Absurd: Ridiculously unreasonable, unsound, or incongruous

We’ve had THE WEEK.  Although, I (Rachel) feel a little dramatic going on about it…thousands, millions even, of farmers and entrepreneurs have walked this road before us.  Joel Salatin and Kristen Kimball warned us; we knew it was coming.

People say to pace ourselves (my Mother’s concerned), but they just don’t understand that with farming, if you really are trying to make a go of it, some things must be done NOW, or else all your animals and crops will die horrendous deaths.

Just kidding…kind of.

We lay on our backs in bed, after taking turns applying Neosporin to each others abrasions and medicating our sore muscles with Ibuprofen, and discuss the absurdity of this whole thing.

(Mom: stop reading here, it will only stress you out)

“This is crazy.  What were we thinking.  Did we think through this enough?  How are we ever going to be able to go on vacation ever again.  Or have a day off?”

“Maybe we should just shop at the farmer’s market for the rest of our lives and call it good,” I say.

We then laugh together about a blog post titled:  NEVERMIND.

Although to someone like my brother-in-law, Josh, whose family has crafted a wonderful life for themselves farming, an acre of land and some chickens, what’s the big deal?  (I’ve been told by an inside source that his side of the family is not the least impressed) But not to us.  We both grew up in suburbia and know nothing of the agrarian life.  We are unfamiliar with the sore backs, weathered skin, caring for the needs of animals, constant exposure to black widows (it’s bound to happen…), 16-hour workdays, and financial strain.  If you talk to any farmer their life has been characterized by struggle.

Tomorrow we’ll wake up and continue moving forward.  Chris will build the second chicken coop and I’ll put on my scrubs and go into work.  Sunday we’ll Sabbath (except I happen to be on call).   Monday we’ll somehow shuttle 25+ finicky chickens 7 miles in my Honda to the farm and figure out a system to keep them fed and hydrated (hopefully they’ll forgive us for their days of homelessness in the garage), then I’ll go to work.  Maybe by Tuesday the siege going on at our place between our three, one-year-old chickens, and the 15 chicks we just introduced to the flock will be over (currently the adult chickens have the chicks barricaded in the coop and won’t let them out), the pecking order will be established, and there will be peace in the valley.  We can only hope.

Until then, we’ll just take it one day at a time.

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