Everything is just ducky at our house. It even smells ducky. No, it’s not the poop in the yard from our 5 adult ducks and one recovering adolescent duck. It’s not the duck food scattered in various parts of our basement or the duck eggs in our refrigerator. It’s the ducklings! (Thunderous applause as the curtain rises)
We had to move our clutch of 12 eggs (the dirty dozen) from the nest to the incubator after their brood mother was snatched by the raccoon team, recently reduced. I shot one of them, and gave myself tinnitus when I attempted to shoot the other and missed. So far, it has not returned for a rematch.
But the 12 eggs are now 8 since four of them hatched! They’re so cute and fluffy. And they have this collective energy that ebbs and flows. They’ll jump and run and climb on one another for a few minutes, stepping all over their water dish, and then, suddenly, they all slow down, collapse, and their heads loll sideways as they fall asleep. It’s as though we gassed them with nitrous oxide, or something. (Tonight on Wild Kingdom: Extreme napping)
We keep them in a tub with a heat lamp attached 24/7, and we hope to find some more in the incubator in a few days. In the meantime, we decided to get my weed trimmer going on the jungle of weeds along our fence. The weed trimmer works well with its replacement bump knob, but it leaks fuel. I don’t know how risky this is, operating a gas-spitting engine, but if I use the word “scorch” in my next post, you’ll know why.
Soon after I received the free and generous gift of my weed trimmer, I cracked and split one of the tubes from the gas tank to the engine. The black flexible tube is fine, but the hard green one is very broken. I tried supergluing it several times, but it came apart as soon as I started to use it, and I lost the piece I had glued. Why did they design it with a green part? How am I supposed to find a piece of green plastic in my weed jungle? (Sigh). I guess this is why you never see any lawn equipment camouflaged. It’s all neon orange and yellow so you won’t lose it in your yard. Try using that as an excuse for not mowing: “I lost the mower in the weeds, dear. It’ll just have to wait ‘til next year.”
My wife and I both used the riding mower this week, and…it worked perfectly both times. That’s all. Really. No broken parts to replace, no missing pieces to improvise, no chunks taken out by an errant blade or anything else. Those of you who have read any of my previous articles about our A-frame in a flood plain are probably just as amazed as I am. Every other time I have used my riding mower, something has gone wrong enough to need fixing for several days, at least. Maybe this is what heaven is like: nothing breaks down or disappoints. No entropy – what a concept. That would remove any need for house-cleaning. (Thunderous applause)
This week, we deep-cleaned our master bedroom, which followed our bathrooms, kitchen, living room, and children’s bedrooms. We have been able, by God’s grace, to maintain the clean corners and uncluttered atmosphere of all the rooms so far. It’s amazing the change in our home’s atmosphere now that the clutter is gone and the clean is maintained. It takes much vigilance and effort, but it is so worth it. I am very grateful to my wife’s German ancestry for this idea, and to the author of Organized Simplicity for the steps to achieve it. We thank you. We have battled with entropy, and have won a recent series of battles.
When we are young, we all seem to expect this world to work without entropy because God has put a sense of eternal existence into us. But then we get disappointed and frustrated by it all and we forget why entropy exists: our sin caused and causes the lingering destruction of life we call a Fallen World, and God uses that to remind us of our need for Him so that we will find life in the only way life can be found – through submission to Him. Our self-destruction is the only alternative.
I know, you’d rather destroy the mower, or car, or hot water heater, or whatever machine isn’t working like it’s supposed to, and so would I, but it’s not the machine’s fault. We know this. But it is our fault when we hurt others…and we know this, too. Praise be to a God willing to rescue us from our self-destructive nature, the overwhelming guilt we suffer as a result, and even from the Fallen World we live in, and all just because He loves us so much. That’s even better than ducky; it’s mind-blowing cosmic spectacular awesome relief in my book.
I guess I should say “on my blog” instead. But maybe I’ll write a book, something called “The Secret of Frankenstein’s Mower.” But I finally got a bolt-action .22 rifle, so it will have to wait until after I shoot a woodland creature.