One Down, Twenty to Go

Seth awoke early this morning, as he does every weekday morning. There was a bit more spring in his step, however, this morning as he anticipated checking The Trap. Sure 'nuf, he'd caught a live one. Coon, that is.

What would be the expected course of action after trapping an animal? Some may release it far away, some may shoot it. Seth? He packed it into his car and took it to work. Yes, he did. Over an hour in a car with a coon in a trap in the back. His coworker is a coon hunter--dogs, traps, and all--and sells the skins to someone somewhere who wants them (that would not be me). So Seth traded said colleague a coon for a trap. And tonight, hopefully, another coon will take the bait . . . . They'll soon regret the day they messed with the Holler Chickens.

The Trap

Seth has vowed to avenge the cruel deaths of Hen and Leggs.

OK, so maybe "vowed" is a strong word. It may be more appropriate to say, "Seth used the chickens as an excuse to buy a trap and another gun so he could go critter hunting."

He brought both the trap and the gun home this evening and proceeded to put the trap together. Kieran decided Daddy needed some help with the task.

He was very generous with his advice on the best way to assemble a trap.

And he offered to inspect it once it was together, just to make sure all parts were in order and functioning. Tonight we see if his inspection paid off.

Hen and Leggs

Last summer, when Hen and Chick were free ranging far and wide, the non-chicken neighbor (the one between us and the chicken neighbor) remarked that he could tell the difference between my chickens and the other chickens (those belonging to the chicken neighbor which were also free ranging) because my chickens were "tame, not like 'em wild ones the other guy has."

When I brought Hen and Leggs back to the Eglu, Hen settled right in, ate from the feeder, laid her egg in the box, and roosted in the Eglu. The other chicken was a bit more . . . wild. She wasn't interested in staying safely in the Eglu at night and instead decided to roost on top of one of the doors in the old chicken coop. Eventually, Hen fell victim to Leggs' wild ways, and she too began to roost outside of the Eglu. Soon enough, they were laying their eggs in the nesting boxes of the old chicken coop instead of in the Eglu.

I was a bit concerned about their safety since they weren't locked in the cage at night but figured they were safe enough since they were roosting about six feet off the ground. Seth seemed OK with the arrangement, as well.

This morning, when I went out to check on the chickens, the Three Little Chicks were safe in the Eglu, but Hen and Leggs were not to be seen. They continued to stay out of sight all morning. I went out again to see where they were, and . . . well . . . let's just say my fears about their safety were justified. Somehow, something (we think it was a raccoon) had gotten into the coop and . . . well . . . I'll let you figure out the rest. Suffice to say, Hen and Leggs are now with Chick in the Great Chicken Coop in the Sky (which Seth continues to assure me does not exist).

According to the non-chicken neighbor (I really need to come up with better monikers for the neighbors), the neighbor on the other side of us (the other non-chicken neighbor) leaves cat food out 24/7, providing a feeding station for about 20 'coons. Seth is now researching night vision goggles and a 'coon-killin' gun.

So, once again, we are without eggs. I've ordered two more 17-week-old pullets that are set to arrive the week of June 14 and should begin laying soon after. I may, however, decide to cancel that order and be content with waiting for eggs from the Three Little Chicks, which should start laying in August . . . .

Jemima

Chiclet

Henrietta

Dancin' King

A few days ago, we noticed that Kieran becomes a bit more "vocal" when he's in front of a mirror. Apparently, he finds himself a more charming conversationalist than his parents.

So we brought a mirror into the living room for him to talk to.

Apparently, he finds himself a charming dance partner, as well.

(Last night, I made Paula Dean's Herb-Fried Chicken, to the enjoyment of all. Tonight, I made Poppy Seed Chicken Casserole with some of the leftover chicken--also enjoyed by each one of us.)

Civilization

I lived in a condo in the 'burbs before I met and married Seth and he brought me out to the Holler. It was a nice condo, close to everything. The grocery store was within walking distance, restaurants were within walking distance, the Interstate was within walking distance (not that I ever walked on the Interstate, of course). And just about anything anyone would ever need or want was just a short drive away.

