I've done routine house cleaning for years, spring cleaning, deep cleaning, cleaning when we move from house to house, downsizing, nesting for the arrival of my little girl (years ago), decluttering, daily chores and now-a-days, barn cleaning and mucking of stalls. But wait! I can now add a new aspect and type of cleaning to my life. Death cleaning or Dostadning (Swedish). Cleaning like your going to die tomorrow. I never even knew it was something people consciously did. Granted, maybe most people don't do this. Maybe I'm just getting to the age where I'm thinking more about it. Is there an age this starts happening and it's a secret until then? I mean, when do I start doing this? And how do I go about it? Shall I talk about this to others? Are they doing it too? So many questions.
It all started with a pan-in-the-face thought of "if I die right now, who's going to have to clean up all my stuff?!' I about gave myself a stroke, 3 TIA's and a heart attack all at one time just thinking about how much work that would be. There's only one thing certain in life when we are born, and it's that we will die. Everything else in the middle is life, and life is never certain. Sometimes I really think I may be in control of my life, or know the direction it's going, but I really don't. Every time I think back 10 years, I know I would have NEVER guessed I'd be when I am now. Did that make sense? I'm 54, and my 44 year old self would have never imagined myself living in Gunter, on acreage, with cows as my neighbors and farm animals of my own. At 24, I would never have known that at 34 I'd be married with a beautiful baby girl. I have never been able to project out the "next" 10 years of my life, and have no idea where I might be at age 64, or 74 and beyond. I'm not necessarily interested in knowing my future, but planning is a big part of life. I don't live willy-nilly day to day, I'd like to think I sort-of have a plan. Or do I? One minute I'm practicing being mindful of my day to day activities, and the next minute I'm thinking of plans in a month from now. As I mentioned, I really don't know what's going to happen in my life, I just think I do.
So with this in mind, I started looking around me a little closer. It was so easy to say, "David has SO much stuff! So many material things, collections and things he does not use". Yep, I thought that many times in my life, and seemed convinced that I didn't. Yes, I've gotten rid of many, many things of my own over the last few years, but I've also bought many new things. It seems I haven't really downsized like I would have expected to. I donate things, and give things away, but if I keep buying things, I'm not really making the progress I'd like to. I needed to acknowledge the out-with-the-old and in-with-the-new was not a good idea while practicing the notion of non-attachment. The two do not go hand in hand.
I digress. So as new revelations have occurred to me, like all these materialistic things I own are going to be someone else's problem when I die, and since the only thing I know for sure is that I'm going to die, I better get on the stick and do something about this. And so I did. I sent David an email stating my intentions of Death Cleaning. I'm going to clean up my life so that others won't have to, and I outline this in my email to him. (By the way, I send David emails far more often than he may prefer.) I receive a reply back from him shortly that basically said "okay, but leave my stuff alone". Okay then, I think. I'll get my own stuff cleaned up so fast, I'll be back with you soon.
That was where I went off track. Getting my own things cleaned up so that others won't have to was - and is not - an easy task. At first it feels like deep cleaning, decluttering and downsizing all in one fail swoop. But then I looked up and realized that I still have so much stuff left. I rationalize it like this: but I need it to live, I need those clothes, that bedding, those towels, etc. Those gloves, those jackets, oh my goodness I have so much stuff still.
I went back to square one to collect my thoughts again. First of all, I tell myself because I'm trying this 'death cleaning' doesn't mean it's morbid. After all, I've been practicing non-attachment to things for a number of years now. But this is different. It's one step further than non-attachment. And I can reap the benefits of it while I'm still alive. I realize I've begun this process because of my own recent thoughts of mortality. One day, when I'm not around anymore, my family would have to take care of all my stuff, and I just don't think that's fair.
My plan? Keep what I love and get rid of the rest. And so I began with a bang. I took car loads (of my stuff) to Goodwill, began giving things to other people, and got my 'stuff' down to a more manageable size. But there's still more work to do. It's a matter of shifting my mindset, over and over, as I widdle my things down to having only the things around me I love. I realized I love a lot of stuff. Yet, already I have noticed my fondness of less-is-more. I've been riding this train of tidiness for a few years now, and I love the ride. I love the look of less things in a room, which creates less chaos in my soul. I used to tell Lauren when she was younger, "Your spirit is in chaos because your closet is in chaos." Cleaning up your environment will clean up your spirit and soul. And it has, as I have embraced a new chapter of cleaning up my life, in preparation for the only thing certain in my life. Death.
It's also created an outlet to talk to family about death, our possessions and what's really important in life. I look back at my life and think I've really been death cleaning all along. All those types of cleaning I've been doing is really about decluttering and sorting out the things around me......just in case I step off the curb. I've also come to the conclusion that death cleaning is never truly finished. It only ends with death. Then it stops.
Until then, I'm having fun with it. I'm going to see how minimal I can get my stuff. It's a process that I now have a whole new outlook on. My 64 year old self will thank my 54 year old self for starting early. Your welcome.
I better go streamline some more,
Cyndi
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
Wednesday, April 11, 2018
So how is the flock?
I have held off giving an update on our flock due to the unknown. The unknown of if they will live, who will be okay, who won't? I'm hoping now, that I can safely say our chicken flock is on the road to recovery. The respiratory illness that swooped down and took hold of our flock is beginning to let up and let go. Most every chicken we have had a varying degree of this sickness, either with sniffles all the way to runny nose, swollen eyes, a cough and chest congestion. Some chickens rattled when they breathed, a very audible disturbance to my ears. They were breathing with their beaks open, and fighting for their lives. Now, those chickens with their eyes swollen shut, are open again. Those chickens who honkered down, and would not move about, are all free ranging again. During this time, we continued providing antibiotics to them through their water source, a warm place to be and lots of TLC. Each day I would check on them in the barn, I did not know what to expect. The progress seemed so slow. Throughout this multi week process, we had one casualty. Butterscotch. She was the chicken I took to the vet to help them understand the symptoms my chickens were experiencing. She was the sickest at the time, and the one that represented all the others, so the flock could receive the proper assistance. She did her job well, as the vet was able to diagnose and treat the entire flock appropriately. Yet, she could not overcome the respiratory illness that was taking over her little body. When she passed, the other chickens were around her, waiting for her. My heart broke when I checked on the chickens that fatal day, and saw her. What I learned about chickens was that they stay together, even when they are sick and dying. That's what made this whole illness harder to fight, as they all wanted to be together through it, and therefore no one would go outside to free range or move about. If one chicken was honkered down, the others will stay close. Since our chickens have never been sick, I had no idea this would occur.
There are several difficult aspects of Butterscotch's passing that changed the dynamics of the flock, as well as my own thought process regarding chickens in general. Butterscotch was one of our first 2 chickens we purchased. Her and Ginger were raised inside our house, from days old, to transition to a newly built (thank you, David) coop out back. As Rhode Island Reds, they are hearty, strong and great egg layers. They were sweet, gentle and allowed petting and holding generously. Little did we know they would become the leaders of our flock. They were the head hens, and worked together as a team. When we did decide to grow our flock and add more chickens, they readily accepted others into the group and led the way. I never thought about losing one. Never. My chickens will live forever, right?
Unfortunately, I learned what happens when the flock loses an alpha hen. Previously, as co-leaders, Ginger and Butterscotch would gently dominate and guide the flock. Hierarchy in a flock is an interesting phenomenon in the chicken world. What I noticed was the sicker Butterscotch got, the more everyone rallied around her. It's as if they knew, and they were there for her. I was amazed every time I witnessed it. Another issue was that Ginger was one of the "sicker" chickens, as well. The hierarchy of the flock made a natural progression of change. Ruby, a Rhode Island Red who was given to us by a friend, stepped up to the plate and took over the alpha role for the flock. She is a strong chicken, as she was the only chicken (in a friend's flock) who was left standing after several predator attacks. Even though she is a recent addition to our group of chickens, she's the one who told everybody else that "things would be okay". As Butterscotch passed and Ginger was still sick, it was Ruby who cheerfully, and kindly, took over the dynamics of the flock.
Then, as another few days went by, the chickens all started getting better, one by one. It was a miracle. This illness could have easily taken a hold of our entire flock to the point of no return. Instead, somehow the chickens were slowly improving. There was less coughing, and less audible breathing noises. The chickens were beginning to venture out of the barn again, and Ruby was leading the way. Ginger lagged behind in her recovery, but she did pull through. I worried about her so much. My heart could not take losing her, too. And she did it, she made it through. God spared our chickens, healed them, and is allowing us the opportunity to enjoy and cherish them.
As everyone began to improve, they begin to go about their normal daily activities again. They started free ranging outside, laying eggs and standing tall again. It warms my heart to see them outside, together, doing what chickens do. I am forever grateful to have my existing flock make it through this journey. Our loss is softened with the lives of the others spared.
I've learned many things from this experience:
1) That it's okay to take a chicken to the vet. Butterscotch's brave visit helped save all the others.
2) Chicken illnesses are quick to progress, and a whole flock can be gone in a matter of days.
3) TLC and warmth are invaluable in the recovery process, and cannot be underestimated.
4) My chickens are my world. They are each their own distinct self, and I love them all for who they are, more than ever. I smile every time I see them out and about.
5) I now know why people do not name their chickens. Chickens are fragile and can be gone in an instant. It's easier for people to not get "too close" to them emotionally.
6) I will always name my chickens.
And I thank everyone for their kindness and understanding while we walked through this dilemma together. Our story has a happy ending, and I'm so elated! Gratitude has no limit. My farm life continues, and with love, there is loss. As we celebrate the life given unto us, we do so with (of course) more chickens.
Welcome:
2 new Polish girlz, Thumbalina (missing a few toes) and Tinkerbelle.
3 new Silkies, Freckles, GiGi and Shadow (Shay Shay)
Yes, I'm that lady. That chicken lady,
Cyndi
There are several difficult aspects of Butterscotch's passing that changed the dynamics of the flock, as well as my own thought process regarding chickens in general. Butterscotch was one of our first 2 chickens we purchased. Her and Ginger were raised inside our house, from days old, to transition to a newly built (thank you, David) coop out back. As Rhode Island Reds, they are hearty, strong and great egg layers. They were sweet, gentle and allowed petting and holding generously. Little did we know they would become the leaders of our flock. They were the head hens, and worked together as a team. When we did decide to grow our flock and add more chickens, they readily accepted others into the group and led the way. I never thought about losing one. Never. My chickens will live forever, right?
Unfortunately, I learned what happens when the flock loses an alpha hen. Previously, as co-leaders, Ginger and Butterscotch would gently dominate and guide the flock. Hierarchy in a flock is an interesting phenomenon in the chicken world. What I noticed was the sicker Butterscotch got, the more everyone rallied around her. It's as if they knew, and they were there for her. I was amazed every time I witnessed it. Another issue was that Ginger was one of the "sicker" chickens, as well. The hierarchy of the flock made a natural progression of change. Ruby, a Rhode Island Red who was given to us by a friend, stepped up to the plate and took over the alpha role for the flock. She is a strong chicken, as she was the only chicken (in a friend's flock) who was left standing after several predator attacks. Even though she is a recent addition to our group of chickens, she's the one who told everybody else that "things would be okay". As Butterscotch passed and Ginger was still sick, it was Ruby who cheerfully, and kindly, took over the dynamics of the flock.
