For the Birds, Part 2

eggs isolated on white backgroundHe. Was. Right.

That crazy bird fared much better on her own than we could have ever done for her. Clover feasted on multitudes of farm-fresh delicacies, including but not limited to crickets, dandelions, and earthworms.

It really turned into a beautiful, natural sort of relationship between man, woman, girls, and chicken. The girls would set out special treats or extra water for her when it was hot, but mostly, that clever hen was just fine. She chased the kids around the property and kept me company as I hung the day’s laundry. We fashioned a nice little nesting box for her, but she would simply have nothing to do with it. Many nights she chose to roost in a low-hanging tree near the house. But eventually, she had a change of heart and decided the patio table was better suited to her needs.  (Meaning, the patio table where The Man and I have our morning chat over coffee in full view of the sunrise.  The Man was still not happy.  Clearly.)

She stuck close to the house, taking a particular shine to the side deck. Much to our chagrin, she left “evidence” of her existence all over the place so we made like pirates and took to swabbing the poop deck pretty much every day. One of her favorite places was right smack in front of the door so most mornings we would step outside and right into a lovely pile of aromatic unpleasantness.  Country-fresh.

I still loved her most of the time. The Man did not. He muttered terrible things under his breath and hurled insults at the poor bird. We could no longer find her eggs. That is, if she was still laying them. And as far was he was concerned, that was the only thing she was good for.

At the mere opening of the door, she would awkwardly cchicken editome running across the yard, ready to greet the lot of us. (Because pretty much everything about chickens is a little awkward, but that’s what makes them so eerily interesting.) We set out food for the cats and that silly bird would fight and peck her way through the felines for a spot around the dish. I am not sure if she even knew she was a chicken anymore. Clover held her own around those feisty tomcats and we certainly took pleasure in a hearty chuckle or two as we watched the daily farmyard drama unfold.

But then…

 

Grab a coffee and stop by tomorrow for Part 3!

If you missed Part 1, you can catch up here: 

For the Birds, Part 1. 

Can’t get enough of the chickens? You can read about our previous flock here: 

Counting Chickens

Love & Coffee!

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Life, Love, & Coffee.

cheerful heartHey there! It’s another unusually balmy January day in Iowa and we have tumbled headfirst into 2015 happy, healthy, and fully intact.

Can you believe it?

The holidays were busy. And beautiful. But also deeply contemplative. Deeply.

Do you ever just take a moment to pause? Or as in this case, a very long moment? The end of the year seemed to be an appropriate time to re-evaluate. To reflect. To adjust. There was something of a dissatisfaction. Some things in my life were just not working quite the way I wanted them to be. I needed time, good people, and some introspective moments spent lingering over a familiar cup of coffee. The withdrawal was cathartic and upon emergence I feel renewed, focused and expecting wonderful things for the coming year. Very good things, perhaps new and different things, are in the offing.

Anticipation is a lovely thing.

And while I plow ahead, I realize I have left ends untied… Chickens. The story is truncated and far from finished. So, I have aptly dubbed this week: Chicken Week. This will be a daily 5-part-series beginning with a recap from Part 1, originally posted last October. You can recap and refresh by reading that post here: For the Birds. Part 1

Check back each day this week to read more about the unbelievable chicken saga happening here at The Homestead. So cozy up in your favorite spot and don’t forget the coffee!

And just in case you missed it, Part 1 of the Chicken saga begins here:

For the Birds. Part 1

Love & Coffee!

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Things I Should Do?

cakeThere are all of these new-fangled parent things that I keep hearing I should be doing. I am not sure exactly when it happened, but suddenly, I find myself living in a world full of souped-up Betty Crockers and hyper Suzy Homemakers.

I blame Pinterest. Mostly. And seriously? I am too old for this.

I guess the one-year-old cake smash is the thing to do now? *shudder* So I am supposed to purchase an over-priced, over-the-top cake, chock-full of artificial food dyes (because that is what makes it so pretty) and let her utterly destroy it while wearing an equally over-priced, brand-spanking new outfit (which will wind up impossibly ruined because of the aforementioned food dyes). Furthermore, this should be done before the actual first birthday so as to have proof-positive of the entire shenanigan on display at the forthcoming birthday festivities. And on Facebook. And Instagram. Twitter. And so on.

(Honestly, I just see dollar signs, an ungodly mess, and the potential plethora of “likes” from my social media friends whom I never talk to in real life.)

I also missed the gender reveal party that I should have done, too. (Any reason to party, right?) This is where we choose a fabulously cute (and probably complicated) idea from Pinterest, creatively incorporating pink and blue to reveal the gender of my baby in front of select amount of family and friends. And probably post the video on Facebook, too. And of course, issue a press release.

I do not mention these things to offend, but only to say… not.  for.  us.

And ultimately, I can not get over the fact that somewhere along the line there would be future sibling angst over the fact that Cupcake got extra “pampering” even though these things were quite unheard of when the big ones were little.

There are probably other things I “should” be doing, too, but I simply have too many other lovely moments to make happen in my day like: scrubbing filthy little hands after an afternoon in the dirt, baking another delectable loaf of pumpkin bread with my sweet girls, and watching the sun set over the field from the deck off the kitchen.

(What do you think?  Is this mommy guilt for real?  Or am I just grumpy and have not yet consumed a sufficient amount of coffee on this chilly Monday morning?  Comment below!)

