All Chicks Grow Up

Reader Contribution by Angela Pomponio
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This week brought my first bouquet of daffodils, another 16 heritage breed chicks from Murray McMurray Hatchery, doubling in size of last weeks chicks and my little boy’s first solo day at preschool.  As if being home by myself wasn’t weird enough, I found myself on the floor snapping pics of the newly settled Aracaunas and Rhode Island Red Girls.  Must be a form of Spring Fever.

Yellow flowers like sunshine on my table and golden red fuzz in hand, I felt my boy literally growing up and away like a tree reaching for the sky.  I felt a tearing away when I walked away from his saucer eyes and quivering chin.  I’m not going to lie, I hoped he would hate it.  I would be proud of his try and so happy for his company once again.  His joy at having been brave and having his daring rewarded with a great day made up for my early empty nester angst.  He absolutely glowed with satisfaction and pleasure.

As for the chickies, the original 40 or so are on the shelter of the deck in big plastic doghouses, with warm daytime views of the grown hens and pasture beyond.  Our newbies are background music in our great room, their chirps are my auditory daffodils all yellow and promising.  

We are working out the budget and timeline, never enough money or weekends, to get our graywater irrigation system and fence up in the next month.  During the week I am making yogurt, working on conquering bread, shuttling kiddos, and getting that dang garage emptied of moving boxes and mess.  I need to paint my exterior doors as well to round our my winter projects.  

I am floating between change, bliss, chirps, projects, lack of funds, creative finance, and Spring mania spurred on by my panic at the size and scope of our dreams.  So chirp on friends, here’s to manic dreams and strong backs!