daylight, saved

And just like that, Ed and I lost our window of opportunity to eat out in the evening. The clocks moved forward and therefore, so did the chicken lock up time -- now standing at 6:50 p.m. A bit earlier on dark days, a bit later on cloudless days. Maybe you think heading out to dinner afterwards, meaning after 7 is great. For us -- that's winding down time. By 7:15 I'm ready for my evening piece of chocolate, not for a server to hand me the menu and ask if I'd like a predinner drink. 

In thinking about this, I considered the possibility that we were getting to be caricatures of a senior duo. You remember the Seinfeld episode, where the parents are itching to go out to eat at 4:30? True, Ed and I typically eat between 6:45 and 7, but that means dinner is ready by 6:45 and 7. Were we to go out, then, to eat in our normal dinner window, 6 p.m. would be our target sit down time, which means we'd be heading out at 5:45. That seems awfully close to 4:30! Gulp!

Other changes brought about by the clock adjustment? Well, there's no reason for me to be up with the chickens now at 7:15, when to them it hardly matters what the clock says. I open the coop door and feed them when it's bright as can be outside, so that the predator danger is minimal. So today, that's closer to 8:30. It really doesn't matter when the magic moment of freedom comes for them, so long as it's not too early.

(teenagers, on the run!)

I notice that the bowls of water scattered in strategic places across farmette paths are frozen or empty. We do have warming dishes plugged in both in the garage and in the coop, but when the hens are out and about, they dont always remember where those are, so we supplement with these additional watering holes. These then become water sources for the hens, but also for cats, birds, raccoons -- you name it. And yes, we cornered another raccoon overnight. Our hens are in high demand!

(new chickens and fallen willow branches)

 

 

Breakfast, with just Ed. The cats are out enjoying the lovely sunshine.

And we are too! Eventually. When the crocuses open up for the day -- that's the time you want to head out. Before that? Too cold.

Okay, off we go. To the local park. We're not ambitious.

Prairie flowers and forest greens are still dormant, but you can almost sense their new buds forming. It's a wonderful time to be a gardener: you notice every detail of the plant world. The story of the growing season is about to unfold before our eyes!

(nearby...)

Back at home, it's time to get dinner ready for the young family.

(here comes the tail end!)

(dinner)

(and yes, we're Oscar fans! we sneaked in a quick viewing session! well, some of us!)

The day does feel shorter. That one hour did a fictional disappearance, of course. March 10th did not have 60 minutes sucked out of it. And yet, despite the sunlight streaming in at dinner time, despite the pleasure of having that longer spell of daylight, it feels like I lost some minutes in the course of the day.The mind works in weird ways.

Now, back to the Oscars. Mostly alone. The young family has long gone and Ed refuses to watch the endless thank-yous from those who won for films he never saw. Me, I watch as much as I can on long flights, but it hardly matters. Tuning in to the Oscars is a habit. Sort of like ending the day with a chocolate.

the benefits of having taught...

It seems that my years of teaching have come swinging right back at me these past days. There was that crazy set of mini classes I gave on International Day. Yeah, all those eager faces looking in my direction, waiting for me to say something that would draw them into the platform of learning. Then there was today. Call it a day of unexpected encounters.

It's Saturday. I had to laugh when my friend, who is spending time with her grandkids these winter months referred to days when she is without them as her zero days. Zero commitment. Time to herself. I'm adopting this into my jargon here -- Saturday is my Zero day! 

It starts the same as every other day -- I walk over to the coop to check on the hens, to feed them, to take stock. Things are settling down over in the barn area. True, the two old girls with the blue bands still venture out on their own, but the four new ones, and especially the eldest of the four, are testing the waters as well. A little bit at a time.

So, all good there.

Breakfast? Yes, I love Ed, I even like the cats that come down to be with us during our morning meal, but honestly, right now it's the blooms on the table that give me the biggest grin. So... of the season!

