Tuesday

The prison sentence continues. Four new hens, locked in the coop for the day. (I'm giving them 48 hours behind bars.) Two older girls -- free to roam.

Mean? No, realistic. Ed is out on his mega machine design project until evening. I have chores in the morning, kids in the afternoon. Neither of us can go on chicken hunts throughout the day and neither of us wants to search for them late into the night. We're hoping that they will feel enough familiarity with the coop that they wont stray far once we do release them. Tomorrow.

Our morning is disrupted by the demands of the day. I need refills on bread product for the kids and so long as I have to drive to the bakery (13 minutes each way), I surely want to get a fresh breakfast treat for myself out of the deal. But Ed can't wait for me to get back, so I settle for a breakfast in two parts: first, fruit, with him. Okay, and the cat.

Then I do my bakery errand...

... and I don't go home afterwards. Despite severe coffee deprivation, I drive on to the grocery store to do the weekly shopping. I have a voracious fruit eater here each day (in addition to my own fruit consumption, which is huge!) and I need to restock.

And only late in the morning do I sit down to breakfast number two. With a double shot of espresso in that milky cup.

Ah.... Now that feels good!

A quick check of the house plants follows: here's a real surprise! Last year's Amaryllis, the one I got in December 2022, bloomed again this week. That's not supposed to happen. Those bulbs are a one shot deal. You're supposed to compost them after they do their thing. Except the leaves were pretty, so I left it on the window sill. And guess what?

It popped open some new flowers for us. Amazing!

Also blooming? Crocuses outside!

Okay, great. What else do I have to report from the farmette? Well, the season of "agony" has begun. I fall into a trap today that is about as predictable as a baby wailing just when you want to get some rest. I walk out to the barn to check on the hens. All good there. On the way back, I plucked out a creeping charlie from the Big Bed. And that's when I noticed that there were maybe a million honey locust seed pots littering the flower bed. I have used every strategy in the book to get Ed to agree to take down that locust tree, but he absolutely wont hear of it. Realizing that the seed pods are a real nuisance, he had said that come spring, he would rake them up for me. But Ed is not here today. And good weather days are precious. I should at least start in on the raking job...

Two hours later, I'm done. The field is cleared. My hands have whopper blisters and my smart watch is sending ecstatic messages congratulating me on exceeding my "workout goals."

I tell you, it's always like this: I pull a weed and before I know it a huge gardening project sucks me in and I am lost to the world. You might think this to be a good thing. So much exercise, right? Maybe, but I am now officially exhausted, even as it is time to pick up two lively kids.

As we pull into the driveway, my young hawk spotters shout out -- hawks! there are three circling above!

Great. I was planning on releasing the four very visible (so white!) new chickens tomorrow. With spring hawks overhead, we are entering the period of Extreme Chicken Vulnerability. 

Life at the farmette is so full of drama...

 

Time to pull out the pan and make comfort food for supper. Farro with cauliflower in a tomato cheese sauce. With a Negroni sbagliato at the side. I earned that, for sure!