Beloved:
   
             A new adventure in chicken raising yesterday. I was at home all day and had the coop open. The girls roamed from the woods to our driveway digging bugs and eating tiny gravel.  Mid-afternoon I was in the kitchen when they began screeching such as I had never heard.  I ran to the window just as a hawk swooped and settled on a garden post.  I ran outside screaming my own head off and the hawk lifted away, flying higher but continuing to circle my yard.

            None were taken or injured but I was still angry and the hens were terrified.  They crouched under bushes and brush, silent as death. I fetched some moldy cheese from the fridge which made sixteen girls brave enough to follow me to the coop.  The other five would have none of it.  

           When the cheese ran out I tried oats.  They darted out for snacks and then back to safety.  No way were they crossing that thirty feet of open grass.  At sunset I opened the coop again.  The five rejoined the flock and everyone came out for a last walkabout before settling inside for the night, nobody worse for the wear.

           Waiting for sleep I tried but failed to muster any sympathy for the hawk. My yard is overrun with chipmunks upon which I’d gladly have him feast. Compared to a fat hen I expect a chipmunk is a great deal more work for far fewer calories.  I’ve decided neither to forgive nor blame him. He’s just being a hawk.  But I’m watching for him now, armed not with a dishtowel but a bucket of hard green tomatoes to throw at him if he decides to terrorize my girls again.  That is, if they ever come out of their coop again.

I pray this rainy day is full of gentle kindness for you and yours.  

~ peace & prayers, pastor annette

Beloved:

    One puppy’s chin is on my elbow as I type. She whines pitifully for the sunshine she’s missing.  The deck door is open but she’s only happy if I stay too.  She feigns separation anxiety when really she’s bored.  I find her a toy and get back to work. 

    I’m not so different.  Surrounded by books and yarn and flowerbeds, I sigh for something or someone else to entertain me.  The most handy and least satisfying of them all is my smart phone.  Two taps away from the voice of my every friend, and I play Free Cell instead.

    I’ve a friend who predicted the internet wouldn’t last.  Rather than merely endure it has seeped into every nook and cranny of our lives and our life together.  Without it I feel a prick of anxiety about how to do my day - in spite of the fact that for years I was a mother, minister, and human being without it.  I laugh to think my grandparents thought the same about electricity.

    All the same, I’m grateful for its gifts, most of all daily contact with my kids. Yesterday one daughter texted me pictures of what she’s working on at art school. She’s fourteen hours and two taps away.  Lucky me.

    May your day bring deep connection with others, with nature and with your own heart and soul.
 
~ peace & prayers,
pastor annette