I stopped at my local feed mill this morning to order my chicks. As I was standing at the counter I noticed that both of the employees had horribly deformed hands. It looked as if they had both been burned badly. I realized also that they were mother and son.
I wondered what had happened and how it affected their relationship. And I hate it when I'm so conscious not to stare that I'm afraid i stare. And then I was upset with myself because on past visits I have been judgmental about the store upkeep (which is probably hard to do with hardly any hands)
So anyway, chicks arrive on my birthday. And I think thats the day I will start living at the farm. Why not?