normalcy, out of doors, wood hauling, and chickens

I am finally starting to feel, during this, the seventh week of Zoralee's life outside the womb, normal. There was a fog over the surface of my brain for the first six weeks; I'm not sure how else to describe it. I wasn't necessarily overly weepy or troubled (most of the time), just tired and foggy, and there was a lowgrade doubt that it would go away. I thought, "If this is motherhood, I'm in a bit of trouble."

But the sun is breaking through. One day last week I swept, mopped, and vacuumed all the floors in a single day. I think I got a load of laundry done too. But wait. Before you start applauding, I also cleaned the bathroom and the half-bath. I know. I know. I am amazing. And more importantly than productivity, I am feeling alive again! This is due in no small part to the facts that Z cries for no apparent reason a little less now and also we are starting to understand her schedule. She is sleeping in 4 and 5 hour stretches at night sometimes too, which is a big bonus. Big, big bonus.

Over the past few weeks, when it's not below zero, I have felt motivated to get outside again. The fresh air does a world of good for my psyche. Here are Z and me on a walk to the mailbox today.

snowshoeing last week

I fell

but while I was down there...

chopping down and hauling dead trees

to replenish the supply for the wood stove

Wood hauling is one of my all time favorite physical activities. I get nostalgic over it, as we hauled a lot of wood while I grew up. The smell of freshly cut logs, the crunch of snow underfoot, thermoses of coffee and hot chocolate, the sense of familiarity you develop for that one small spot of woods in those few hours. And when the chainsaw stops its slicing, you really notice how quiet the forest is.



I heard on the radio the other day that throughout history, some people have viewed nostalgia as a mental sickness that should be remedied. Especially those in the field of psychology in the 19th and early 20th centuries. People have historically been pretty weird.

In other news, chickens!! The forces of the universe have coalesced to allow us to finally have chickens. These forces include being at my folks' place where there is ample room, and having a daughter who looks like a baby chick on account of her fluffy hair and dark eyes.
Knowing this, Jason has been breathing, dreaming, thinking, and snorting chickens for a couple weeks. He's reading books and magazines, visiting online forums, talking to the old-timers. If I expect him to hear me, I have to cluck cluck at the beginning of my sentences. Yesterday he placed his order; 25 chicks will be on our doorstep next week! 10 will be egg-laying hens (Barred Plymouth Rocks), and 15 for meat (Cornish Rock crosses).

The chicks'll need to remain inside for awhile, in a feeding trough under a heat lamp, so we're getting the spare room ready. For those of you who know my mother, you'll know how excited she is about this. "Oh children," she cries to us day and night, "I won't rest until we've found more barnyard animals to keep in the spare room."