Recycling

I have a pile of recycling in my basement that I would like to just throw in the trash.  I'm tired of it in my way.  The thing is, we don't live in a "rich" part of the city, so even though we received shiny brochure in the mail announcing a new initiative in the city to put recycling bins in every alley, we have never seen such a bin.  I have sent complaints to the city, but apparently, my house isn't nice enough, because I never heard a reply.

So they are basically assuming that my neighbors and I don't want to recycle.  Maybe that's because I don't actually have neighbors on either side.  Maybe that's because there isn't even a trash can on our sidewalk so there is trash everywhere, and of course, people who don't throw trash in the trash can are not going to recycle.  Or maybe it's the same reason the Metrolink station on Grand has been a health hazard, while Metrolink stations at Forsyth have colored lights and seat warmers.  Maybe it's the same reason the main streets get repaved while some of our side streets are still cobblestone.  And I wonder if the crack house on the street with cobblestones would be there if the street were paved, or if the street would get paved if there were no crack house.  But that might be off topic.  Or it might not be.

In any case, I did not throw away the recycling.  Why?  Am I that hippy tree-hugger?  Call me what you like, but I actually have faith that my recycled stuff cuts down on new plastics being made, new waste sitting in the landfill that keeps growing, etc.  Maybe my faith is blind and they really just throw everything away. I hope not.  But then, I am one of those people who has the luxury to think about things like recycling.  Anyway, it would seem that the city only believes that rich people want to recycle.

Chicken Heartbreak

So we have four chickens... Today I looked out the window and saw one of the birds is acting really lethargic, standing very still, feathers fluffed up, almost with her eyes closed, not eating, drinking a lot when she makes it over to the water. Her comb is pale and around her eyes look pale, too, if that is possible. Her poop is white and runny. I'm thinking either it might be coccidiosis or cholera... The other birds are still okay as of now. 

But I feel helpless.  I hadn't read anything about illnesses, which I should have.  I am struggling not to act panicky, because there is really nothing I can do at the moment.  All the stores are closed.  We were not prepared for this.  And so we know--we are not really farmers.  Farmers are prepared.  Farmers plan ahead of time for disasters.  Farmers don't panic when they know nothing can be done.  They don't panic when something can be done.

I'm praying for my chicken.  Is that silly?  I'm praying that God will spare her despite our stupidity.  It's not her fault, anyway.  

It is so bittersweet because finally today after almost a year of having chickens, a  troop of kids marched themselves into our backyard, petted the chickens, asked for eggs, played with the baby... I bandaged a bloody toe and handed out some water. It was noisy, but nice.  I felt useful in the neighborhood and my chickens helped pave the way.  Poor chickens. 

New Mercies

That's what restoration is all about: mercy.  And that's what we get, in the natural and in the spiritual.  Our garden was in need of mercy, because we had messed it up.  So after a little garden lime, a little more compost, and some fish emulsion, plus a good few weeks of cool, rainy weather, our lettuce is finally growing, our tomatoes look like they might become good plants, and the chard is growing.  Then comes some hot weather, so the peppers and eggplants will have a shot, too.  God is good.

The biggest thing I'm learning in all this is that God is not afraid of mess.  I mean, I keep learning this, because I'm messy and God isn't afraid of me again and again.  This might only just be a learning process, but that's okay.  I hope we get some eggplant, but if we don't, there is always next year.