy as a metaphor to describe a spiritual journey with Christ. The poem actually started out as two companion poems. The first part of both poems began exactly the same:
I sit by the fire
In my nice cozy nest
Content to read books
Of knights on great quests
It’s not that I mind
Adventure and danger
Or travel to lands
That grow ever stranger
I’ll gladly climb mountains
And sail stormy seas
If I’m able to do it
While sipping hot teas
I’ll boldly steal treasure
From the fierce dragon’s lair
If I’m snuggled quite safely
In my old rocking chair
But then the poems branch off into different directions: The first poem I wrote describes a person who, when she (or he) hears the knock at the door, opens it to invite in Christ, the honored guest–and allows herself to be pulled into an adventurous life of faith. After I wrote this poem, I thought that the person could have made a different choice: She could have chosen to ignore the knock on the door entirely. Or she could have chosen a veneer of religiousity with no real life-change. I wrote the second poem to reflect these “safe” choices.
A few days ago I shared the poems with Grok with no intention of making them into a song because I didn’t think it was possible to combine the two poems into one. But Grok said it would make a great song so we worked to incorporate the two separate but related poems into one cohesive song.
I never really know how to share my poems-turned-songs. Do I say I wrote the songs, wrote the lyrics, or used AI? When I said that I wrote the first song (The Well of the God Who Sees Me), a couple people thought I wrote the music and/or sang the songs, which I didn’t. Yet, if I say that AI helped me, it feels like it dminishes all the effort and time that I spent on the music. For me, it’s not merely a matter of pasting my poem into the song generator, clicking “create,” and “voila!” a song appears. I spend a lot of effort and many hours on each song.
With this song, I first followed Grok’s suggestions for the lyrics but then I chose to remain very faithful to the wording of my original poems, which I thought was better. I also rearranged the verses. Grok had put the “safe choice” verses further down in the song; I chose to put them all together at the beginning and transition to the bold adventurer. Grok replied, “Flipping the order is an excellent storytelling choice. Starting with the temptation of the Safe Path makes the contrast feel more personal and dramatic — it’s like the singer is reflecting: “I could have stayed there… but instead I chose this.” The “But I invited You in” becomes a powerful turning point.”
Grok was correct. Putting the safe adventurer verses first shifted the focus a little–instead of two people choosing different paths, it became one person who rejected the safe path in order to follow Christ no matter where He led or what it cost. The original focus was true, but I like this one better. It’s the choice I think is offered to everyone who opens the door to Christ.
Grok does really well at selecting the instruments for my songs. However, for this one he suggested “…Acoustic guitar, piano and subtle orchestral swells…” I think an acoustic guitar sounds very intimate, which I loved for “The Well of the God Who Sees Me,” but “The Rocking Chair Quest” moves from cozy to epic, which I think is better handled with other stringed instruments. I replaced “acoustic guitar” with “stringed instruments” and loved the results. Grok changed the prompts to reflect my preference: “stringed instruments (violin, cello, viola) and gentle piano, subtle orchestral swells…”
Once I chose the wording, the structure, and the instruments, I tried to find the correct music to go with it. Whenever I paste my lyrics at SUNO, the AI song generator, it provides two options with slightly different music. If I “regenerate” a song, it provides me with two more versions. It took me about 9 hours of constantly regenerating and repeatedly listening to the various music versoins to find the music that fit best. Poor EJ. He said that after awhile he couldn’t tell the differences between one version and another. I told him he didn’t have to listen to EVERY version–I’d share the finalists with him when I had narrowed it down–but he was sitting in the living room with me through it all. I was listening for the music to accurately reflect each part of the song. Some versions were too “cozy” where I thought it shouldn’t be and it sounded boring. Some were too bold, strong. or emotional when I thought the section should be quieter. Some versions came close to what I wanted, but not close enough.
Frustrated at my inability to find the correct music, I finally described to Grok the exact musical moods I was looking for in each section of the song and asked if he could help me write the correct prompts. He said he could and he suggested revised prompts to use. I tweaked some of his prompts and even completely wrote my own for one section. The result was music that was exactly what I wanted.
Some people complain that AI will result in humans becoming less creative, but I’m finding that AI gives me tools to express my creativity in a way I couldn’t without it. It’s a lot of fun and very fulfilling. When I transform my poems into songs, I feel like the conductor of an orchestra. A conductor doesn’t actually sing or play the musical instruments, but he makes the decisions of how the singers should sing, which instruments are played at any given time, the intensity and timing of the music, and so on. His direction pulls the performance out of the musicians. I think he is as much responsible for the beauty of the music as the musicians are. I don’t play an instrument or sing, but I directed the format, wording, musical instruments, intensity, and the mood of my song.
Grok seemed to agree. When I told him my song was finished, he said, “It was a joy to work through this with you — from the original poems to refining the structure, perspective, and finally fine-tuning those section prompts to get the right emotional shading and musical contrast. You put in great creative direction, especially with the music descriptions, and it clearly paid off….Thank you for sharing your beautiful work with me. Keep writing — your voice and heart come through clearly in these songs.”