Today, we went to visit a friend who was visiting her parents who live in the area of the 'burbs I left behind in pursuit of Holler life. After we finished the visit, we popped right on over to K-Mart, since it was so close, to do a little shopping. And then, we popped right on over to Staples, since it was so close, to return an item. I'd forgotten how easy shopping can be when everything is within arm's reach, and we're not boycotting the only major store around.

I enjoyed the outing but the foray into civilization plumb-tuckered Kieran out.

Mowin'

Never look a gift tractor in the mouth, I always say. OK, so maybe today was the first time I've said that but from now on I'll be saying it more often.

The rain in Spain has been mainly staying on the plain in the Holler these past many days, making it difficult for Seth to find an opportunity to mow the grass. Since the sun finally decided to bestow its light upon us this weekend, Seth determined to mow the grass Sunday evening. As we arrived home from a picnic with our church family in the afternoon, the non-chicken neighbor was mowing his lawn on his nice John Deere riding mower. We do not have a nice John Deere riding mower. We have The Beast.

I jokingly told Seth he should offer the nieghbor $20 to mow ours, too. Seth nonjokingly refused. Not 10 minutes later, as we were readying ourselves to nap on the couch, the neighbor zipped by the window on his JD, mowing our lawn. If I were Seth, I would have stayed put on the couch and let the neighbor bless us by trimming our hayfield. I, however, am not Seth. Seth is Seth. And Seth went outside to let the neighbor know he didn't need to mow it, that he was planning on mowing it later in the day. Apparently the neighbor had just put new blades on his JD tractor and wanted to try them out. "Try away!" I would have said. But I wasn't out there. And so Seth did what the old mantra warns us not to do -- he looked a gift tractor in the mouth and off it went. And Seth was left to plow through the jungle on his own. He really should listen to my sage advice more often.  

Tumbling

My sister took gymnastics classes for quite a while when she younger. It wasn't really my thing, however. In fact, most sports weren't really my "thing." Oh sure, I was on a basketball team for a bit, played catch with my dad, took ballet classes one summer (is ballet a sport?), and tried out for the volleyball team in junior high (I didn't make it), but I much preferred reading a good book to playing sports (I still do). In fact, one of the only Bs I got in both high school and college was in Phys. Ed. It was the "run a mile in a certain amount of time" thing--I just couldn't do it.

But enough about me. Let's talk about Kieran. A friend had told me about an activity center not too far away that offers tumbling classes for kids 18mos-3 years. This was the view when, on Saturday, we returned from checking out the place. Looks like we'll be enrolling Kieran in a class in June. And thus begins his career in sports. Hopefully it will go better than mine.

Jumpin' Frogs

Today the tractor came to cut the grass growing along the side of the lane leading to the Holler. I was tempted to run out and ask if he could, perchance, also cut the grass around our house, since it's been raining quite a bit lately and Seth hasn't been able to mow. But I didn't.

Instead, I got ready for the evening's events. Our little town is hosting its annual Homecoming Festival and the main street is filled with festivities.

The main event for the evening, which I've been wanting to see since we moved to the Holler, was the International Frog Jumping Contest. First on the agenda was the Best Dressed Frog Contest and Parade of Frogs.

Next up was the Frog Jumpin' Contest. We bumped into our neighbor (the one with the chickens) at the festival and he informed us that they were entering the competition. Last year, apparently, they took the prize for "shortest jump." They were "walking through the woods and saw a little frog hop across the way" and he said to son, "There's our frog. We'll win with him, for sure." Apparently the neighbor knows frogs as well as chickens.

The grandstands were filled so we were relegated to the "standing room only" section and forced to peer over the shoulders of those who had arrived earlier than we had.

After watching the International Frog Jumping Contest for a few minutes (it was everything I'd imagined it would be--and more), we moved on to the funnel cake district, where I bought my traditional festival funnel cake (it, too, was everything I'd imagined it would be).

Our final stop at the festival was the merry-go-round. I bought the 3 tickets required to ride and took Kieran on his first trip. You may notice from this photo why it is that I do not regularly ask Seth to capture photographic memories of our lives. "People kept getting in the way," he replied when I asked why there were no good pictures of Kieran and me on the carousel.

