Tag Archives: Itsnotta farm

Advent Reflections: Peace in the Midst of Life’s Messiness

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Welcome to week two of Advent: Peace. Except today’s post will most likely be later than normal, because this week at Itsnotta Farm, was anything but peaceful! We are on day four off school due to weather issues: had our first major snowfall, freezing rain and now fog! Winter has arrived. Then we had a bunny escape. The snow created a little gap that kept the door of the rabbit run from closing completely. I thought it was small enough, but little Pineapple squeezed out and (luckily) was hiding in the woodpile. I must give credit to the hubby, who not only found him, but was quick enough to capture him again, too. (Now, don’t say I don’t acknowledge the fine efforts of my begrudging farm help!) This was all before we had to turn back from a birthday dinner due to snowy highways. I guess it didn’t matter that we were already late at that point. Then came the freezing rain and now soggy fields. The rabbits and chickens are miserable and restricted to small spaces to avoid muddy feet.

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The Chickens don’t like getting their feet wet…

The most exciting event that has taken up my time, though, and certainly disrupted the peace, was the early arrival of our first grandson! He came sooner than expected, but a welcome disruption to our weekend plans! I was able to witness his birth and give kudos to his brave mom who delivered the 8lb 4oz bundle of joy in a super quick and drug free labour! Luckily, the weather was great at 3 o’clock in the morning and so was the traffic. We are beyond proud of our new addition and the crew that loves him. Alas, as the youngest auntie recently said: “There is no peace without first experiencing chaos”. Chaos indeed.

But let’s muse for a moment on the opposite, which is supposed to be the theme of our week. Peace. What does it conjure up for your mind’s eye? White doves and silent gunfire? United nations talks? Hot cocoas and roaring fires? A good book and a cozy blanket? Sunlit summers on the beach? This week, I captured a little video of tiny songbirds flitting to and from our bird feeder. They come when the snow piles up. (I’ll post the video on my socials later for you.) As I watched them for a little while through the window with my morning coffee, a gentle peace filled my soul and I took a moment to thank God for my many blessings. And then our grand baby made one more for the list!

Perfect little toes of our new Grand baby!

I’m sure your blessings list is as long as mine, and so, I remind you to take a minute to be thankful for it. Step back for a moment and see the bigger picture of Christmas. Reflect on its beauty and the quiet moments. Even in the chaos. These days of commercialism and black Friday sales has me often wondering why am I buying more gifts for people who already have so much? I get overwhelmed with “too much stuff” and yet, I feel I must get “something” for this or that occasion. That’s a topic for another day, though.

Back to Peace. I’ve reflected several times on Mary as a main character in the Christmas story, and our new baby had me thinking about her again this week. Can you imagine an inexperienced teenager giving birth to a baby after travelling all night? And to do it in a stinky feed shed out back in the cold and dark with some guy she doesn’t really know yet? I wonder if chickens were there to peck curiously at, ummm, “birthing stuff”. Sorry, maybe that was a little graphic, but after living on a semi-farm, I know that animals stink, and bringing life into the world is messy and brutally raw and real and anything but the peaceful Christmas card scenes we see in the pretty boxes doused in glitter.

Life is messy. As much as I’d like to have my days scheduled and planned and filled with productive work, something often gets in the way. I don’t like to be spontaneous, and I am not good at “dropping everything” to go visit a sick friend or tend to a need that arises. My extrovert hubby says I need to work on that. Perhaps. Maybe that’s why Peace is a part of the preparation, or advent, period. A fruit of the Spirit to focus on during the craziness that has become December. A symbolic candle lit for a brief moment of reflection to muse on “shalom”. A deeper meaning than just the absence of conflict, but rather a wholeness or completeness. It’s a feeling that only God can give. A peace that passes understanding. One that goes beyond, or perhaps, in the middle of, our circumstances. It’s taking the moment – in the middle of the moment – because you have the well being, or “shalom” enough to do it. And that feeling wasn’t generated by you, it was given to you.

An Unlikely “clean” Nativity scene…that rooster would wake the baby who was probably just sneezed on by the cow!

Mary had it in the middle of her “silent night” when a bunch of sheep and burly shepherds with bad B.O. showed up to worship her newborn wrapped up in swaddling clothes who was lying in a manger. A manger likely covered in cow saliva and a chicken dropping or two. Daniel had it in the middle of a lion’s den smelling the breath of giant cats who wished to make him their next meal. Abraham had it as he bound his son and prepared to offer him as a sacrifice, even though Issac was given to him as his promised miracle baby. Esther had it as she went before a fickle king to save her people from mass destruction. And she was “just a pretty face”.