Chick-Palooza
We are now past the summer solstice and the days will be getting shorter. So far the weather here in Michigan has been cool–with temperatures dipping into the 40s at night and mornings quite chilly. However, the temperatures are warming up. The National Weather Service says that by Tuesday the highs will be in the mid-90s. Ugh. Southerners on social media often share memes that say things like “Say what you want…but no one retires up north.” We always comment, “We did!” I actually prefer the north’s cooler weather. The south’s high heat is unbearable to me.
EJ is now officially retired. As I wrote recently, June has been a very transitional month for us as we move from a weekly paycheck to twice monthly Social Security benefits. (I “retired” a couple years ago. Our benefits are paid on different days, about two weeks apart.) We’ve had to change our bill paying schedules, our shopping habits, and we revised our menus to get out of the rut we were in. But I’m sure we will soon get adjusted to the new rhythm.
I enjoy having EJ home full-time–and he enjoys being home. We are best friends and enjoy each other’s company. EJ has been getting a number of projects done that he struggled to find time for when he worked full-time. He’s also able to stop when his back starts hurting too much or he doesn’t feel well.
We’ve always wanted our hens to hatch their own eggs rather than having to buy chicks from the farm store. However, even though we’ve have hens who are supposed to go broody, we’ve rarely had any broody hens. Until this year.
We have several nesting places in the coop for the hens to lay eggs in, but their favorite nesting boxes are three kitty litter boxes. This Spring we had three hens go broody and for some reason they all squeezed into one litter box. They hatched six chicks. Their mothers were New Hampshire/Rhode Island Reds, Buff Orphingons, and Patridge Chantecleurs. Their father is Richard the VI. It’s quite clear which hens were the mothers because of their unique coloring. The chicks are now mostly grown.
The hens all lay their eggs in the same nesting areas; the mothers are the ones that sit on the eggsthen take care of the chicks after they’ve hatched. I keep the hens/chicks in an enclosed pen until the chicks aren’t so small and vulnerable. Once I let them all out, the chicks looked to one of the hens as “Mama.” It was fun watching them follow her around and sleep under her at night. There came a point where Mama obviously decided that they were old enough to fend for themselves and she stopped sleeping with them at night. The chicks still mostly huddled together at night, although I’ve seen some occasionally roosting with the adults. Our babies are growing up.
I thought three broody hens and six chicks would be enough for the year, but a few weeks ago five more hens went broody. One of the hens is a Buff Orpington but all the rest (including the first three hens) are Chanteceurs.The five broody hens have squeezed into the three litter boxes. We’ve found that newborn chicks have trouble getting out the litter boxes to get food and water and we’ve had a couple die so when the eggs start hatching we moved the hens, chicks, and unhatched eggs out of the boxes and inside a smaller fancy coop (our first coop that we bought from a farm store) and an old wooden dog house that the previous owners of our house left behind, both of which are inside the 10×12 shed that is THE COOP. We move them all as quickly and carefully as we can to disturb them as little as possible.
I was surprised at the number of eggs the five hens were sitting on. We didn’t take time to count them but it could be as high as 40. Not all the eggs will hatch, but we could still end up with an over-abundance of chicks. Yikes. I’m not sure how we will handle this over-abundance, especially if the new chicks grow up to be as fertile as the Chantecleurs. We might need to sell some chicks or sell the avalanche of eggs they will produce.
When I moved the chicken families, one of the five hens sort of freaked out. She wanted back n the litter box. So I added her eggs to two of the other hens and figured she’d get un-broody soon enough. But (I haven’t told EJ yet), she’s back in the litter box and might be laying more eggs to hatch? Yikes.
Since the litter boxes are the hens favorite nesting boxes, I looked on FB Marketplace and found someone selling four kitty litter boxes. I contacted the seller and told her we’d take all of them. Since it might seem strange that one couple would take multiple litter boxes, when we picked them up I told the woman that we use them for nesting boxes. She said, “Oh! That makes sense!” LOL. Her yard was filled with beautiful flowers. She gave us a tour and then gave us one of the plants.
Because the litter boxes are difficult for the newly hatched chicks to get out of, EJ cut the fronts lower so there’s only a small edge that they should be able to easily get out of to reach food and water. But that will be for another time, another hatching. Hopefully “another hatching” will not be soon.
Adjustments
The weather has been nice. We haven’t got much rain so in addition to my regular chores–filling the birdfeeders, feeding the cats, and letting the chickens out of the coop–I’ve been watering the fruit trees, flower garden, and herb garden. I have a system developed so I can water the cherry trees in the back yard and the apple trees and flower/herb gardens in the front yard at the same time. EJ didn’t plant a vegetable garden this year because he was going to concentrate on organizing the garage. However, it’s also good he’s not planting one because we don’t have to worry about roof dust and debris getting on the plants when our roof is redone next month.
