Rhythms of Life

“The Sun rises and the moon sets and each in their season, turns and returns, world without end.” ~Unknown

I don’t know where I first heard the above quote. I believe it was in a movie I watched quite some time ago, and I can’t recall anything about the movie apart from that quote made by a narrator at the beginning of the film. It is a quote that comes to mind anytime I get to thinking about the seasons and the rhythms of life.

Since I started keeping chickens and especially since I started to incubate and hatch my own chicks, I have become much more aware of those rhythms. Last night, I candled the eggs again, and was delighted to notice definite signs of life in two out of the eight. I think that they are equivalent to day four eggs, even though they’d been in the incubator for 5 days by then. I had a feeling that the incubator was not keeping its temperature even, so I wrapped a blanket around it to help insulate it from fluctuations of temperature in the room and hey presto, life sparked and began to develop!

My days have settled into a rhythm too now. Each morning I gently handle the eggs, moving them from one rack to the other, turning them 180 degrees as I move them. Then I check the water in the humidity chamber, cover them up, replace the blanket and go on about my day. I return after dinner and repeat the whole process going back the other way.

Thus, gently rocked from one end to the other, warmed and coddled in their humid environment, the eggs quietly rest and develop.

Around me, the rhythms of nature are slowing down. Leaves are turning, birds are finishing the task of raising the past season’s young. The hens scratch and browse across the lawn, showers come and go, clouds scud across the sky. The sun peeks through in brief glimpses and then is gone again.

Eastern Yellow Robin

Eastern Yellow Robin (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

An Eastern Yellow Robin hunts for spiders in the garden and picks them off our window frames which sorely need de-cobwebbing. I’m reluctant to do it, though because that would mean Mr Robin would have a more difficult search for sustenance.

The season is changing and the wild grasses are in seed. A boon for the chickens and other seed eaters but a bane for me with my oversensitive nose. *sniffle*

I watch Gaia’s rhythms, and slow my pace, listening to the hum of bees in the branches of the golden rain tree and smile.

As the seasons turn, I am more and more comfortable with my own steps within the dance.


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