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“Mom, can I go pet that black and white cat on the other side of the fence?” “UUGH-GRRRR-PFFFFT” “What was that, Mom?” “UUGH-GRRRR-PFFFFT” <<giggle, giggle>> “I’ll take that as a ‘YES!'” and off she bounds to whisper private words of love and connection to the skittish-but-loving, too-skinny,  juvenile cat. I’m known around town as the…

This morning my seven-year-old daughter, Lydia, helped me feed the chickens and gather the eggs.  This is what I heard outside of the chicken coop: “Mom, there are four eggs.” “No, I’m sorry, Mom…I was mistaken…there are five.” “Mom, I found one under Aunt Bea. That is her name, isn’t it? Am I correct?” What…
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