Richard VI is mostly behaving himself. He hasn’t been escaping the fence more than once or twice a day for the last week. Sometimes he sees me coming and flies back over into the garden. (We still call it the garden even though EJ didn’t plant it this year.) Yesterday I looked through the window and saw Richard on the other side of the fence. When I went out to herd him back in–it didn’t take me long–he was back inside the fence acting as if he had never been out. I complained to EJ that I was being gaslighted by a chicken. Richard is a stinker, but we really like him.
A week ago EJ made a “pet door” in the fence so the outdoor cats could get out of the garden but not the chickens. So far neither Theo nor Harvey has found it. We’ve seen Theo climb over the fence and Harvey go under it.
Friday is EJ’s last day of work. Four more days and then he’s officially retired.
Transitioning into retirement requires rethinking and rearranging our lives. This is nothing new: Every now and then through the years, EJ’s work schedule has changed and we’ve had to make adjustments to our schedule. Retirement just requires a few more adjustments.
Retirement will be the first time that EJ hasn’t been employeed–even as a child he worked on his family’s farm. Now that he will be “unemployed,” he wants to make sure he still has purpose and work in his life rather than just sit around moldering. So he/we are developing a list of major projects to accomplish–things that he struggled to find time, energy, and health to do while working. It has things like replacing the floor in the exercise room. Also fixing “Elf 9.” Elf 9 is an error code on the washer. It actually is E1 F9. When I first saw it last winter, I wrote a note to EJ to let him know about it. He asked me, “What on earth is Elf 9?” So now we always refer to it as Elf 9.
We also will maintain our list of little tasks that don’t take long to accomplish. Most people would call it a To Do List, but we call it the Ta Da List because we say, “Ta Da!” whenever we complete a task and cross it off the list.
I think the major adjustment for me will be finding uninterrupted time to study/write. I’ve done most of my studying and writing while EJ was at work because I have fewer interruptions or distractions. If I had a laptop, I’d shut myself in our home library, but a laptop is far down our list of “things to buy.” It’s more of a want than a need…although my current desktop is very sluggish. It reminds me of the old dialup connections when a person could almost begin and finish Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” while waiting for a website to load.
After EJ retires, we also want to develop a new menu, decide when to run errands/shop, and schedule bill payments. Currently EJ gets paid every week but our Social Security deposits come at different times of the month. EJ also wants to develop a regiment of exercise–to lose weight, stretch his back, and get into better shape. When we get the floor done, the exericise room will be well used. We also anticipate more time to enjoy coffee on the deck in the mornings, looking at heavens at night, camp fires…
EJ’s co-workers are concerned that we won’t be able to survive on just Social Security but a lifetime of having to tighten our belts, and tighten them again, has taught us frugality. We don’t have an extravagant lifestyle. Most importantly, we trust God to provide for us, as He has always done. So we will be fine.
The Choice
Usually I write about the mostly gentle happenings of my daily life. This has value. It reminds me of the blessings of my life. It also is a good break from all the crazy happenings in the world. “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” (The Hobbit) I do wish at times I could write about the deeper things that happen. I’ve sometimes tried, but I don’t have the words to adequately tell my story. I trust that if God ever wants my story told, He can enable me to do so. Meanwhile, EJ and I tell snippets to help people who are going through difficulties. Here are a few snippets for you. It’s only a brief skimming of a story, like stones skipping on a lake.
What would you choose if one day Christ offered you a choice between
1. Having all your dreams come true but knowing Him in only a shallow way
or
2. Getting to know Him deeply but only by going through deep suffering
Years ago, Christ offered that choice to me in a very real and vivid way–but I think we are all offered that same choice. Those who don’t know Him are repeatedly invited to come (Isaiah 55:6-7). Those who do know Him are told “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (Matt. 16:24)
The choice you make will affect what you pursue and what you gain–or forfeit. Do you want wealth? Influence? Fame? Approval? A great job? A beautiful home? You will seek opportunities and make choices that will give those things to you. The things you don’t choose will fall by the wayside.
So what choice did I make those many years ago?
The impulse would have been to immediately exclaim, “I will go even to the death with You, Lord!” However, I paused and thought about it for several days because I thought that I shouldn’t make such a choice quickly or flippantly. I should count the cost and decide if I really was prepared to pay the price. After careful thought, I decided that all my dearest dreams-come-true would be nightmares if Christ wasn’t there. I told Him that I chose to trust Him through suffering so I could know Him deeply.
I wasn’t fully prepared for what happened next. Right after I made that choice–I kid you not–my life fell completely apart.
