Little House in the City

Little House in the City

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

EGG!

If you recall the first week of August say, by re-reading my post The Ladies of Lester St, you will remember a certain precocious chicken named Roxanne.  Foxy Roxie, of the heavy black eyeliner and early-developing feathers.  The gal with the big mouth that is always forcefully commenting on something, particularly my lack of speed when it comes to distributing kitchen treats. 

Well, we have some exciting news:  we have our very first homegrown egg.  And, since it is greenish-blue, we know who to thank--our big, grown up "easter-egger" Roxanne.

Some of the books that I've read warn that the first few eggs in a girl's life of laying might be not quite right--maybe misshapen or lacking a yolk, or even some of the hard shell.  I was prepared for a few Frankenstein eggs to appear first.  But this little gift is perfect--smaller than future eggs will be, but otherwise perfectly formed.  I have to admit, it is hard to believe that such an amazing thing has actually happened--that this quirky character of a creature, who was herself an egg only a few months ago, dug a small bowl-shaped nest in the pine shavings and laid a little blue egg.  If I don't watch it, I'll start babbling about the deep mysteries in the circle of life and have you all rolling your eyes....

Serendipity must be in the air, because I found the egg last night, under the best possible circumstances:  my dear little friends, Teagan (almost five) and her brother Greyson (almost two) were along to help put the chickies to bed.  I spotted the egg in the dim, far corner of the coop and had to crawl in to get it.  I will never forget the joy of sharing what I held in my hand with Teagan--I think we both shrieked and jumped up and down a little.  Even though she is recovering from a week of the flu, and is still quite subdued, pale, and tired, our discovery put some roses back in her cheeks and a huge perk in her step.  After a short conversation to clarify how baby chicks only come from eggs when there is a rooster around (dangerous ground), and so these girls are going to give us eggs for eating, not hatching, we scooped up her brother and ran to the house to share our wonderful news!

So, I can't quite bear to crack open the Egg yet, even though I am dying to see if the yolk looks like the rich gorgeous orangey-yellow ones we are used to from farmer's market vendors who let their flocks range.  When I do, rest assured that pictures will be taken!

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Solstice

Today is the darkest day of the year, the deepest point in this cold season of quiet and reflection.

This morning I watched the world outside my window turn from a black void into a luminous blue fantasy of dark, bare trees lined with glowing snow.  Almost before they were distinguishable, a few cardinals arrived at the sunflower seeds, and a downy woodpecker tapped away at the suet feeder, while a fat squirrel, puffed up against the cold, bounded along the branch of a pine overhead, causing an avalanche of fluffy snow.  As the light grew, the soft, dreamy blue gave way to the bright gray of a snowy winter morning.  Today, long before there is any faint whisper of spring, the sun begins to return, to gain strength--is it any wonder that so many cultures have worshiped the sun?

This is an issue of faith for me as well.  At some point in February every year, I irrationally lose heart and am unable to believe that spring will ever come, no matter what the calendar and my rational mind have to say. My patience is at an end, and every day that dawns in an icy, gray world is almost more than I can bear.  I've had thirty-three years to ponder this, and I think that it all comes down to having to face and embrace the cold and the dark, the unavoidable duality of the great Mother that I love so well the rest of the year, when she is present in her warm, nurturing, growing form.

I am, of course, hardly unique in my struggle to accept the darker side of the cosmic coin.  I am not one who memorizes poetry, but Dylan Thomas immediately pops up in my mind, bidding me to Rage, rage, against the dying of the light, and even earlier, I remember falling in love with Edna St Vincent Millay:  I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts into the hard ground.  I will stop right there--I would never dare to attempt something profound about the lessons of loss, of cold, of the bleak seasons of the heart; far greater minds than mine have spent lifetimes considering these grand conundrums.

What I have learned to accept, however, is that the duality is--above all--necessary; in order to have the light at the end, there must be the tunnel to travel through.  As a gardener, I know this; many of my carefully horded seeds and bulbs will not sprout unless they are exposed to freezing temperatures and kept away from the light--without January, June will never come.  This is a cycle that is so fundamental as to disappear within the normal rhythms of our lives--how long would I last without the daily dark oblivion of a good night's sleep? Just because it is easier to celebrate while I am embraced by the warmth of a breezy, sunny spring day (or impassioned by a wild, gusty autumn evening) doesn't mean that I can deny the cleansing power of the icy wind, or forget to value the generosity that rises in my heart as I scatter seeds in the snow for my furred and feathered sisters and brothers.

I have never formally observed the solstice.  But last night Jason's new snow boots were delivered to our door, and, happily, Mother Nature cooperated with yet another snow fall, filling the night with fat, fluffy flakes swirling down to blanket the world.   Eager as children to try out a new toy, we bundled up and went outside, down the steps and driveway, to stand in the middle of our empty street.