Then, as another few days went by, the chickens all started getting better, one by one. It was a miracle. This illness could have easily taken a hold of our entire flock to the point of no return. Instead, somehow the chickens were slowly improving. There was less coughing, and less audible breathing noises. The chickens were beginning to venture out of the barn again, and Ruby was leading the way. Ginger lagged behind in her recovery, but she did pull through. I worried about her so much. My heart could not take losing her, too. And she did it, she made it through. God spared our chickens, healed them, and is allowing us the opportunity to enjoy and cherish them.
As everyone began to improve, they begin to go about their normal daily activities again. They started free ranging outside, laying eggs and standing tall again. It warms my heart to see them outside, together, doing what chickens do. I am forever grateful to have my existing flock make it through this journey. Our loss is softened with the lives of the others spared.
I've learned many things from this experience:
1) That it's okay to take a chicken to the vet. Butterscotch's brave visit helped save all the others.
2) Chicken illnesses are quick to progress, and a whole flock can be gone in a matter of days.
3) TLC and warmth are invaluable in the recovery process, and cannot be underestimated.
4) My chickens are my world. They are each their own distinct self, and I love them all for who they are, more than ever. I smile every time I see them out and about.
5) I now know why people do not name their chickens. Chickens are fragile and can be gone in an instant. It's easier for people to not get "too close" to them emotionally.
6) I will always name my chickens.
And I thank everyone for their kindness and understanding while we walked through this dilemma together. Our story has a happy ending, and I'm so elated! Gratitude has no limit. My farm life continues, and with love, there is loss. As we celebrate the life given unto us, we do so with (of course) more chickens.
Welcome:
2 new Polish girlz, Thumbalina (missing a few toes) and Tinkerbelle.
3 new Silkies, Freckles, GiGi and Shadow (Shay Shay)
Yes, I'm that lady. That chicken lady,
Cyndi
Sunday, April 1, 2018
Chickens are like tattoos
If you've gotten a tattoo, you know the feeling of wanting more. It's a phenomenon that is difficult to explain. You finally get the courage to go get that first tattoo, and afterward, you find yourself wanting another one, then another one, and then another. Seriously, how does this work? Why does this happen? But it does, and I can't explain it. It seems most people who have tattoos have multiples, not just one.
This same circumstance occurs with chickens. I started with two chickens a few years ago now, and since then, I can't get enough of them. As with tattoos, there's a bounty of choices and a never ending supply of ideas, types and options. With chickens, there's so many varieties and the ability to house them is quite easy. I have found each of my chickens to have a distance personality, just like my cats, dogs, and any other animal I have. My chickens run up to me just as the other animals do, many of them want to be loved and petted, while others want to just be around and observe. They all want treats, certainly, and they all want to express themselves for who they are.
And just like with getting a tattoo, you want different ones at different times of your life. There are regrets for some you have chosen, and others that you absolutely love. I also have made many great choices on picking chicken breeds that are conducive to the farm. Matter-of-fact, I was on a roll with making great choices! I started with Butterscotch and Ginger, two sweet Rhode Island Reds who are a couple of our tamest chickens. They allow most everyone to hold them, and are well adjusted and hearty. Then, we picked two Orpington's and two Plymouth Rocks to join them. Everyone did wonderfully.
As time has gone on, we have added chickens into the mix. I blogged about our rooster mistakes, and what we did to correct that problem. Since we do not have roosters here, finding them a new home was imperative. And luckily we found them a home before they turned into chicken soup. And my search for more hens is always on my mind. Who would be the next great addition to our flock?
My desire for more chickens has never waned. It's simply been managed at best. I accidentally came across two beautiful Brahma's, Peaches and Cream, not long ago who joined in on the fun. They lay dark eggs, and get along well with everyone. What happens is, you get these great chickens, and you just want more. Our chickens have come from many different sources, and we have had great success with them in regards to safety, health and cohesion.
Can my success not last? Do my tattoos have to fade? It's only a matter of time before the bad catches up with the good. The downturn of bad-chicken-luck all started when I purchased two beautiful, sweet Polich chickens. We named them Sugar and Spice. They were not like our other chickens, as they were fancy ones. They had a "top hat" on (fluffy feathers atop their heads) and a smaller body frame. They were friendly, and when we transitioned them into the flock, they did wonderfully. What we didn't know at the time, was that Sugar would succumb to Mericks disease. It's a neurological chicken disease whereby paralysis takes over. It's horrible, and we lost Sugar to it. The bright side was that no other chicken fell victim to it. Amazing! But this death left Spice alone, without her best friend. Most of our chickens have come to the farm in pairs. We have found this is the best way to incorporate new chickens into our flock. Everyone transitions new chickens into existing flocks differently, and we have found our niche in how best to do it here. Typically, you don't just throw chickens together without first allowing them to acclimate slowly to each other. And we have a process that we use here that works well. If we bring new chickens in as chicks, we finish raising them in the guest bathroom shower, until they have all their feathers and can keep themselves warm. Then, we move them to the Little Girl Coop in the barn for a period of time, locked in safely while the flock adapts to them, and gets to know them. Any pullets (not chicks) we bring in will be isolated in a caged/fenced area by the Big Girl Coop, and this gives everyone a chance to adjust.
Just as a ferris wheel turns, so does the likelihood of our chickens falling victim to disease, illness and/or predators. We have gone several years without any incident, and our chickens live each day as happy chickens who are essentially pets-that-give-back (eggs) with the ability to free range as they desire. We enjoy holding them, petting them and giving them plenty of mealworm treats and scratch.
Lately, we have had several incidents of predators. After we lost Sugar #1, then Sugar #2, then Spice, I was distraught. Quite frankly, I was beside myself. Just after these incidents (which I can’t bring myself to cover in detail) I noticed Peaches coughing. Within a few days, Butterscotch showed respiratory symptoms such as runny nose, cough and wheezing. Then, it started consuming Sunshine and Pebbles. They were lethargic, had goopy eyes and all had similar issues. It seemed as if it were the chicken cold or a respiratory infection of sorts. Or possibly the chicken flu?! During this progression, I took Butterscotch to the vet to see if they could do anything to help her - and the flock. The vet listened to Butterscotch lungs, and decided it was best to prescribe antibiotics. The whole flock would be treated with antibiotics in their main source of drinking water. There was no guarantee that anyone would survive, as only time will tell what is happening.
As a few days passed, it seemed our "infected" chickens were getting worse. Those that had caught this illness were wheezing, coughing, had a runny nose and even had an eye that was closed due to mucous and swelling. I had looked online to see what other things I could do to help this situation. A couple of suggestions were to clean the coop completely, keep them isolated, and make sure they were comfortable and warm. So I did those things.....all of them. I completely cleaned out their coops, and any areas they nestle and roost. I keep their water clean, and include fresh with antibiotics in it. I make sure they don't have a draft, and are warm enough. I'm doing all I can.
What's interesting is that I can't tell if they are getting better? Or getting worse? It's an unusual phenomenon, but whatever progression is being made, it's slow. If they are turning a corner and getting better, it's a very long corner because I can't see the progress. If the illness is progressing, it's invisible to me. So each time I go to the barn and check them, I really don't know what to expect. All I can say at this point is if they live through this, it will be a miracle. Chickens are so fragile, that when disease and illness take over, there's only so much you can do.
As I wait this out, I can tell you that Ginger, Butterscotch and Sunshine are affected the most. They each have one eye swollen shut, are congested and coughing. You can hear them breathing, almost like a rattle. A couple of others have this illness, but it's not as bad. Everyone is drinking from the antibiotic water, and since everyone has been exposed there's no isolating anyone at this point, according to the vet.
As this first flock illness continues, I'm learning more about my chickens and what they do - and what I do - in times of chicken strife. Another nurse at my work (her name is Cindy, too) asked me a interesting question, " If you lose your flock to this illness, will you get more chickens?". She knew someone who had a similar situation and ended up losing her whole flock to illness, and she did not chose to get more chickens. It was just too hard. I understand that, as these are our pets, too.
I can't answer that question in absolute just yet, but I'm pretty sure I'll always have chickens. I'm banking on NOT losing my whole flock. It will be a miracle if they make it through this, but I have faith. I'm not sure what my chicken-future holds, but for now, I'm giving extra TLC to my chickens as they hang on for another day.
My favoritest thing to do in the morning is go to the barn, and now-a-days I really can't wait each day to get out there. When they make that final turn of the corner to getting better, I want to be there.
I'll keep you posted,
Cyndi
This same circumstance occurs with chickens. I started with two chickens a few years ago now, and since then, I can't get enough of them. As with tattoos, there's a bounty of choices and a never ending supply of ideas, types and options. With chickens, there's so many varieties and the ability to house them is quite easy. I have found each of my chickens to have a distance personality, just like my cats, dogs, and any other animal I have. My chickens run up to me just as the other animals do, many of them want to be loved and petted, while others want to just be around and observe. They all want treats, certainly, and they all want to express themselves for who they are.
And just like with getting a tattoo, you want different ones at different times of your life. There are regrets for some you have chosen, and others that you absolutely love. I also have made many great choices on picking chicken breeds that are conducive to the farm. Matter-of-fact, I was on a roll with making great choices! I started with Butterscotch and Ginger, two sweet Rhode Island Reds who are a couple of our tamest chickens. They allow most everyone to hold them, and are well adjusted and hearty. Then, we picked two Orpington's and two Plymouth Rocks to join them. Everyone did wonderfully.
As time has gone on, we have added chickens into the mix. I blogged about our rooster mistakes, and what we did to correct that problem. Since we do not have roosters here, finding them a new home was imperative. And luckily we found them a home before they turned into chicken soup. And my search for more hens is always on my mind. Who would be the next great addition to our flock?
My desire for more chickens has never waned. It's simply been managed at best. I accidentally came across two beautiful Brahma's, Peaches and Cream, not long ago who joined in on the fun. They lay dark eggs, and get along well with everyone. What happens is, you get these great chickens, and you just want more. Our chickens have come from many different sources, and we have had great success with them in regards to safety, health and cohesion.
