A couple weeks ago, we moved from an apartment into a house.  Ninety-nine percent of the stuff is unpacked, rooms have been sanded and painted, the place cleaned top to bottom.  We are starting to settle.

This particular abode came with a few additional feathery friends.  We have six, full-grown, free-ranging, feed-devouring, manure producing, egg-laying chickens.

Despite the added responsibility falling on the onset of winter, I am enjoying the heck out of taking care of 'my girls'.  After two weeks, the hens and I have our routine down.  We greet each other before sunrise with squawks and cackles; when eggs are gathered, the hens cluck with pride.  Minutes after sunset most of them have meandered into the coop, a few sometimes wait outside until it is time to lock them up.

Ancillary benefit:  egg puns run rampant through the house.


The "I'm a Mormon" campaign may ring a few bells if you've, y'know, been on the internet, happen to look at billboards, or watch television in the last four years.  I am not a Mormon, however have been completely drawn into the culture, the history, and the theology of the LDS church and its counterparts.  The interest eventually led me to the Mormon Matters podcast.  If you want to hear intelligent people talk respectfully and sincerely about matters of faith, identity, and culture this is a great listen.  The topics each paneled show tackles may be shaken through a Mormon filter, but the questions and discussions are applicable to anyone interested in the (sometimes controversial) issues brought up in the never-ending conversation regarding faith and the manifestation of spirituality in the material life.


Coming to This
By Mark Strand

We have done what we wanted.
We have discarded dreams, preferring the heavy industry
of each other, and we have welcomed grief
and called ruin the impossible habit to break.

And now we are here.
The dinner is ready and we cannot eat.
The meat sits in the white lake of its dish.
The wine waits.

Coming to this
has its rewards: nothing is promised, nothing is taken away.
We have no heart or saving grace,
no place to go, no reason to remain.

(Mark Strand passed away on November 29th.)