I didn’t get a photo of it because it was too

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I didn’t get a photo of it because it was too dim and I was too tired, but– after turkey processing (which went from 7:30 am until about 2pm), and after lunch, and after setup for CSA pickup, I was given a tote full of half-rotten winter squash and told to give it to the hens, because that would be a fun job. So I did, I hauled it up the hill and the hens all saw me and came running because they know what that means, that means leftovers for them. But then they all panicked and ran away squawking because I moved too much and they’re not very tame. And then I had to bootheel-stomp the squash that were too intact for them to peck, and that sent them all off squawking. But then they came running over to excitedly peck the squash. They love treats, they’re just. Not tame.

And then Middle-Little got back from the farmer’s market, and she and I went out to sit with the chicklets, who remember me.

They were a little skittish, and out of practice at taking food from my hands. So I didn’t give them too many snacks, I just sat in there with them.

The little white cockerel likes to stand in your hand, if you hold your hand out.

One of the barred rock girls climbed up to my shoulder and sat there a while, then discovered the hood of my sweatshirt, and climbed in it, and sat there very satisfied with herself. 

Then another one climbed up on my leg, sat there a moment, then fluffed herself out, settled down, and went to sleep. 
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Thanks to Middle-Little, here is a fairly complete photo record...

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Thanks to Middle-Little, here is a fairly complete photo record of Animals Sitting On Me from today. 

The cat is Whiskey, who used to sleep in my yurt and is probably sort of mad that I took the yurt down.

The chicken is more delighted than she looks, I think, to be sitting in my sweatshirt hood. 
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star-anise: I wonder how much of that classic sense of,

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star-anise:

I wonder how much of that classic sense of, “I can have high expectations for how other people are treated, but view myself as trash,” comes from getting a lot of one’s basic lessons in love and empathy from books instead of peers

Like, I had almost no friends as a child, so I sat alone at recess, not playing with other children or being treated as worthwhile or interesting. The part of my brain that was supposed to encode my own personal experiences of being loved and treated well grew cobwebs while I was around other kids. So I brought library books out onto the playground with me.

Books saved me—books taught me that there were worthwhile friendships out there, and what they were like. I could tell when the characters deserved better. Books were like an author bottling up love and attention for me so I could open it up when I needed it. So I was kept entertained and learned what they looked like for other people.

But that didn’t change my own circumstances. Reading about someone being comforted when they were sad was very different than feeling someone else’s arms around me when I was crying. No matter how fiercely I wanted my life to be like the books I read, it wasn’t.

So I learned: There is a reality of love and care for other people, and there is a reality of loneliness and sorrow for me.

So no wonder I had a double standard for a lot of things in my life. My education in love was strictly bifurcated, and the important dividing line was whether a scenario included me, personally.

If true, this has all kinds of implications when it comes to treating the lonely love-starved bookworm, so I wonder.
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Turkeys all packaged, pickup ongoing, phew what a busy day....

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Turkeys all packaged, pickup ongoing, phew what a busy day. That’s a lot of beautiful turkeys. (at Laughing Earth)
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thebyrchentwigges: sacrificethemtothesquid: I went to bed with a Taylor Swift earworm, and then...

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thebyrchentwigges:

sacrificethemtothesquid:

I went to bed with a Taylor Swift earworm, and then dreamed the bones of this. 

Cut for longish short story. 

Keep reading

Post-apocalyptic, with its own grim, amazing atmosphere and sense of destiny…
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