Can my success not last? Do my tattoos have to fade? It's only a matter of time before the bad catches up with the good. The downturn of bad-chicken-luck all started when I purchased two beautiful, sweet Polich chickens. We named them Sugar and Spice. They were not like our other chickens, as they were fancy ones. They had a "top hat" on (fluffy feathers atop their heads) and a smaller body frame. They were friendly, and when we transitioned them into the flock, they did wonderfully. What we didn't know at the time, was that Sugar would succumb to Mericks disease. It's a neurological chicken disease whereby paralysis takes over. It's horrible, and we lost Sugar to it. The bright side was that no other chicken fell victim to it. Amazing! But this death left Spice alone, without her best friend. Most of our chickens have come to the farm in pairs. We have found this is the best way to incorporate new chickens into our flock. Everyone transitions new chickens into existing flocks differently, and we have found our niche in how best to do it here. Typically, you don't just throw chickens together without first allowing them to acclimate slowly to each other. And we have a process that we use here that works well. If we bring new chickens in as chicks, we finish raising them in the guest bathroom shower, until they have all their feathers and can keep themselves warm. Then, we move them to the Little Girl Coop in the barn for a period of time, locked in safely while the flock adapts to them, and gets to know them. Any pullets (not chicks) we bring in will be isolated in a caged/fenced area by the Big Girl Coop, and this gives everyone a chance to adjust.
Just as a ferris wheel turns, so does the likelihood of our chickens falling victim to disease, illness and/or predators. We have gone several years without any incident, and our chickens live each day as happy chickens who are essentially pets-that-give-back (eggs) with the ability to free range as they desire. We enjoy holding them, petting them and giving them plenty of mealworm treats and scratch.
Lately, we have had several incidents of predators. After we lost Sugar #1, then Sugar #2, then Spice, I was distraught. Quite frankly, I was beside myself. Just after these incidents (which I can’t bring myself to cover in detail) I noticed Peaches coughing. Within a few days, Butterscotch showed respiratory symptoms such as runny nose, cough and wheezing. Then, it started consuming Sunshine and Pebbles. They were lethargic, had goopy eyes and all had similar issues. It seemed as if it were the chicken cold or a respiratory infection of sorts. Or possibly the chicken flu?! During this progression, I took Butterscotch to the vet to see if they could do anything to help her - and the flock. The vet listened to Butterscotch lungs, and decided it was best to prescribe antibiotics. The whole flock would be treated with antibiotics in their main source of drinking water. There was no guarantee that anyone would survive, as only time will tell what is happening.
As a few days passed, it seemed our "infected" chickens were getting worse. Those that had caught this illness were wheezing, coughing, had a runny nose and even had an eye that was closed due to mucous and swelling. I had looked online to see what other things I could do to help this situation. A couple of suggestions were to clean the coop completely, keep them isolated, and make sure they were comfortable and warm. So I did those things.....all of them. I completely cleaned out their coops, and any areas they nestle and roost. I keep their water clean, and include fresh with antibiotics in it. I make sure they don't have a draft, and are warm enough. I'm doing all I can.
What's interesting is that I can't tell if they are getting better? Or getting worse? It's an unusual phenomenon, but whatever progression is being made, it's slow. If they are turning a corner and getting better, it's a very long corner because I can't see the progress. If the illness is progressing, it's invisible to me. So each time I go to the barn and check them, I really don't know what to expect. All I can say at this point is if they live through this, it will be a miracle. Chickens are so fragile, that when disease and illness take over, there's only so much you can do.
As I wait this out, I can tell you that Ginger, Butterscotch and Sunshine are affected the most. They each have one eye swollen shut, are congested and coughing. You can hear them breathing, almost like a rattle. A couple of others have this illness, but it's not as bad. Everyone is drinking from the antibiotic water, and since everyone has been exposed there's no isolating anyone at this point, according to the vet.
As this first flock illness continues, I'm learning more about my chickens and what they do - and what I do - in times of chicken strife. Another nurse at my work (her name is Cindy, too) asked me a interesting question, " If you lose your flock to this illness, will you get more chickens?". She knew someone who had a similar situation and ended up losing her whole flock to illness, and she did not chose to get more chickens. It was just too hard. I understand that, as these are our pets, too.
I can't answer that question in absolute just yet, but I'm pretty sure I'll always have chickens. I'm banking on NOT losing my whole flock. It will be a miracle if they make it through this, but I have faith. I'm not sure what my chicken-future holds, but for now, I'm giving extra TLC to my chickens as they hang on for another day.
My favoritest thing to do in the morning is go to the barn, and now-a-days I really can't wait each day to get out there. When they make that final turn of the corner to getting better, I want to be there.
I'll keep you posted,
Cyndi
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Garden Activity
When you see a beautiful - or bountiful garden - do you ever think ‘how do they do that'? I have many times, and wondered if I could do that as well, or at least on a smaller scale. Since I've moved to Gunter (that would be almost 2 years now) I've thought about creating a garden. I've thought a long time about where I would put it, but more importantly, how would I go about it successfully? Could it be a large one with many plants that would give me all the food I need to eat? No, I don't really know "how" to do that, yet I've dreamt about it. I would need to start with a small garden, and work up from there. I could envision my just-right garden, and I would place that scene in different places around the farm and evaluate if that would be "the right spot" for my garden that I've imagined for a long time. Then as time went by, "that spot" I picked would be used for other things, or the grass was so green and lush there I could not possibly dig it up. Or a myriad of other reason that don't make sense, so a garden was never created. I simply continued to dream about it.
I was always noticing other people's gardens, and how they did things. In Colorado, when we would visit Lauren there, there were many gardens in the areas I ran or walked by. Surprising for such a cold climate, but really, a garden can be anywhere. I could tell I was getting closer to committing myself to it. But first, I would need to educate myself a little more in regards to starting one, and how to keep it going. I mentioned it to Lauren, and she checked out a couple of books from the library for me (since she is a librarian, it seemed fitting). The first book spoke about "companion gardening". It would explain that different plants planted close to each other would contribute to the soil viability, assist each other in their growth, and help repel insects from one another. That is an intriguing and fascinating aspect I had not considered. The other book was a week-by-week handbook to assist me in the creation of the garden and when to plant what. I needed that information, and combed through it in order to create a garden so that much of the initial work would eliminate extra work later on down the line. As easy as it would be to throw a garden together, I decided I would try to play by the (garden) rules and do as the experts would recommend. My thumb is not all that green, so it's in my best interest to listen, read and learn about how to do this.
It was during this period of time that I mentioned to David that I would like a garden bed. A real bed to place out in the designated area and hold my garden. It's a perfect scenario for me because it's a rectangle, and is just the right size to hold my first attempt at gardening. So one day, David brought home a metal twin size bed frame that would become the base for a garden. The headboard and footboard were both of a swirly metal design that could also be used for climbing plants, maybe even my tomatoes. David worked hard to put it together, along with a wood frame that would hold the dirt and plants in. He created a beautiful shell for me to begin my work of tilling the soil and taking the grass out.
Now with my bed in place, I was ready to put to use all the words I had read. It was odd having a bed frame in your yard, outside of your house. We strategically placed it so that it was behind/on the side of the house whereby it would get lots of sun, and not everyone might see it right away. It was in a place whereby I could garden quietly, away from the animals who might dig or eat it. It would be my Secret Garden. The gardening book had suggested you size your first garden by the amount of space you are willing to initially till by hand. That way, you are more likely to be able to handle the future needs of your garden. The twin bed frame David picked was perfect! I dug out all the grass inside the frame, and tilled it by hand. I desired not to do anymore than that size, as it was more work than I realized. Gardening is not for the weary, it's real work.
After I dug it out, my canvas of a blank rectangle was ready. Abiding by my new gardening book guidelines, I lined my bed with netting to keep out the things I don't want (weeds, grass, etc), and keep in the things I do want (my dirt, etc). I have a handy-dandy staple gun that I use for everything, and it worked perfectly to staple the netting to the border of the wood frame. Nice. Now, this magical book suggested I put down small gravel rocks or mulch as a bottom layer before you put in the dirt for drainage purpose, as well as a deterrent for weeds and such. You can cut small X's or poke small holes in the netting if you want, to allow for roots or worms/bugs to come and go. So I did small holes. Then, I spread the mulch down on top of the netting. Now, the dirt was next. I had bought 5 or 6 bags of dirt (2 cubic feet/bag) and it filled the bed nicely. It looked so pretty. But the chickens thought so too. Oh dear, I need a fence, and we have portable fencing around, so I quickly set that up. Much better, as between the dogs wanting to dig in the fresh dirt, the cats wanting to potty in it and the chickens wanting to scratch around in it, the fence truly is a necessity. Luckily, David and I have fencing around that we use to set up (intermittently) for farm animal purposes, and usually have extra pieces around.
The initial work of getting this part done was rewarding, because now I'm ready to plant something. This is where it got a little overwhelming. Do I plant fruits, vegetables, herbs, flowers? I decided my first garden would include vegetables. I'll start with that, and see how I do. Since I did not sow my seedlings, I choose to buy the plants that are already sprouted and ready to be planted. Easy enough, as I had made a list of what might be 1) hearty, 2) easy, 3) readily available, and 4) most likely to live despite what I might (or might not) do. I choose tomatoes, leaf lettuce, zucchini, broccoli, mild jalapeños, red bell peppers and banana peppers. I heard peppers are relatively prolific, and I would likely eat them, too. That's a big part of all of this. I wanted to plant things I would eat, and hopefully can figure out the timing of it all, so I have produce available throughout the year. Planting the proper vegetable at the right time is key. This is a learn-as-I go kind of thing, and I have a huge learning curve to climb. Thankfully, I'm starting with a small garden and can use different seasons to try out different plants. Crop rotation is a thing, I hear, so I'll be figuring that out as I go as well.
As I spoke with others around me (at work, friends) I readily hear how people desire to have a garden. And most people like myself think about it, but never create one. That was me, too. It is a commitment, so I understand the thought process behind it. Besides the initial work of setting it up properly, my biggest fear was failure to thrive. Brene Brown, my most favorite author/researcher says, "Failure can become our most powerful path to learning if we're willing to choose courage over comfort." David reminded me of this quote recently. It's so true. Embracing failure is no easy task, avoiding it is. Something as simple as creating and maintaining a garden is a good example for me, in regards to possible failure. Would I sustain it? Would I know how much water it needs, and did I plant it in the correct soil with a pH needed to allow my plants to thrive? It was good for me to face my fear, and have some self-compassion for myself that it would all be okay, no matter what. I don't know much about planting, growing and the needs to support plant life. I know the very basics, but I can't assume that's enough for a real garden. Now that I have completed this process, I wait. I water, and I watch. The fence is doing it's job, and the garden is safe. For now, as it may attract other undesirable creatures when produce really starts growing (I hope). There's so many unknowns, and I love that. I love the learning that will occur, and I love hearing other people's tips and tricks.
All the while, I couldn't help but reflect on the gardens I saw in Colorado. Every one had something I wanted. Fairy doors. Yes, it's true, I love Fairy Doors. And now, I have the perfect opportunity to put a couple of them out, on the outside of my garden frame bed. I picked a round hobbit-style one and a regular wooden-looking garden fairy door and strategically placed them so that they would "open" into my garden through the wooden base around it. The 10 year old inside of me still exists, and sneaks out every now and then to play.
Another necessity was the need to label my plants in the garden. I chose to do this inexpensively by purchasing short wooden stakes and spray paint them to add a little sparkle to my garden. I picked bright pink, another 10 year old decision. After they dried, I wrote (with a black sharpie) the name of each plant on a stake, and placed them in my garden so I will know which plants are which.
