I took a walk with my friend Sherri earlier this week. She's been a great sounding board for me over the years, someone in whom I feel I can confide without fear of judgment, whose opinions I value greatly, a fantastic mom and a wonderful friend. When we walk, the time flies by as we swap our latest tales. Of course, this time the Kauai trip came up.
"I read some of your blog," she said. "I thought, 'These things could ONLY happen to Jennifer.'"
She was referring to the 'uhu incident, specifically, but also to any number of other prior incidents of fantastic travel luck in mind. Of course, others have great luck, too, on their travels. (Check out this travel blogs for some seriously great stories of good luck on the road!) And when I told my dad about some of our good fortune, he wasn't at all surprised. (Where do you think I learned these travel skills?) But my luck doesn't end on the road. And I'm fairly certain most people have some pretty danged good fortune. Sometimes, we just have to step back to see it.
Recent events at our house, however, have required no pause - the planets have aligned, the heavens have smiled down upon us, the gods of so many homeless things have been on their side. Case in point: Flo.
About three weeks ago, er, while we were on Kauai vacationing and trying to stay away from the wired world, my friend Sue put a shout out to friends and family, a desperate call for help. One of her hens was being pecked to within an inch of its life by the other hens. Flo, her Rhode Island Red, needed a new home. The girls and I have been considering hen keeping for more than two years now, but we've vacillated each spring as the hatch of chicks passes through the local farm supply outlet. Flo was in need, though. She was calling to us. So I volunteered. "If you still have her in three weeks when we get home, we'll take her."
Never mind we didn't have anywhere to keep her; no proper chicken housing unit or run. We'd figure it out, I told myself.
I dropped a note to just about everyone I knew, or even barely knew: "Does anyone have a chicken coop they don't need anymore?" A few hours later, an old high school friend with whom I only recently got back in touch responded: "Strange you should ask. The house we just bought (it closes tomorrow) has one and we don't have plans to use it. Give me a week to look at it again and see if it's built into the fence or if it would detach easily. I'll get back to you." Saturday, after the Mud Mash, I took tools and some energy to the new house, pulled the front off the coop, snatched up the two hutches inside (we return for the rest of the large coop pieces tomorrow), stopped by Flo's house, and returned home to a very surprised, very thrilled little girl.
Today, V and I started putting together the lay box that should give Flo a little more space and help her feel more cozy. We had just enough scraps of materials saved from previous projects to make a nice box. Tomorrow, we'll pick up the rest of the run enclosure so she can get some leg room and we'll wrap up work on the lay box by week's end. The total cost for the hen project? ZILCH. The value? A little girl's overwhelming joy. (She's risen early both mornings to read to Flo during sunrise.)
Yes, we have some pretty good fortune around here. Step back and look at your life. I bet you've got a lot of great news, too.