Category Archives: Itsnotta farm

Land Ho!

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This year has been one of change for the Mitton crew. Transition. Everything got up ended and turned around. I’m not complaining, just making an observation. It continued this week when I finally dyed my hair with that streak of purple. My family hates it. I don’t care though, because it was for me and not for them. We come to a point in our lives where we get old enough to not care anymore what people may think. As long as you and God are good, and your choices are wise and Biblical… a little colour in your hair is not a big deal. Right?! Check out this post if you want to here the back story on the purple hair thing, though.

Throw back to 2019 and my midlife crisis and the plan for purple hair! See the link!

Anyway, purple hair was not my muse this week. A lot has been swirling around in my head, and some family stuff has been going on, and I’m throwing out resumes in hopes for some employment. Christmas will be here soon and it is supposed to snow today. I still have a few boxes to do and my plans for the house have fallen into disarray as old habits and boredom creep back in with the cooler weather. However – I am pushing forward – slowly – and trying to keep my days full and meaningful.

I got the chance to catch up with an old friend this week. We met halfway between us, in a little town’s main street diner for lunch and a good, long chat! Something about greasy onion rings and good company can fill my heart. Yet, it was the drive home that struck the muse for this week. It’s about a half hour trek home from the diner along the country roads, which are now mostly barren of autumn colour. The last of the harvests are happening and there seems to be endless fields of browns and dull yellows with the occasional green forests. Even the farmhouses along the route seem dull, their whitewashed barn board sidings and dried up gardens blend in with the horizon.

Still, one of the remarkable landscape features I have discovered since moving east are the rolling hills. In fact, the route from the diner passes a small ski hill and at one point the car peaks at the top and cascades down. The view of the countryside is fabulous – even in its dull estate. I drove this hill a few days before in the utter darkness. And although I am not afraid of country roads in the dark, I am thankful for high beams and my GPS. It’s black out there. And the ski hill does not seem to have a bottom, so you pump the breaks and hope you get to where you want to be. Ice and snow is going to be fabulous.

One of the criteria in moving was “enough land”. We’ve been blessed with a bit more than asking, and I love it. We are hedged in by mature cedars and our view from the front porch captivates everyone who visits. However, the land means work. It means maintenance and upkeep and planning. For us, it is a change from our postage stamp sized lot in the city. I wouldn’t change it for the world, but it’s different. We have to drive more. We travel through the rolling hills and wonder who’s land belongs to who? Is this open space or property? What lies behind that group of trees? Even our little century home is visible now from the turn — our lonely streetlight illuminating our wrap around porch through the now barren trees along the roadside. It looks like a postcard – and I am grateful.

Our country stretches almost 6000 km east to west. It’s huge, but did you know that about 80% of Canada is uninhabited. Okay, we got snow and ice up north, which is why most of us are along the U.S/Canadian boarder, but 80% of barren land is phenomenal. My rolling hills are nothing. I wonder if that statistic includes owned land without housing – like farmer fields and the like, or if it is truly “empty”? Just ice floats in the frozen north?

We were discussing the story of Abraham and Sarah on Sunday and I began to wonder about Genesis chapter 12. God tells Abram to leave everything he knows and go to “the land that I will show you”. Adam and Eve were given the garden to look after, too. How many times do we see and hear God saying go here or there? Even in Revelation do we hear about a new earth. The Bible is full of discussions about land. God made this earth and its vast pockets of land for us to enjoy. In fact, He promised it to most of us. It’s work. I wonder how we will fair at clearing our brush and maintaining our gardens next year. Then there’s Abraham and Lot who got promised a whole nation!

Photo via Canadian Cycling Magazine

How we have failed to take care of our blessings. We’ve poisoned so much of our good land. Not only with pollution and environmental disasters, but our human nature has ravished Earth with war and destruction. Winter makes my neighbourhood dull. I cannot imagine raising my children in bombed out buildings and charred streets scattered with broken glass. Or cesspools of filth where poverty is so evident. I don’t think it’s the way God designed it to be. No, not at all.

And so, as I make my daily drives from here to there along the rolling hills of countryside, I must take time to pray for those whose view is not so pretty. The ones who have been given land and abused it. Or those who are trying to brighten it with gardens and wildflowers. Or those who work tirelessly to provide my food. Have you ever stopped to think about the land beneath your toes? Mine is about to be covered with a layer of snow. Whitewashed clean to make me think: “How pretty!” Until I curse the pile and pull out the new snowblower to give it a test run.