Now, I wait. After a few days, I can already tell the outcome will not be 100%. A few plants are looking a little peak-id, like maybe I watered them too much or they don't like the wind. Something that's not making them happy, but yet I don't know how to fix it or if I can. Maybe they need time to adjust to their new environment. Yeah, that's it. They just need time.
As spring is upon us, the grass (and weeds) are growing making the pasture so very green again. Our sheep are loving their new grazing options, and "ask" for grain less often. Mama and Papa donkey are enjoying the fresh grass as well, and act like lovebirds. They adore each other. The dogs love laying in the cool grass, and the chickens are eating every bug they can find. Everyone is busy doing their spring thing. The purple martins are starting to show up, and their nesting boxes up by the pond have been cleaned out and are ready for a new season (thank you, David!). We noticed an addition of a new duck on the pond, and the killdeer birds are looking for their potential egg-laying spots along the gravel road. How those eggs ever survive is something I still marvel over. These birds seem to do more running than flying, and are fun to watch how they try to deter you from their nest/eggs. Since my parents are "birders", it seems I must have some genetic component as well.
UPDATE: I had blogged about Baby (Pickles) new family/new home a few weeks ago. This past Sunday, I received a text from Donna (adoptive mom) saying that Baby was doing great! He's adjusting just fine, and they love and adore him. They sent me a picture of him, and he looks so independent and strong on his own. He's in charge of not only protecting a particular area (instinctual) but he's also a companion for those horses he's with. My heart is so happy that he can be his authentic self and live his best life. There's nothing better than that! He has so much potential, and it's wonderful to know he's doing so well.
Here's to longer daylight hours which equates to more eggs,
Cyndi
I was always noticing other people's gardens, and how they did things. In Colorado, when we would visit Lauren there, there were many gardens in the areas I ran or walked by. Surprising for such a cold climate, but really, a garden can be anywhere. I could tell I was getting closer to committing myself to it. But first, I would need to educate myself a little more in regards to starting one, and how to keep it going. I mentioned it to Lauren, and she checked out a couple of books from the library for me (since she is a librarian, it seemed fitting). The first book spoke about "companion gardening". It would explain that different plants planted close to each other would contribute to the soil viability, assist each other in their growth, and help repel insects from one another. That is an intriguing and fascinating aspect I had not considered. The other book was a week-by-week handbook to assist me in the creation of the garden and when to plant what. I needed that information, and combed through it in order to create a garden so that much of the initial work would eliminate extra work later on down the line. As easy as it would be to throw a garden together, I decided I would try to play by the (garden) rules and do as the experts would recommend. My thumb is not all that green, so it's in my best interest to listen, read and learn about how to do this.
It was during this period of time that I mentioned to David that I would like a garden bed. A real bed to place out in the designated area and hold my garden. It's a perfect scenario for me because it's a rectangle, and is just the right size to hold my first attempt at gardening. So one day, David brought home a metal twin size bed frame that would become the base for a garden. The headboard and footboard were both of a swirly metal design that could also be used for climbing plants, maybe even my tomatoes. David worked hard to put it together, along with a wood frame that would hold the dirt and plants in. He created a beautiful shell for me to begin my work of tilling the soil and taking the grass out.
Now with my bed in place, I was ready to put to use all the words I had read. It was odd having a bed frame in your yard, outside of your house. We strategically placed it so that it was behind/on the side of the house whereby it would get lots of sun, and not everyone might see it right away. It was in a place whereby I could garden quietly, away from the animals who might dig or eat it. It would be my Secret Garden. The gardening book had suggested you size your first garden by the amount of space you are willing to initially till by hand. That way, you are more likely to be able to handle the future needs of your garden. The twin bed frame David picked was perfect! I dug out all the grass inside the frame, and tilled it by hand. I desired not to do anymore than that size, as it was more work than I realized. Gardening is not for the weary, it's real work.
After I dug it out, my canvas of a blank rectangle was ready. Abiding by my new gardening book guidelines, I lined my bed with netting to keep out the things I don't want (weeds, grass, etc), and keep in the things I do want (my dirt, etc). I have a handy-dandy staple gun that I use for everything, and it worked perfectly to staple the netting to the border of the wood frame. Nice. Now, this magical book suggested I put down small gravel rocks or mulch as a bottom layer before you put in the dirt for drainage purpose, as well as a deterrent for weeds and such. You can cut small X's or poke small holes in the netting if you want, to allow for roots or worms/bugs to come and go. So I did small holes. Then, I spread the mulch down on top of the netting. Now, the dirt was next. I had bought 5 or 6 bags of dirt (2 cubic feet/bag) and it filled the bed nicely. It looked so pretty. But the chickens thought so too. Oh dear, I need a fence, and we have portable fencing around, so I quickly set that up. Much better, as between the dogs wanting to dig in the fresh dirt, the cats wanting to potty in it and the chickens wanting to scratch around in it, the fence truly is a necessity. Luckily, David and I have fencing around that we use to set up (intermittently) for farm animal purposes, and usually have extra pieces around.
The initial work of getting this part done was rewarding, because now I'm ready to plant something. This is where it got a little overwhelming. Do I plant fruits, vegetables, herbs, flowers? I decided my first garden would include vegetables. I'll start with that, and see how I do. Since I did not sow my seedlings, I choose to buy the plants that are already sprouted and ready to be planted. Easy enough, as I had made a list of what might be 1) hearty, 2) easy, 3) readily available, and 4) most likely to live despite what I might (or might not) do. I choose tomatoes, leaf lettuce, zucchini, broccoli, mild jalapeños, red bell peppers and banana peppers. I heard peppers are relatively prolific, and I would likely eat them, too. That's a big part of all of this. I wanted to plant things I would eat, and hopefully can figure out the timing of it all, so I have produce available throughout the year. Planting the proper vegetable at the right time is key. This is a learn-as-I go kind of thing, and I have a huge learning curve to climb. Thankfully, I'm starting with a small garden and can use different seasons to try out different plants. Crop rotation is a thing, I hear, so I'll be figuring that out as I go as well.
As I spoke with others around me (at work, friends) I readily hear how people desire to have a garden. And most people like myself think about it, but never create one. That was me, too. It is a commitment, so I understand the thought process behind it. Besides the initial work of setting it up properly, my biggest fear was failure to thrive. Brene Brown, my most favorite author/researcher says, "Failure can become our most powerful path to learning if we're willing to choose courage over comfort." David reminded me of this quote recently. It's so true. Embracing failure is no easy task, avoiding it is. Something as simple as creating and maintaining a garden is a good example for me, in regards to possible failure. Would I sustain it? Would I know how much water it needs, and did I plant it in the correct soil with a pH needed to allow my plants to thrive? It was good for me to face my fear, and have some self-compassion for myself that it would all be okay, no matter what. I don't know much about planting, growing and the needs to support plant life. I know the very basics, but I can't assume that's enough for a real garden. Now that I have completed this process, I wait. I water, and I watch. The fence is doing it's job, and the garden is safe. For now, as it may attract other undesirable creatures when produce really starts growing (I hope). There's so many unknowns, and I love that. I love the learning that will occur, and I love hearing other people's tips and tricks.
All the while, I couldn't help but reflect on the gardens I saw in Colorado. Every one had something I wanted. Fairy doors. Yes, it's true, I love Fairy Doors. And now, I have the perfect opportunity to put a couple of them out, on the outside of my garden frame bed. I picked a round hobbit-style one and a regular wooden-looking garden fairy door and strategically placed them so that they would "open" into my garden through the wooden base around it. The 10 year old inside of me still exists, and sneaks out every now and then to play.
Another necessity was the need to label my plants in the garden. I chose to do this inexpensively by purchasing short wooden stakes and spray paint them to add a little sparkle to my garden. I picked bright pink, another 10 year old decision. After they dried, I wrote (with a black sharpie) the name of each plant on a stake, and placed them in my garden so I will know which plants are which.
Now, I wait. After a few days, I can already tell the outcome will not be 100%. A few plants are looking a little peak-id, like maybe I watered them too much or they don't like the wind. Something that's not making them happy, but yet I don't know how to fix it or if I can. Maybe they need time to adjust to their new environment. Yeah, that's it. They just need time.
As spring is upon us, the grass (and weeds) are growing making the pasture so very green again. Our sheep are loving their new grazing options, and "ask" for grain less often. Mama and Papa donkey are enjoying the fresh grass as well, and act like lovebirds. They adore each other. The dogs love laying in the cool grass, and the chickens are eating every bug they can find. Everyone is busy doing their spring thing. The purple martins are starting to show up, and their nesting boxes up by the pond have been cleaned out and are ready for a new season (thank you, David!). We noticed an addition of a new duck on the pond, and the killdeer birds are looking for their potential egg-laying spots along the gravel road. How those eggs ever survive is something I still marvel over. These birds seem to do more running than flying, and are fun to watch how they try to deter you from their nest/eggs. Since my parents are "birders", it seems I must have some genetic component as well.
UPDATE: I had blogged about Baby (Pickles) new family/new home a few weeks ago. This past Sunday, I received a text from Donna (adoptive mom) saying that Baby was doing great! He's adjusting just fine, and they love and adore him. They sent me a picture of him, and he looks so independent and strong on his own. He's in charge of not only protecting a particular area (instinctual) but he's also a companion for those horses he's with. My heart is so happy that he can be his authentic self and live his best life. There's nothing better than that! He has so much potential, and it's wonderful to know he's doing so well.
Here's to longer daylight hours which equates to more eggs,
Cyndi
Friday, March 9, 2018
Let me introduce you
Home Sweet Home. That's how I ended my last blogpost and I'm still feeling it. It's sweet whenever I get home, and it's because of many reason of which I'll share a few here.
Our animals are our loves. For those who ask me what it's like to start the day off going to the barn (in the cold, or rain, etc) and what a chore that might be and how hard it is to get up early enough to include that in your morning, I say: It feeds my soul. It calms me, and reminds me of what life is really about.
As we continue to right-size here on the Graves Farm, we have gotten to a comfortable holding position. Our two donkeys Mama and Papa are enjoying their time together more than ever. Sometimes I think they replicate David and I. They are in love, and love each other. They are so bonded with each other, yet are able to do their own thing and be themselves.