Then comes a Zoom call and a strategic planning session (well, the inception of a strategic planning session) of a retreat with my law school buds. So, the law school emerges just a little, early in the day.

 

(Outside, the cardinal in the budding lilac is not only beautiful to watch, but enormously awesome to listen to... Yes, I'm still into birds!)

 

 

Now, what's the plan for the rest of the Zero day, given that it is rather nippy outside? We got spoiled. Hiking in warmer weather makes you reluctant to be ambitious on less hospitable days. Still, I had an idea -- maybe we could tie in a hike to an outing -- a special outing, to a chocolate shop?

You know that Ed and I have our finger in a number of chocolatiers around town. But just this week I read something about a shop that is totally new to me. It's called CocoVaa and it's just about a fifteen minute drive for us. So, pretty close. But that's not its main virtue. The person who owns the place and makes all the chocolates just received notice that she is a James Beard Award semifinalist in the "oustanding pastry chef or baker" category for 2024. This nomination made the local press. I didn't pay attention to anything else in the article. I merely told Ed that we must visit the shop. I mean, for a chocolate maker to get that nomination? It has to be more than good!

CocoVaa is open for retail only on the weekends. (It does most of its business online.) Well, that's great! We can pop in this afternoon!

 

 

 

My brain did not put two and two together, or if it did, I did not come up with four. But as we entered the shop, my attention went not to the chocolate display, but to the woman who stood behind the counter. Nina? -- she asks. And then, because we live in a world of coincidences, the customer guy she was speaking with also said -- Nina?

Turns out I know both of them. Him -- I used to bake with him at L'Etoile Restaurant in town. Like twenty years ago. (I forgive myself for not remembering his name.) But the star player here is the chocolate maker herself -- Vata Edari (or Syovata as she is formally referred to). 

Vata used to be a student of mine, way back when (she'd practiced law for 15 years and studied chocolate making for several more and opened her business in 2018, so figure it out for yourself -- it's been a while). And one that I do very much remember. Because she was (and is) smart. And hardworking. And funny. And because she had a baby in the middle of going to school (sometimes bringing her newborn to class when all else failed). How well I know those struggles! (Both my girls were newborns while I was myself a law student.) 

(Here's Vata with her second child, who came along after she was already a lawyer and who helps out at the shop and makes very excellent tea, which we drank while chatting.)

There are some students you run into, where a mere "hi, how's it going" will do. Not so with Vata. She has a mountain of interesting tales to tell (I mean, how do you go from being a public defender to making exquisite, award winning chocolates? What? You got sued by Mars?? They lost? Ha!). And so Ed rested and we chatted and made plans to meet up soon.

In the meantime, there are her chocolates. Oh, her chocolates! Here's the box of my selections:

They're beautiful and intensely flavorful. (You can check out the flavor profiles here.) Vata uses white chocolate often, which can be a surprise as you bite into a confection. Hers aren't the chocolates you consume by the handful. They're perfect for my once per evening ritual!

From the chocolate shop, Ed and I head over to the nearby Olbrich Gardens, to check out what, if anything is blooming right now. 

We discover two surprise patches of flowers. These irises:

And delightful patches of Snowdrops.

I mean, it's not a lot, but darn it, we're not even in mid-March yet.

The day ends with all chickens, of their own volition, strutting into the coop for the night once more, and two very relaxed farmhouse humans sampling exquisite chocolates on the couch. 

with so much love...

Friday

When I was in the Galileo Museum of Science in Florence (last week), I ended my walk through it in the gift shop. I looked around for something that might interest the kids. A book on the astronomer. Okay, that. What else? I picked up a book that was I suppose deemed "scientific." It had number games and puzzles. Target age? Somewhere around Snowdrop's. Maybe a bit older, but not a lot. I leafed through the pages. I was, after all, an econometrics major for half my college years. Calculus? No problem! I wasn't a math whizz, but I was solid!

