Building Stone Walls

I spent my Wednesday building a stone wall around our chicken run. Just me, no additional helpers, working hard to burn off some anger. Our family had a traumatic experience on the Homestead this week, and I was left home to keep this from repeating.  I worked hard, carrying small and large stones, trying to ignore the hurt resonating inside. The voice in my head, admonishing myself, knowing this could have been prevented had we been a little more careful.

Our chickens are getting smarter, and escaping from their safe little coop. The grass looking tasty on the other side of the fence, I have spent several days catching chickens and placing them back where they belong. Well, Sunday afternoon our Husky dog, Sandy, got to one of our beloved chickens and maimed her. I don't think Sandy meant to hurt her, I 'm sure she was just playing. Sandy cowered after she was found with the hurt chicken, as if to say "I'm sorry". Unfortunately the damage was done, and the Chicken died the next morning.

 

The interesting thing about this event was how much we were saddened by the chicken's fate. We had just butchered three of our roosters a few weeks back, and that didn't bother my girls too much - or I for that matter. But this was different. We wrapped up our little chicken in a towel, and took turns holding her and making her comfortable. Tears were shed, as we knew the fate of our hurt friend was not going to be a happy one.

 

As I built the stone wall around the chicken fence, I kept mulling over the event and how it affected our family. As a City Gone Country Girl, this is my first experience of losing a farm animal. This was also the first for my two girls, experiencing death of a beloved pet. As a mother I want to protect my girls from experiences such as this! I know it was bound to happen, but to lose it to our family dog just seemed so senseless. We tried hard to be careful to keep our chickens safe from predators. I knew we had some updating to do, and the rock wall will keep predators (and Sandy) from digging under the fence. A net over top will keep our chickens from flying out and Chicken Hawks from getting in. If we had just done this sooner...

 

While stacking the rocks one by one, I felt better knowing I am trying my best to protect the rest of the flock. As I worked building my chicken stone wall, Sandy worked hard digging holes next to the wall; as to tell me "You can't keep me out mom! I'm still gonna try"! I can't harbor too much anger toward Sandy, it is her instinct as a Husky to dig and hunt.

 

Working on the stone wall made me ponder some about my life. How many times have I built "stone walls" in hopes to prevent emotional trauma? To answer that question, many times! When hard things happen, I naturally tend to withdrawal and build "stone walls" to protect myself from being hurt again. I have learned over the years that this tactical stance does not necessarily protect me, it just makes me lonely. As these "stone walls" are built to protect us from hurt feelings, it also blocks our ability to engage in relationships and make friends. The fear of emotional pain keeps the "stone walls" up, but lessens one's ability to experience life fully.

 

Once I placed the final rocks along the chicken stone wall, I felt better about the safety of my chickens. I felt a burden lifted, anger dissipated, knowing I did my best to protect my little creatures that I have come to love so! I also know that this little stone wall will remind me to be forgiving; to my dog, to others, and to myself. I can work hard creating barriers for protection, but sometimes things will pass those barriers. The "stone walls" built for emotional protection need to be knocked down, one by one, if I want to take in all that life has in store. 

 

Knock down those "stone walls"  - vulnerability is part of human companionship.

With companionship comes pain, joy, sorrow, happiness, and love!

May we experience it all, deeply and fully as meant to be!
Jenn ~ City Gone Country Girl

 

 

How Do You Handle Your Nuts?

How Do You Handle Your Nuts?

It's the first fall harvest for this City Gone Country Girl, and our little family homestead has been blessed with a bumper crop of chestnuts! Our yard is littered with green and brown spiky little spheres, beckoning to be opened by the busy squirrels and chipmunks preparing for winter.

I was out in the yard with my oldest daughter raking leaves in the fall sunshine, when we decided to collect some of the chestnuts that had dropped to the ground. Hidden among the colorful leaves, we would gingerly pick up the prickly little balls in hope not to hurt our fingers. It became a tricky game as we gingerly pulled apart the spikey outer skins of the chestnuts, as not to get poked by the sharp little quills that protrude from the outer covers. Next, we would carefully inspect the outer cover looking for a way to open the nuts outer shell.  A small seam would reveal access to the chestnut, and we would attempt to pry off the prickly part to reach the smooth chestnut inside. Taking turns, we would yell out "Wow! Look at this one!", sharing our observations of the inside core. The smooth brown nut with light tops were finally in our hands. Some chestnuts were small, some were very large. Some were light brown, and some were a deep beautiful brown. Some of the outer shells hid the contents of two chestnuts inside! Those were exciting to find, seeing how they nestled so neatly inside that outer covering; as if holding a surprise. Every once in a while I would hear "Ouch! Darn that hurt!" or "Mom, I can't get this one! Can you help me?" This process of trying to reach the prize in the middle was a challenge, and we haven't even reached the edible part yet.

I got thinking about this process we were enduring with the chestnuts, and it occurred to me that I have had similar experiences with people in my past. How many times have I come across a prickly person, where I had to crack their outer prickly shell in order to see their prize personality inside? Like a chestnut cover, how many times have I been hurt by the outer core of another, only to give up and quickly "throw them back to the ground"? Sometimes handling people is similar to handling that prickly chestnut. If you handle with care and observe carefully, you can find a way into the inner core. However, getting hurt may be part of the process. Of course it is always easier to ignore or pass over the prickly nut, which may not reveal much at first glance. That prickly outer covering has been developed for protection! Take a chance, what may be hiding inside that person is a prize, a jewel! They may have been waiting for the right person to help shed that prickly outer skin. It will take kindness, patience, understanding, and love. Putting yourself in another's shoes. Telling them you care. Putting your own self aside for the benefit of helping another.

