The Truth Behind Country Living: Weeds and the Reality of Free Range Chickens

We were doing so well. Spring had us thinking we were ahead of the game this year. Things looked cleaned up and projects were on task. Sigh. Fail. Again. You know those great Instagram posts of the pretty summer .porch with chippy paint and rusty pails with random chicken eggs in a rainbow of colours next to a few beautiful wildflowers that look so romantic? It’s a lie. Country people will tell you the chippy paint is because we have no time for painting and we forgot the pail so it got rusty in the rain and your wild free-ranging chickens lay random eggs everywhere now instead of neatly in the nest boxes and it’s a daily game of hide and seek to collect them… and the wildflowers are really weeds that grow like crazy and take over any available spot except for the places you sowed the wild flower seeds hoping the pollinators would be happy that you thought of them….

Romantic? It’s a lie I generated with A.I!! Pretty though, isn’t it?

There are always two sides of the story friends. I love my house. I love my chick birds. I love my life and the adventures it brings. Yet, today, I am feeling a little bit on the other side. The dream has been crushed and it’s overwhelming and hard and not fun anymore. Part of my trouble is my own head. I get inside it and romanticize. Now don’t get me wrong… we do the work. We try. The hubby does his best, and I have good intentions, but most days I get home from work too exhausted to care. Everybody is safe and fed and clean and that’s enough. Yup, we keep it real here at mittonmusings.

I watered the “garden”. It is now a patch of thick thistle weeds and grass with a few stagnant tomato and pepper plants. I have 4 strawberry plants flowering which likely the wild birds will get before we get any fruit. Peas, beans, and any form of salad ingredient have been snatched up by the chickens and stubby bits of cucumber vines are choked out by more weeds. It’s a disaster! And I am sad. We tried to pull the thistles. Now I think I am going to try chaos gardening. Who cares. Let’s see what grows among the weeds.

I suppose thistles can be pretty too. Perspective.
Photo by Orhan Akbaba on Pexels.com

New found friends have a beautiful garden. Perfect rows. Ne’re a weed to be seen. He has blueberries! Blueberries! I didn’t think they grew down here, only up north, where it was colder. Okay, so they are retired and spend all day out there. Okay, they did research and planned and dug and tilled and worked for the last who knows how many years to achieve this greatness. How the blueberries were dug in trenches, fertilized and babied for four years before a single bloom. Still. I am grumpy there is no country property fairy. Instagram lies.

Ah friend. Is my musing simply a rambling of complaints? Partially. Hey, it’s my blog, I am allowed to vent. Still, it’s self talk as well. A reminder that God never promised life would be easy. We were chatting the other day about the angel who stood guard at the gate of the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve got kicked out. Do you think they “drove by” every now and then to see him? To wish for the paradise? Or did they keep far away, ashamed to ever cross the barrier? Warning their children like Peter rabbit’s mom at McGregor’s garden gate… that’s where disaster struck, kids. Stay far away from the edge.

So what’s my point? I suppose it is simply this. Life here in our fallen world is harsh. Things are not fair. Time steals. Instagram really does lie. A.I is going to make it harder and harder to decipher Truth. Our children’s children will continue to struggle. Yet God is bigger and stronger than anything we can complain about. Weeds choke out wisdom. The Bible says so. Things get squeezed out and our minds get infiltrated with doubts and struggles and sadness. We go through seasons, like the natural world does. Eventually, something grows. Perhaps the wild flower weeds are the only thing, but it’s still growth. My chickens have been well fed by their foraging. It’s all about perspective. I’m learning. And I guess that’s where I must focus for this week. Thanks for coming along on the journey, friends. Let’s meet again soon to encourage one another one more time.

The Lessons of Psalm 1

I was prompted this week to write a post on Psalm 1. I have no idea why. Perhaps somewhere out there someone needs to hear my rantings. This is not the usual way I begin musing about something. Often, an event happens here at the farm, or I hear or watch a video or talk about a verse or passage and it makes me think of something. Writers tend to have a plan… or at least a little inspiration. A creative venue for ideas to be born and flourish. A connection. Something to make you say…”Hmmnnn, I wonder”. For some reason, this week didn’t turn out that way… but I am going with it anyway.

In case you need a refresher, here is Psalm 1 in it’s entirety:

Psalm 1

Blessed is the one
    who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
    or sit in the company of mockers,
but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,
    and who meditates on his law day and night.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
    which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
    whatever they do prospers.

Not so the wicked!
    They are like chaff
    that the wind blows away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
    nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
    but the way of the wicked leads to destruction.

At first, I tried to find something within the verses to comment on. A thought, a “word from the Lord”, a deeper meaning. I’m stuck as to how to do this. Is it political? An election is happening in the USA… lots of controversy there. Do I make a comment on “sitting in the ways of the wicked?” Not my thing… nor my place. Do I take instruction from the “meditate day and night” part? True and encouraging statement. Still not where I am feeling it.

Obviously, out here in the rural Ontario rolling hills, there are a lot of trees. And at this time of year, the trees are withering. Fruit has been harvested, the season is over, and all the leaves have died and fallen to the ground. The hills are alive with the colour of not fruit, but death. Even the ones planted by the water! The chaff that the wind dries and blows away is all that’s left. I don’t get it either. The streams are getting ready to freeze over. My world right now is not the picturesque stream with weeping willows full of leaves and a sanctuary for all who find shelter underneath it’s full branches. All I see is dried up crunchy leaves and cold water surrounded by parched branches.

So, I’m sorry. Perhaps this was not one of my better posts. It’s not funny, or informative, or enlightening. It simply is. I have put it out there. Wrote it in black and white with every intention of being obedient to a prompting. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe we have been instructed to take a moment of “stillness”. There is plenty to unpack in these few verses. Many a preacher would spend an entire series of messages on council, meditation, being planted, fruit, prosperity, judgement, righteousness, and delighting in the Lord. And yet, I am not.

Maybe my role for this week is simply to post the words. Let the chips fall where they may. Remind you (and me) that the words are there. The leaves are there. They have piled up in wait for a new season of growth later. The streams of living water still has trees planted nearby. The wicked are still out there – in droves. We still need to meditate and understand that judgement is coming. And so, I have done my part. I posted it.

It’s your job to read it and muse in your own way this week, my friend. Gather your own thoughts and inspiration. Why not comment and let me know… what do you think?