Hermits unite!
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| Photo credit: KRiemer on Pixababy |
This is our day 😊
Actually, nearly every day is a hermit day for my husband John and me. Around our little homesteady place, except for a trip to town about once a week, it’s just us, the woods and the wildlife—the only sound we generally hear is the call of birds and the rustle of leaves in the trees.
Now, this is no hardship for me—I’m intensely introverted, and enjoy being by myself.
However, whether you’re an introvert or extrovert, it seems the day is worth celebrating! Wherever you are, it’s recommended you set your phone aside, and engage in some solitary pursuit.
John and I don’t have cell service out here in the Foothills, so smart phones are not part of our lives. In fact, we love our lives without them! But if you’re here at the Little Farm blog, chances are you’re a gardener!
If so, you can always go outside and commune with your plants. It’s actually a great idea to spend time with your plants regularly, so you can see issues before they turn into problems. For example, squish a few aphids on your kale before the entire plant is covered with them!
Yet with all the benefits of solitude, we humans are social creatures. Much like herd animals—the neighborhood cows I watch often hang around together in small groups of five or six. Likewise the horses. So I think it’s beneficial for the spirit to remember that we are (or can be) part of a community.
An interesting experience I had today really brought this home.
On my bikeride, passing an old, dense forest, I heard an odd clucking. A grouse? I’d just seen one in our orchard this morning.
No. Not a grouse. I turned to see what was making the sound.
It was a small flock of chickens near the road! In a forest, more than a 1/4 mile from the nearest house! Rustling through the underbrush was a black rooster, with about five tawny-colored pullets around him.
All I could think about was how defenseless the little flock would be, and all predators around here: from coyotes to bobcats to eagles and hawks. Those chickens wouldn’t have long for this world.
So I decided to give up my hermit-y existence and turned down a deserted road not far from where I’d seen the chickens.
I rode the short distance to the small farm I knew was tucked up against a foothill, and called out “Hello!”
I ended up meeting a nice older fellow, who’d probably lived there since we moved here, but with whom I’d never crossed paths. When I told him about the chickens on the loose he seemed really surprised, and said there were no other houses nearby.
Confirming that the chickens were not his, I have to say he had a gleam in his eye. I’m hoping he’ll climb into his pickup and see if he can rescue the little flock.
As it turns out, I was so glad I took the chance to *not* be a hermit. After all, we can always be hermits together.
