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I have said it before, and I will say it time and time again; What a sacred space Sarvodaya has been for me.

Last week on the farm was a short week, due to the holidays and most of us traveling to see friends and family. My travels were definitely a needed change from the routine I have been maintaining throughout this past half year, but God am I glad to be back. Sometimes I forget that the world I place myself in, (this world of being environmentally conscious, and all that comes with it), is a drastically different than the rest of that which I have known throughout my life. It is a relief to my soul to return to a space filled with people who aspire to aid in healing the trauma we have created for our dear Earth. People who don’t find it strange to actually care about creatures (animal, and plant life alike) outside of the limited view of humanity that they are surrounded by. Who care about our place within the natural world, instead of being so indulged in consumerism and the wasteful accumulation of objects that were built with intentional obsoletion hardwired into their system. Not that I don’t appreciate the incredible technology that is available to us, but in the words of my dad, “I bought them because I could” seems to be the way general society interacts with what they invest in. It was quite astonishing, really, to see all of the soon to be junk that was given and received. And, again, I am just really happy to be back. Even with as much as I drastically enjoyed the time spent with loved ones.

Last week was a calm one at the farm. The days were crisp and frosty.

My favorite.

I have been quite enjoying my interaction with the chickens, and am happy that I wasn’t around to witness the killing of two of them on Friday. Honestly, I probably would have cried. Not that I don’t understand death, but I feel I will always have difficulty understanding killing outside the necessity for survival. Although, I am a firm believer of anyone who consumes animal products having the experience of killing that which they eat, in order to provide full exposure to the process. I feel it is much easier for many to overconsume in meat when you never have to see the meat outside of the already butchered state. Taking a life can aid in the appreciation of life, as paradoxical as that seems. What is life, other than an infinitely interconnected paradox.

Back to the chickadees. They definitely recognize me by now. Although I already had a conceptual understanding of their ability to do so, it is a whole different thing to very vividly experience the differences in their interactions with multiple people. They have become so accustomed to me that they hardly need to be rounded up when it is time for them to return to their coops. I enjoy speaking to them, and they seem to recognize certain words, especially retaining to food. No surprise there. Though they also recognize when I tell them that I am going to turn the wood stumps we have within their area. They love scavenging for bugs that gather beneath the stumps. I am convinced that the pretty little Australorp that I call my favorite is mutually in love with me. She’s a feisty one, but as soon as I approach she is right there, and seems to enjoy staying in whatever general area that I am in. When she is in her better moods she will let me pick her up without a fuss. When she if feeling feisty she likes to stay in range, but far enough to where can’t be easily picked up. Though she is now the first to come running when I call them back into the coops. I think she knows she is my favorite, though I swear some of the other hens are jealous and will take a peck at her now and again when they are all gathered around me. I have discovered that most of the hens really enjoy being lightly massaged at the sweed of their back (the area right before their tail feathers). It seems to help calm them when they feel anxious about returning to their coops.

Frost collecting on Arugula.

Frozen puddle of rain water on the Cat food container.

Gorgeous little Plymouth rock, also known as a Barred Rock.

Cecile jinxed herself and caught a gopher (a rare occurrence). This little feline didn’t hesitate to feast upon the catch. Strange enough, as much as I have no desire to kill, I have little problem handing an already dead corpse, as death equally fascinates me.