Tag: seasons

10 Below

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

When we woke up this morning, it was 10 below, and I was thankful Ron had decided to put the ceramic heater in the chicken coop last night. In general, chickens do not need a heat in the winter, but we have a “negative 7” rule that we just made up ourselves. If it’s below -7, we bring out some heat for the flock.

There is always a risk of fire when you add heat to your coop, but we do not use a heat lamp and use an oil-based ceramic heater. On top of this, Ron places a cage he built over the heater, and it adds some security.

I have to say the chickens were quite happy with a little extra heat, and Saint-Saens and Betty Jr., both of whom will be 7 years old this spring, happily slept on the heater’s cage last night. I imagine our old chickens have aching joints like I have. All the old girls and boys–from Rooster, who will be 9, to Saint-Saens, Vivaldi, Betty Jr., Mary Jane, and Pumpkin, who will all be 7 or 8 this spring, had a little more spring in their step this morning when I delivered food and water to the coop.

It was miserable out there in that cold, so I did not open the coop to the outdoors until much later in the day today. Poor Tuesday was out of there when I opened that door. She doesn’t mind the cold, but she surely seems to mind being stuck with people.

I was talking to a dear friend from the south last night, and she is so worried about the terrible cold that has hit the entire south this week. She was telling me all of the extra things she is having to do to get prepared and keep her chickens and rabbits warm, and it made me realize just how much we have to do all the time, every single day of our lives, during the winter months here in Maine.

It is a lot of really hard work. Busting ice is so therapeutic mentally, but it can be pretty hard on my body. And I have been fighting with a frozen poop-sickle near the back door of the chicken coop for a week. I finally had to take a hammer to it. I have hauled frozen chunks of poop out of both the chicken coop and duck house all winter, and I can’t get the wheelbarrow through when there’s deep snow, so I have all kinds of cheats for keeping things clean for the birds, most of which are pretty gross for me. And the water! We use buckets to haul water to the chickens and ducks, and the ducks have to have their tubs refilled several times a day on the super cold days–or the windy days. And, of course, how many times this winter have I shoveled the chicken coop and swept the ramps. I want them to be as comfortable as possible.

It was so interesting to me that I am just in the habit of doing all of it and didn’t think about how much extra work the animals are in the winter until I got my friend’s perspective. We concluded our conversation on winter preparedness with her asking me how cold it was here. When I told her, she asked how in the world we lived here, and that made me think more as well. I love here, and I actually like the winter. But why?

Honestly, I have no idea other than I really like having all four seasons (though, okay, spring in Maine can be pretty short and messy), and I have some Scandinavian ancestry. Maybe that makes me like winter. Or maybe it’s this–and I just thought of this–there is something about being tough enough to survive it that makes you feel alive.

If you love Maine or the north and the long cold winters, I would love your perspective. Why are you here? What makes you love it?

And, if you are in the south, please take good care. I know you are not used to this, and I hope warmer temps return very soon!

PS Today, I had to take my son to his first day of early college and was away from the house all morning. I barely saw Boudica before I left. It was just morning chores, breakfast, get the boy out the door. When I got home, I went outside to let the chickens outside for a bit (well, mainly just Tuesday), and Boudica saw me. She came running across the property, and friends, she looked so magnificent in the snow. I wish I had captured it on video. The snow was dusting up around her as she ran across the chicken yard, breaking a new trail in the cold sunlight. Her face looked so happy to see me. When she got to me, I reached down and hugged her with all my might, and she leaned right into it, extra hard. She missed me and let me know. What an honor it is to be loved by such a beautiful creature!

Fall Things Considered

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Day 134 of 365

photo credit: Jonny Gios, Unsplash

Fall has always been my favorite season. Is it everyone’s favorite season?

There are so many reasons I love the Fall. It’s the colors and the foods. I love harvest. Apples have my whole heart. And, oh my gosh, I adore Halloween. I grew up in a place without a real Fall season, and I am so grateful to Maine for giving me a magnificent Fall, the kind I used to see in the movies and read about in books, every single year.

This Fall, like last year, however, has been marked by some major loss, and so I feel some heaviness in my heart–this kind of haze of melancholy, I am trying to fight through. But I have to remember the cycles of life, and what bigger reminder is there than the leaves on the trees, turning their beautiful reds and oranges, giving us such a show before the trees withdraw into themselves and rest?

It’s hard right now though. The loss of my kitty, Sophie, is still so raw, and losing her has been a huge reminder to me that I have been grieving still the loss of our farm dog, Gus, last Fall. That one was sudden and shocking, and the physicality of my grief for him took a strange kind of toll. I have always been able to be a positive person, but, sometimes, it just feels like I love so big that I am doomed to a life of grief and loss. Love is joy, and love is pain. I don’t want the pain to change me. Still, I feel some change. Maybe, though, it’s just temporary. Maybe I just need to retreat into myself for a winter and rest and heal, and I will be like the trees and be renewed in the Spring.

But I cannot retreat yet, though I have the urge. This weekend, we are going to debut Farmer-ish at the Common Ground Fair. The Common Ground Fair is a massive agricultural and educational fair, and people come from all over the country–and even the world–for it. I am truly overwhelmed by all of it, but the print annual is a really good work. The authors are diverse and wonderful and have so many important things to say. I am thankful for all of the beautiful poetry in this year’s annual. And though I never get to write the beautiful essay that will change hearts and minds that I imagine I would like to, I am proud of the short pieces I wrote for this year’s annual. I wrote about a cool barn with a musical history, spoon butter, duck eggs, and some of my favorite books. How fun is that?

I feel uplifted when I think about it. I’m going to need that, I think. Tomorrow is set up, and then, after that, it’s game on. For three days, from morning until evening, I am going to have to put my brave face on, beat back that insecurity, and and share Farmer-ish with the world. This is, hopefully, going to be a great weekend for us. I recently saw there is another journal coming out in 2023 with almost the exact same focus as Farmer-ish. I am not even exaggerating. They even quoted Thoreau. I have to get this journal out there before we are lost in the crowd.

If you are reading this and in Maine, come see us this weekend. If you are reading this and are not in Maine, please send us all the good vibes. Before I can retreat and heal, I have be the bravest I have ever been in my life. Please, oh please, let this Fall Equinox be the start of something really great for our journal and our family.

And, until then, I am going to remember the cycles of life, remember to focus growth, and remember to be thankful. Today, it’s raining, and after a summer of drought, I am grateful to every puddle of water I see on the ground.