Soon enough the rain that's been filling our cistern the past few days began once again, and we hopped back in the car and headed for home. Just maybe next year we'll take a walk through woods and look for a good hopper to enter into the international event . . . .

(Salmon Loaf was on the agenda for dinner this evening. It was enjoyed by all.)

Must. Refrain.

So, this was the view when I realized was suffering Kitchen-Window Withdrawal symptoms and could no longer refrain from taking the same photo I've been taking for the past year. Sigh.

Last night I made Herb-Garlic Beef Tenderloin. Although it was mooing a bit more loudly than I prefer when I took it out of the oven, it was still tasty. Even Seth agreed. Tonight, I made the "Graduation Pizza" the recipe suggested to use for the left-overs. Seth gave an unenthusiastic "I'd eat it again" to this recipe, as the sweet pepper sauce was a little too sweet for his taste.

Somehow, and I'm not sure how, the Sweet Tooth Fairy bypassed his genes while he was developing in utero and dumped it all on me (granted, we weren't developing in utero at the same time, or even in the same place, so I can't quite explain the genetics behind this anomaly . . . Georgia?). He prefers the darkest of dark chocolates and usually turns up his nose at the desserts he makes after the first slice because they're "too sweet." Seriously, how can anything be too sweet?

Out my kitchen window, day 365

I did it. This was the view when I put together a little movie of the OMKW pictures and included the final photo.

Now grab some pour-over butter popcorn and a bottle of Vitamin Water (to mitigate the effects of the popcorn), sit back, and enjoy the show. Unless, of course, you're Seth, who experienced motion sickness while watching this and said upon its completion, "What you should have done was . . . ." (Note: The viewing may be better here.)

Thanks to those of you who have joined with me on the journey--I hope you've enjoyed the experience as much as I've enjoyed sharing it with you.

Out my kitchen window, day 364

We've had a bit (and by a "bit" I really mean several days worth) of rain lately, so we haven't gotten out much.

To entertain ourselves, Seth decided to trim Kieran's nails. So he grabbed the little buggar and wrastled him to the ground. Kieran was thrilled.

He eventually squirmed into a more comfortable position and the process was soon complete.

Tonight was Black Beans Cakes with Salsa. Good for Kieran and I, and an "I'd probably eat it again" from Seth.

Out my kitchen window, day 363

The end draweth nigh. With two days left in the OMKW series, I'm beginning to wax nostalgic about the past year and all that it brought (that, and I don't have much else to write about today).

It's been quite a year, hasn't it? I'm not sure that had I undertaken the OMKW project at any other time I would have such varied things to share with you. There were chickens, there were (almost) bees, there was the Installation of a Geothermal System (parts 1 through 243), there were gardening conundrums and exultations, there was snow, rain, fog, and sunshine, there were mentions of the cistern, there was life, there was death, and there was Kieran.

To be quite honest, the most life-changing event of this past year (and really of all our years) was Kieran's diagnosis of Williams Syndrome. Although the miscarriage was sad for both of us, we cried more after receiving the diagnosis than we did at receiving the news of the miscarriage. As I've read the experiences of others who have received the same diagnosis, I've noticed a common thread in the reactions and realized we're not alone. As my friend Georgia mentioned once, knowing the truth about why things happen and who God is doesn't take away the pain.

I've often thought it would be helpful if there were some sort of "introductory letter" that parents would get along with the diagnosis. And since I haven't yet found one, I decided to write my own.

Dear Friend,

The news hits you like a ton of bricks, doesn’t it? You feel as if you’ve been punched in the stomach. The air is gone and you’re trying desperately to inhale again. Somehow, you’ve been given a ticket to an emotional roller coaster that won’t let you off, no matter how badly you want it to stop.

In a way, you’re going through a grieving process. You’re mourning the loss of the child you thought you had—the hopes and dreams you held for him, the unlimited potential he’s had since he was born. You may even be in denial that anything is “wrong” with your child. There’s probably some anger in there, as well (toward . . . someone? anyone!).

And you’re coming to grips with the child you now have. Suddenly, the future isn’t as clear as it once was. There are no guarantees or certainties any more. Although you’re not on the road you initially thought you were on, we can confidently say it’s not the end of the road. Instead, you’ve wandered onto (or been thrown onto) a detour from the path you were once skipping along so merrily on. Life will be different from what you expected even yesterday, but . . . (inhale deeply) . . . you can do this.