Beloved, God gives it to you and I as well! Jesus said: ” Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27 NKJV) Even in the middle of Christmas chaos. Even when life is messy. Hope. And now Peace. Join us next week for another round of advent reflections! Or sign up for a weekly email so you never miss a blog post, because, well, sometimes I need to drop my plan and fill a different need…

The Role of a Rooster in your Flock: Introducing “Morris”

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Welcome back! If you’ve been following mittonmusings for any length of time, you’ll know that a flock of chickens have been on the want list for a very long time. It sparked a three year long search for the perfect country farmhouse and an uprooting of my entire family to move away from everything we knew and held dear. Which seems a little crazy now that I see it in black and white… but here we are! I planned, prepped and did my research. I sought out what breeds of chicks would be friendly, cold tolerant and easy for a beginner. I asked questions and read lots. I went through a reputable source and ordered six day olds… three of each kind. (In case you care to know, I have Americanas and Lavender Orpingtons). I discovered the order list was a little late, but in May of this year, the little bundles of fluff moved in.

My family tolerated the chicks and their crazy mom as they ran through the living room… and made a complete mess of my beautiful farmhouse. Still, mom was happy, and the dream was a reality, so what could they say? Eventually, the babies finally moved out and #itsnottafarm got a bit more “farm like”. And then tragedy struck.

“Mort” my dumbest (but most favourite) chicken got “lost”. Literally, lost. She more than likely wandered off into the woods and couldn’t make her way back. We saw no evidence of predators, so I would like to think she is happy somewhere… So we were down to five. And then: “Mavis” became “Morris”. Yup, I got a rooster. Which is not a surprise if you buy a “backyard mix”… it happens more than 50% of the time… but I had done my research, and planned remember? My chicks were supposed to be 98% guaranteed female. Laying hens. Alas, life always has other plans, eh? I denied it when she grew a bit bigger. I denied it when a friend commented. I denied it when her comb grew. I could deny it no longer when the crow came. We are now down to four girls and a very handsome, but definitely male, rooster. We now have “Morris.”

We now have a “Morris”

Is it so bad to have a rooster? No, not really. The rooster’s role in a flock is protector. A role “Morris” is taking on well. It’s actually kind of fun watching him call to his ladies … especially if one is falling behind. He’s a big boy, so can’t hop the fence as well as the hens… and he often gets stuck at the back of the pack. We are learning to “tame” him (although he is fairly friendly) as he is beginning to strut his stuff and challenge the hubby and the dog. I bring him treats so he likes me most of the time. He’s screaming in protest in the background as I type this! Oh brother… they are out on my porch… he’s calling them back… See? Welcome to my crazy life dream!

So, as we adjust to life on the “farm” now with a rather loud and unexpected rooster, I hope you find your own protector. I hope that God gives you someone who “has your back”. Who calls you back to Him when you stray a little too far. I hope there is one who may have been unexpected in your life, but is a vital part of it. I know God is good. He gives us what we need – when we need it most. It’s not always what we want… but He makes it all work out. There will be casualties. No one is perfect. Even if they are in authority and have a very important role in leadership. We will lose our friends sometimes. We will be challenged, and have to act on the defensive on occasion. I heard a tidbit of farm history, that weather vanes on top of barn roofs depicted roosters to remind us to be bold in our faith… and to not be like Peter who denied Christ three times before the crowing of the morning rooster. (By the way…they crow all day… and at any time of day…so yeah…there’s that).

“Morris” and his Ladies

I hope a “Morris” comes into your little world to bring you a bit of the unexpected. To keep you on your toes. To be bold and tough and a good protector. Yet, a beautiful soul who has every good intention to be wise and wary. A father figure, perhaps. Let this be your reminder to muse on them a little today – and be thankful for their role in your flock. Blessings, my beloveds.

The Beauty of Harvest Season: Lessons from Nature

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How many times have you heard or seen this verse? Especially around this time of year as the days grow shorter and the sun goes to bed earlier. Canadian thanksgiving has past and our turkey comas are subsiding. Harvest is upon us. Yet, I never fully understood it until we moved out to a more rural landscape.

