They just loooove to rub it in.
In my county, it's illegal to keep poultry on less than an acre. Loud, destructive, hostile dogs? Sure! Virtually-silent, naturally recycling, sedate chickens? No way! And we live on a corner, in a neighborhood where we've been cited three times after our lush, verdant landscaping overstepped the iron-fisted county code, so I don't think there's any way around it. Truthfully, I'd rather have ducks (after reading this book) than chickens, but I'd rather avoid the fines than have ducks.
However, I am hopeful: at a local happy hour last week, I met one of the candidates who hopes to replace our troubled local representative for the county council. He agrees that the ordinance is an affront to femivores everywhere, and he's promised to overturn the anti-compost law to boot. Today I heard from a friend that one of the other candidates, a woman, actually keeps her own chickens (illegally, I guess? Or maybe she has that coveted acre.) Things are looking up for the pro-poultry caucus.
I'm thinking about gardening because the snow has finally, mercifully left us, leaving me itching to dig in the dirt. I planted my first batch of seeds (tomatoes and peppers) several weeks ago, and after checking them obsessively for several days, I forgot about them for several more. That unique combination did the trick, as when I happened to look this afternoon, I was shocked to see dozens of inch-long shoots craning their necks to reach a patch of sunlight. Yesterday I braved the incessant rain to pick up a garbage bag full of trash that had accumulated over the long winter, thanks (again) to our corner lot. Along the way I pulled some weeks, cleared out dead foliage and delighted in the tiny shoots of green at the bases of almost every one of my plants. Even the arugula, buried for weeks under 4 feet of snow, is producing bright green leaves in defiance of all logic.
Sharon Astyk recently explained her Independence Days challenge, and though I've been too intimidated by her until now to do anything but read with awe, I'm considering taking it on. I couldn't possibly do all the things she mentions each week, but maybe each month. Maybe. It's something I care about, and I'm much too prone to talking instead of doing.
In my county, it's illegal to keep poultry on less than an acre. Loud, destructive, hostile dogs? Sure! Virtually-silent, naturally recycling, sedate chickens? No way! And we live on a corner, in a neighborhood where we've been cited three times after our lush, verdant landscaping overstepped the iron-fisted county code, so I don't think there's any way around it. Truthfully, I'd rather have ducks (after reading this book) than chickens, but I'd rather avoid the fines than have ducks.
However, I am hopeful: at a local happy hour last week, I met one of the candidates who hopes to replace our troubled local representative for the county council. He agrees that the ordinance is an affront to femivores everywhere, and he's promised to overturn the anti-compost law to boot. Today I heard from a friend that one of the other candidates, a woman, actually keeps her own chickens (illegally, I guess? Or maybe she has that coveted acre.) Things are looking up for the pro-poultry caucus.
I'm thinking about gardening because the snow has finally, mercifully left us, leaving me itching to dig in the dirt. I planted my first batch of seeds (tomatoes and peppers) several weeks ago, and after checking them obsessively for several days, I forgot about them for several more. That unique combination did the trick, as when I happened to look this afternoon, I was shocked to see dozens of inch-long shoots craning their necks to reach a patch of sunlight. Yesterday I braved the incessant rain to pick up a garbage bag full of trash that had accumulated over the long winter, thanks (again) to our corner lot. Along the way I pulled some weeks, cleared out dead foliage and delighted in the tiny shoots of green at the bases of almost every one of my plants. Even the arugula, buried for weeks under 4 feet of snow, is producing bright green leaves in defiance of all logic.
Sharon Astyk recently explained her Independence Days challenge, and though I've been too intimidated by her until now to do anything but read with awe, I'm considering taking it on. I couldn't possibly do all the things she mentions each week, but maybe each month. Maybe. It's something I care about, and I'm much too prone to talking instead of doing.
