Friday

In the middle of the night, Ed wakes up and asks me -- have you noticed that the heater is cycling on and off?
Of course I haven't noticed. Sleep. I was right smack in the middle of it. And, too, we have a very quiet furnace.

I try to focus on the issue at hand. From what I can make out, it appears that on this warmest night of the year, the heater is turning itself on. Then immediately off. Then on again. Just for a few seconds. Then off. And it's bugging the heck out of Ed because it signifies a problem and he hasn't a clue as to what it could be.

Predictably, he's up and off to the basement.
He comes back after less than an hour.
Unbelievable. Really. Unbelievable. A bug in the condensate overflow line.

I only wish I could fully grasp the significance of all this. No matter. I glance outside. The skies are just at the point of mellow light that takes hold before the sun is up. Time to think of letting the chickens out. It's going to be a lovely morning!











The day runs away from me -- of course it does -- but not until we have our breakfast moment on the porch.







After that, it's grocery shopping time, followed by a full day of yard work. With the chickens following every movement of the hand shovel. 

It becomes obvious that any serious planting can take place only when the hens are resting. And they rest only after big eating extravaganzas.  So I work around their habits, zipping forward mainly in the hours when they pick clean their feathers or doze off for long naps under the picnic table. When they're up and alert, we hunt worms together.








By evening, I'm ready to throw down the shovel. But it's not a night for careful post writing. I can only note the basics, nothing more. Bedtime cannot come fast enough! I'm as tired as the hens are after a day of soil scratching. Until tomorrow then! To a good night of sleep!