Eventful Day on A Tiny Farm

In our little spot on the mountain, things that probably seem "ho-hum, *yawn*" to others, make us laugh, shake our heads, and be thankful for such a seemingly mundane life.  We like it that way.  We've had enough drama in our life.  When we want more drama, we can go to Netflix.com and watch "24."

We prefer to have days like yesterday, when we marvel at the little things Adonai does in our life.  It's the things and even the timing.  I don't believe in coincidences.  I have a lifetime of events to convince me otherwise.

Yesterday, we cleaned out the storage shed again.  This was a little more painful for Twyla than most.  The things we were getting rid of represent thousands of hours of painting and care.  You see, becoming true disciples of the Messiah can mean having to make very difficult choices. Choosing to live according to God's appointed calendar and observing His appointed celebrations, rather than going along with man-made traditions is not easy. These are choices that friends and family may not understand.  Giving up the pagan holiday of Christmas is just such a thing.  Maybe when we get to Channukah, I'll take the time to post more in depth on why we just can't celebrate Christmas anymore.  But I digress.

"Oh Daddy, can I keep them?!!?"

Twyla had decided last Christmas that it would be the last time to be a part of that.  Mixing the Holy and the profane was no longer an option for her or us.  Now came the time to get rid of the things that were a part of that, and so, we needed to take all of that stuff to the Humane Society Thrift Store and be done with it all.  This is where the fun really began.

Our neighbor across the street, our only full-time neighbor, happened to also be at the thrift store at the same time, and while I was unloading boxes of ornaments, the Christmas tree, and all of Twyla's winter village artistry, the neighbor was asking Twyla if we wanted the baby chicks she had discovered at her daughter's house.  She had seven of them.  "Of course," I said.

So, the neighbor brought them over a couple of hours later, took a tour of the house and spent a good while in friendly conversation with Twyla, while I worked hard to finish organizing and getting all the stuff back in the shed while I had daylight.  Of course, they talked about pets quite a bit, and the neighbor had Twyla just about ready to go over and adopt a little Siamese kitten.  Then Casspurr came up in the conversation, and Mary said that she'd seen Casspurr with the neighbor next to us.  In explanation; this neighbor has a small RV parked next door that he has visited maybe two weeks out of the year.

"Where's my tuna ceviche?"

You can go read Twyla's description of that event by clicking here. 

Now Casspurr is back. At first he was freaking out a little as I carried him inside.  He was doing that kind of meow that cats do when their stressed out, like going to the vet in a pet carrier.  The house must seem very different with all the changes, and the smell of a dog. (Don't get any ideas; Moxie gets a bath about every five days.  "Stinking dogs?!?  We don't need no stinking dogs!!!"  - Treasured Perros of the Sierra Madres.)  But after about five minutes he was acting like, "Oh, I remember this place."  He seemed to just settle in as though he had been here yesterday.

He seems completely unconcerned about Moxie.  He found his spot on the bed and everything is just hunky-dory.

As you can see from the picture above, Mary brought us the seven little chicks in a bird cage.  We needed to wait until well after dark, so that Pretty Face could settle into that trance-like sleep state that chickens go into so that we could insert the chicks under her.  In order to keep the chicks comfortable we put the cage on the bathroom counter and turned on a space heater to get the temperature in the room up sufficiently.

Twyla once suffered a broken neck from being rear-ended in her car, and so we have to make accommodations for that.  We do like to watch "24" through Netflix.  In case anyone forgot, we don't subscribe to cable or have an antenna and the vast majority of TV is a wasteland anyway.  But to watch a movie on Netflix without actually receiving a DVD in the mail, we have to watch it in the office on the computer.  I set up the flat panel screen at an angle facing the floor and we put down a blanket and pillows and watch that way.  Moxie thinks this is paradise, since she's not allowed on the bed.

But last night, the poor thing was so torn.  Every time the chicks would peep a bit loud, she would have to jump up and go check them out and make sure they were okay.  Back and forth.  And now there is this strange cat that hasn't been around for almost a month.  Casspurr came and climbed up on my chest to get some attention and Moxie got a bit too jealous and snapped at him, so I had to administer some swift correction.  This morning everything seems to be peaceful between them.

The new chicks seem to be at least three or four days younger than our own two.  I base that on the overall size and the size of the flight pinions.  One of the new chick just seems so obviously to be a male to both Twyla and myself.  He has the white crown common to male black sexlinks

The fun never stops.