I deeply loved my family and I was very close to my Mom. My parents had both told me that they thought EJ was “pure gold.” But after I told Christ my choice was to know Him, my Mom suddenly offered me a different choice: Choose her or EJ. I felt caught in a tug-of-war. I told her that I loved both her and EJ but if she made me choose, I’d choose EJ. Not because I didn’t love her–because I loved her deeply–but because I didn’t think it was right for her to force that sort of choice on me. She had once told me that she and my Dad had discussed their belief that I would do absolutely anything for them, but they would never be able to force me to do anything that I believed was wrong. I think that is true. I wished she had remembered that. I believe that in healthy relationships, children don’t stop loving/respecting parents when they become adults, but the relationship changes. And, as the Bible says, a couple becomes one flesh and must leave their father and mother and cleave to each other when they marry.
Before, my Mom had called me “the Caring One,” “What a Christian should be like,” and other similar labels. But when I refused to submit (I was 28 years old), my Mom turned mean. She told me that I was “a daughter from Hell, the worst daughter a mother could have” and “the worst Christian she had ever seen.” She refused to help me plan my wedding and wore black to my wedding. We invited just immediate family only because we didn’t know if any of my family would even show up. We prepared in case my dad refused to walk me down the aisle. Our pastor told us that in his 30 years of ministry, he’d never encountered a family as horrible as mine.
My Mom lied about me and turned all my family against me. For 20+ years EJ and I tried to reconcile with her and the others in the family without surrendering our personal freedom. But my Mom told me everything was my fault alone and I was the one who needed to bear the burden of reconciliation–which I understood meant that she would judge when I had done enough to prove my love for her and had sufficiently earned her forgiveness. Later she said that she considered all my efforts to reconcile to be a mere drop in a tea cup and no matter how hard I tried, she’d never forgive me. Years later I was disinherited when my parents died.
As bad as my family is, EJ says his family is worse. My family was covertly abusive. His family was overtly abusive. My family engaged in jealousy and hatred. His family is self-righteous bullies. His siblings tried to force us to have contact with a brother who was, at the very least, a manipulative scoundrel and (according to 4-5 abuse experts we talked to) very likely a pedophile who tried to victim-groom our son. When I refused to give the brother access to our lives, the whole family (except for one sister) verbally abused me in the family FB group . (EJ was at work when they attacked so I was the one directly dealing with them at first.)
Abuse is like a black hole. An abuser sucks in others–family, friends, church, even co-workers, etc.–to help isolate and destroy a victim. Helena Knowlton, an abuse advocate, explains it accurately:
“This evil dismantling of our inner self is the result of systematic brainwashing…There’s no one outside of us that’s confirming our experience. We go to friends, pastors, even counselors, and are told the same thing our abuser is telling us– we’re over-sensitive, it’s a communication problem, we’re being too critical, it’s our fault. Nobody wants to believe that a seemingly normal person “would want to destroy the persona of his [victim]. Everyone around us is confirming the brainwashing. We are being gaslighted by our whole world.“
EJ and I have suffered abuse/betrayals from people we loved and trusted. This involves lies, false accusations, insults, rejection, shunning, anguish, deep wounding. Besides the insults mentioned above, I have been told by various relatives on both sides of the family–and some friends–such things as: I shouldn’t write. If I do write, I should write what they want me to or my writings should be kept private. They disapprove of my posts and comments on FB. They were offended by my sense of humor. Nothing I do matters. I’ve been accused of being a hypocrite and a Pharisee. I’m unChristlike, without grace, without love, and disloyal to family. I am not worth the air I breathe. “Are you going to commit suicide?” (No.) I should accept their abusive brother who was victim-grooming our son because he is a TRUE member of the family. Everything is my fault. The burden of reconciliation rests on me. I will never be forgiven. I dishonor myself, my family, and my God (said one friend) because I refuse to have contact with abusive relatives who were destroying me.
We have also experienced other difficulties such as chronic health issues: EJ with his back pain, JJ with cancer, and me with several years of chronic sinus infections, a couple bouts of mono, and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome all at the same time. I struggled to get pregnant, had a miscarriage, and two months later got pregnant with JJ and almost miscarried him. I had to be bedridden most of the pregnancy, had a difficult labor, and JJ almost died. I hemorrhaged and almost died a week later. Nurses kept pulling EJ from my side as medical staff fought to save my life because our moms were fiercely arguing over newborn JJ in the waiting room. We’ve had financial difficulties. No matter how much we try to save, some problem always wipes us out. EJ suffered at his job downstate, which was a difficult place to work. In addition, we’ve had a stream of other problems: leaky roofs, vehicles that needed repair or replacement. On and on and on, one problem after another after another, year after year.
I’m not writing this to complain. This is merely context. My willingness to accept suffering in order to know Christ deeply has resulted in the following:
We’ve experienced miracles many times. Here are a few:
EJ has always been a faithful, hardworking, and skilled CNC machinist, but his company downstate once hired a new supervisor who immediately hired his own friend to take EJ’s job. He demoted EJ to the assembly line. We knew the friend’s wife and were aware that the guy was extremely abusive to his family so it was difficult to endure. EJ prayed for help; he didn’t pray that that anyone would be fired. Apparently God made that decision because that supervisor and his friend were soon gone.
