“The hardworking farmer should be the first to receive a share of the crops.” 2 Timothy 2:6
That oddly misshapen dome-like thing near my driveway is a chicken tractor. You can’t really tell under all those zip ties and bulging chickenwire, but soon our flock will settle in there. Soon, they’ll be digging up worms, snapping at grass, and cackling with glee (at least, that’s how I see it after the cramped box they’ve been in).
But the whole thing is—to be honest—painfully bad.
My hands have grown accustomed to wireless keyboards, not wire cutters. I’m used to tapping out missives on smartphones, not mashing down seeds under anemic soil. My arms and neck still burn a bright red if I even miss one application of sunscreen.