So why did the math puzzles suddenly seem.. not so easy? Doable, but with effort! A lot of effort! 

This morning, the NYTimes offered sample questions from the new reading comprehension SAT's. Those were reassuringly straightforward for a person who is 70 and reads and writes during very many of her waking hours. What's the takeaway here? Use it or lose it! Now if you'll excuse me, I'm retreating to do some math puzzles on the side. I didn't buy the book in the Galileo shop (I was afraid that I'd be stuck figuring them out with Snowdrop or Sparrow and I sooooo prefer reading with them!), but I am on the lookout for a book that would basically be for people-who-are-getting-older-and-are-afraid-of-losing-their-math-skills. If you know of one, send me a message! 

 

Chicken report: well, it's drizzling today. And we caught a racoon prowling around the coop. Neither of those are exactly cheer-inducing, but, on the other hand, the garden really needs rain and the racoon did not get into the coop so all's good so far. And the hens did go out. All of them. 

 (the four new ones, tentatively...)

At least for a short while. Turns out chickens don't really like rain. What a surprise.

(But hey, the rain is a boost to spring flowers. Just look at these budding daffodils!)

 

 

Breakfast. Yup. Always with the two of them these days...

A wet morning means that I don't have to feel guilty about staying inside. That's a good thing. I'm out of blueberry muffins for Snowdrop. Sparrow likes his M.Sourdough cookies, but the little girl way prefers my muffins. I aim to please both.

The rest of the morning is devoted to mom issues. You want to live a long life, you can expect to have issues. She tells me hers, I address them. The list is long.

And now it is time to pick up the kids. And rush them inside. Away from the rain.

(She "borrows" his computer to do a round of "the cat game.")

Friday winds up the week for us neatly. With lessons for the kids and scrambling to get them ready on time for me. But I like the idea of pulling together to accomplish a goal. When we make our timeline,  without issue, I shout out "on time performance!" and they cheer. A feeling of accomplishment prevails. 

And after I leave the last one to her dance lesson, I meander over to the grocery store for a late evening grocery shopping, because the store is close to the last lesson drop off, and because this then frees me for the weekend from food-related chores. As I walk up and down the aisles I think -- did I even remember that this is International Women's Day? Does it matter to me?

Sure it does. I am so quickly brought back in my thoughts to when I was just 15 and so sure that women's issues were history, an unsavory history but history nonetheless. Ha ha ha. My dad  had warned me -- the problem of pushing women aside, of managing their lives, of resenting their freedom wont go away in your generation. It will take longer.

He was so right.

Still, I live with a guy who has never wanted to be a dominant figure in anyone's life, male or female and though at this very minute I just finished opening his eyes to the mess around his couch space (to which he then points out the tchotchke in his line of vision, and I follow with a reminder that this is my space, or at least a space where my decorating preferences trump his...), Ed and I haven't the gender/dominance issues that are still so prevalent in the world around us. For this I am so grateful1

Reheat chili, open a celebratory bottle of Prosecco, smile.

With so much love...

Thursday

The chickens are a mere cartoon version of our own daily trajectory. Honestly, you think they're not thinking it through to structure for themselves a good life? Well, neither are we! Take this morning. I head out to open the coop for them. The two older girls -- Blue 9 and Blue 11 (these are the foot bands we slapped on their claws) -- meander toward the courtyard. Eventually one flies up to the garage rafters where she now retires at dusk, and lays eggs during the morning hours. Stupid for her to scale the walls and position herself in a tight, uncomfortable corner up there? Oh yeah! Just as dumb as falling asleep on the uncomfortable couch and staying there with a cramped neck all night. The other chicken, her buddy, ambles over to the hydrangea bush where she looks rather forlorn. Since the loss of her three compatriots,  and the garage laying habits of the other Blue hen, she is often walking the farmette lands on her own. Girl, there are four new chickens just waiting to be integrated into your fold! Hang with them! They need your guidance and worldly wisdom.