Our chatter died away, snuffed out by the overwhelmingly silent night and the still, dark trees.  Under the street light on the corner the snow floated down, softening the sharp edges of the world, dusting my hair with glittering silver...and there, in the dark and the cold, Jason's hand in mine, all at once my heart overflowed with gratitude for such beauty and such perfect peace.

Happy winter...happy Christmas...happy solstice.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

December musings

What fun!  So many interesting projects in varying stages of completion!  It is a crafty and creative season at  my house right now, and I want to take a bunch of pictures and babble on--ah, but I forgot--I can't tell you anything because most of this stuff is Christmas-oriented.  BOO.  What to blog about when everything is a secret?

Well, first, an update on the homemade cleaning:  the shampoo and conditioner are still working.  I am still amazed.  I am going to strain my herbal vinegar concoction this weekend and start using that in my conditioning rinse.  I have fiddled a little here and there with my routine, but over all, this has been quite a revelation.  Ditto for the floor cleaner.  Dish soap?  Well, I'm still waving a white flag over that one.  Oh well.  All other cleaning is being accomplished with previously purchased goods.  I am still savoring the aromatherapy of using essential oils rather than nasty, heavy synthetic fragrances.

I am excited to complete all of the Christmas projects and have time to address a few needs around the house.  First, we need to build shelves in the laundry room, so that I can get everything up off the floor and have access to our crawl space/potential root cellar.  I need to get an idea of the winter-time temperatures and humidity levels down there, and I want to see if we have any small, furry critters with access from the outside.

As soon as the shelves are up, I am really looking forward to building a drying rack for laundry.  It will need to fit our long, narrow rectangle of a laundry room, and I want it rigged up on a pulley system so that I can raise it up and out of the way while the laundry is drying.

Lastly, the bathroom desperately needs a makeover.  I need to hang new towel bars and paint the walls and trim.  I want the ugly mirror/medicine chest GONE.  The sink will also need to go eventually, but I'm thinking a coat of paint on the ugly cabinet underneath may be enough for now.

Once I am done with these plans, it will be time to build nest boxes for the chickies and almost time to start some of the earliest seeds for next year's garden (oh yeah!)  Um, and address my looming thesis.  Eeek.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Good Things

I never got around to writing a Thanksgiving post, which is not to say that I have little that I am thankful for--I tried, actually, to write one and had so much gratitude that I froze and couldn't write coherently about it.  So, instead, here are the things that I am grateful for today:


Meine kleine Jacke.


1.  Cats.  My cats.  In particular, small, tidy Jack who immediately commandeers the warm spot when I leave and curls up into an itty-bitty circle to take a nap.  Earlier, he was sleeping beside me and the house was so quiet that I could hear his soft little snores.  I understand the appeal of a dog--I really do--but I love the complexity and depth of my feline relationships.  I also love that Colby just finished tinkling in the potty (self-taught) and is now chasing his tail in a puddle of sunshine. 




2.  The fact that my chickens are absolute freaks for carbohydrates.  I didn't think it was possible for them to love anything like they love cooked spaghetti (kitchen treats from mom!  that look like worms!  oh, joy!!!) --but the stale rosemary sourdough loaf I've been pulling bits from is another huge hit.  There was almost a chicken stampede this morning; who knew that two eyes, a beak, and some feathers could look so pleading and hopeful at the sound of a bread wrapper??



Sunshine, on my shoulders, makes me happy...


3.  The beautiful natural light in my house during midday.  This is something that has been slow to come to the surface--but I've realized lately that I am so grateful for the sunshine coming in the windows.  Especially since we are heading into such a dark season, I am a lucky, lucky girl to not be stuck in an office, under fluorescent lights for the entire span of the daylight hours.  The glowing column behind Jack in the picture at the top of the page is our south-facing bedroom, and when I walk in there, my heart lifts at the beauty of the sun streaming in...I want, like Colby, to bask in the warmth and glory of the light.



4.  The opportunity I have this year to make Christmas gifts. Despite the pressure of getting everything ready in time--not to mention my desire to come up with truly fun stuff, not wretched, church-raffle tacky "crafts"--I am surprised to find how satisfying it is embrace my creativity, and how meaningful it is to be daydreaming about the beloved recipient as I knit, or sew, or bake, or--well, never you mind!  :)  I am ever-grateful for the wonderful people that I am able to call my friends and family.
The yarn shelf.  Yum.


(I should probably also mention my gratitude for this blog--giving me an excuse to put off paper-writing for just a leeeetle longer...!)