We have three sheep/lambs, yet the combination of who we have has slightly changed. Belle and Eve are our 1 year old ewes, and we now have Sam, a 3 month old lamb-ram who was bottle-fed (like Belle was). Sam The Ram will ultimately mate with Belle and Eve to hopefully give us a couple of new lambs, when he's old enough to do so. Until then, the dynamics of this herd is fun to watch. Belle is easy going, loves to be loved, comes when you call her, and is excited to see us just like your dog would be. She knows what she wants and lets you know. Eve is our ewe we bought from a farm that was a triplet who was the third-wheel and literal outcast who got just enough nutrition to stay with her mama in the pasture. Her small stature when she was young, due to less feedings from her mama-ewe, has developed into a full-size sheep whose healthy and happy. And tame. She loves to be brushed, and will stand there all day while you do so. She's the herd leader, and our "beauty" of the bunch. Sam is small and growing rapidly! He's exerting his will in the group in regard to his fair-share of feed and love. He, like Belle, wants to be touched and petted at every opportunity. He calls out to us when he sees us, and is cute-as-a-button. He's a perfect addition to the herd. Cotton was a ewe in our herd of which we traded for a sheep-debt we owed the local feed store for "giving us Belle at 1 day old". Our barter deal at the time was that we would give him Belle's first baby, and we would take Belle and raise her and keep her. Instead of giving him a lamb, we gave him Cotton. He was really just looking to replace a lamb with a lamb, and welcomed Cotton because she could start breeding for him immediately. So Cotton lives a couple of miles away at Preston Trails Feed Store and we get to see her when we go there for feed, etc. We in turn wanted to breed Belle and Eve, which is why we purchased Sam. So we are back to three sheep. It's a herd full of love. They are all tame and friendly towards people. They welcome you to step into their pen and brush them, and of course, give them treats.
CatLand has not changed since we last spoke. Our community of cats is amazing. They get along, they have clicks, they do their thing, and they are everywhere. There's Kitty, Finn, Fi, June Bug, July, Preston, Sweet Pea, and Smokey. Smokey and Sweet Pea are best buds. Fi rarely "shows" herself to others. Preston has colitis. June Bug is my heart. Finn is Lauren's cat who we acquired when she moved, and is one of the most adventurous "in-door turned out-door" cats we have. July is the boss, and is the true boy of the bunch (yes, they are all neutered or spayed though). We also have some stray cats who lurk around the barn and garage area. Boots and Blackie are often seen and not heard. They are fine here, and don't bother anyone - or any chickens - thank goodness. Just not sure where they came from, but exist on our cat food and water. We welcome them.
Our chickens are another story. What started out a few years ago with a flock of 2, and it's now a flock of 14. To recap, Ginger and Butterscotch are two of our Rhode Island Reds and our first chickens ever. They are the lead hens, and everyone bows to them and knows they are silently in charge. They are not aggressive, just strong women. Then, we added 2 Plymouth Rocks (Pebbles and Pepper) and 2 Orpington's (Sunshine and Butter). They transitioned into the flock well, and then we had 6. After that, we accidentally got two roosters who live elsewhere now. The Sheriff (David) does not allow roosters on the farm. Then, I bought two unknown, but a beautiful breed of chickens, who we named Peaches and Cream. They joined the flock wonderfully as well. The addition of any chickens here on the farm have all been very smooth and easy for the most part. Adding new chickens to a existing flock can be difficult, from what I hear. So far, we have had great success with transitioning chickens into our community. We have a process we use, and it starts with isolating the "new" chickens in a cage/coop near the others who are free-ranging. With time, and depending on our intuition, we analyze when to allow them to join the flock to free-range. There's a period of time where the pecking order is apparent, then before we know it, it's smooth sailing, and everyone settles in.
Okay, so that makes a total of 8 chickens up to that point. Then, we had a friend (who lives in Celina) that had a flock of chickens of her own. Turns out, predators ended up 'getting' her chickens over time and she was left with one. She decided to move, and at that time asked us to take her one last chicken she had. It was is a Rhode Island Red, as well, and according to our friend, the chicken (hen) is a "bit bossy". Turns out, she was right. We incorporated her chicken as we normally do, in a fenced area near the flock. The bossy chicken, who we named Ruby, fought (through the fence!) any chicken that approached it. Well, she lost, and succumbed to the pecking order of the group. Once we did let her out to officially join the group, she fit in perfectly. Ruby actually loves being petted and is sweet natured. It just took her a few days to find her place in the flock. All the chickens love her now, and so do we. Then, it happened. I saw two Polish chickens for sale at a local feed store. Have you seen a Polish chicken? OMGoodness. Fancy, I say. Poofy feathered heads, smooth body feathers. It's as if they are a chicken wearing a fancy hat. I fell hard for them. There were two, one white and one tan (we named them Sugar and Spice). I'll take them! And so I did. In a previous blog, I wrote about us losing one of them to Merrick's disease. And we were left with one lonely Polish chicken (Spice), as those two were best friends. It is heart breaking to see any animal suffer. It was our first chicken loss, and was a learning experience for us. In the meantime, after Sugar passed, Spice was not wanting to blend in with the flock. Everyone got along, but she would not participate in free ranging or sleeping with them. It was then I knew we would need to get her a new friend.
I started looking around for a Polish chicken to buy, but it wasn't as easy as I had thought. I did find a similar breed, Silkie chickens, more readily available to buy. The silkie is also a fancy chicken with a poofy head, but also with super-soft feathers, feathered feet and just a all-around attractive breed. They are a small (bantam) breed and lay the tiniest eggs. I drove all they way to Burleson to go buy one, and it just so happened it was a white one. Really, I could not have planned this better. I passed on the name Sugar to her, and she blended right in with our flock (she's 6 months old) and become best buddies with Spice. Now, Sugar and Spice free range together. She was meant to be with us......and Spice. Those two do free range, but seem to be perfectly content with hanging out in the barn together as well. They are much smaller than all my other chickens (even grown up) and are the "lap dog" of chickens. Therefore, I must get more. And I did. I found a Silkie breeder not far from my house! I went and bought 3 more Silkies who are 3 weeks old, and super tiny. They live in a cage in the house until they are fully feathered and can go out to the barn. We named one GiGi, one Freckles and the last one we have yet to name. Now, we have 14 chickens! I'm super excited about that. I am a chicken lady. A sheep lady. A donkey lady. A cat lady for sure.
While walking around the other day, filling water buckets, and doing things around the barn is when it hit me. This is where I'm meant to be. Exactly where I'm supposed to be. I thank God for allowing me this opportunity to find my place in life. I have never been so settled, so content and so happy.
Another new, yet unexpected, addition on the farm are a couple of ducks living at our pond. This is the first time this has happened since we've lived here. I don't know much about ducks and how they decided to take up residence, but I'll need to look into that. And with spring coming, so are the Purple Martin's that will nest in the birdhouses we have up at the pond, high in the air. Those wonderful birds eat flying insects and keep our mosquitos at bay for us. So many "spring" things happening. The rye grass is booming, the weather is mild, and it's easy to stay outside and enjoy all that is around us.
The weekends may never seem long enough, but I always enjoy every minute of them.
Happy Stay-Home Day! (that's what Lauren used to call Saturday's and Sunday's when she was a little girl. "Is it a stay-home day, Mommy?" she would ask.) And a Stay-Home day is always the best kind of day,
Cyndi
Our animals are our loves. For those who ask me what it's like to start the day off going to the barn (in the cold, or rain, etc) and what a chore that might be and how hard it is to get up early enough to include that in your morning, I say: It feeds my soul. It calms me, and reminds me of what life is really about.
As we continue to right-size here on the Graves Farm, we have gotten to a comfortable holding position. Our two donkeys Mama and Papa are enjoying their time together more than ever. Sometimes I think they replicate David and I. They are in love, and love each other. They are so bonded with each other, yet are able to do their own thing and be themselves.
We have three sheep/lambs, yet the combination of who we have has slightly changed. Belle and Eve are our 1 year old ewes, and we now have Sam, a 3 month old lamb-ram who was bottle-fed (like Belle was). Sam The Ram will ultimately mate with Belle and Eve to hopefully give us a couple of new lambs, when he's old enough to do so. Until then, the dynamics of this herd is fun to watch. Belle is easy going, loves to be loved, comes when you call her, and is excited to see us just like your dog would be. She knows what she wants and lets you know. Eve is our ewe we bought from a farm that was a triplet who was the third-wheel and literal outcast who got just enough nutrition to stay with her mama in the pasture. Her small stature when she was young, due to less feedings from her mama-ewe, has developed into a full-size sheep whose healthy and happy. And tame. She loves to be brushed, and will stand there all day while you do so. She's the herd leader, and our "beauty" of the bunch. Sam is small and growing rapidly! He's exerting his will in the group in regard to his fair-share of feed and love. He, like Belle, wants to be touched and petted at every opportunity. He calls out to us when he sees us, and is cute-as-a-button. He's a perfect addition to the herd. Cotton was a ewe in our herd of which we traded for a sheep-debt we owed the local feed store for "giving us Belle at 1 day old". Our barter deal at the time was that we would give him Belle's first baby, and we would take Belle and raise her and keep her. Instead of giving him a lamb, we gave him Cotton. He was really just looking to replace a lamb with a lamb, and welcomed Cotton because she could start breeding for him immediately. So Cotton lives a couple of miles away at Preston Trails Feed Store and we get to see her when we go there for feed, etc. We in turn wanted to breed Belle and Eve, which is why we purchased Sam. So we are back to three sheep. It's a herd full of love. They are all tame and friendly towards people. They welcome you to step into their pen and brush them, and of course, give them treats.
CatLand has not changed since we last spoke. Our community of cats is amazing. They get along, they have clicks, they do their thing, and they are everywhere. There's Kitty, Finn, Fi, June Bug, July, Preston, Sweet Pea, and Smokey. Smokey and Sweet Pea are best buds. Fi rarely "shows" herself to others. Preston has colitis. June Bug is my heart. Finn is Lauren's cat who we acquired when she moved, and is one of the most adventurous "in-door turned out-door" cats we have. July is the boss, and is the true boy of the bunch (yes, they are all neutered or spayed though). We also have some stray cats who lurk around the barn and garage area. Boots and Blackie are often seen and not heard. They are fine here, and don't bother anyone - or any chickens - thank goodness. Just not sure where they came from, but exist on our cat food and water. We welcome them.
Our chickens are another story. What started out a few years ago with a flock of 2, and it's now a flock of 14. To recap, Ginger and Butterscotch are two of our Rhode Island Reds and our first chickens ever. They are the lead hens, and everyone bows to them and knows they are silently in charge. They are not aggressive, just strong women. Then, we added 2 Plymouth Rocks (Pebbles and Pepper) and 2 Orpington's (Sunshine and Butter). They transitioned into the flock well, and then we had 6. After that, we accidentally got two roosters who live elsewhere now. The Sheriff (David) does not allow roosters on the farm. Then, I bought two unknown, but a beautiful breed of chickens, who we named Peaches and Cream. They joined the flock wonderfully as well. The addition of any chickens here on the farm have all been very smooth and easy for the most part. Adding new chickens to a existing flock can be difficult, from what I hear. So far, we have had great success with transitioning chickens into our community. We have a process we use, and it starts with isolating the "new" chickens in a cage/coop near the others who are free-ranging. With time, and depending on our intuition, we analyze when to allow them to join the flock to free-range. There's a period of time where the pecking order is apparent, then before we know it, it's smooth sailing, and everyone settles in.