(The Yellow Brave one -- meaning the new one year old with the yellow band on her foot -- is off and running. Also alone. The three babes are too chicken to head out!)

In other words, the small things that would obviously improve their day are so within reach and yet they look elsewhere, choosing the colorful path, the immediate temptation. Just like humans!

Ed and I come back to oatmeal this morning.

Immediately after, I worked (not very hard) on preparing birthday greetings to my two sons-in-law. Fate would have it that they have birthdays within ten days of each other, which is rather a gift for me as it allows me to think, reflect and admire the both of them at the same time. What matters, of course, is that my girls love them and that they make them happy. Luck would have it that I like the both of them as well, but of course, it would be hard to imagine otherwise, given how good they are to and for my daughters. 

From there, I move to the flower fields, clippers in hand. I am very aware of the fact that I can do so much less at one haul this year than last year and even less than the year before. That's okay! Given the lovely weather of the past few days, I got a head start on the season. And I'm mindful of what Ed said -- we do as much as we can and as much as we want to (that, for me, is not necessarily the same thing, but it's close enough!). And then we pause. 

 

 

 

My pause is actually a bit of a rush -- to pick up the kids at school.

From there -- to the nearby pie place to pick up a pie for their dad (it's his day!).

And back to the farmhouse. We read, yes, that's a given. But, too, I have to snitch little moments -- to deal with the laundry, to tidy up the playroom, to peel tomatoes for tonight's chili. And in doing that last task, I glance outside, and what I see warms my heart: all six chickens, momentarily together.

Way to go, girls! Strength in numbers! 

Indeed, at dusk, they all go into the coop, even the garage girl. Wow. We are in a moment of total chicken calm and unity! And here I thought they were like us, drifting and confused.

We all have so much to learn.

Chili, chocolate, couch. The three c's of a beautiful evening. 

with so much love...

Wednesday

If you follow the CDC recommendations and get all your Covid vaccinations when they are made available for you, oh senior person, then you should be in line to get your 9th Covid shot now. I kid you not, I'm on my 9th today (as is Ed). The first was in January 2021. It feels no less wonderful to get this one. Freedom. It buys me a dose of it. Travel with less worry. Kids, at my house, daily, with less worry. Keeping the virus away from Ed (who has never had it). All of it, thanks to that miracle that kept so many of us out of hospitals and off the obit pages of our local newspaper.

And speaking of freedom, today is the day I walk over to the coop to grant all six girls their freedom.And of course, only the two older ones, along with a hesitant one year old strut out of the coop, dusting off their feathers and embarking on their day long bug and seed search. 

 

 

The three teenagers, bold that they were the first day, are not so sure that the wide and unencumbered world is such a fine place after all. They stay in the coop for the better part of the morning. Mission accomplished! They feel safe there! They will remember the warmth of the coop at the end of the day!

Wont they?

Meanwhile, Ed and I have our breakfast feeling at peace with the world, with the hens, with the cats too. 

No one is fighting, no one is destroying the flower beds. Yet. 

It's sunny and beautiful outside. A tad on the cool side, but lovely nonetheless. I do a spot weed pull and Ed mows down my trimmings so that they'd decompose faster and more evenly. In other words, we do some slight garden work at a very relaxed pace, all the way until lunchtime. (Well, my lunch is the usual protein cookie and coffee. Most everyone has a meal that they can do without. For me it's lunch. Still, I have to keep that energy level going strong, given my afternoon kid commitment, so I reach for my newest friend -- a Go Macro bar.

And speaking of kids...

A good day was had by all. Oh, sure, there's always a report on some skirmish between the usual suspects in class, but happily, nothing terribly troublesome, and nothing that made either child sad.

And in the evening Ed and I rolled up our sleeves (figuratively! It's cold outside!) and faced the chicken-into-the-coop-for-the-night project. Equipped with resolve and a flashlight (in case the hunt would take us late into the night), we picked up the hen that routinely hides in the garage and set off for the barn to deal with the rest.