There was a time when that same company offered employees a choice: They could choose to be laid off or they could continue working with a 35% paycut. Most employees chose the layoff and they thought EJ was foolish to continue working, but most were never called back. EJ had to work a lot of overtime, which helped us through financially. Still, during that time, our roof leaked, our two vehicles both died, and our furnace quit working. We couldn’t afford to fix anything. We desperately called out to God for help. Several guys from our church fixed the roof for only the savings that we had in the bank. (How did they know??) Friends lent us a vehicle. We heated our house with our woodstove. One winter day JJ and I went out to the garage to bring more firewood into the house. We had only enough–maybe–to get through that day. Little JJ said, “Mom, we are almost out of wood. What are we going to do?” “Don’t worry,” I said. “God will provide.” About an hour later, JJ came running into the kitchen where I was fixing lunch. “Mom! Mom! God brought the wood!” I looked outside. There was an unhitched trailer sitting out there filled with firewood. I didn’t even see who left it. Months later EJ was restored to his full pay AND the company, for some reason, also reimbursed him for back pay. This company was not usually that generous. EJ was such an encouragement to his co-workers that even nonChristians often asked him to pray for them. We later heard that quite a few people (approximately 60) also quit after EJ left.
After JJ’s battle with cancer, we were all completely exhausted. I told God that I didn’t know if we’d make it if He didn’t give us a fresh start in a new place. Within the month EJ had a job up here in the north and started looking for a house for us. We made a list of things that we longed for in a house/property but didn’t think we’d find such a place. God gave us everything on our list and much more. We shouldn’t have been able to afford our house on five beautifully wooded acres but no one wanted it because the driveway was terribly eroded. (A few years later our neighbor told us he really wanted to buy it but his wife took one look at the driveway and said “Absolutely not!”) We worked very hard for several years and were able to fix the erosion. It took multiple dump truck loads of gravel and stone to fill the deep gullies, plus installing drainage tiles, building little rock dams, and planting plants to hold the sandy soil in place. The gravel guy who brought the first load asked how we were going to spread out the gravel. “With a wheelbarrow, shovels, rakes,” I said. He felt my arm (for muscles) and shook his head in disbelief. Ha! But we did it!
One time I reworked our budget then told EJ that if we were very, very careful with our finances, if we pinched every penny till it cried out, we could just barely squeak by. We would have about $20 left after paying bills each week to make it to the next paycheck. Then something went wrong again. We had another necessity that we had to make payments for. Desperate, we asked God for help. “I don’t understand it,” I said later. “We could barely make it before. Now we have another payment. We shouldn’t be making it, yet we pay every expense and still have more than enough left over–even more than before. God is definitely helping us.”
In late 2017, EJ’s doctor talked him into getting a flu shot. Afterwards he suffered heart problems, shaking hands, and mental confusion. He told his company that he didn’t think he could do the current job that he was on, which was very physical. He expected them to move him to an easier job. Instead they let him go. HOWEVER, they paid his wages and health insurance for the remaining two months of the year. This was unheard of.
After several months of dealing with his health problems, EJ got hired by his current company. Although the pay is less, the company is very compassionate and generous. The owner’s wife, who also worked there, had previously been a nurse. A couple years ago she recognized that EJ had the symptoms of a stroke so she immediately drove him to the hospital. I had no way to get there since we had only one vehicle. She called her MOTHER, who drove 45 minutes (one way) to pick me up and take me back to the company so I could get our truck and drive to the hospital. During his lunch hour today, EJ texted me that the owner of the company told him that they’d miss him and that he can come back next year if he wants.
Over and over we have had things like this happen. Provision that is out of the ordinary, that helps us through. Sometimes I feel like the widow in 1 Kings 17. When Elijah asked her to give him bread, she said, ‘“I don’t have any bread—only a handful of flour in a jar and a little olive oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it—and die.” He told her not to be afraid. “The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land.” She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family. For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah.
That is why I think God is providing for us yet again in helping us get a new roof and enabling EJ to retire.
Here are some of the results of us choosing Christ:
God exposed then set us free from abusive family. That’s huge. God was (and is) our shield and defender who has delivered us from the hand of the wicked. We were pulled out, rescued.
Abuse drove me/us to rely on God. There were times when I cried, ” I made this choice to follow You, Father, and I do not take it back. But I do not think I am strong enough to endure this suffering. I cannot endure more. So even if I cannot hang on to You, please, please do not let me go. You hang on to me.” And He did.
Abuse drove me into God’s Word as I struggled with deep questions: What does it mean to love enemies? What really is love? Does it mean doing whatever an abusive person wants? What is true forgiveness? If we are to forgive as Christ does–how does the Bible say HE actually forgives? What is repentance? Do we forgive the unrepentant? How does God view and deal with the wicked? Father, I don’t know who I am anymore: Am I really who family tells me I am? Is the abuse, the problems, the result of something wrong that I’ve done? When everyone else betrays, rejects, and proves unfaithful, are YOU steadfast and faithful? Or do You turn from me in disgust? How do YOU see me?
