Straw

I had used the last of our straw bale last weekend after I cleaned out the henhouse and knew I needed more. What I forgot was how much those bales weigh.

We tend to go through a bale of straw every six months and a bag of shavings about once a year. Mind you, this bag of shavings is 4 cubic feet, so it is by no means a small bag as most of you have probably conjured up in your imaginations. The bale of straw is huge and weighs a lot. I mean, a lotta lotta lotta lot. And it is packed so tightly it is nearly impossible to grasp the cording that keeps it together to carry it. I don’t remember the last few bales being like this, as I was able to pick them up and carry them to the wall, thrust them onto the upper level of our backyard, walk up the steps and over to the bale to take them to the covered area we keep them behind the chicken coop. Not so much with this last bale. I could barely get it out of the back of our Blazer.

This got me thinking that either this bale of straw was heavier than usual or I’m getting weaker. As much as I’d like to say it is the former, I have a feeling the latter is true. Of course, what little manliness I have suddenly gets flushed down the toilet when I see my sister-in-law chuck bales of hay (there is a difference between straw and hay, but they tend to weigh the same) as if they’re pancakes.

However, I can almost guarantee that this nearly two year unemployment adventure I’ve gotten into has not only weakened my body, but my spirits as well. I guess I’m saying that there is an emptiness associated with a stay-at-home-“_ _ _ _ _” who doesn’t have “dad” or “caregiver” in the blank. Of course, this isn’t to say that if I could actually make money working from home I wouldn’t do it, because honestly I would. But logically that isn’t going to happen unless I focus and give 200%, and unfortunately I’m not motivated to be there yet.

I guess I can equate life to this particularly heavy bale of straw. When times are good, the bale is easier to lift and put away. But when times aren’t so great, the burden seems heavier than it really is, and not only slows you down but nearly breaks you into giving up. I don’t want to give up. I don’t want to be a quitter. I want to move that bale into place and protect it from the rain and prevent it from decaying. I want to, and I’m the only person who can do this… for me.