Okay, so that makes a total of 8 chickens up to that point. Then, we had a friend (who lives in Celina) that had a flock of chickens of her own. Turns out, predators ended up 'getting' her chickens over time and she was left with one. She decided to move, and at that time asked us to take her one last chicken she had. It was is a Rhode Island Red, as well, and according to our friend, the chicken (hen) is a "bit bossy". Turns out, she was right. We incorporated her chicken as we normally do, in a fenced area near the flock. The bossy chicken, who we named Ruby, fought (through the fence!) any chicken that approached it. Well, she lost, and succumbed to the pecking order of the group. Once we did let her out to officially join the group, she fit in perfectly. Ruby actually loves being petted and is sweet natured. It just took her a few days to find her place in the flock. All the chickens love her now, and so do we. Then, it happened. I saw two Polish chickens for sale at a local feed store. Have you seen a Polish chicken? OMGoodness. Fancy, I say. Poofy feathered heads, smooth body feathers. It's as if they are a chicken wearing a fancy hat. I fell hard for them. There were two, one white and one tan (we named them Sugar and Spice). I'll take them! And so I did. In a previous blog, I wrote about us losing one of them to Merrick's disease. And we were left with one lonely Polish chicken (Spice), as those two were best friends. It is heart breaking to see any animal suffer. It was our first chicken loss, and was a learning experience for us. In the meantime, after Sugar passed, Spice was not wanting to blend in with the flock. Everyone got along, but she would not participate in free ranging or sleeping with them. It was then I knew we would need to get her a new friend.
I started looking around for a Polish chicken to buy, but it wasn't as easy as I had thought. I did find a similar breed, Silkie chickens, more readily available to buy. The silkie is also a fancy chicken with a poofy head, but also with super-soft feathers, feathered feet and just a all-around attractive breed. They are a small (bantam) breed and lay the tiniest eggs. I drove all they way to Burleson to go buy one, and it just so happened it was a white one. Really, I could not have planned this better. I passed on the name Sugar to her, and she blended right in with our flock (she's 6 months old) and become best buddies with Spice. Now, Sugar and Spice free range together. She was meant to be with us......and Spice. Those two do free range, but seem to be perfectly content with hanging out in the barn together as well. They are much smaller than all my other chickens (even grown up) and are the "lap dog" of chickens. Therefore, I must get more. And I did. I found a Silkie breeder not far from my house! I went and bought 3 more Silkies who are 3 weeks old, and super tiny. They live in a cage in the house until they are fully feathered and can go out to the barn. We named one GiGi, one Freckles and the last one we have yet to name. Now, we have 14 chickens! I'm super excited about that. I am a chicken lady. A sheep lady. A donkey lady. A cat lady for sure.
While walking around the other day, filling water buckets, and doing things around the barn is when it hit me. This is where I'm meant to be. Exactly where I'm supposed to be. I thank God for allowing me this opportunity to find my place in life. I have never been so settled, so content and so happy.
Another new, yet unexpected, addition on the farm are a couple of ducks living at our pond. This is the first time this has happened since we've lived here. I don't know much about ducks and how they decided to take up residence, but I'll need to look into that. And with spring coming, so are the Purple Martin's that will nest in the birdhouses we have up at the pond, high in the air. Those wonderful birds eat flying insects and keep our mosquitos at bay for us. So many "spring" things happening. The rye grass is booming, the weather is mild, and it's easy to stay outside and enjoy all that is around us.
The weekends may never seem long enough, but I always enjoy every minute of them.
Happy Stay-Home Day! (that's what Lauren used to call Saturday's and Sunday's when she was a little girl. "Is it a stay-home day, Mommy?" she would ask.) And a Stay-Home day is always the best kind of day,
Cyndi
Sunday, March 4, 2018
Summing It Up
I suppose one thing about any mission-oriented trip is the assumption that everyone attending has similar intentions. On our particular trip, we met many people who certainly desired to help others, as well as those around them. We all came from varied backgrounds, yet like-minded in our goals for the week. Just as we do with anything else we start, there is a fizzle-factor as time goes on. You start things off with a bang, and then, well, you know. The assistance the Hondurans need is like a bucket you cannot fill up. And here are 60 volunteers, ready to rock-n-roll. I met volunteer families that were "all-in" all week. I met doctors that could use any utensil in surgery to correct any abnormality, and were not only quick-witted but quick at thinking on their feet. Literally. I met couples whereby one of them had convinced the other one this trip was a good idea. There were people of all sorts in this group. And I can safely say I am just as quirky as the person next to me. And as I begin to look around during the week in Honduras, I could see it as if it were a movie. Or better yet, a reality show. People forming clicks and connections. Others reserved and biding their time through the week. There was "one" of everyone there, with each person finding their spot on the Helpful Scale. Luckily no one was judging anyone. People may be observant of what was happening around them, but each person let the other "paddle their own canoe". This mission was a chosen endeavor, not a required course in college. There was no grade given for participation. There was no one standing around to make sure everyone participated equally. It was great, as each person contributed to their own desire or capacity. Some people held strong the whole week, while others fell victim to the fizzle-favor. But that's what it's like being with 60 people for 7 days on this mission trip in Honduras.
The one thing I am unable to speak about at great length was the Children's Home(s) on the ranch. The original intention along with the surgery center work, was to have activities for the children such that the volunteers could participate. This was accessible to more of the general volunteers than the clinical volunteers due to the time spent at the surgery center. We did have a little time here and there for the children, which was very nice. It was intriguing to see how it all operates. There are homes for the children based on their ages and gender, with staff that cares for them. (I later found out the ranch has approximately 200 employees.) They start doing chores from a young age, around 2 years old. They give them brooms to sweep, even machetes to cut the grass with. Well, maybe not the 2 year olds. But the children learn at a young age how to perform many tasks, and are given the opportunity to do them, even if it means they do the chore without success. It's the practice and participation that counts. With time, they can sweep, and they can cut the grass with a machete. They go to school, and after school, there are chores to do. They do get play time, and it appears one of their favorite things to do is play soccer. They are not good at it. They are great at it! In their flip-flops, they move, run, kick, and chase the soccer ball like they are on a professional team. There were a couple of opportunities for the volunteers to play soccer with the children and those that did got their butts kicked, or at least a good workout. The children eat dinner together, they help each other, and have many activities during the week. Many things from singing to making crafts for the gift shop to sports outside in the beautiful weather. The children stay busy, and you don't see them out free-ranging. They are kept close, monitored and watched for their safety, and well-loved by the staff. It's a family. Their family, and it's what they know. Being inside the ranch gate is almost like being in another country. One of opportunity, hard work and love.
So as the week went on, I can tell you what I did, and what David did. Well, maybe not all David did, because he was busy in his own world while I was at the surgery center. I was an OR RN circulating surgery cases each day. David, as a general volunteer, would sign up for his "chosen" duty as the other volunteers did each evening. I say David would sign up, but instead, he would wait for everyone to sign up and take the chore(s) that were left for himself. As you can imagine, it would be the least appealing work to do. He did his fair share of shoveling poop on the farm and taking the trash up the hill to the incinerator to be burned. Now, so did others, don't get me wrong. I remember one teenage young man who did trash duty several times that week, too. The trash is not just trash. It's surgery center trash full of unspeakable things to be carried in trash bags that may leak on you as it's being carried up the hill. It's not pleasant, yet work that has to be done. As the week went on, one of David's early morning duties that he took on as his own (it was not on the list) was to make coffee for everyone, each day. There was a large coffee pot provided to the volunteers, with the notion that "someone" would make coffee in it. So, David would wake up around 3 and start the coffee, as the coffee pot took 30 minutes for it to brew. Then, he would make Round 2 of coffee after all of that was consumed. The volunteers never ran out of coffee during the week. They could simply walk out of their rooms and boom, there's coffee. (Which I loved!) Then off they would go to their appropriate work places for the morning. The general volunteer's jobs each day could be different in the morning than in the afternoon. Most every day, David would head into the kitchen and work with the 3 kitchen spanish-speaking staff workers to assist them. He would cut, prepare and cook food at their discretion, and then wash and clean the dishes. They grew to love him and trust him. David would take a portion of the food down to the surgery center for them to have. And any other duty they would like him to do. He liked having this regular time in the morning doing these things, before he went to his other job duties that day. He's comfortable in the kitchen, and these three women came to rely on him. And David enjoyed his time there each morning.
I'll fast forward a bit because as I write this, it seems very mundane. Cooking, cleaning, and general not-fun work that David did for the week. This was other people's plight as well. Many volunteers did things they may not normally do in their daily life, yet they were all-in and worked hard.
Then, it happened. It's Friday night and the week of work is done. We all had our last dinner together before we are all to leave Honduras the following morning. Everyone is relieved, exhausted, excited, rejuvenated, and enjoying this last dinner. The room is filled with laughter, constant chatter, fun energy with everyone reflecting on the events of the past week. We eat dinner as we usually do, and the last presentation begins. The thank-you's, the shout-out's, and formal words of closure, a few more funny accolades were given and then a final award is to be given. The gentleman giving the award is going on and on about "this person" who everyone has raved about all week. He says when he asked each volunteer, that this name came up each time, of who was the most giving. And that "this person" would have their name placed on a plaque on the wall, with those who have followed before them (as he was holding up this particular plaque). I confess that while this was happening, David and I were talking nonsense about something funny that had happened, all the while this gentleman was about to announce "this person". And the winner of the award goes to (based on all the volunteers input) is DRUM-ROLL........David Graves! Well, since David and I were not paying full attention to this presentation and were in-our-own-world, we both looked like deer in headlights saying whaaaaaat, all the while everyone turned to look at us. The clapping ensued and David hesitantly stood up and began walking to the front of the room. The clapping turned into one person standing up, then another, then everyone. David's face was priceless, as he stood at the front of the room accepting his award. He had gone on this mission trip with no one knowing anything about him, nor what he does for a living or with any credentials. Just David who's there to help - not just the Honduran people, but the volunteers as well.
And that's basically how our trip ended. David says he got that award because he made coffee. Everybody loves coffee, right? It's a good example of how doing something so simple for others can trump all the complex things happening around you. Just so you know, David makes a mean cup of coffee. Absolutely delicious.
Side note: I knew David was more compassionate and caring than I was when I married him. I've kidded about that for about 30 years now. He's modest and flies under the radar. But the mission trip people caught onto him, and made sure he knew he was appreciated for his wonderful, kind and considerate self. I was happy for him, and happy to be with him. (I've got a lot to live up to to keep up with him.)
So as my final blog for our Honduras trip comes to a close, I continue to reflect and appreciate many things about it. What I hold nearest to my heart is the nature of the Honduran people. Their spirit, their resilience, and their composure. They stay strong in their struggles, and are brave when they are afraid. Their gratitude is infinite, and I am inspired by them. It was a privilege to be a part of this endeavor. The most common question I get is, "Will you go back?". I imagine we may, as well as look for other trips to contribute to. We really don't know yet, and trust that God will place us as He intends. The faith and trust we have will guide us.
Until then, we continue living our life, doing our thing. Reminiscing over it all, reflecting and moving to chapters in our lives we have no idea about. We have aquired several new farm animals in the short time we've been back home. And I can't wait to tell you all about it! I am where I'm supposed to be.
