Trust vs mistrust

John and I stood out on our back porch today, drinking afternoon coffee, and watching Maggie run down the hilly fields behind our house.  What a cool thing to watch your kid explore on their own; to know that they feel secure enough to venture into the unknown, safe enough to be brave and curious, but still glance up at us to make sure we are there if they need us.  I sense that this child has some wild in her soul and this is the beginning of fierce independence, and I love it.   In kids, this type of curiosity is pegged as a normal part of development, Erik Erikson's stage of trust vs mistrust, where children learn whether or not the world around them is safe and ok to trust and explore, or whether it is a place to fear, harbor hatred and anxiety.  Sadly, in adulthood, people that walk around believing that the world is a safe place for them to explore and learn are talked about as naive, ignorant even. Perpetually stepping outside of our comfort zones and pushing our limits isn't always seen as normal,  in fact some go so far as to say that it is irresponsible, unstable, that we should find something we love to do and hunker down.  Not to dismiss that, there is a lot to be said for hunkering down in a comfortable life.  But there is a beauty in restlessness.  Maintaining the need to see and understand what is just beyond your reach, just beyond your comprehension, just beyond your bubble of comfort.  Trusting that not only is the world safe enough to let you explore, to try and fail and try again, but that you yourself are strong enough to survive this sometimes untrustworthy world.

This is why my husband is the smashingest of all husbands.  I swear the dude believes, ACTUALLY believes he can do anything...which might make him sound cocky, but no.  What it really means is that when we do something crazy together like buy a 44 acre farm in Maine with no experience or knowledge, and he grabs my hand and says we can do this, it makes me feel like a toddler exploring a field.  Like I can explore to the farthest reaches of my imagination, I can trip and fall and get up again, and I'm still safe...and still excited to keep exploring.

So, what, you say have we been doing on said farm?  Well, so far (after all of that epic talk about being empowered to get outside your comfort zone), we haven't actually done anything crazy.  The snow is ALMOST melted (although a few more inches this week I think), and there are a couple of green shoots of grass coming up.  So we got the chicken coop ready, we cleaned it out, set up the roosting boxes and some other boards and posts for them roost on.  Maggie helped by swishing a badminton racket around in the old chicken poop and saying 'working, Maggie working.' Love.

We wanted to get 4 hens and 4 chicks, just a small group to keep it simple.  We wanted hens so that we would have eggs sooner but we also wanted chicks so Mags could get comfortable with them as they were little and then watch them grow.   But our craigslist searches for hens were minimal and we asked the one person in town that we know and she had no recs on where to get hens, but she did say there was a roadside sign just down the road for chicks for sale.  So I drove over later that day, in a near blizzard which just seemed wrong.  Mags was in the back, we had our box with shavings and were ready to go.  I knock on the door and an older man answers, he had been at the stove making a grilled cheese.  He told me he was making dinner for his mom (wow she must have been old) and he would be right with me.  So he continues making his grilled cheese, grabs a plate and a couple other things out of the fridge and walks out of the room.  I stand in his kitchen with Maggie.  This is one thing I love about Maine, no one is ever putting on airs for anyone.  When he comes back we exchange a total of six words about the weather and go see the chicks.  He was very nice but I know that he took one look at me and said 'oi.'  As I'm juggling Maggie and my shaving filled box down his 14 steps in the snow, with my non work boots.  John and I decided to get 14 chicks, since they were 'straight run', which I learned that day meant that they hadn't been sexed yet so we will end up with a mix of hens and roosters.  We don't have a huge use for roosters so we figured we would get more and hope for 8 or so hens. So we load them up, him picking up three to each of my one awkward grabs of a chick.  The box is full and he looks at me and says blankly, why don't I carry the box out to the car for you.  Oh man I'm such a stereotype right now, I laughed to myself.  I get the kid loaded up, the chicks in the car, the man paid ($2/chick, my kinda price), and he kind of hesitantly says 'oh uh, just keep an eye on their, their butts.' 'Their butts?' I say.  And I realize now what this man has known since the moment he saw me....I know exactly zero things about raising chicks. He proceeds to tell me that their poop crusts over on their butts in the first couple weeks of life and they will die if you don't clean it off because its basically plugging the vent. So...

You should have seen me, a dish of warm water, some dish soap, some rubber gloves, some Q-tips, and a look of determination.  I picked them up one by one...and sure enough, every one of them had good ol crusty butt.  Thanks dude!  So here I am, dunk, pick, rub, repeat until all their little butts are cleaned and allowed to do their job.  I'm proud to say that today we are six days into owning chicks and we have 14 happy, seemingly healthy, growing chicks, none of which died from butt plug syndrome, or hypothermia in our very jerry rigged warming set up. 

(I had some foil packaging that I lined around the trough to reflect our heat lamp, and put our electric space heater just outside...I'm not a purist).  I'm also proud to say that my chicken handling skills have improved vastly in the last week.  They are getting big and strong and are starting to loose their fluff and gain real feathers.  There is one, the runt, that is our favorite who has four feathers right at the tips of her wings and the rest of her is still fluff, she is so sweet. 

Anyway, we have just transferred them into a bigger box that they will probably be in for another few weeks before we start to bring them outside.

Another "farm endeavor" that is really no different from our previous life is that I've been making tons of granola.  Don't worry, I'm absolutely storing it in mason jars, like any good yuppie would.  Here is the ingredient list (I didn't measure so I can't help you there) if you are interested, its certainly nothing novel but I think its pretty good!

Melt butter, coconut oil, maple syrup, molasses, agave and spices (cinnamon, nutmeg, whatever you want)
Mix oats, flax, cashews, almonds, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, shaved coconut, raisins
Mix melted deliciousness with dry goods and bake on 400F until golden brown (25 minutes or so?)

In sum, we are still very much in prep/plan mode (without much planning) here at the farm, but I have been feeling so empowered to simply try things, to excite my creativity, to challenge what I know about what I am capable of.  I'm so excited to be a toddler in my own field and explore this crazy world of homesteading!