A Peek Around the Doorjamb

Monday was a day where the future kind of grinned at me. Mostly, when I talk about what we're doing here at the DaM farm, it's a work in progress. Though we are doing things every day, we are still focused on the future. Hopefully, the chickens will pay for their own feed. Someday the gardens will supply all our veggies. May-be in a couple of years we'll grow a little grain. Yesterday, I got a glimpse of how it might all turn out. I think it's going to be ok. That's a picture of my bathroom door and it basically represents what life is going to be like. The sign says, " Baby Bunnies keeping warm, please keep door closed". Livestock in the house seems to be status quo around here; the door to the future has opened a crack.

It started with the usual chores and mundane run-of-the-mill routine. After the kids went school, or as I say under my breath, after I sent them packing, I started moving my last two does and each one of their babies out to the other colony.

Ceilidh is a pure Californian, white with black ears, nose, tail and feet, so naturally her daughter is the grey rabbit. Lavender is the black rabbit with the silver ticking, she half Creme D'Argent and half Californian so, of course, her kit looks like a pure Californian.

I got them all moved in and the two youngsters immediately became life-long friends. Ceilidh and Lavender are putting up with each other, it's a classic case of armed neutrality, "Well, I don't like you at all but my kid is best friends with your kid so I'll put up with you, I guess, most of the time... just don't get in my face." Anyhow, they all seem to be enjoying the space and one is exceptionally interested in the chickens.


While I'm going back and forth transferring the rabbits, I vaguely acknowledge that in the other colony Solstice is mucking around in a nest box. This isn't a surprise because she is due in a couple of days so I pay it little attention. Then I notice something black and wiggling under her bum. She decided to have her kits in front of the nest box and hasn't pulled a lick of fur. So I pull out my trusty dryer lint, the kind I save just for these occasions, line the nest box with that and put in the kits. Solstice has meandered off and is contentedly munching on pellets. By the time I have the kits all fixed up, she decides it's time to drop another one, just to make sure she keeps me on my toes. This whole situation which would have caused great flurry and excitement two years ago is now just something that happens on a homestead. Small variants from the norm seem to be status quo around here, the door to the future cracked open a little bit more.

The day progresses and I collect nine eggs from ten hens, a very good yield. That night our supper, with the exception of the rice, is totally from our own homestead. That's a nice feeling, knowing exactly where your food is coming from. Evening comes and I go out for the last round of chores. It's a clear and crisp night, the air virtually tingles with the excitement of winter's approach. In the sky, Venus and Mars herald the waxing moon across the plush darkness of night. It is an extraordinary sight and one that won't be seen again so clearly for decades. A perfect end to a day on the homestead. I shouldn't be surprised; subtle surprises seem to be status quo around here, the door to the future practically swung open. And I finally took a peek around the doorjamb.