Home Sweet Home,
Cyndi
The one thing I am unable to speak about at great length was the Children's Home(s) on the ranch. The original intention along with the surgery center work, was to have activities for the children such that the volunteers could participate. This was accessible to more of the general volunteers than the clinical volunteers due to the time spent at the surgery center. We did have a little time here and there for the children, which was very nice. It was intriguing to see how it all operates. There are homes for the children based on their ages and gender, with staff that cares for them. (I later found out the ranch has approximately 200 employees.) They start doing chores from a young age, around 2 years old. They give them brooms to sweep, even machetes to cut the grass with. Well, maybe not the 2 year olds. But the children learn at a young age how to perform many tasks, and are given the opportunity to do them, even if it means they do the chore without success. It's the practice and participation that counts. With time, they can sweep, and they can cut the grass with a machete. They go to school, and after school, there are chores to do. They do get play time, and it appears one of their favorite things to do is play soccer. They are not good at it. They are great at it! In their flip-flops, they move, run, kick, and chase the soccer ball like they are on a professional team. There were a couple of opportunities for the volunteers to play soccer with the children and those that did got their butts kicked, or at least a good workout. The children eat dinner together, they help each other, and have many activities during the week. Many things from singing to making crafts for the gift shop to sports outside in the beautiful weather. The children stay busy, and you don't see them out free-ranging. They are kept close, monitored and watched for their safety, and well-loved by the staff. It's a family. Their family, and it's what they know. Being inside the ranch gate is almost like being in another country. One of opportunity, hard work and love.
So as the week went on, I can tell you what I did, and what David did. Well, maybe not all David did, because he was busy in his own world while I was at the surgery center. I was an OR RN circulating surgery cases each day. David, as a general volunteer, would sign up for his "chosen" duty as the other volunteers did each evening. I say David would sign up, but instead, he would wait for everyone to sign up and take the chore(s) that were left for himself. As you can imagine, it would be the least appealing work to do. He did his fair share of shoveling poop on the farm and taking the trash up the hill to the incinerator to be burned. Now, so did others, don't get me wrong. I remember one teenage young man who did trash duty several times that week, too. The trash is not just trash. It's surgery center trash full of unspeakable things to be carried in trash bags that may leak on you as it's being carried up the hill. It's not pleasant, yet work that has to be done. As the week went on, one of David's early morning duties that he took on as his own (it was not on the list) was to make coffee for everyone, each day. There was a large coffee pot provided to the volunteers, with the notion that "someone" would make coffee in it. So, David would wake up around 3 and start the coffee, as the coffee pot took 30 minutes for it to brew. Then, he would make Round 2 of coffee after all of that was consumed. The volunteers never ran out of coffee during the week. They could simply walk out of their rooms and boom, there's coffee. (Which I loved!) Then off they would go to their appropriate work places for the morning. The general volunteer's jobs each day could be different in the morning than in the afternoon. Most every day, David would head into the kitchen and work with the 3 kitchen spanish-speaking staff workers to assist them. He would cut, prepare and cook food at their discretion, and then wash and clean the dishes. They grew to love him and trust him. David would take a portion of the food down to the surgery center for them to have. And any other duty they would like him to do. He liked having this regular time in the morning doing these things, before he went to his other job duties that day. He's comfortable in the kitchen, and these three women came to rely on him. And David enjoyed his time there each morning.
I'll fast forward a bit because as I write this, it seems very mundane. Cooking, cleaning, and general not-fun work that David did for the week. This was other people's plight as well. Many volunteers did things they may not normally do in their daily life, yet they were all-in and worked hard.
Then, it happened. It's Friday night and the week of work is done. We all had our last dinner together before we are all to leave Honduras the following morning. Everyone is relieved, exhausted, excited, rejuvenated, and enjoying this last dinner. The room is filled with laughter, constant chatter, fun energy with everyone reflecting on the events of the past week. We eat dinner as we usually do, and the last presentation begins. The thank-you's, the shout-out's, and formal words of closure, a few more funny accolades were given and then a final award is to be given. The gentleman giving the award is going on and on about "this person" who everyone has raved about all week. He says when he asked each volunteer, that this name came up each time, of who was the most giving. And that "this person" would have their name placed on a plaque on the wall, with those who have followed before them (as he was holding up this particular plaque). I confess that while this was happening, David and I were talking nonsense about something funny that had happened, all the while this gentleman was about to announce "this person". And the winner of the award goes to (based on all the volunteers input) is DRUM-ROLL........David Graves! Well, since David and I were not paying full attention to this presentation and were in-our-own-world, we both looked like deer in headlights saying whaaaaaat, all the while everyone turned to look at us. The clapping ensued and David hesitantly stood up and began walking to the front of the room. The clapping turned into one person standing up, then another, then everyone. David's face was priceless, as he stood at the front of the room accepting his award. He had gone on this mission trip with no one knowing anything about him, nor what he does for a living or with any credentials. Just David who's there to help - not just the Honduran people, but the volunteers as well.
And that's basically how our trip ended. David says he got that award because he made coffee. Everybody loves coffee, right? It's a good example of how doing something so simple for others can trump all the complex things happening around you. Just so you know, David makes a mean cup of coffee. Absolutely delicious.
Side note: I knew David was more compassionate and caring than I was when I married him. I've kidded about that for about 30 years now. He's modest and flies under the radar. But the mission trip people caught onto him, and made sure he knew he was appreciated for his wonderful, kind and considerate self. I was happy for him, and happy to be with him. (I've got a lot to live up to to keep up with him.)
So as my final blog for our Honduras trip comes to a close, I continue to reflect and appreciate many things about it. What I hold nearest to my heart is the nature of the Honduran people. Their spirit, their resilience, and their composure. They stay strong in their struggles, and are brave when they are afraid. Their gratitude is infinite, and I am inspired by them. It was a privilege to be a part of this endeavor. The most common question I get is, "Will you go back?". I imagine we may, as well as look for other trips to contribute to. We really don't know yet, and trust that God will place us as He intends. The faith and trust we have will guide us.
Until then, we continue living our life, doing our thing. Reminiscing over it all, reflecting and moving to chapters in our lives we have no idea about. We have aquired several new farm animals in the short time we've been back home. And I can't wait to tell you all about it! I am where I'm supposed to be.
Home Sweet Home,
Cyndi
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
The life of a volunteer
Let's step through the life of someone who is one of the (approx) 60 volunteers on the Brigade to the NPH Ranch and One World Surgery Center in Honduras:
You will awaken in your assigned room, at the conference center, where everyone stays during the duration of this mission trip. Your room is one of many, similar to the set-up of a one-story hotel with all the room doors facing inward, towards the courtyard. The courtyard is filled with various seating options and plenty of hammocks (which you will enjoy later after your work is completed). In your room are 4 twin beds (some with 5 beds) with your assigned roommates, which are of the same gender as you. If you came with a spouse, you most likely will stay in separate rooms, unless you 1) got lucky to get a room of your own, or 2) vocalized the need to room only with your spouse whereby "special" arrangements would need to be made. There's only so many rooms in which to split everyone up in, and they do the very best they can to accommodate everyone. In your room, there is also a shower and bathroom facilities. Don't drink the water, or open your mouth in the shower, or brush your teeth with the tap water. Don't flush toilette paper down the toilette, as you are to put the TP in the trash next to the toilette. They will kindly lend you gloves to dig for the TP if you do decide to flush it down. Just FYI. Then, you realize what a habit it is that you do this, and you'll mess up several times and toss the TP in......and reach down to grab it. Yep, you'll do that a time or two.
So as you get up, some of your roommates will continue to sleep as everyone goes to their "jobs" at different times each day. Some are early, and some are later depending on what you will be doing that day. Clinical volunteers walk to the Surgery Center, while the General volunteers do a myriad of things at various places on the Ranch. As you are getting ready in your room for the day, you might not have slept well because of a snoring roommate. That will be your destiny every night. You try to make your bed, in the dark, so as to not have your roommates judge you on your cleanliness. You were given sheets and a pillow (and one towel), but the blanket on your bed is the one you brought with you from home. You appreciate the luxury of having a bathroom/shower in your room, and it's a nice one. Tile, clean, pretty and right at your fingertips. Your in Honduras, and the accommodations are fantastic.
Now your ready for your day, and head out through the courtyard to the volunteer's designated kitchen area. It is filled with fruit, snacks and plenty of fresh drinking water that never will run out, the whole time your there. What will run out is the electricity. But that's life in Honduras, it happens several times every day. Off and on. Off and on. No biggie, as there are generators in designated areas - esp the Surgery Center - so your told to "Count to 5" and the generator will kick in and wall-laaa, the electricity is back on again. You get used to this quite quickly. You grab a cup of coffee in the cup you brought with you (along with your plate and own silverware to use at every meal) and there's dry creamer and sugar right there for you as well. There are extra cups, plates, bowls, etc in this kitchen just in case you don't have yours with you. And as always, you are to wash every dish you use after you use it. Peer pressure makes sure you do. You can eat now, or head out to your designated work place for the morning/day. Another luxury is that breakfast is cooked (by some of the volunteers and paid workers who supervise you) and is usually ready around 9 am (Honduran-Time) just in case you prefer to eat a little later. This breakfast is also taken to the surgery center for those to eat, when they get a break. You walk to your designated job, and so-you-know you walk everywhere (which is wonderful because Honduras is SO beautiful!), and you have your flashlight with you in the dark, early morning hours. There's security all over on the Ranch, with guards with guns on their hips. They are there so you can be there safely. They most likely do not speak english, but they do smile at you, knowing what you are there for. You know not to be out after dark, you've been told this. But, the guards know you will be out and about in the early mornings heading to your appropriate place.
You arrive at your appointed job for the day. It's the reason you are here - and you love helping, doing, working, listening, and just being there. You are a Pre-Op Nurse, a OR Nurse, a Scrub Tech, a Sterile Processor, a translator, a farm hand, a cook, the cleanup crew, a tortilla maker, a trash person, gardner, compost specialist, and anything and everything. You do what needs to be done, and enjoy doing so. Matter of fact, you relish in the privilege of being there to assist the Honduran people. They are so very grateful, patient, kind and gracious. Most have beautiful dark skin and brown eyes that look at you with certainty - and uncertainty. They know you are there to help them, but it's not always easy for them to trust you. The translators are the gateway to the success of it all. You can try to help all day, but communication is key, esp when your in the healthcare aspect of it. So you "thank" the translator each and every time they assist you, because in order to give first class health care to the Honduran people, you must be able to talk to them. You quickly realize that many do not understand health care, what their birth year really is, why it matters, or have the ability to sign their name. Okay, a fingerprint will do on a Surgery Consent Form. And you realize that EVERYONE states they have no allergies to drugs. NKDA (No Known Drug Allergy) in the healthcare world. What?! That's because they likely don't have access to medication and health care, therefore they have no idea if they have any medication allergies. You find these discoveries fascinating.