Love & coffee. 

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Something to Do.

Tea and biscuitsA barely there Monday commences with a dark October sky, a warm cup in hand, and a stinging chill in the air.

Ready or not.  Another week comes.

Since the school year began this past August, I feel like this family of six has been burning the candle, not just at both ends, but every possible which-way.

Slow down.  Please, stop.  Let us breathe for a moment.  New plan?  “No.”  Just.  Say.  No.

To unnecessary goings-on.  To rat races begging to be run.  To the things that wear away at our little (maybe not-so-little?) family.  (And to drugs.  Always so no to drugs.)

We only one get one chance.

Peanut, Ladybug, Lovey, and Cupcake are sweeter than an Oklahoma tea on a sunny day.  And The Man?  Well, he is just as lumberjack handsome as a man can be.  (swoon)  Sometimes, we just need to be together.

No screens.  No phones.  No distractions.

Most of you know how adorably rambunctious my sweet 5-year-old Lovey can be.  Last week, she absolutely outdid herself all in one day.

Oh, let me count the ways:

  • The entire salt container emptied onto the carpeted stairs.
  • The unwanted cheese from lunch strategically placed in my boots.
  • The mysterious disappearance of all the breath mints and gum from my handbag in one sitting.
  • The “lemonade” she made in her own bedroom for the Barbie doll party.
  • The markers she used to make Cupcake into a tiger.
  • The “washing” of the entire bathroom with the cloth diaper sprayer (massive amounts of soap included).

Her response?  “I was bored.”  That sweet little thing just need to something to do.  And attention.  Intense, undivided, full-of-wet-mommy-kisses, attention.

But then… books.  “Lovey, let us read.”

We reorganized the book shelves together and put our favorites all in one spot.  The new books we ordered the prior week arrived just on time and we organized those, too.  And we read.  And read.  And read.  Fairies, pirates, and Curious George.

She was not bored anymore.  My boots remained pleasantly cheese-free, my handbag was locked away, and the bathroom stayed dry.

(Cupcake garnished my hot coffee with a red crayon, but that is a story for another day…)

Here’s to a beautifully beginning week of stimulating busy little minds, keeping busyness at bay, and a healthy dose of coffee.

Happy Monday!

Love & Coffee.

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Throwback Thursday #1: Nice Things

Throwing it back on Thursday seems to be the thing now, so here it is, one my all-time favorite posts, albeit from 2011.  I really cannot read it or think about it without getting misty-eyed.  It is truly one of my most-loved.  I hope you like it, too.

Go here to check it out:  Nice Things.

Love & Coffee. 

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Some days.

dandelionSome days just cannot be put into words. Some days the headlines are too wrenching, too blatant, too hard. I sip my coffee in my sweet little corner of the world and wonder…

how. can. this. be?

For while I continue my sipping on an unusually cool July evening, bathed in the glow of a dim porch light, with a loyal dog at my feet and fireflies entertaining in the yard, somewhere else, albeit far, far away, life is coming apart at the seams.

I study the tiger-lily filled mason jar on my patio table and the small blueish sidewalk-chalk footprints carelessly left by young, carefree spirits just hours prior and ponder whether such garish tales could possibly be true? It would be much easier to close my eyes, to forget, to pretend, but…

it. is. not. so.

I pray. And I sip. And I pray some more. I pray for peace. I pray for love. I pray for mercy.

And I hold my babies oh-so-close. Some days are just like this. (And some days, quite thankfully, are not.)

And tomorrow will come. And I will pray some more. And we will laugh and we will dance and make merry under the mulberry trees. And thank God that his mercies are new every morning.

Love & Coffee.

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The Real Maker

imgr01We were traveling home after a long day of errands and activities in town and as it often happens, The Man and I found ourselves with two separate vehicles there. The big girls routinely beg to ride in the car with Dad, and the littles settle in with me. Several times a week, this arrangement seems to happen and it is during these twenty minute drives home where Lovey and I chat.

 

So precious.

 

Even at four, (nearly five now) she fights to be heard amid a houseful of giggling girls. They all have so much to say. All. The. Time. Lovey seems to have only one volume level: Dora the Explorer. (If you are not familiar with Dora, she shouts everything she utters. Every. Word.)

 

It is during the oft-evening drives home through the Iowa country side that Lovey indulges me with stories, songs, and witticisms. She makes music of the happenings of the day and spins wild tales of adventure, mystery, and intrigue. When she has all of my attention (aside from the driving, of course) she gushes. And I revel in every delectable morsel.

 

My heart cannot help but smile.

 

It happened on one of these recent drives, that Lovey quite surprised me. Together, we were marveling at the first signs of spring: trees just barely greening, flowers springing, and the just barely detectable scent of freshly mowed grass. It was then, I took note of the remarkably, colorful sunset stretched out before me. It seemed it was a show just for us. Nearly speechless, I mused, “Oh, Lovey. Do you see the sunset? Isn’t God the most incredible of painters?”

 

“No, Mommy. He is not a painter at all. He’s the real Maker.”

 

Now, truly speechless, I took a moment to think on what she said. Of course! In her mind, a painter is merely a mimic, only able to create something already in existence. And Lovey’s understanding of her Creator, even at four, is much more complex than I could have realized before.

 

“Yes, yes, Lovey. You are exactly right. He IS the real Maker. Yes, indeed.”

 

Love & Coffee.

 

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