How do we know? We’ve been there. We’ve gotten the “genetic disorder,” “developmental delays,” “learning disabilities” diagnosis. The children we once viewed as perfect were also, at some point, diagnosed with Williams Syndrome. Our tears were as real as the ones pouring down your face. We, too, woke up in the middle of the night praying it was all just a bad dream, wondering if somehow the doctors had read the test results wrong and we weren’t really the parent of a “special needs” child, a child with life-threatening physical problems.

But then, as will happen with you, somehow, our pain began to subside ever so slowly. The tears began to dry up, and we began to come to grips with the diagnosis and what that meant for our families. As we did, you’ll research Williams Syndrome until you feel as if you could write a book on it (a good place to start is http://www.williams-syndrome.org/ ). And you’ll remember that the child now slapped with a “label” is still the child you’ve loved from the beginning.

You’ll want to get your child as much help now as possible. This could involve enrolling her in occupational therapy, speech therapy, or physical therapy (check with your local Head Start or First Steps programs for help). Or finding doctors in your area who are familiar with Williams Syndrome and can help treat or monitor the symptoms your child has. And you’ll want to get help for yourself in the form of support: you can visit the WS community on Facebook and check out the following blogs: williamssyndromefamilyhope.blogspot.com and williams-syndrome.blogspot.com.

Although it’s tempting to want to know now to what extent your child will be affected by WS (especially if you received the diagnosis early in his life), and although we’d love to tell you based on our experiences to what extent your child will be affected, we simply can’t. Just as each “normal” child is unique and develops according to her own schedule, your child is also one-of-a-kind and will travel her own path with your help and encouragement. We’ve learned to take each day as it comes and to do the best that we can in this moment.

Although you may feel as if you’re the only one going through this, we’re here to tell you you’re not alone. We’ve been there and are still there, walking together and offering encouragement and help when we can. The journey is different for every one but it’s a journey we’d be delighted to share with you and your family.

(Tonight I made Coconut Lime Chicken Soup. Thumbs up from everyone--even Seth.)

Out my kitchen window, day 362

The time has finally come to move the chicks to their outdoor home. Sunday wasn't the warmest of days but I was tired of the chicks kicking up dust and of hearing their incessant scratching, and so I decided to move them to their outdoor home.

I cleaned up the Eglu, got the feed tray and waterer ready, and then introduced them to their much-more-spacious living quarters. They seemed to settle right in. I'm not sure, however, how Hen and Leggs liked their new neighbors. I couldn't quite tell from their loud squawking whether they were happy to have some new faces to look at or disturbed that intruders were occupying their territory. . . .

Out my kitchen window, day 361

This past week was the first Williams Syndrome Awareness week, designed to (obviously) raise awareness for the syndrome, encouraging earlier diagnoses which leads to better interventions and treatments. There were several WSA events held around the country over the past few days. One happened to be a few hours away from us which we decided to attend.

On the way, driving through bucolic fields of corn caused Seth to begin to yearn for a "place in the country" where he could farm and "live off the land." I reminded him we already have a place in the country and he doesn't even like to help in the garden. Apparently, however, "that's different."

Wheels for Williams was organized by a car aficionado whose oldest son has WS. The cruise-in featured trucks, cars, tractors, and bikes. This one (I can't recall the name of it) was Seth's favorite.

We had a good time looking at the cars and meeting several other families who have children with WS.

It was a fun, but tiring, weekend.

Out my kitchen window, day 360

On Friday, Kieran and I met our friend Katia and her son Jaziel at the nearby children's museum.

Between the balls, the wheels, the other kids running around, and the general noisiness of the place, there was a lot for Kieran to take in. But he did really well and enjoyed playing at the various areas. Splashing at the water table became his new favorite thing.

It was nice to visit with Katia and Jaziel again, as always.

Out my kitchen window, day 359

The excitement for the day came when Seth brought the mail in from the box after coming home from work. I'm not sure why but bringing in the mail is his "thing." As in, he's at a slight loss if I get to it before he does.

