we are currently sleeping outside in a tent. we're dressing ourselves out of backpacks, living in jacob's parents house until our own place becomes available september 1. we are in the thick of transition, adjusting to not having many patterns or much space, still feeling like we don't know so many people in the area and can't fully imagine what our life will be like here.
despite the feeling of chaos that comes with huge change, or perhaps because of it, we have begun to dive in to some little projects to root us, center us, connect us with this place and help us imagine some patterns we might live out here. what better to start than with chickens?
i have longed for my own chickens for years. i've tended other people's chickens, i've worked on farms that grew chickens and eggs, but i've never been in one place long enough to order my own chicks, raise them through pullet-hood, and know we will be in the same place the next year to harvest eggs. it feels like a watershed moment to order chicks and know i will be here to pick them up, here to raise them, here when they begin to lay. it's both exciting and terrifying to feel committed long-term to a place and a life-way, but it's the right time.
before you can bring chicks home, you need to create a nest for them. i found this badass chicken coop on craigslist for cheap. jacs and i spent the morning clearing out a little patch of land, mowing down thorny brambles, hauling out old boards with rusty nails, and trying (and failing) to move an enormous boulder with rock bars. (turns out rocks are super heavy.) we bought lumber for nest boxes and shingles to patch the roof. when my parents in law came home, they were surprisingly delighted at our little coop in the woods, and are stoked to have feathered friends moving this way soon.
i guess this is how lives come to be? little pattern by little pattern, thorny patch by thorny patch, unexpected beauty and whimsy in a clearing in the woods. with hopefully some eggs in the morning.