Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Ollie only likes clover flowers. He will eat the green part of the clover, but he really only likes the flowers.
I thought that he loved all of the clover. Every time I go out to see him I pick a big bunch of the green goodness and feed it to him. He always seemed happy enough. But, last week Daniel and Bella picked some clover for him. Daniel did like me and picked bunches of the whole plant. Bella, on the other hand, picked only the flowers. When they went in with Ollie to feed him, he went straight for the flowers and actually growled at Daniel for trying to feed him the green parts.
I did a little experiment with the silly rabbit and gave him a mixture of flowers and green tops. He ate the flowers and hopped away, leaving a big bunch of fresh clover.
Just on the other side of the fence, watching this whole escapade were some chickens who had not been given any clover, yet. They would have been thrilled with Ollie's leftovers.
While I watched this happening, I thought about myself. I wondered how many times God has given me a gift that I didn't appreciate. Probably daily. Just watching Ollie, and seeing the chickens' reaction to his arrogance convicted me to do better.
And Ollie had better straighten up, too. This rooster looks to be in a mood to teach him a lesson!
Friday, March 29, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
W. H. Davies
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
I woke up this morning with a feeling of solidarity with my mom and sisters. We are all, in our own ways, fighting against cancer.
Mom's fight is an actual battle and she is waging war against ovarian cancer. Cancer is an enemy that came, not unexpectedly, but as a surprise none the less. At least two generations of women before her had fought the disease. Brave, strong, courageous women. Those traits are in Mom, and since we take the bad with the good, the cancer was in her, too. She is fighting with the strength that comes from God, with chemotherapy, and with an indomitable spirit.
We had all hoped that since Mom had made it so long without facing cancer that maybe the cycle was broken. When that hope wasn't realized, a very obvious thought came to our minds: my sisters and I are next in line. We asked for advice from the oncologist and her opinion was that we have a complete hysterectomy to remove the possibility for cancer to get us there. She advised us to make an offensive strike in our fight.
And that is what we have done. In order, oldest to youngest, in our own time. My surgery was first while Mom was still undergoing a round of chemo. Cathy next, and yesterday was Cheryl's turn.
Will this radically proactive step prevent cancer from attacking a fourth generation of women? I don't know. But, I'm not afraid. Not one bit.
We are brave. We are strong. We are courageous.
And the God who is in the four of us is strong enough to save us from cancer or save us through it.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
I hate snakes and I don't need anyone to tell me how beneficial they can be around the farm. I have cats to kill rats and cats don't slither in the grass.
When I walked outside today I saw this "little fella" in my path. The weather was warm yesterday, today is cooler, and I think he was caught out and unable to move very well. He doesn't appear to be poisonous, he is mostly paralyzed, and in an extremely rare act of mercy, I decided to move him. Not kill him. I had planned to take him to the edge of the woods, explain to him the grace that had just been extended, and leave him there. I found a stick and picked him up.
Just then, I had a brilliant thought of taking his picture. As I put the stick down with my mind focused on getting the camera, I totally disregarded the springyness of the stick.
The stick bumped the ground, bounced, and the snake flew in the air. Oh, not so high. Only about eye level. And only about 6 inches from my face. I am certain that hidden cameras could have caught me doing my oh-there-had-better-not-be-a-snake-on-me dance.
I refuse to be undone by a baby snake, however, so I still took his picture. I did not, however, take him to the edge of the woods. He is back in the grass where I found him. I have noticed that, for me, one clumsy act is usually followed by others and I'm not risking him landing in my hair next time.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
On this beautiful, sunny, warm Saturday I have decided to... crochet.
Inside. In my den.
There is so much sun to enjoy! So much warmth to soak in!
But, I am in my cozy den, curled up with my yarn.
It is a choice I made in a very deliberate way. After all, everything I do is a choice between many options. Most of them very good options.
I have slowly come to realize that I feel a little overwhelmed by all of the things I would like to do well. So, I did what I do best: I made a list.
I made a list of everything I could quickly think of that, 1)is my responsibility to do, or 2)I am passionate about doing and doing well. In about 60 seconds I thought of 25 things. Twenty-five!
My project this year may be to pare down the list. To go deeper instead of wider. I can already feel the grieving begin for things I may not accomplish in this life.
Those thoughts are for another day, though.
Crocheting is a peaceful, relaxing, productive thing to do. I love to do it.
Being outside and working in the yard on a warm day after so many cold days is revitalizing. The birds are singing and brown is changing into green. I love to be out there.
Today, I choose crochet.