It’s the anniversary of the flooding last year, and it’s raining an awful lot. Mostly I worry about the chickens. We just put them outside yesterday, and from a world of warm (perhaps too hot) wood shavings into a world of wet. There’s a flash flood warning, my phone flashed and everything. They’re in a good spot, they aren’t likely to be drowned, but they’re likewise not likely to get a very good nights sleep. 

Crowded together, unsure of what the world is, it’s loud, it’s cold, it’s hot, it’s wet and laying down is weird, which is just about the only thing they can do. I worry about them, and I feel for them. To say nothing of the fact that they’ll live half way through next month before being mercifully killed.

I’m grateful that I am not a chicken, and I’m grateful for the roof over my head, and for a whole lot else besides.