When the sky is dreary and grey in December and January, I don’t sit outside as much. I miss the birds that fly farther south for winter. I miss the heat on my shins. I miss the freckles that line my forehead. Instead, I sit in my dining room working with the blinds open; waiting and praying for the sun to come out, heating the windows in the dining room like a greenhouse.

Trying to soak up indirect vitamin D and gather inspiration for work writing, I played videos from Hawaii. Waves crashing, wind rustling through the leaves, water trickling, birds chirping, and other ambient noises not as easy to recognize didn’t spark thoughts of agriculture or the Western lifestyle. It did pull my brain out of the funk, sparking an idea, “Alexa, play bird noises.”

I worked the rest of my day and many days since with birds filling the void in the air of my living room. It’s incredible how simple things can take us to different places, even if just in our minds.

Catching up on some reading before getting ready for bed, I hear my chickens chirping from the dog’s room and my office — which for now, is the hen’s room too I suppose. It reminds me of Alexa’s bird noises, and how I wanted to listen to the birds chirp even when they were slim in numbers that time of year. I didn’t think listening to ambient bird noises a few months back would be the gateway to having indoor chickens but here we are.

The gangly, feathered chickens are pushing their welcome indoors. Dust is everywhere, the world is their shitter, and they’re too large to keep in a pen. Lane and I (and now my mom and dad) have been building their coop. I’m ready for move-in day. Construction is wrapping up, the doors and sides are painted, and the roof should be going on in the next day or so, depending on the rain schedule — which has been kicking us in the butt the whole process.

This week, I’m starting The Last Letters, a book club and stickered “As Seen on TikTok” read. If you’d like to read it with me, I’m linking the book here.