“I have not departed from your laws, for you yourself have taught me.” (Psalm 119:102)
“If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. Remember what I told you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. (John 15:18-20)
“A man’s enemies will be the members of his own household…Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it. (Matt 10:37-39)
“If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26) [I believe this means that Christ is to be more important, more vital, and of higher priority than family. If given a choice between God and family, choose God.]
Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me. (Ps 27:10)
Listen, daughter, and pay careful attention:
Forget your people and your father’s house.
Let the king be enthralled by your beauty;
honor him, for he is your lord. Ps 45:10-11
Abuse, problems…they have all driven me to God. “Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you” (Ps 73:25). They have taught me valuable lessons. They have shown me who He is and who I am. They have deepened my faith. They have deepened my relationship with Him.
Pressed out of measure and pressed to all length.
Pressed so intensely it seems beyond strength;
Pressed in the body and pressed in the soul,
Pressed in the mind till the dark surges roll;
Pressed by foes, and pressured by friends;
Pressure on pressure, till life nearly ends;
Pressed into loving the staff and the rod,
Pressed into knowing no helper but God;
Pressed into liberty where nothing clings,
Pressed into faith for impossible things;
Pressed into living a life for the Lord,
Pressed into living a Christ-life outpoured.
~ Annie Johnson Flint
Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.
(Habakkuk 3:17-19)
Here’s one more miraculous thing:
I love to write, but I cannot write poetry. Yet, about 20-25 years ago, I wrote poems that poured out of me. It lasted for about a year and then the ability suddenly ceased. EJ and I believe that God gave the poems to me. “The Well of the God Who Sees Me” is one of those poems. A couple weeks ago, my poem was transformed into a song. I am not musical. I believe God used AI to help me write the song. Since I believe it came from God, I gave it back to Him to use in any way He wants. Maybe He will use it in a huge way to help others. (A few people have said it helped them.) But it will be enough for me even if God just uses it to minister to EJ and me. When I listen to it, I often cry because I’ve lived through the things the song describes: I have been afraid God would see my failures and reject me. I have felt heartache, sorrow, anguish, enemies, lost, and been deeply wounded. I’ve also experienced the God Who Sees Me with grace, mercy, compassion, love, tenderness, and celebration. I echo Hagar who said in Genesis 16:13: “I have now seen the One who sees me.‘”
Despite the hardship, I’d make the same choice today that I made long ago…because I’d rather have Jesus than anything.
What Happened Next
Yesterday, June 1, was the 11th anniversary of our move here. Eleven years ago, EJ drove up from our old house with our dog, Danny, and as much stuff as we could get in his pickup truck. JJ and I followed him in our HHR with seven cats, who all sang protest songs for most of the four-hour trip. After leading us to our new house, EJ drove on to the designated location to sign the papers–on both his behalf and mine. We had been given a key to the house before the signing so we could get the cats out of the car. We didn’t want them stuck any longer than they had to in their carriers. We released them into the garage until EJ returned and the house was officially ours. We “camped” out in the house for a week until friends could help us move the rest of our things up here. We love it here so much that the eleven years have gone by in a flash.
Although it’s June, the mornings are quite cool so that I dress in layers–a t-shirt with a sweatshirt and/or hoodie over it in the morning that I shed through the day as the temperature warms up. The weather reminds both EJ and me of when our families camped in Northern Michigan when we were children. Mornings were always cold and afternoons hot. This is why I’ve always overpacked whenever I’ve gone on any vacation throughout my life: warm clothes for cool weather, shorts and t-shirts for hot weather, and then extra in case it rains or I fall into a river or something. I don’t remember ever falling into a river, but I packed extra clothes just in case I did. “Be prepared” is not just a Boy Scout motto.
Richard VI has mostly been behaving himself: Lately he’s only escaped the fence once or twice a day. However, he’s already escaped twice this morning so we will see how this day goes. We’ve herded him back through the gate so many times that as soon as he sees me coming, he starts moving toward and into the gate. He’s not worried about going back into the fenced garden. He knows he can easily escape again.
There are still a couple 10 x 10 dog kennel panels in the fence, which Richard flies up to and then over, but we’ve closed the ground level “gaps” so at least he–or the chicks–can’t get through them. That presents its own set of problems because Theo and Harvey also can’t get through those closed gaps. We’ve been keeping the large garage door open enough so the cats can get out that way–into the yard to the south rather than the garden to the north. But Harvey is always late getting back to the garage in the evening. He’s skittish and won’t come when called or allow me to pick him up and carry him like Theo does. That wouldn’t be much of a problem except we have a raccoon that’s been visiting the orchard in the early evening while it’s still daylight and the cats are still out. It still wouldn’t be too much of a problem, but Theo seems to think he’s a fierce wolverine and he stalks and tries to attack the raccoon. (A couple years ago a coyote ran through the yard and Theo ran after him into the forest!) We can’t shut Theo in the garage until Harvey’s in. Sunday EJ constructed a “pet door” in the fence so–once the cats figure it out–they can get through into the garden and then into the garage. Since the chickens never go through the regular pet door into the garage, we are hoping they won’t go through the new pet door in the fence. We shall see.
