Farm Love

This morning, my friend and I finish a long, hard run at the gym and are heading outside where it's a warm-for-spring-but-still-need-a-good-coat-weather day in Illinois: 40F, windy, cloudy, and soggy from a night of rain. I check my phone to see if the work day at the farm is cancelled due to weather. Nope. My friend asks if I want them to cancel.

Today? I do.

I go anyway.

My boss tells me there's plenty of "indoor" work to do...meaning the greenhouse and high tunnel.

I work my shoulders sore using the wheel hoe in the high tunnel and get sweaty. I strip off layers of jackets and a hat before I'm done. Then I'm tasked with transplanting dill from the outside.

Wheel hoe. Great for hoeing weeds between beds in the high tunnel.

 I put my hat and coats back on. Five minutes later, my hands are caked with mud. Chilly wind at my back. I'm kneeling outside, bending my body over a low wall, transplanting dill just inside the edge of the high tunnel. My knees and shins are sinking a couple inches into the soggy, cold, leaf-littered ground. I stab my trowel into the dirt and stir up a mess of life: earthworms, pill bugs, centipedes, nematodes, grubs, and every once in a while a spider.

Fresh dill

No one is around. I'm on the north side of the high tunnel and everyone else is clustered in the south end of the greenhouse. I can't hear them. No one can see me. And I'm happy. How?! How does the farm do that to me? I didn't want to come today, and yet, I'm so glad I'm here.

Transplanting dill isn't a thrilling job, but it takes a little skill, so I'm proud of my progress. It's repetitive, which lets my mind work on other things. I think about running with my friend that morning. What we talked about. I think about our upcoming race. What will that feel like? What do I want to take from the experience? I think about my most recent conversation with Alice. I silently pray for her and get a couple ideas. My bosses come to check on me now and again. I work until my time is up and then I duck into the greenhouse to record my volunteer hours. That's where I hear a couple volunteers chatting about breast cancer medication and hot flashes and going through menopause. These are older women that I've worked with before and I'm pretty comfortable around them. I don't hesitate to ask questions...when did you start going through menopause? How long did it take? I'm just about there myself and I'm noticing changes. It's all friendly and uninhibited like these ladies always are. Someone asks if they can turn the hose on for me to wash my hands (still coated in dirt). I smile and say no thanks.

I really like my dirty hands today. I'll wash them when I get home, but I won't scrub my nails. I want to keep that dirt a little longer.

My first Illinois garden, summer 2003. Sixteen freaking years ago. Age 24. I was a baby! These are cukes I grew in a pot on my balcony at Orchard Downs. We had more cukes than Bobby and I could eat.

Chicks!

Robert and James have been keen on pets for the last few months. I have been anti-pet for YEARS! Pretty much ever since I grew up and realized how much work they were. But lately, I don't know, my mindset has been softening somewhat. Is it because my kids are growing up? I have never craved babies. Am I bored? My life is busier and going in more directions than ever before. I suspect this is a phase and may pass, but Robert caught me in a moment of weakness...

He proposed this idea...

"Hey Mom, the next time you buy chicks, what if I buy one and it's my pet?"

Gears started turning in my head. This kid is sharp. He knows his audience.

Of course! It's the perfect solution! As co-owners, we'll share in the labor of caring for the flock. It's something I want. Something he wants. Something James wants, too.

I thought about it a bit.

Then I took James to the zoo and witnessed hours of his animal love and excitement. Suddenly, I remembered how James is the only kid who asks to take the adult chickens out of their pen to play with them. And he really plays with them.

Light bulb!

So, instead of grocery shopping on Monday, Matthew and I hopped over to our local farm store and picked out a half dozen little chicks. I'd like to introduce you to our new little flock and our brilliant team of co-owners:

The flock in their "newborn" pen.

Matthew and Pecky (Australorp)

James and Leopard (Golden-Laced Wyandotte)

Robert and Roscoe (Brahma)

Alice and Hades (Rhode Island Red)

The remaining chicks belong to me, and yes, I have named them. I swore off naming chickens years ago when the untimely deaths of our first flock traumatized poor little Alice. How old was she...early 2012...only 5 years old. Have I really been keeping chickens for 7 years?! Oh my goodness. We've grown a lot since then.

