[A guest blot spot by ISS Editor Drew Whitney.]
In the springtime, as you may recall, my family proudly adopted six chicks. We turned one of our barn stalls into a coop, nailed chicken wire to posts to form a safe, outdoor pen, and began reading profusely about chicken care, which requires hardly more than providing food, water and shelter.
Although these fluffballs did little more than walk around, peck and poop, theyve provided constant entertainment for my kids, whove watched their newest family pets sprout feathers on bodies that have doubled, tripled and more than quadrupled in size in a very short time.
Once my children felt confident the hens had outlived chicken infancy, they began asking regularly, When will the chickens lay an egg? and When will we have our first chicken egg? and various other versions of the same question, over and over again.
Curious, we read in our manual that the long-awaited day would come between four and six months of age.
We still had awhile, we thought, but my oldest son was convinced our chickens would lay earlier if we fed them sumptuous feasts. We traveled to and from the pet-feed store with medicated chicken food and corn that had been cracked into fine and medium-fine consistency. Over the ensuing days and weeks, Morgan traveled to and from the coop, with his younger siblings in tow, trying out various recipes and portioning that he proudly presented to our very picky eaters. He is now known as the top chef in the barn, judging by the fact the brood gets very loud and fluttery whenever he approaches.
The most exciting day in all of chicken-dom came last week. Tommy came running into the kitchen at breakfast time and met Morgan head on. An egg, an egg, an egg! We could barely believe our eyes. It was small and spherical, not the perfect egg-shape Id imagined, but it was a magical feast as far as we were concerned. A reason to celebrate! Graham pulled out the fry pan and Annie got the butter. Minutes later, they each savored a scrambled morsel and began fantasizing about the omelets and deviled days to come.
Ever since that day, a new family ritual has emerged. At approximately 3:10 p.m., when the school bus pulls up to my house, my kids launch themselves, one by one, off the steps and seemingly fly to the chicken coop. Moments later, they emerge and gallop toward the back door, with the winner in front, holding the golden brown egg on high. I never knew how much joy an egg could bring and this is only the beginning, because we havent even hit the four-month mark (Morgans recipes have paid off).
What's this got to do with self-storage? Nothing really, unless we make a lesson out of finding enjoyment in lifes expected and taken-for-granted pleasures. No matter who we aremanagers, operators, construction workers or momswe only go around once. Make it worthwhile and savor every bite of simplicity.