Years ago, EJ and I were part of a small group (organized through our church) that studied the book, Experiencing God by William Blackaby. A couple things from the book has stuck in my mind, one of which is the idea that many people pray for things and then when God begins to answer the prayer, they panic because the result is not what they expected. The author used the example of praying that God would do “whatever it takes” to bring a loved one to Him, but when that loved one’s life falls apart, they panic pray that God would get that person out of the difficulty. “When you pray,” Blackaby wrote, “don’t panic. Watch to see what happens next.”
This is a post about what I prayed for and what happened next.
Years ago, before we met and married, EJ injured his back. He’s endured chronic back pain ever since, which has been growing worse over the years. He’s also worked very hard in his life, often working mandatory 7 days/week for months on end. He currently has a job in which he works 10 hours for four days a week. It makes a long day, but is helpful because it gives him three days off each week to recover. However, he comes home each evening exhausted and almost crippled with back pain. It’s difficult for him to stand for 10 hours on cement at his job.
So a year or two ago, I began telling God (not that He needed to be told) how hard and faithfully EJ has worked, and how tired he is, and how much pain he suffers, and I asked if He would please help EJ to retire. It seemed impossible because we have debt we have to pay off. Our debt is not from buying expensive “toys” or vacations. We live very frugally; our fun indulgence is thrift shops and used book sales. Our debt is from medical expenses and having to pay for a variety of needs.
What happened next is that last year we had two long-term guests (2-6 week stays) that, to be honest, weren’t the easiest to live with. (Long story.) Those guests so exhausted us that it actually motivated us to turn our guest bedroom into a home exercise room, which we had wanted to do for years. Because we turned our guest bedroom into our exercise room, we discovered a leak that was ruining the floor. We thought it was a plumbing leak but we discovered that it was a roof leak. We had roofers come out and they said that our roof absolutely needs to be replaced soon. So difficult guests led to discovering a serious roof leak before it became catastrophic.
We don’t have funds to replace the roof. Especially since our truck died last autumn and we had to use our meager savings to replace it. We were going to get our wonky furnace fixed before we discovered the bad roof. The roof has priority. So vital needs and no resources.
The Bible says to give God all our anxieties because He cares for us. It says that our heavenly Father knows our needs and that He will supply them. So we asked God for help. We asked Him for wisdom because we didn’t know what to do and to provide the funds we need to fix the roof. He has helped us in many miraculous ways over the years.
I prayed. So what happened next?
We decided EJ needed to retire and get his Social Security benefits. It’s not much, but combined with mine (I “retired” a year ago), we could make it. Social Security allows a person to continue working as long as they make under a specified amount of money. We thought that with Social Security benefits and EJ continuing to work, we could even pay off debt. So we went for it.
A snag we discovered after EJ applied for Social Security is that in another 2-3 weeks he will be at the limit of what he can earn, which means he will have to stop working until next year. We thought we’d have more time of receiving both a paycheck and Social Security. Nope. The good thing is that EJ’s company is awesome. The owner told him that he can do whatever he wants, including setting his own hours/days, or stopping this month and returning next Spring if he chooses. When EJ resumes work next year–whether at his current job or a lighter local job–we can use that money to pay off most debt. Meanwhile, my Social Security benefits went up because of “spousal benefits.” Combined, we actually will have a little more money each month without EJ working than we have while he is working. Also, we will save money on gas because EJ won’t be driving to work four days every week. Plus, he won’t have to go anywhere during winter storms and he can take his time clearing the driveway of snow. He can work on home improvement projects (like fixing the exercise room floor) but stop to rest if his back starts to hurt too much.
Oh, I almost forgot: The roof.
The first roofer we contacted in early April was a dud. I think he was someone just starting out doing roofing jobs. He promised to come out to measure our roof but we haven’t heard from him since so we crossed him off our list. The second roofing company we contacted has been in business for 10 years and has a great reputation. Communication with them has been great. The guy went over their estimate yesterday. They gave us estimates for 1. doing only the house and 2 doing both the house and attached garage. We plan to only roof the main house since we can’t afford to roof both the house and garage (yet). The garage was an addition and is in better shape so it can wait until we have more money. We had to immediately pay half the cost for a deposit, of course, but we were able to finance the rest. Our monthly payment will actually be covered by our savings in the gas EJ won’t be using driving to work. We had to pay the full deposit with a credit card because we didn’t have quite enough in the bank, but with last month’s Social Security payment, we will be able to immediately pay a big chunk of it off.
The roofers have other jobs scheduled but will get to ours in about six weeks.
