Farm Living

When I returned home from running errands today I was met at my front porch by my rooster Rosie and his henny woman Princess. They were giving me the "we want an early dinner" call. These two are quite a pair. After I gave them their private meal I took some scratch out to the other 10 chickens and spare rooster "Fajita". Later while watering my trees I discovered that Rosie and Princess were taking private dirt baths in my garden soil. I had so neatly leveled it and watered it to keep it from blowing away in our west Texas breezes. Now the dirt formerly known as level has huge dips in it where they have rubbed themselves. I lightly sprayed them with the hose, but they simple squawked at me. I had to chase them out of the garden. I guess that means I'll be shutting my gate from now on to slow down their hole digging.

Yesterday I had the front door open and was enjoying light breezes through my old fashion wood and a screen door. Rosie decided around 3:30pm to start crooning to Princess. It sounds like he's dying when he does this. It's almost like hearing an alien calling for his freaky mama! Princess stood at my front door making the most irritating noise as if to say, "Will you shut up old man, you're driving me crazy". I finally had to close the door and turn my overhead fans on. So much for a little natural breeze and sun.

I've planned to give my chickens away so I can minister out of town. I really hate giving up these two as they are really pets. The idea that someone wouldn't give them the care I offer upsets me. I may yet hold out and keep them after all. We shall see.

My life on this non-working farm is quiet these days. I pulled weeds today, watered my trees, set eight bricks in the sand for a stepping stone, planted some morning glories and now my back is a little sore. Decisions these days are tough. I want to do this and that, but I'm struggling for clarity. I have to trust God through so many hardships and turn my back on conventional methods of supply. God has proved more than faithful. I'm still living on a farm, but not much of a farmer anymore.