Lunch is normally around 1pm, and that's a estimation. You have lunch whenever you can get it. It's available at the conference center and at the surgery center, depending on your duties on any given day. Your glad to have it. And once again, it's made by the volunteers, with staff members directing the flow of it. You chop an onion, in the same time they chop 5. You slice a loaf of bread, they slice 7 during that same time. They don't mess around. Your instructed to slice each loaf into 35 slices. They are mindful of their food allotments, and what any given food item can render. And did I mention, they are fast at preparing it. You are left in their dust, as they scamper around like kitchen fairies making everything look easy.
You work at your appointed job anywhere from 8 - 12 hours each day. You never think about the "getting paid" part. You are working because you want to, and it has absolutely nothing to do with any monetary benefit. You feel the benefit inside you, and it feeds your soul. Your connection to these people fills up every bucket inside you. Some of the people you are helping you just want to put in your pocket and take back home. They are all special people with strong spirits who just want to live a whole-hearted life. Unfortunately, that's a hard thing to do in this country. Yet, you know you are doing the best you can to contribute a small piece of their puzzle towards improving their life. However small or large it might be.
After each work day is completed, it's time to walk back to the conference center. There, you may take a little personal time to call your family, go for a walk/run, go see the children in the nearby homes and say Hello, play soccer with them, or shower and get ready for dinner. You, and all the other volunteers, are leading their own journey this week. We are all together, yet separate in our thoughts and desires. Our experiences will be different as we walk the same walk together this week. Every one around you is helping in their own way.
Dinner is served at 7 pm each night in the dining area at the conference center. It is cooked by volunteers as well as paid staff. Before dinner is served, you listen to announcements and shout-outs (praise for your fellow volunteers) and visit with the people around you about their day. You are hungry, and usually have no idea what will be served for dinner unless you were part of the cooking duties that day. Not to worry, as your backup is always peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which is available 24/7. Dinner is served buffet style, kind of like going to Luby's cafeteria. You go down the line, and volunteers have volunteered to serve food. It just happens, like being at a family function. People just do things automatically. People are innately good and kind. And clean. This is a good thing when you are at a place with 60 people you most likely do not know.
After dinner, there is always a presentation. This usually consist of someone on the Ranch telling their story. Dr Merlin (Physician/Surgeon and Medical Director of the Surgery Center) told of his growing up as a child on the Ranch, having the privilege of an education, and becoming a Dr himself. He then decided to come back to the Ranch to work and help the children and people there. There are many stories like his. Those of struggle and success. Those who were brave when they were afraid, and stayed strong through their struggles. He's an excellant example of what you can do and be in Honduras. And his sense of humor is unlike others. He's just plain funny! He's one of your favorite people there. Night after night you listen to these stories. You are touched every time.
After the dinner and presentation, you go back to you designated room. Your tired, but it's a good tired. You've been busy all day. And you'll do it again tomorrow, happily. Who will you help tomorrow, you wonder? What will the day hold? Your still adjusting to the people around you, the culture, the dos and don'ts, and the person in the bed next to yours. The wifi is weak, but the coffee is strong. You stay focused on the good things around you.......and look forward to helping more people tomorrow. You lay down on a pillow that your most grateful for. You lay heavy in the bed from your day, all while reflecting on the events. Then sleep finds you, to rejuvenate you so you can rejuvenate others.
Here's to another day,
Cyndi
You will awaken in your assigned room, at the conference center, where everyone stays during the duration of this mission trip. Your room is one of many, similar to the set-up of a one-story hotel with all the room doors facing inward, towards the courtyard. The courtyard is filled with various seating options and plenty of hammocks (which you will enjoy later after your work is completed). In your room are 4 twin beds (some with 5 beds) with your assigned roommates, which are of the same gender as you. If you came with a spouse, you most likely will stay in separate rooms, unless you 1) got lucky to get a room of your own, or 2) vocalized the need to room only with your spouse whereby "special" arrangements would need to be made. There's only so many rooms in which to split everyone up in, and they do the very best they can to accommodate everyone. In your room, there is also a shower and bathroom facilities. Don't drink the water, or open your mouth in the shower, or brush your teeth with the tap water. Don't flush toilette paper down the toilette, as you are to put the TP in the trash next to the toilette. They will kindly lend you gloves to dig for the TP if you do decide to flush it down. Just FYI. Then, you realize what a habit it is that you do this, and you'll mess up several times and toss the TP in......and reach down to grab it. Yep, you'll do that a time or two.
So as you get up, some of your roommates will continue to sleep as everyone goes to their "jobs" at different times each day. Some are early, and some are later depending on what you will be doing that day. Clinical volunteers walk to the Surgery Center, while the General volunteers do a myriad of things at various places on the Ranch. As you are getting ready in your room for the day, you might not have slept well because of a snoring roommate. That will be your destiny every night. You try to make your bed, in the dark, so as to not have your roommates judge you on your cleanliness. You were given sheets and a pillow (and one towel), but the blanket on your bed is the one you brought with you from home. You appreciate the luxury of having a bathroom/shower in your room, and it's a nice one. Tile, clean, pretty and right at your fingertips. Your in Honduras, and the accommodations are fantastic.
Now your ready for your day, and head out through the courtyard to the volunteer's designated kitchen area. It is filled with fruit, snacks and plenty of fresh drinking water that never will run out, the whole time your there. What will run out is the electricity. But that's life in Honduras, it happens several times every day. Off and on. Off and on. No biggie, as there are generators in designated areas - esp the Surgery Center - so your told to "Count to 5" and the generator will kick in and wall-laaa, the electricity is back on again. You get used to this quite quickly. You grab a cup of coffee in the cup you brought with you (along with your plate and own silverware to use at every meal) and there's dry creamer and sugar right there for you as well. There are extra cups, plates, bowls, etc in this kitchen just in case you don't have yours with you. And as always, you are to wash every dish you use after you use it. Peer pressure makes sure you do. You can eat now, or head out to your designated work place for the morning/day. Another luxury is that breakfast is cooked (by some of the volunteers and paid workers who supervise you) and is usually ready around 9 am (Honduran-Time) just in case you prefer to eat a little later. This breakfast is also taken to the surgery center for those to eat, when they get a break. You walk to your designated job, and so-you-know you walk everywhere (which is wonderful because Honduras is SO beautiful!), and you have your flashlight with you in the dark, early morning hours. There's security all over on the Ranch, with guards with guns on their hips. They are there so you can be there safely. They most likely do not speak english, but they do smile at you, knowing what you are there for. You know not to be out after dark, you've been told this. But, the guards know you will be out and about in the early mornings heading to your appropriate place.
You arrive at your appointed job for the day. It's the reason you are here - and you love helping, doing, working, listening, and just being there. You are a Pre-Op Nurse, a OR Nurse, a Scrub Tech, a Sterile Processor, a translator, a farm hand, a cook, the cleanup crew, a tortilla maker, a trash person, gardner, compost specialist, and anything and everything. You do what needs to be done, and enjoy doing so. Matter of fact, you relish in the privilege of being there to assist the Honduran people. They are so very grateful, patient, kind and gracious. Most have beautiful dark skin and brown eyes that look at you with certainty - and uncertainty. They know you are there to help them, but it's not always easy for them to trust you. The translators are the gateway to the success of it all. You can try to help all day, but communication is key, esp when your in the healthcare aspect of it. So you "thank" the translator each and every time they assist you, because in order to give first class health care to the Honduran people, you must be able to talk to them. You quickly realize that many do not understand health care, what their birth year really is, why it matters, or have the ability to sign their name. Okay, a fingerprint will do on a Surgery Consent Form. And you realize that EVERYONE states they have no allergies to drugs. NKDA (No Known Drug Allergy) in the healthcare world. What?! That's because they likely don't have access to medication and health care, therefore they have no idea if they have any medication allergies. You find these discoveries fascinating.
Lunch is normally around 1pm, and that's a estimation. You have lunch whenever you can get it. It's available at the conference center and at the surgery center, depending on your duties on any given day. Your glad to have it. And once again, it's made by the volunteers, with staff members directing the flow of it. You chop an onion, in the same time they chop 5. You slice a loaf of bread, they slice 7 during that same time. They don't mess around. Your instructed to slice each loaf into 35 slices. They are mindful of their food allotments, and what any given food item can render. And did I mention, they are fast at preparing it. You are left in their dust, as they scamper around like kitchen fairies making everything look easy.
You work at your appointed job anywhere from 8 - 12 hours each day. You never think about the "getting paid" part. You are working because you want to, and it has absolutely nothing to do with any monetary benefit. You feel the benefit inside you, and it feeds your soul. Your connection to these people fills up every bucket inside you. Some of the people you are helping you just want to put in your pocket and take back home. They are all special people with strong spirits who just want to live a whole-hearted life. Unfortunately, that's a hard thing to do in this country. Yet, you know you are doing the best you can to contribute a small piece of their puzzle towards improving their life. However small or large it might be.
After each work day is completed, it's time to walk back to the conference center. There, you may take a little personal time to call your family, go for a walk/run, go see the children in the nearby homes and say Hello, play soccer with them, or shower and get ready for dinner. You, and all the other volunteers, are leading their own journey this week. We are all together, yet separate in our thoughts and desires. Our experiences will be different as we walk the same walk together this week. Every one around you is helping in their own way.
Dinner is served at 7 pm each night in the dining area at the conference center. It is cooked by volunteers as well as paid staff. Before dinner is served, you listen to announcements and shout-outs (praise for your fellow volunteers) and visit with the people around you about their day. You are hungry, and usually have no idea what will be served for dinner unless you were part of the cooking duties that day. Not to worry, as your backup is always peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which is available 24/7. Dinner is served buffet style, kind of like going to Luby's cafeteria. You go down the line, and volunteers have volunteered to serve food. It just happens, like being at a family function. People just do things automatically. People are innately good and kind. And clean. This is a good thing when you are at a place with 60 people you most likely do not know.
After dinner, there is always a presentation. This usually consist of someone on the Ranch telling their story. Dr Merlin (Physician/Surgeon and Medical Director of the Surgery Center) told of his growing up as a child on the Ranch, having the privilege of an education, and becoming a Dr himself. He then decided to come back to the Ranch to work and help the children and people there. There are many stories like his. Those of struggle and success. Those who were brave when they were afraid, and stayed strong through their struggles. He's an excellant example of what you can do and be in Honduras. And his sense of humor is unlike others. He's just plain funny! He's one of your favorite people there. Night after night you listen to these stories. You are touched every time.
After the dinner and presentation, you go back to you designated room. Your tired, but it's a good tired. You've been busy all day. And you'll do it again tomorrow, happily. Who will you help tomorrow, you wonder? What will the day hold? Your still adjusting to the people around you, the culture, the dos and don'ts, and the person in the bed next to yours. The wifi is weak, but the coffee is strong. You stay focused on the good things around you.......and look forward to helping more people tomorrow. You lay down on a pillow that your most grateful for. You lay heavy in the bed from your day, all while reflecting on the events. Then sleep finds you, to rejuvenate you so you can rejuvenate others.
Here's to another day,
Cyndi
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