Whenever I have a day like today when I haven't taken any pictures for one reason or another, I can almost always find Jack and take a picture of him because he sleeps about twenty hours a day. In this shot, he's demonstrating his excellent napping skills in the guest room which is where he likes to sleep when he's not sleeping on our bed.
Today started out sweetly and it's gone that way all day except...
I went out this morning to take Moana some treats and let her out of the hen house. As you know, we have been shutting her up tight in there every night to keep her safe. I sprinkled some of the fancy bird food with peanuts and sunflower seeds on the ground in the coop after I'd opened the sliding door to the hen house so that she could come out and I waited for a few seconds and when she didn't appear, I opened the big door to the hen house and there she was. Bloodied and dead on the floor.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Mr. Moon went out later to deal with her remains and he said that something had managed to dig under a wall where the wire fencing he had buried had deteriorated. It was no doubt wither a possum or a raccoon and I'm betting raccoon. Once again, the only part really missing was her head.
So. That is it for chickens. If they aren't even safe in the roost at night, there is no way I'm going through this again. And I just have to deal with that reality.
Bless her heart. Moana- our last hen.
Mr. Moon tilled part of the garden I'd cleared and planted the potatoes. He was certain I had not bought enough but there were plenty. We have an eternally ongoing joke about my inability to visualize how much of any one thing can fit into another thing. Like leftovers. I'm just terrible at gauging what container to use to put leftovers in. But he is terrible at over-buying seed potatoes. He vowed and declared that the amount I'd bought was not nearly enough but after he planted three good rows, he agreed that I had gotten just the right amount. I kept waiting for a "but..." in there but there wasn't.
I am so proud of myself.
I planted the sugar snap peas. A nice long row of them on the east fence. At least we no longer have to worry about the chickens snatching the sweet and tender vines from the other side of the fence as they grow up it. We haven't had a decent crop of peas since we started keeping chickens and it's a trade-off I would gladly keep making forever but that is no longer going to be a problem.
I did some more weeding in an area I want to plant onions. No matter how much we weed for the next ten thousand years, there will still be betony and dollar weed coming up in the garden because those two things send out similarly thick roots from the yard around the garden which come up to choke anything they can get those ropey roots on. So it's a ridiculous and fruitless battle but as I have probably said before, there is something quite satisfying to me, troweling up those plants and following the roots and pulling up everything attached to them. You have to be gentle and yet firm, because the roots will easily snap and yet, they go deep.
This sounds like a metaphor for something, doesn't it? I am not sure what.
But I knelt in the wet dirt and dug and pulled for quite awhile. As I worked, I listened to a small collection of short stories by Robert A. Heinlein called "All You Zombies."
I was the latter. I have to say that reading that book in high school absolutely ruined me for a whole lot of what was considered to be socially and culturally correct in the 1970's including not having sex, and religion.
Yes. Let's blame it all on science fiction.
Now let me tell you that much of what Heinlein wrote is horribly misogynistic and sexist in some ways but he broke new ground in presenting women with as many rights to physical pleasure and satisfaction as men and as able and competent as men in many regards. And he was without doubt, a genius. Some of the things he wrote about in the 1940's, 50's, and 60's which were completely beyond anything imagined in those times have turned out to be startlingly prescient. Two of the stories I listened to today were way beyond my brain to comprehend, one having to do with time travel (and a trans man!) and the other a story about a man who built a house which was basically an unfolded tesseract. I mean- really?
No. My mind cannot go there. I'll take his word for it.
Oh god. More freaky shit to worry about. As if we didn't have enough already.
"Well then forget it," I said.