Life....

We received the phone call in the wee hours of the morning the night before we were scheduled to leave on vacation. Glynn's 86 year old mother fell, breaking her hip.

Time has a way of slowing down and wrapping its edges around an event so that it becomes one's focus. Worrying about Ellen, ensuring she receives proper care, calming and comforting her consumes our time. Thankfully Elda happened to be in town visiting her mom for a few days before flying on to visit her grandchildren. Her bedside vigils have been a huge comfort to Ellen.  Elda plans to stay in Olympia for a few more weeks, until her mom's life 'normalizes'.

Surgery was successful. A heart murmur was detected and treated. This may be what has been causing her frequent dizzy spells and falls. Ellen was moved to rehab yesterday and the arduous task of getting her up and moving will begin today.

Ellen is spunky. A recent fractured rib only kept her down for two weeks. Our hope is that she will regain mobility such that she can remain in her independent living situation in her little apartment in town. We are holding our breath, knowing Ellen may have a new normal to adjust to.

Time will tell....

Here is a result of yesterday's therapy: creating.

Chicken fricasse

I'm still trending upward on the chicken raising learning curve.

I learned that introducing a rooster to the flock will help protect the hens from predators.

I learned (the hard way) that the Rhode Island Red rooster is notoriously aggressive.

courtesy of: farm6.staticflickr.com

I learned (the hard way) that carrying a shiny pan into the coop to treat my flock to leftover steel cut oats sends a message of danger: predator to the pea-sized brain of said Rhode Island Red rooster causing him to attack the back of my legs with a powerful WHOMP, causing me to drop the pan resulting in another powerful WHOMP.

My cantalope-sized brain instinctually tells me to 'let him know who's boss'  resulting in an aggressive stance on my part causing yet again one more WHOMP on the back of my legs.

Sigh.

As I walk back to the house, my tail between my legs, my mind is already creating the ad that will appear on Craigslist:  Aggressive rooster for sale. Will pay you to dispose of. 

courtesy of: l.yimg.com

While my racing heart calms, I google my latest chicken challenge and discover that although the RIR rooster is often aggressive, said aggressions manifests itself as he reaches adulthood. Since 'Randy' just recently found his voice, a rather pathetic cock-a-doodle, I realize he's nothing but a cocky, young dandy, strutting his stuff amongst his harem.

The article informs that bringing unusual items into the coop - like a shiny pan - causes his protective radar to ping.

It's all good.

To curb said aggression, one can hold the rooster in the crook of ones arm 10 minutes a day for one week. This allows rooster to learn that I, the ultimate coop master, am safe.

courtesy of:fellowshipofminds.files.wordpress.com

Stay tuned for more chicken raising adventures. Something tells me I'm in for a wild ride.

courtesy of: arcatapet.com

Enjoy the journey

Contentment

Last Saturday I experienced a fresh version of joy.

2.75 year old Cooper spent the weekend with us and when we awoke to sun, I knew Cooper would be delighted to run his little legs in the yard while I commenced cleaning my flower beds of winter's debris.

Imagine for a moment my enjoyment as Cooper willingly became my little helper; filling the wheelbarrow with dead branches, crumbling seed pods into dust, and discovering worms. He planted himself amongst  tall, dried out stalks of ornamental grass and shook them vigorously, laughing delightedly as they rattled and rustled. Cooper is just now finding his voice and he entertained me with a running commentary of melodious chatter, a diction only he can interpret.

An intense wave of tenderness toward this precious, little boy washed over me (again) that day. He has stolen this grandma's heart.

courtesy of 123rf.com