Persistent

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Persistence. It’s what I’ve been musing about today. The thought popped into my head as I sat watching a lone ladybug crawl up my windowsill this morning. Golly, these insects are persistent, I thought to myself! This morning we had our first dusting of snow. It’s the end of October, and the weather has been exceptionally warm up until today. We are finally getting the seasonal temperatures we expect. Which means the bugs should be dying off. Except they are not. Persistent.

I suppose I need to back track a little. Mornings are entirely too early here on “Itsnotta” farm. The youngest now has to be up and ready for the school bus by 7:10 AM. For us, that’s an early wake up call. And, the baby of the house is like her momma… mornings are not our best time of day.

Photo by Acharaporn Kamornboonyarush on Pexels.com

I’m trying. We set our alarm early enough to snooze a little before crawling out from the warmth in order to get the last teenager surviving up in time to catch the bus. Who decided high school should start at 8:15 anyway??!

I tried gentle parenting with no lights on and warm thoughts and kind words. It didn’t work. The hubby now gets up, flicks on every light in the house and we both do a lot of shouting. We pack everything the night before but the kid still manages to not eat breakfast. In fact, she’s barely dressed as we haul her out, shoes in hand, so as not to miss the bus.

All of this to tell you of my encounter with the lady bug. After the chaos of the morning routine, I have been sitting staring out the front window, still in jammies, warm coffee in hand, tucked under some sort of covering, thankful another day has started and wishing the sun to rise. Depending on the amount of shouting and, shall we say, non-gentle parenting that has happened, this quiet moment of solitude plummets me down into a deep hole of thoughts – sometimes good, sometimes not so good.

As I watched the ladybug, I flashed back to the day they invaded. Swarms of them. I hear they are not true ladybugs but some invasive species of Asian beetle who have these seasons of literally taking over. They were everywhere! All along the front porch outside, on every door frame and crawling up the ceiling in a mass swarm of orangey red waves. Bleck! Trusty Google told us not to squish ’em as they emit some sort of nasty stink, so we vacuumed them up in our ancient vacuum – which also emits a nasty stink – so not sure we were one ahead of the game anyway. At least the bugs were gone from inside the house. Except for these few persistent ones.

The houseflies are still here too. I can’t seem to get them under control, either. Occasionally, on a warmer day, a lone wasp still pays us a visit on the sunny porch. My spiders are no where to be seen. Luckily for the hubby, neither are the mosquitoes. Here I am panicking that the rabbits are warm enough and the blessed bugs are still surviving! Persistence.

So, as I muse about the eternally present insects, I think about persistence. Perseverance. The tenacity and determination to keep moving forward. To stay alive, even, when all other circumstances say you should give up – and just die off. Many of us have heard stories of the athlete or business entrepreneur who musters up enough gumption to continue to survive rejection after rejection. I think there are certainly those extreme cases of climbing the mountain to the top, but it seems like most of us ride the wave of persistence daily. At least I do.

We start out every early morning with big plans to be consistent, pray continually, seek grace and gratitude. Be thankful and look for kingdom opportunities. Often we manage to do all those things… for awhile. Then one too many early mornings take hold of us and we are too tired to fight. Or cutting words from someone else makes it super hard to treat them with grace and honour. It’s hard to be grateful when doubt and worry weasel their way into our thoughts as we balance the cheque book, or make another visit to the clinic or counsellor.

Ephesians 6 is one of my favourite chapters in the sense that it reminds us that spiritual growth is a journey of continually getting ready and getting dressed for battle. It reminds us to be persistent in our prayers. To stand your ground in battle and have an attitude of obedience. The apostle Paul knew the battle was difficult, but like my little ladybug he continued to climb heavenward even in the face of death. He knew the battle was worth it.

Photo by Dastan Khdir on Pexels.com

To be honest, I struggle with it. I pray, I write, I read, I study. Yet, circumstances and my own stubborn attitude prevents me from being the gracious daughter of the King He’s asked me to be. Some days I physically don’t have it in me. No one said the journey would be roses and rainbows. In fact, Ephesians 6 reminds us it’s a BATTLE. Oh beloveds, be encouraged that battles are not fought all alone. It takes an army. And each one of us have to put on our suits of armor and stand our ground. Shall we march heavenward together? I’ll see you next week!

