The oldest blogger

Our little silver Hamburg chook, Stella Gladys, is dead. Hanno found her in a nest yesterday morning, she was wet over the top half of her body, dry below and sitting in a dry nest. It had been raining overnight but the roof doesn't leak. Hanno thinks a snake tried to swallow her but gave up, I think it was the stress of relocation.

RIP Stella Gladys.

It might sound cruel but Hanno and I have come to accept death as part of what happens in our backyard. We aren't what you would call farmers or graziers, but I do see our one acre block as a little farm which supports life and sometimes experiences death. We know this is likely to happen when we get new critters, because, for some creatures, the stress of being caught at their original home, being put into a container and transported by car to our place, is enough to kill them. We are gentle folk, we do care for our animals and chooks, but sometimes kindness isn't enough.

I made myself sit at the sewing machine until I finished two projects yesterday. One was a tote bag for my swap partner, Chas, the other, a tea cosy. I made the cosy from a small part of a recycled cotton jumper that was not able to be mended. I added some wadding for warmth, cotton strips for aesthetic appeal and Bob's your uncle, we have ourselves a tea cosy. I might cut the rest of the jumper in squares, hem each one and use them as cleaning clothes.

Earlier in the day I set up a small enclosure for the baby chicks. You can see them here on the grass, which they pecked at and scratched on most of the day. They are, in order from left, golden Hamburg - Jewels, Faverolles - Heather, golden Campine - Beatrice and buff Orphington - Martha. I gave them a little perch to practise on so when they progress up to the chicken coop, they'll know how to roost at night. I wish I had a broody hen to mother these little chicks. All creatures benefit enormously from a zealous and caring mother to show them the what, where, why and how of life. These babies have to get by on instinct, food and water on tap and a safe environment; the rest is up to them.

The last of the red Welsh onions where picked yesterday. We have problems growing regular onions here - our growing season is just a little bit too short for them, but we get by fine on spring onions. I have just replanted some of JudiB's green onions, which I consider to be the finest spring onion - for abundance and taste - that I've grown. Judi lives a couple of hundred kilometres from me, going west, and she has a bumper crop of them every year. I think she's given away hundreds of these onions over the years. Mine have been growing well and faithfully for two years now, and even in driving rain, the hottest summer and long spells of dry, they thrive. Some of these onions will be a added to silverbeet that was frozen earlier in the year, some backyard eggs, local cream and ricotta and a few sheets of philo pastry to make a pie for our dinner tonight and tomorrow.

It's only 12 C (53F) this morning, the first cold morning of the year. Sometimes I fantasise about living in a cold climate again with hot open fires, mittens and duffel coats, but then the first cold morning hits and I decide I'm best here where the winters are mild. Now that I'm older I feel the cold more than I once did. I think Hanno's the same because often in the winter he makes himself a hot chocolate before he goes to bed. Our dogs, Rosie and Alice, are growing old along with us and now that Rosie is 12 she struggles to stand up early in the morning and she has to be lifted in and out of the car. And that's no easy matter. I wish there could be life without death but that impossibility leads me to believe that while we are all here, we make the most of what we have, we show respect and kindness to all and we leave our home and family better for us having been here.

I'm sounding kind of maudlin and I don't feel sad at all. I just have a full and true awareness this morning of the fragile nature of life and the beauty to be found in just living. I will be 60 soon so I still have at least another 30 years in me. I wonder how old the oldest blogger is. ; - )