Overtime my daughter and I were collecting the chestnuts, we got better at our process. As the saying goes, practice makes perfect! Collecting the chestnuts from the outer shells got easier as we perfected our technique. We collected many beautiful chestnuts that we can now dry for treats, and share with others. As I look at the pile of prickly shell coverings, I am reminded that I need to be just as patient and diligent toward the prickly people that come into my life. Just maybe with a little practice, a jewel is out there hiding in a prickly nutshell, waiting to be introduced to the world.

~ Jenn, City Gone Country Girl

The Positivity about Weeds?

 The Positivity of Weeds

I was pulling weeds in my lawn this morning, trying to grow new seed in an area that was ripped up during our Homestead move by the moving truck. We were so lucky to relocate during the weekend of Hurricane Sandy, and our poor lawn lost the war from the squish factor of mud.

Anyway, as I was weeding, my mind wandered to the past. As a kid I remember living in my suburban neighborhood, where the resident fathers loved to play a quiet competition.

It's a popular game, widely played among Suburbanites, called "My Lawn is Better Than Yours". I remember the whir of lawn mowers on Saturday, background noise as we played hide and go seek with friends. I remember my dad using colorful metaphors toward the weed trimmer, running out of line in the middle of a job. I remember the large tanker trucks rolling in during the week; with the men looking like the Ghostbusters wearing their packs and spraying something that smelled funny on neighborhood lawns. I remember the visible signs "Keep off the Grass", and the cranky old neighbor up the street who would yell at us if by chance our ball bounced on his perfect blades.

Funny, as I pull weeds here on the Homestead, I have a new appreciation for weeds. As much as they annoy me in my newly seeded grass patch, I actually have many uses for these little annoyances. The positivity of weeds? It keeps me moving, active, and the exercise is helping me drop a few pounds. My worms are very happy, and my compost pile is growing with abundance. The gardens will appreciate the compost, and my belly will be satisfied from all the edible bounty my garden produces. Most of all, I love watching my thirteen chickens get excited when I bring them weeds, a snack only chickens can love!

As metaphor for life, how can we use our "weedy" experiences that spring up in our lifetime? Why do we constantly fight and try to eliminate them with artificial "weed killer" (food, drugs, alcohol, etc.)? Can we choose to pluck the "weeds", and use them to benefit us? As with real weeds, sometimes the blooming weed  flowers are surprisingly beautiful. As ugly as a weed may be structurally, the flowers they bring benefit many birds and animals in wild life. If we can make it past the growth period of "weed patches" in our lives, the withstanding "flower" can represent illumination and growth. Like real weeds in my lawn, these metaphorical "weeds" can represent exercises in life, bring growth in ourselves, and maybe, just maybe, help feed others as we share our "weed" experiences. With that said, may we experience our "weed patches" more fully, and find beautiful flowers among the Weeds of Life!

~Jenn, City Gone Country Girl

Rain, Rain, Go ... Fill My Well!

OH THE RAIN!!

April showers are supposed to bring May flowers. But what about June rain? Our surrounding towns and counties are in the midst of flood watches and alerts.  Our sump-pump is working overtime rockin' the floors as it sings in the basement.

At first, I was overjoyed with the rain. I was excited that I didn't have to stand over to shower my newly planted fruits, veggies, and flower beds for hours with a hose. As the rainy days have become rainy weeks, I now look longingly at my plants through my window, praying that my newly planted beets don't float away or my established plants don't become snail fodder.

As much as the rain is beginning to play on my nerves, and my motivation, (I am as solar powered as my plants), I am grateful for the well water refill. This is new territory for the City Girl in me, as I become oriented to a well system instead of being infinitely fed by town water lines. Much entertainment was brought to others as they giggled at me; I tweaked about taking showers, doing dishes, and running loads of laundry all in the same day. Remember, I am learning to be a Country Girl!

We are blessed to have two wells, we couldn't be more excited for that. Our indoor well  is dug 200ft in the ground, and on a filtration system (which is desired in order to douse that new fabulous smell, country sulfur water!) The other well is specific for outdoor use for gardening, the chickens, and just maybe some old time fun in the sprinkler with the kids. My husband assures me we are okay to pump out many loads of laundry and dishes, and the kids don't have to be thrown out with the bath water!

So as the monsoon continues to flow, here is a cheer to the droplets that annoy our outdoor plans. May the sun shine soon, but till then...cheers to a full well and clean laundry!

~Jenn, City Gone Country Girl




 

City Girl Gone Country

So this City Girl has gone Country, and I am enjoying my simpler life on our Homestead!

I grew up actually in an Upstate New York suburb, living the high life in an upscale village. I shopped for food at the supermarket, drank lattes at the local coffee spot, shopped at the local mall. I dodged traffic in the family mini van, and worked meaningless jobs in order to pay for the frills of the high life. 

Everyday was the same, and I was expected to conform to the expectation of success; college graduate, important career, big house with the picket fence, and a family with 2.5 kids. However the stress of trying to fulfill the roles that women are expected to fill, and juggle this with perfection became a daunting task. I longed for simplicity and true happiness amidst the stress of everyday living. 

This is where my husband saved me from the life of conformity. The love for my husband brought me to the land of milk and honey, so he could follow his teaching career. Of course at that time, I went kicking and screaming! I did not want to leave the comforts of the Suburb and the entertainment of the City to end up in a Rural community. I was not ready to smell cow manure in the morning when taking my girls to school. My career path did not line up with living in the middle of farm country. This was a hard transition.

November 2012, our family bought our dream farmhouse. This has been the ultimate puzzle piece that was missing since I have acclimated to living a country life. It took fifteen years to get to this girl to truly understand the blessings of rural living, and I plan to share my journey here as a City to Country Girl!