The Bunny Brigade

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Welcome back, my beloveds, to another adventure happening here at my little corner of the internet. The days are getting cooler, the nights are getting cooler for sure, and early mornings are still hard. We packed up our pool today for the season. Slowly, slowly getting ready for the cold Canadian winter that may set in any day. Admittedly, we have been delaying it because the days are still way above freezing. Whatever. One can not predict the weather, I suppose.

Nor can one predict the behaviour of a woman who scrolls selling sights. Facebook marketplace and Kijiji are my new best friends. Mostly I scroll. It really is a crazy world out there. I muse: Hmmn. What could I do with several five gallon buckets of black walnuts? I did start a conversation about elderberries. I gave away some fabric. I am trying to sell off some other craft stuff. We visited a friend recently who had a fabulous century home and I am now inspired to seek out antique pieces to decorate. On a budget, of course. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle and Rescue, right?

Why do I blather on about such things? To justify my impulse buy. I should not have done it. I should have planned better. I know this. My hubby reminds me of this all the time. My family knows me and my thrifting habits all too well… and try and deter me. Often. Too late. Enter in the chat about very reasonably priced rabbits. Hutch and accessories included. Short drive on a Sunday afternoon. Oh, My husband loves me. Yeah, yeah, rescued them from a busy mom who didn’t have time to clean them up all the time. “Stole” them from a devastated seven year old who had been warned one too many times they were her responsibility.

And so, “Pepper” “Pickles” and “Pineapple” have joined the zoo. They came with their names, so don’t judge… devastated seven year old, remember? There was supposed to have been a forth, but she went AWOL just before we arrived. We searched the surrounding bushes and tried negotiating deals and follow ups — but we now own 2 very pretty girls and one very handsome boy bunny. My mother is questioning my sanity.

Now, I know what you are thinking. Rabbits. Boy and girl rabbits. That may lead to many many little rabbits. Not to worry, we have separated the two girls from the boy. Which brings me to my lesson of the week. Since the bunnies have come, I have been reading and researching and trying my best to house and care for the new additions – as any good pet owner should. I’ve never had bunnies before and we are housing them outdoors, because, well, bunnies are stinky. They eat a lot. And what goes in, must come out. My garden area is well composted for the spring. Let me tell you!

The Girls: Pepper and Pickles

Since we are about to hit winter, I am fretting. How will they do out in the cold? They must be kept out of the harsh winds, given extra food. Their housing must be warm, dry and draft free. I’ve learned about hay versus straw. Bedding and enrichment. And rabbit temperament. “Pepper” is a shy girl. She can be pushed to her limits though, and will protest the end of her limit with a large sounding back foot “thump”. “Pineapple” is the boy and curious. I think he likes people, but hasn’t totally warmed up yet. “Pickles” is the instigator. She arrived with a few scars that were healing and now we know why. She picks the fights. She certainly does not like the boy’s advances, so no worries there. We have maintained the peace and kept the bloodshed (and flying fur!) at a minimum. Funny creatures they are!

Pineapple, our handsome boy bunny!

Thus, I muse: if three tiny rabbits can bring such diversity and worry to my little world, how much more does the Creator of the Universe fret over us? Can you even imagine trying to make sense out of the world’s population of personalities, cultures, religions, traditions, temperaments and prayers?! Now, I know He’s God and my finite mind cannot even begin to comprehend what He can handle, but I know He feels our fears and is disappointed with our behaviours. Recent worldly events remind me that we, too, are instigators. We puff out our chests and let the fur fly when we don’t like something. Sometimes we are more reserved and it takes a little longer before we stomp our feet in protest. Other times, we throw caution to the wind and we indulge in one too many of the carrots dangling before us — and end up making a stinky mess. Or our sins breed wild, like, well, like rabbits, until we are over run and can’t keep up.

Our ancient scriptures tell us endless stories of people just like us who have messed up, but under grace, God continues to take us back. Continues to love and feed us. Continues to keep us out of the cold and safe. He knows we fight. And unlike me, our addition was not an impulse. We were planned and wanted and a perfect home was prepared for our arrival. It was us who screwed it up. We come with our scars, and a few of us go AWOL, but He’s there still to load us up and take us home. Forever.

Don’t tell the crew, but I hope to have a whole bunny brigade someday. A mix of colours, breeds and personalities. I will continue to learn rabbit husbandry. And be reminded how my heavenly Father accepts us all with grace and love. Do you feel it, my friend? Do you see it in something around you, like I see it in my new bunny brigade? What makes you see it? Share with me !