Acres of Ability

A week ago, my Kyra graduated from high school. During the weeks leading up to the pomp and circumstance, I heard rumors of grumblings about providing wheelchair access to the platform that the graduates were to cross in order to receive their diplomas (something about photographic eyesores or marring the brand-new gym floor, depending on who you asked), and how classmates that “had” to help Kyra get across the stage would have something taken away from “their moment”. I didn’t hear any complaints directly from Kyra’s classmates, so I rolled my eyes, ignored the rumors, and hoped for the best.  Yet, I wonder whether the grumblings would have taken place at all had Kyra become wheelchair-bound due to a football injury, or if she were the offspring of one of our locally “famous” families.  For their sakes, I pray we never find out.

It’s springtime, if you go by the calendar date, and not the temperature in central Iowa. Also nearly Eastertime, and chick-and-bunny-time in the local farm supply stores.  So, if you’re considering keeping a few hens of your own, now’s the only time to start.  Or so they say. Our pullets & row-run roosters. We’ve kept a few chickens over the years, and know how fresh eggs laid by happy hens are superior in every way to those tiny white things they sell in grocery stores.  In the past, we adopted hens that had been working for a neighboring commercial egg farm, but had lived past their egg-laying prime and were headed toward that great nesting box in the sky (or the stew pot).  We gave them shelter in a well-ventilated henhouse, fresh food and water, and freedom to roam.  In turn, they gave us entertainment, consternation, and the occasional egg.