drama in the henhouse
So we have a broody hen. I went out this morning to take a picture of her because, well, that’s the sort of thing I do. My kids don’t realise how grateful they should be for the invention of digital cameras because otherwise they’d have dumpster loads to pitch someday.
Anyway, the broody hen, all cosy in her nest, usually looks something like this:
(Please forgive the quality of the following photos. The light in the chicken coop is not ideal.)
But this morning, the broody hen’s nesting box looked like this:
Two hens in one box. Note: the hen at the front is not the broody hen. She has her butt in the broody hen’s face.
The intruder squirmed:
and squirmed:
before finally settling in, although not without complaint:
Meanwhile, the rooster heard me enter the coop and came rushing from the run to investigate:
With a steely gaze, he began crowing his head off, deafening me until I fled.
photos
the complete idiot’s guide to irony
Spotted this at Frenchy’s yesterday:
Step 1: Stop buying books that characterize you as a ‘complete idiot’.
(Photo by Anna)
books
wool, glorious wool
Look! I remembered to take a photo of the mitts I made for Foster before they became filthy and soaked. It was close, though; he was on his way out when I screeched, “WAIT!”
When I think of all the knitwear I’ve doled out over the years without ever thinking to take a photo first…sigh. Oh well.
And look again!
Bonus shot of his new hat. I’m finally learning.
crafts
an embarrassment of eggs
Our lovely young ladies have been defying my expectations and laying like champs all winter, even through the darkest, coldest days. I know the day will come when they go moulty or moody or broody and slow down or, gulp, even stop laying for a while so I’m appreciating every egg they gift us, but at the same time it can be a bit overwhelming.
With nine hens, we usually get eight eggs per day – although there have been a few days when all nine laid – which means about 56 eggs per week. So we’ve been eating lots and lots of fried eggs, scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs and French toast. We’ve given dozens away to the neighbours, to co-workers, to my parents. And yet, as of this moment, our egg count is over 80 (that’s 50 in the bowl above) and the ladies haven’t even laid yet today.
Anybody want some eggs? Free-range, lovingly tended, very reasonably priced. Anyone?
food
she won’t brag, so I will
Here’s a wet-haired Anna with the scarf she knitted – all on her own – for Papa (my Dad) for Christmas. She made one for Jam (my Mom) too, out of a beautiful hand-painted alpaca blend, but it got away before I could snap a picture. There were a lot of handmade things exchanged here during my one month Journey into the Heart of Darkness (the, um, cold) so maybe we should have a photo session this afternoon.
The good news for Anna is that both Papa and Jam loved their scarves. So much, in fact, that Papa has requested a matching toque. Hmpf. He’s never requested a knitted anything from me.
Sniffle.
3 Responses to “she won’t brag, so I will”
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Wonderful job Anna! And kudos to you Lori for your excellent teaching skills. You have such talented and beautiful kids.
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Aw, thanks, Claire. I’ll take full credit for all their good qualities and blame everything else on The Boy Wonder. 🙂
Darling Master Nate’s Christmas card is still on our fridge, making us smile every time we see him. God, so adorable.
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As well you should Lori! 😉 Just kidding BW!
One response to “wool, glorious wool”
Another fine job Lori!
I still have that beautiful red blanket you knit for Nate when he was a baby. I have it carefully packed away, but every so often, I take it out to look at it and admire your handiwork.