You wont believe it! We hardly believed it! The remaining five were all snuggled together in the coop.

Ed turns to me -- that was brilliant! I respond -- it only shows that the human brain is slightly bigger than the pea sized brain of a chicken. Evolutionary advantage! The fact is, though, that we are enormously relieved. Until the next trauma sends the hens into obscure hiding spots, we have the coop issue in hand. Suddenly, chicken care seems like the easiest job in the world.

with love...

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!

 

Monday

A breathe easy day. No rush, no worries, no chicken chasing. Here's how it all unfolded:

After reviewing our options, and with the understanding that we will have rain and possibly storms tonight, Ed and I decided to keep the 4 new hens in the coop for the day and pluck the two old ones out for their usual bout of free ranging freedom. 

Peace is restored.

Honestly, I'm not sure that one or two days of confinement will do the trick for the new ones. Chicken memories are weird. Ever since The Raid of a few days back, everything is a little off in our coop. One of the old girls (Ms. no. 9), the one that used to routinely end the day in the coop on her own, refuses to go back there and instead finds night shelter in the garage. (That's the one for which we have to climb a ladder.) Her memory of that awful morning has created a new safer (according to her pea brain) place to rest. So the question is -- will the new girls remember the coop now as a safe place, where nothing bad happens and food gets tossed in by loving wonderful humans, or will they remember it as a place of confinement, best avoided at all costs because awful humans may take out the ax if you go near the place?  I'm hoping that it's the first and that training them to love the cozy comfy coop snuggles will create an image that they will conjure up come dusk. But who knows. For now though, I'm sure we want to keep them locked up. Freedom has to be earned!

All is thus quiet on the farmette lands. Because it is a more typical March day -- above freezing, with that chance of rain, I walk the flower fields and pluck some old spent stalks and inspect what's there and budding. And lo! What do I see if not the first crocuses of the year! A big Wow and Yay for that!

I wash up some gardening gloves for all future walks outside. There are always weeds to pluck and I noticed that those gardening hands of mine have to be more protected than in the past. Skin breaks, infections form. So I get my gloves in order.

And we eat breakfast, alone (meaning without cats), because the wise felines have decided that this kind of weather deserves respect. Perfect for prowling. So far, thank God, no bird hunting has occurred. 

I spend the morning on trip planning. I have one coming up and it requires careful advance work. I cannot tell you how happy I am to have a calendar full of reservations and ideas once I am in a new place, so that I don't have to frantically scour around for what's available. I have been warned by the hotels of my forthcoming destinations that I am traveling in the Holy Week before Easter (so you can guess it's a country that has a significant commitment to religious holidays) and that things will be crowded and booked up. Well fine. I can handle that. With advance legwork!

And then it's time to pick up Snowdrop. 

I wondered if she would feel that emptiness of her missing friend (the one who moved away this weekend). If she did, she did not show it. Kids flash quickly between emotions and Snowdrop is especially chill when she comes to the farmhouse.

We spend a lovely afternoon reading together.

In the evening --- well, it's Monday, so it's time for leftovers for supper. And a return to Loudermilk, our current series of choice on Netflix. [Yesterday, we had watched the next episode of Pete, the framer's YouTube video -- "Just a Few Acres Farm" -- which he posts every few days. It was, in my view, an especially troubling episode, because he took some time to reflect on how much venom and uninformed commentary there was these days, so that fringe beliefs get center stage as people feel compelled to express their contrarian views. I imagine he'd gotten the usual bunch of crazy commentary on his videos. I was sorry to see Pete so sad over this and I asked Ed if he thought we'd all turned meaner these last few years -- in our thoughts as much as in our words. His answer? -- No, of course not. Remember, we had a Civil War not so long ago... I suppose it's somewhat reassuring to know we've always been a mean bunch. I can only hope that we're all working on it!]