Back to the day's excitement: The Annual International Frog Jumping Contest was announced, official rules and all. I wonder how one becomes the Frog Jumping Commissioner. Maybe I should turn my attention from bees to frogs so that next year at this international event, I can take home first prize . . . .

Today was Falafel Patty Melt day. Kieran and I liked it; Seth is not a fan of chick peas.

Out my kitchen window, day 358

Today it rained as if it were the start of Noah's Flood. Except that it wasn't the start of Noah's Flood because God promised to never again send a flood that covered the entire earth. So, it rained like it was the start of a Holler Flood. Except that it didn't really flood. It was more like the creek got a little angry and decided to try to overflow its banks but didn't quite want to do a full-fledged flood (look closely in the picture and you can see the normally reticent little creek).

The back yard was another story. All the water running off the hill behind our house collects beside the chicken coop and blazes a trail straight for our house. As much as I hate to admit it, Geothermal Guy may have done us an actual service by not, as he had promised, returning to smooth out the soil that had been dug up in order to insert the geothermal loops. Those muddy little hills ("I'll send my guy with the front loader to smooth that out in a day or two," said he on January 1) that are beginning to sprout weeds because Seth refuses to plant grass seed because he thinks the neighbor will one day rent a front loader that we can borrow to smooth them out are acting as nice barriers, directing the water away from the house and onto the driveway.

Thank you, Geothermal Guy, for once again not doing your job.

(Wednesday I tried Pepper Jelly and Soy Glazed Salmon. Thumbs up from Kieran and me, thumbs in the middle from Seth.)

Out my kitchen window, day 357

Success. It's a great word. And a great feeling.

The more I thought about an On My Kitchen Table series, the more my mouth began watering at eating actual meals that weren't spaghetti or mac-n-cheese. And so I decided to start early. As in, I decided to begin actually cooking dinner for a change.

Last week, I let my fingers do the walking through my recipes and cookbooks, choosing those I wanted to try first. And then I made a calendar of meals for the month of May. And then I went shopping for all the items necessary to make the dinners I'd planned. And then, Tuesday night, I made the first recipe, ripped from the May 2009 issue of Better Homes and Gardens: Almond-crusted Chicken. And there was great rejoicing. Well, maybe not rejoicing, but we all (including Seth) liked it. It was tasty and fairly easy to make, and it wasn't spaghetti or mac-n-cheese. I do believe I just may continue this series. . . .

Out my kitchen window, day 356

I've mentioned before that Seth is the fifth of eight children. All four of his older siblings are married with children, so that Kieran has 10 older cousins, most of them boys. Being fifth in line definitely has its advantages--we have been the grateful recipients of many baby items, including furniture, clothes, toys, and books. In fact, the majority of books on the bookshelf in Kieran's room were formerly loved by his cousins.

Today, the mail lady brought us another shipment of books from one of Seth's siblings.

After we opened the package, Kieran settled right in with his new book Ten Dirty Pigs. Thanks to Ruth and family for this latest donation!

Out my kitchen window, day 355

Happy Mother's Day to our wonderful, godly mothers, to the mothers in the crowd, and to those desiring motherhood.

Out my kitchen window, day 354

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand we're back in business. The egg business, that is. After Chick went to the Great Chicken Coop in the Sky (or maybe to the Great Hole Seth Dug in the Earth) and Hen ran away, I asked the neighbor (to whom Hen ran) to purchase two 17-week-old pullets for me so that I could have fresh eggs sooner rather than waiting 5 months for the Easter Eggers to begin laying. The neighbor frequents fairs and the like and purchases his own chickens as such places and thought he could find a few for me.

Today, as his son was giving me a report on their findings of the day (nothing for me but a few chicks for them), he offered to give me two of his already laying chickens--Hen and one other. Why I didn't think of that before is a mystery to me.

And so we visited his barn where he picked up one chicken and handed her to me and then snatched another one and handed her to his son. We brought them back to the Eglu, and they settled right in. If you think you're seeing double, you are. Both hens are red and look similar. The main way I can tell Hen apart from the other hen is that her legs are a paler shade of yellow and her comb isn't as bright red.

And my efforts were rewarded with this little beauty.

Should this situation work out, I'll need a name for the other little red hen. Any ideas?