Every morning as I drive in to work, the golden sun is just beginning to peak above the horizon. I’m a nighthawk by nature, but I am beginning to love the morning sunrise. The colours are fabulous, and as the dew and misty morning fog gets burned off by the early sun, it truly is a fabulous drive in to town. Along the route, I meander over the hills and valleys and the farmer’s fields all blend together with hues of brown, golds and yellows. Farm stands are filled with the last few sunflowers and wagons of squash and pumpkins add to the landscape with pops of orange. It even smells like “earth”. Technically, I suppose everything is dying… yet it is alive somehow with the change of season.

Now I certainly don’t claim to understand “the harvest”. On our drives, we marvel that some fields have already been clear cut to the ground. Others are still drying out and looking very sad up close. Our nearest neighbourhood farmer had half of his field cut … the other half sitting dormant for what seemed like days. We didn’t understand. Did he just get tired half way through? Did the machinery die? Did he get called in for an emergency? Or simply get hungry and gave up on his work in hopes for a leftover turkey sandwich? A few days later … the field was all clear. Seemingly worked on by fairy farmers in the middle of the night.

Speaking of the middle of the night, we have seen the giant headlights of monster machines working into the darkness (okay, darkness might be 7:00pm nowadays, but still.) So. What’s the deal? I have come to understand that harvesting of field crops: hay, corn, soy etc. are specialized feats of proper timing. First hay cutting and second hay have to be done dry, at certain temperatures to survive rolling into those big hay bales without molding. Soy beans are practically dead … shriveled into loose pea pods so they can be easily shaken out of their crispy casings and loaded into the harvester. Silage corn is also dry as a bone. No sweet juicy corn for the cows. Corn meal gets blown into those silos. It’s a wonder cows like it. Blech.

And the backyard farmer? Homesteaders with plots of veggies and flowers? That’s a whole other adventure. Our own garden was a disaster. The weeds took over and took over fast and furious. We chalked it up to an experiment gone wrong and just let it go. My kale is now five feet high and has all gone to seed. We did manage a few small pumpkins and some yellow cucumber like things? Plant pumpkins people… those things will grow anywhere. Vines are resilient. The other cucumber things? Not even sure what they started out as? Roald Dahl’s BFG fans will certainly label them as “snozzcumbers”. Slimy, but satisfying. I’m sad my strawberry plants are buried under there somewhere. There’s always next year, I suppose.

And so, we return to my muse about the verse in the gospels. Farmer’s fields are Huge. Backyard gardens are a lot of work. Trial and error have developed into perfect timing over the years to create “agricultural science”. Specific machines and gadgets that help with this or that. Measuring devices for moisture measuring for peak harvest timing. And then the labour. I don’t think a single farmer can harvest acres and acres on his own. Are their groups for these things? I suspect they share equipment. No one family can purchase those mortgage breaking pieces of machinery and survive can they? It has to be a group effort.

Snozzcumber anyone??

Which makes me think about the point Jesus is making in the verse… those plants grow full and expansive and wide on their own. The world we live in contains vast numbers of hurting, helpless people just trying to survive. No one has to “cultivate” wild weeds. They are doing just fine out there … in fact, they are flourishing. Pumpkins grow in the compost pile. Fed by the manure. Can you imagine what would happen if people took the time to truly cultivate the world around us? To nurture and feed and encourage one another to fully grow and bloom where we are planted?

There are plenty of people who need our love. Plenty of people who need God’s love and guidance. The fields are limitless. The weeds are thick. Those of us who are trying to do good in the world and live by His principles are few. Our task is hard. There are no fringe benefits. Only the fruit we collect. We go out into the pasture like “sheep among the wolves” (we’ve learned about predators out here too… they are quiet and sneaky and hide among the shadows…). So, please, encourage your fellow workers. Lend your expertise. Share your equipment. Put in the hours. Volunteer your time to be there when the time is right. It’s not an easy job…. but it is worth it. When your storehouses are full and you have an abundance of joy for when winter hits … your efforts will be rewarded with the peace that you can make it though the ‘leaner’ times in life.

I can drive up and down the hills every morning and marvel at the fields ready for harvest… and think how beautiful they are. Yet, I must remember to pray for more workers to do the hard stuff… and encourage those who are trying. For they are few and far between. And if you are one who is out there driving the tractors late at night: thank you. I’ll meet you at the compost pile for a snozzcumber snack.