Happy New Year

Another year has gone by, this one even faster than the last. I reckon when you reach 60 plus years of saddling up, you know you're riding a down hill trail, and it only makes sense that each year would pick up a little more speed. When you're young, a year can seem like forever. The older a man gets, however, the faster time flies by. New years seem to come to the Chicken Ranch faster than a tax assessor can find your new shed.
As I look back over the last years, it seems I've always thought of the past year in terms of the things I've lost and the things I've gained. Like the penciling of an old leather-bound ledger in a by-gone hardware store, I've inventoried earthly gains and losses in deaths and births, possessions and necessities, dollars and cents, and (increasingly it seems) aches and pains. Its normal and, I suppose altogether proper, to gauge our position on the planet after another 12 months of God-given life.

 I think especially of my spiritual growth, my attitude toward my fellow man, and hope that one thing I see as  I look back is progress on that front. I'm never fully satisfied with that review really; I know I could've, should've done more to be a better fellow. There are always changes for sure. As I consider it tho, I am glad that some things are just the same as they always have been.

When a new year is thought of, we tend to say "Out with the old, and in with the new." But, as I think about it, I'm glad some of the old just gets older, and moves right along with us. I'm glad some things are lasting things. After all, this years latest technology will be replaced by next years latest and greatest technology. And "New and Improved" isn't always a good thing. Some things were better before they were improved upon; it wasn't broke but somebody fixed it anyway. No, I'm glad that there are some lasting things that are with us year after year. God has given us a few things that are perfect for this life, and perfection cannot be improved upon. As long as there is life on this Earth, there a some things that are with us always.

Sunrises and sunsets, for example, are always with us. The silently powerful rise of that life sustaining orange orb is welcome day after day, year after year.The setting of it each day lifts another page of life from the calendar, and gives us a quiet pause before another new day of unknowns dawns upon us. I love that the days are marked by the rising and setting of the sun.

I'm glad rivers are also with us always. The flow of the water along its journey is a reminder of our steady voyage through this life. Through the straits and narrows, the bends and falls, the water moves on. Day and night, rain or shine, winter or summer, the water travels on to its destination,and is one day collected by the sea. Rivers remind me of the unstoppable passing of time.

Love moves into each new year with us, although with the passing of time, it may change form. The heady euphoric youthful kind of love may mature into something that feels more like security, appreciation, contentment, and companionship. If we have truly loved and been loved, it lingers a long time after we have been collected by the sea. Love can remain in the hearts of those we have touched  long after we're gone. I'm glad love travels with us.

I'm thankful that memories roll along with us as the pages of the calendar turn. I know personal memories can be robbed by age or disease, but the memories that we help build don't belong solely to us; they last beyond us, much as love does. Babies are born, children and grandchildren are raised, and times and experiences shared are bound up in a book of life that has a new chapter written with each rising of the sun. No, our memories are not ours alone; they belong to all that we share this life with. Pleasant memories are the warm glow left with us long after the wine glass is empty, the burning coals left behind when the flame has flickered its last.

So while I do not wish to become stagnant and refuse to accept change when it is good, I am glad that some things do not change. I'm thankful that some things ride through time with us, like a steady horse under us, or a beloved old truck that just keeps going.  It feels good to know there are a few things in this natural life that you can trust, appreciate, and count on...year after year.

To all y'all, a heartfelt Happy New Year from all of us at the KD Chicken Ranch.

Rainy Day Chores

I put on my slicker and big hat and head out to feed and water, and to bring in a load of firewood.

The cold mist drifts in the air this day at the Chicken Ranch. Fog has draped around us like a thin grey curtain. Water drips from tree branches on to the backs of tiny birds, and they shake their feathers and shiver against the cold wetness. It is the kind of dampness that settles in a old cowboys bones, and offers an achy reminder that he has used his body for a machine too many times over the years. Knees and shoulders telling me I should've used a tractor to move things, or to carry loads that were too punishing on joints and cartilage. Young, impetuous, and impatient once. Not young any longer that’s for sure, not impetuous either. Impatient? Yeah, afraid I’m still there.

The sounds are few and muffled in the watery air. There is little activity around here this winter morn. Many of the chickens have decided to stay in their houses where it is dry, and wait for the cracked corn to come to the yard.

Hershey, the Chocolate Labrador Canine Security System (his official title), peeks his head out of the dog house as if to say, “Miserable ain‘t it?” “Some sentinel you are” I tell him. He reluctantly leaves his warm, dry bed of straw, and runs along while I carry water. He lets me know that a hen is out, and chases her until she gets to the edge of the fence and flies over. He has never hurt them, but just herded them all these years. It figures I’d have a  labrador retriever that hates water, and thinks he’s a Border Collie.

A fox squirrel sits on a tree branch above the chicken yard. He’d give his back teeth for a nibble of the corn being tossed to the hens. But, after calculating the risks, i.e. big rooster, dog, and me, he decides to just move on and forage in the nearby woods.


 After I feed the rabbit, our resident free loader that is my grandsons’ pet, I turn to head up to the woodshed. The smell of oak, hickory, and other woods fills my senses as I enter it. Happiness is a large wood pile, that’s one of the many things me and old Davy Thoreau agree on. I never tire of that split wood bouquet. I have appreciated that smell all of my life. My earliest childhood memories are of wood stoves and wood piles on the farms of Armstrong Valley and Shelby County, Kentucky. Two places that are the base of my DNA, down there in Gods country.

I gather up an armload of firewood, and head to the house. Won’t need but a low fire today. Just enough to dry the air a bit, and provide some visual comfort while I sip a cup of strong black coffee. May do a little writing today, or watch an old John Wayne western. May set up the lighted ceramic village for Patty that we put out each winter. May take a good winters nap in my leather recliner that I love.

I’ll probably do all these things as the day progresses. After all, it’s gonna be a wet weekend, and all these happy things can be done inside…where its cozy, warm, and dry.