I read, with no small amount of satisfaction (and barely restrained operatic caterwauling), that my local city council has seen fit to entertain the idea of allowing chickens and bees within the limits of my fair “wee burg”.
As I’m sure many are aware, urban agriculture, and all of its associated bits and pieces, has been prominent in various news forums over the last few years.
I do not profess to speak for others; but for me, I like the idea of seeing the full life cycle of the food that I consume. It is my belief that when one is intimately aware of, and connected to, the cycle of life and death that animals and plants undergo to give us sustenance, one tends to view such things from (dare I say?) a more spiritual perspective.
It becomes far too easy to distance oneself from the gifts of Mother Earth when vegetables, fruits, and other edibles are grown, raised, and processed many miles from one’s plate; it becomes far too easy to devalue the work needed to procure such items for our consumption, when we can just “toodle over to the store” and load up our grocery cart with items from the other side of the planet.
For myself, the idea that I will be responsible for the safety, health, and well-being of a couple of feathered; or in the case of bees, a few thousand, furry individuals fills me with awe and humility in equal parts.
I am like a new parent, researching online for the “perfect” chicken coop, the “perfect” bee hive; what kind of chicken “girls” should I get? What kind of bee should I welcome to my garden? How many kinds of honeybees are there, anyway? What if they don’t like me? What if I don’t like them? Do I give them names? ( Bee #1, Bee #2, Bee #3, Bee #…. Damn! Bee #1, Bee #2, Bee #…. STOP MOVING!)
I must say that I am blessed to have close, dear friends that already have chickens and bees, so I shall be availing myself of their expertise; and I’m sure, affording them many opportunities to have a few good laughs at my expense.

As time progresses, I hope to be able to grow even more of my own food, procure lovely farm fresh eggs from the “back 40” (uh huh… 40 feet from my back door), enjoy a little honey from my own hive in my tea.  All while swinging in a hammock in the back yard, reading a good book…..