Here I am once again, perkily perched before my computer, coming to you from a cozy corner rural route west of Markdale.
I am slowly becoming comfortable in my new location, and though ambivalent thoughts once rampaged rapidly through my mind, they have now diminished to few and far between.
I still have many boxes to sort and select, with about 80 per cent thrown away, but this I’ll do on rainy days, leaving me lots of time to just wander or sit, soaking up a winter’s supply of vitamin D from the warm and sunny fresh air days of the oncoming autumn.
As most of you know, I had several trios of free range show stock chickens randomly roaming my yard in downtown Fergus, snatching up the creepy-crawlies from both flower beds and vegetable garden, while at the same time seasonally supplying me with sufficient freshly laid eggs to grace my breakfast table.
Here with ample rural route acreage I will be able to increase both species and number.
Though predators such as coyote and hawk are obviously present, and three large dogs, including two huskies, are frequently exercised at large, an initial large fenced area greater than that of my downtown lot will be erected, and netted over if necessary, for their continued protection.
As a matter of fact, a brand-new building, a miniature replica of the new barn that replaced the tornado-flattened, nostalgic, 100-year-old barn, affectionately referred to as “the chicken coop,” is now nearing completion.
The fencing for the yard is being picked up by a neighbour, with a heavy double axle trailer, from TSC, so by the time this column rolls off of the presses, I will once again be munching nutritious free range chicken eggs.
I have seldom before given much thought to “guardian angels,” but lately, since the passing of my Little Lady, my mind has opened widely to the possibility of a direct line upstairs. Coincidence just could not have so often happened, and Murphy’s Law was fully aborted, as many things fell carefully into place.
During the multiple trips spanning the final two weeks that it took to move, including all of my birds and 450 recently potted trees, hauled in courtesy-supplied trucks and a double axle horse trailer by volunteers, it rained only at night, watering each, when needed, well.
For the rest of the moving, which took place during the stress of harvesting the second cutting of hay on the farm, the weather was bright and sunny, all during the five days that both were accomplished.
The following days it rained and it rained and it rained again.
But sitting in the barn, listening to its pitter-patter on the new steel roof while enjoying the aroma of the freshly bailed hay was definitely a feature that served us well. It gave us a chance to finally recoup – and a recouping was certainly needed.
So there you have it, folks. I am here, I am happy, I am healthy and I’m settling comfortably in, courting the likeness of a bullfrog snuggled in a lily pond.
Incidentally, I’ll be at the Fergus Fair this Saturday and Sunday, in the Ag Awareness Tent.
See you there.
Take care, ’cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105