The first day or so, it looked like we would lose one of these chicks, too. She wasn't standing, eating, or drinking. I prepped the kids for either outcome. We didn't name her. They prayed for her. They prayed that she would recover, or, that if she WAS going to die, that it would be quick and she wouldn't suffer long. Within hours, she was up and eating. Over the last couple days, she's become just as perky and chirpy as the rest of the flock. A recovery! And now she is known as Buffy Xena (Buffy the Vampire Slayer for her awesome toughness and Xena the Warrior princess for her unique, warbling chirp/peep that is different from all the other chicks). She's a Golden Buff Orpington.

The final member of the flock is another Golden Wyandotte I've decided to name Little Boo. My guess is that one of the two flighty, nervous, and bossy Golden Wyandottes will end up leading this flock. If it's not James' Leopard, then it will be my Little Boo, who is named after a spunky, bossy, know-it-all chick with a southern accent from the Chicken Squad audio books. We LOVE those books.

A few funny things spoken in our house since:

"Hold on, I've got a leopard on my lap. I can help in a minute."
"Mom! Pecky just tried to fly over hades!"

Zoo Time

As one of my 40th year goals, I plan to spend 40 hours one-on-one time with each member of my immediate family. It's been a real challenge! Especially when it comes to James. I had fallen so far behind with his "Mom Time" hours that it was time to do something drastic...a full-day date.

He's been begging, pleading, bargaining, scheming, planning, and saving for a pet lately. And he gets the chickens out every day it's warm enough to play outside. When I offered a trip to the zoo, he jumped at it!

Yesterday, we spent the day at the Indianapolis Zoo, along with half the rest of Indianapolis on one of the first truly fine, warm, spring days of the year. James didn't seem to mind the crowds. He weaved in and around the constant flow of people with ease. And here's the beauty of an outing with only one child: just one child to keep track of. Just one conversation at a time. Just one person to negotiate with. *bliss*

James noticed a child about his size wearing a chest harness and leash. He turned to me quietly and asked, "What is that?" I replied that some kids run away from their parents and the parents feel that a leash is the best way to keep the child safe. He furrowed his brow a little and asked in a worried tone, "Are you going to put one of those on me?" The answer in that moment was easy, "No way. You listen to me and you follow instructions pretty well." Visible relief showed on his face. I didn't tell him that I had wished for a James harness in many other situations. I was just glad that today, only him and me, we could explore the zoo the way HE wanted to explore it.

And we did. He chose the order, the pace, and any extra activities. He waited in line patiently. Yes, he constantly ran ahead, but never so far that I felt he was unsafe. He reveled in the independence, smiling ear to ear everywhere we went. I felt/learned/realized/confirmed three very important things about James on this outing:

1. This boy feels compelled to prove that he's capable of whatever he puts his mind to. Independence and self-direction are his primary objectives these days.

2. He loooooves animals. Craves them. Seeks them out.

3. He's not a big talker, and his silence is not awkward. He talks when he feels like it, which isn't often, and he spends the rest of his time observing, exploring, and thinking up exciting scenarios. Had I spent 8 hours alone with Alice or Robert, I would be exhausted and completely drained from the constant conversation. With James, it was the perfect balance of interaction and simple side-by-side enjoyment of our surroundings.

A beautiful thing, this boy...this James I get to experience...that's exactly the feeling I wanted to take from these one-on-one hours with my spouse and kids. I just want to appreciate them for who they are. 

Now to the pictures!

 

Asthma

It's official: Robert has allergy-induced asthma. This is the third time in about a year that he's needed help from steroids to control the swelling in his lungs. That, ladies and gentlemen, is asthma, and it brings us into the realm of maintenance medication.

Since Robert is still growing, they're reluctant to put him on a daily inhaled steroid. Our doctor prescribed montelukast (Singulair), which has done wonders for Bobby's allergies these last few years. Robert will take it during his worst allergy seasons (spring and fall) and hopefully that will tone down his asthmatic reactions enough that albuterol nebulizer/inhaler treatments at home will be all he needs during acute "attacks".

I love modern medicine.

I love our doctor.

I love that Robert can take this in stride. I love that he can swallow pills. I love that he missed his friends and schoolwork and was glad to get back to it today after 2 days of breathing treatments every 4 hours.

I hope this plan will keep his allergies/asthma under control so he doesn't have to miss any more school for it.

Done

I think one of my favorite things about voting at the posh retirement community near my house is thinking, "Oh yeah. This is the way to age in style...I'm totally moving in."