Flashes of thunder and rain outside. That's a good thing. Plants need the soak.Yep, a good old fashioned cleansing rain.

With love...

Sunday

Freedom. A superb idea. Until it isn't. Because sometimes, you have to teach those who long for freedom how to use it wisely when it is theirs. You can't just open the gates and say -- you're free, you're free and give a nudge and expect all things to fall into place.

You know of course that I'm talking about chickens. And you may rightly suspect that the above is a thought that came to me not this morning, when I was opening the gates of their confinement, but rather this afternoon, when I was chasing chickens out of our one neighbor's yard.

You'll have read perhaps that yesterday we added four young hens to our flock (of the American Bresse variety, because if she isn't living in the Savoie region of France, she's not a full fledged Bresse girl, no matter what her genetic material may be). You remember maybe that one escaped in the transfer to the coop and we had to chase her up and down and all around, until darkness fell and she collapsed with exhaustion as we cornered her in the barn.

This morning (and it is a lovely morning and an even lovelier afternoon!), I went out to open up the coop. Our strategy always had been to let the newbies out with the older girls. Eventually they form a pack and in all instances, they see the coop and the barn as their home depot. The new ones never stray far from that base. Initially anyway.

That was the way it worked in the past. These four new girls are an entirely novel proposition.

I'm trying to think like a chicken here and I suppose belatedly, I'm not surprised that their initial instinct is to flee. Suddenly, these teenage chicks are without boundaries in a strange place with strange animals (cats) and people (us) threatening them (in their chicken heads, we are a threat). Of course they're going to get away as fast as they can. 

My hope is that they wont move far from the barn. That they eventually will join the two older ones. But today, all bets are off. The two old ones go as they usually do to the garage (who knows why -- it's their routine). The four younger ones? Once outside, they convene...

 

 

 

And then they part ways. Two of them go to the eastern edge and hide under the huge pine for the better part of the day. Well, at least they're not wandering away! (Do you see them?)

 

 

 

The two remaining ones, however, flee to the west. I chase them back (if you do a wide sweep, you can chase them, sort of). 

 

 

 

I go in, we eat breakfast...

I look outside -- the two wanderers are missing again. Into the neighbors yard they went. I chase them out once more.

And I think -- there's got to be a better way!

I know the literature will tell you to keep them under lock in the coop for a few days until they get used to the idea that this is now home. But we've never had to do that before! And this is such a lovely day! A crime to keep them confined!

Ed is unconcerned. He has a very que sera sera attitude about the whole thing. Eventually, according to him, it will all straighten itself out. Well yeah, if we can avoid the predators, and if we can get them into the coop at night, and if we keep them off the road, and away from the neighbor's yard!

Who knew chicken care would be so stressful!

(I'm not stressed -- says Ed.)

 

In the afternoon, we leave all this behind and go for a bike ride. It is the most gorgeous March day ever! Brutally windy, but we persevere! I mean, at 68f (20c) and sunny -- nothing seems impossible! Just splendid! 

(Indeed, I, too, have my first Snowdrop out in the yard!)

(Yes, shorts and short sleeves. On Ed, not on me yet!)

(choppy waters on Lake Waubesa)

And then I lose myself in the prep of dinner. With an occasional run outside to check on/chase after  chickens.

Evening sets in. The young family arrives. 

(I fix dinner in the kitchen, he fixes one in the playroom.)

Time to eat. And, time to move the chickens into the coop.

Ha!

Let me just give the upshot: I got dinner on the table on time...

 

The chickens? They all scattered. All over farmette lands. 

We took our flashlights and searched. And we did find them all: under trees, inside trees, in the garage, in the barn. It took two whole hours and much squawking followed, but we found them and locked them up.

One thing's for sure: no one is leaving the coop tomorrow! It'll be tight in there. We wont have happy chickens. But we're not playing that game again!

You have to earn your freedom, girls, you hear?!

 

with love...