April 2025

Hi beautiful people of the universe!

I hope your days are beginning to look a bit greener and that you're able to spend a little more time outside in the garden.

This month started off bittersweet. One morning, I woke up, looked out the window, and was devastated to see that all of my chickens in my very first coop had been killed. I ran outside and knelt down to find that my rooster, "Mohawk," had been decapitated, several chickens were split wide open, and one in particular—"Cornish"—was left unrecognizable, with only intestines and inner parts remaining. The coop’s wire had been pried back in several places.

I remembered hearing a lot of rumbling and commotion the night before, but I tried to ignore it—until flashlights were shined against a window and I heard rummaging through bins. It seemed as if someone had been paid to carry out this cruel and inhumane act, and the payment was left for them, hidden in my tool bin. With an overwhelmed heart, I recorded a video and posted it to Facebook, and the response was deeply felt.

Over the past few months, I’ve been building a new chicken coop, now home to only three hens and one duck who still produce eggs. I lost six hens and my only rooster. We raised them like family, and they will truly be missed.

Rest in Peace: Mohawk, Sly, Black-Wing, Cornish, Falcon, Mahogany, and Blanc.

On the brighter side of life on the farm, I managed to harvest a generous amount of bok choy, the last of the spring tulips and daffodils, and—much to my delight—I saw the flower of an apple tree for the first time. I also harvested mustard greens, turnip greens, radishes, cabbage, and herbs, and I’ve been finishing up the front of the pallet fencing. The first allium flower has bloomed, and I was in awe of the striking display of bachelor buttons and columbine. I had never seen columbine blossom before—the petals are absolutely stunning.

These past few weeks have left me feeling hesitant to even go outside. I feel unwanted in the neighborhood. From people filming me on their phones, to homophobic remarks, and now the recent attack on my animals—who could blame me for withdrawing my energy? Still, I continue to show up. I go door to door, giving away extra cabbage and eggs. I even make time to place the duck in a secluded area to swim in the pool—because he deserves that joy.

I’m doing my best to smile, to be myself, and not allow the outside world to affect the peace I’m creating—my version of peace, which is Heavn On Earth.

To more comforting days ahead. 

Letters from the Farm Field Journal