Almost...

Tonight when I checked my horoscope, I found an entry for the week of February 6th titled Almost. Rob Brezsney's "Freewill Horoscope" is not too far off the mark these days. It does seem like my life is composed of thousands of these small almosts--almost home, almost happy, almost changed. Almost, but not quite there.

However, I have been assured that in the next 14 to 16 weeks I will "graduate from the endless and omnipresent almost" and rise up to some "bold measure of completeness from out of the ever-shifting flow."  According to Brezsney's prediction, it kicks into high gear now. So how am I kicking it into high gear? How am I rising up to some "bold measure of completeness"? How about with chickens?

Two years ago I thought about getting some chickens, but then I accepted a teaching assignment where I would be on the road for six weeks during the semester. Tess had just left for college and my husband was traveling with his work, so I let the idea slide. Then last spring, I decided to go for it. I liked the idea of chickens scratching around in the back garden; they would add another dimension to the home landscape. As luck would have it, a pair of Cooper's hawks decided to build a nest in our honey locust. I almost had my chickens, but decided to put my plans on hold--again--until next spring.

And now "next spring" is almost here. It is almost time for chickens!  The coop and the run are in the garage ready for assembly; the feeders and waterers are in the basement workshop washed and ready to fill. Plans and sketches for the layout of the chicken yard in a fenced section of the veggie garden have been drawn and seem reasonable. Even the neighbors have been notified (and they're excited); my mother-in-law is eagerly awaiting the chicks' arrival. "Let me know, so I can come babysit," she says.

My horoscope reads that it all kicks into high gear now, but still, I must wait. For the bitter cold and deep snow to abate. For the eggs to hatch at the nursery. For the arrival of the those little peeps who will be my salvation from the omnipresent almost to a bold measure of completeness....with chickens.