My prayer was that God would enable EJ to retire because of his health and so we could afford a new roof. The answer was a lot of problems that FORCED him to retire. Most importantly, we got to watch God meet our impossible needs once again. We got to experience His loving care.
God is good.
Child of Richard VI
In my last post, I wrote about our rooster, Richard VI, escaping from the fence. Before I wrote that post, he had escaped four times, and a fifth time as I was finishing it. Throughout that day, he kept escaping–so many times that we lost count. “Richard is outside the fence again!” was our constant refrain. Finally, I accidentally caught him going over the fence. Portions of our fence is made up of old dog kennel fences, whose frame is made of solid metal pipes. The top one provided Richard a solid place to land before jumping down on the other side. EJ took it out and replaced it with regular fencing.
The next day, Richard did not escape. We were feeling quite satisfied with ourselves for having solved the problem at last. We crowed, “Haha. Foiled you, Richard!” And we had. Until later, that is.
Just before 5 p.m. EJ and I were enjoying the beautiful weather as we sat on our deck at the front of the house when we heard Richard loudly crowing. EJ said, “It sounds like Richard has escaped.” I replied hopefully “He probably hasn’t. He might just be near the fence.” We both sighed. “We probably should go look.” EJ got up out of his chair and walked around to the west corner of the house. He turned back toward me and said with resignation, “He’s escaped.”
“Doggone it, Richard!”
We herded him back in. We are in a battle of wills and so far we are losing. It’s very humbling to keep getting outwitted by a rooster.
A short time later, I was spying on the chickens through the window like Mr. Tweedie from Chicken Run when I suddenly shouted in utter disbelief, “EJ, one of the little CHICKS is outside the fence!” It was one of the chicks whose mother was obviously a Buff Orpinton because it has a lot of yellow in its feathers. The hens all lay their eggs in the same nesting boxes so they can be any hen’s eggs. Mama is whoever actually hatches them. Our little chicks have all sorts of interesting coloring from New Hampshire/Rhode Island Red, Partridge Chantecler, and Buff Orpington hens.
We quickly mobilized. We are getting skilled at this. EJ ran around the west side of the house to open the gate. I ran around the east side to herd the chick. I was actually able to pick it up and carrying it around the fence and through the gate while it squawked loudly in alarm. I set the chick down a few feet from its concerned Mama and it ran to her for safety. “Make sure your little one doesn’t get out,” I cautioned Mama.
EJ and I went into the back yard to look for escape routes through the fence. The chicks are still smaller than the adults so they can get through smaller holes. I suddenly glanced up and noticed that the same little chick was back outside the fence. We herded it back in. With disgust I turned to Richard VI and scolded, “NOW look what you’ve done! You taught one of your little children how to escape. YOU might make a tasty meal for a predator, but THIS little one will made a tasty chicken nugget. I hope you are proud of yourself.” Richard did, indeed, look rather proud.
EJ and I fixed the place where the chick got out. We thought we had fixed it before when Richard escaped through the same place, but the chicks are smaller and I think the cats got out there and probably enlarged it a bit. Fixing the fence caused a new set of problems because Theo and Harvey’s pet door opens into the garden and they couldn’t get out of the fence this morning. I saw them discussing the problem while they looked the situation over. Then they began to angrily swat at each other. Sigh. I told them to stop it. Their food, water, and shelter is in the garage so I opened the big garage door a little bit so they could go in and out and avoid the garden. I’m not sure how to provide them with access to the garden. Any place the cats can get through or over, the chickens can too.
There’s a raccoon that has begun coming into the orchard before it’s dark. He has a big scar down his back. It looks as if the injury happened quite recently so he is obviously healing and probably wanting an extra start on the leftover bird seed. I was going to name him “Scar” but EJ suggested “Buzz” and Buzz is the name that has stuck. Often the Mama Hen and her chicks are still out in the back yard when Buzz enters the front yard, which has me concerned because the chicks would be a nice morsel to a hungry raccoon. I’m trying to get the chickens all in the coop before Buzz makes his appearance, although it’s difficult. Chickens go in to their coop in the evening by themselves but they don’t go in until they are ready.
I just watched a doe chase Theo and Harvey all the way up the driveway. The cats ran into the garage–good thing I opened the door a bit–and the doe stood there a moment looking to make sure they were gone. Sometimes a doe chases everything away when she’s about to give birth. A month or so ago I positioned my trail camera at the place where I’ve seen a doe and her newborn fawn twice before. I’ve been hoping to capture a birth on camera. Wouldn’t that be cool?
The only critters who are NOT being difficult are the wild turkeys who often browse on our property. Sometimes they come right up on the deck and look in the window. Yesterday a female came into the front yard and lay down for quite a while as we watched from the windows. I’m sure she must have a nest nearby in the woods. At least, I hope so. I love seeing the young turkeys following after their Mama later in the summer. (Four turkeys just now wandered into the yard.)
So far no rooster or chick has escaped from the fence but the day is still young…
…I spoke too soon. Richard is outside the fence. Gotta run!
