Reorganizing the Farm

I spent this morning shoveling dirt off the chicken coop's roof into the tractor's bucket. I was a little dismayed to find thousands of little moss-rose sprouts sending up their tiny, red cotyledons to the sky. I hoped they would have waited until the dirt was redeposited after the move, but I suppose I will have to buy a couple packets of seed to get some moss-rose re-established again.

Tired of tip-toeing through our chicken-poop mine-field-of-a-yard, we have decided to try to move the chickens further away from the house. I also realized that if I want any sort of flower or vegetable bed not encased in fencing, the chickens cannot be allowed to roam so freely around the house. 

The problem-finder in me keeps screaming that this plan is not going to work so well. Even though the chicken's new home will be 100 yards away from their old one, they still know where we live. Half the birds don't even sleep in the coop, and it is going to be difficult to retrain them to sleep elsewhere. I could go on, but ultimately focusing on a heap of problems only prevents progress. Sometimes, the only thing is to move forward and solve one problem at a time.

I can't help but think of the things I want to do after the coop is moved. Most of it involves fencing, but I have also been daydreaming about building a permanent pen for Jane, our rabbit. I really want to build her a hobbit hole... but there are probably more important things to do.

Green Grass

I was about to give up on spring, but the grass is green and growing here. Chris spent yesterday afternoon on the first mow of the season.

One of my peach trees is starting to bloom... just in time to get nipped by Friday's expected frost.

The chickens have started laying piles of eggs.

The warmth of the spring sun revives.

I ran across this quote a while back:  “Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.” - Robert F. Kennedy

It seemed simple and logical and inspiring when I first read it. But it is also a veiled warning. Be prepared for great failure. 

I've been pulling myself out of the funk of failure over these past few weeks. 

But the grass is green and growing, forgetting the cold.

There is forgiveness. There is life and beauty ahead.