lady cordelia

scenes from around here (outside)

To be perfectly honest, it's a little dreary in the yard.  Spring is just not quite poking it's head out, but it will start to do so just a little tiny bit in the next weeks.  I can already see a few tiny pink blooms on the plum trees.   (This is Southern California, after all.)  In a few weeks those trees will be pink pouffes of color and that will be the announcement that Spring has crossed the starting line.

We've packed a lot on this little 1/4 acre.  Or, rather, I have.  I seem to be the director of all things growing and laying eggs.  (And I do almost all of the work in takes to keep it all up. Even though others still reap the benefits.  Of the eggs.  And chard.  And other things edible on the property.  Oh, hey Brad. )

There are plenty of places I could clean up, plant more.  But it's challenging, takes a little inspiration and some inventiveness.  Often recently, I just wander around outside in a daze wondering how I could better the look of things.  But my wheelbarrow is broken and The Brad hasn't fixed it.  So.  Not much I can do.  Really.  Without my wheelbarrow.

Anyway.  Best go cook up some fresh farm eggs for the family.  The ones I helped the chickens lay.  By feeding them and giving them fresh water everyday and keeping their coop clean.  All by myself.  And I can hardly even do that now.  Not until my wheelbarrow is fixed.  And The Brad knows how to fix it.  And I guess I could try and figure it out.  Right after I bring in the eggs from the coop.  Brad.  I'll just take a look at it myself.  Cool.

XO

 

the doggie.

Oh gosh guys.  I'm going to try and keep these real brief cause I could go on and on.
I went to the animal shelter.  Saw a dog.  Or she saw me.  We locked hearts.  And that was that.  She was found on the roadside with her sister, still puppies. She had never had a home and her sister had been adopted.

I bought The Brad to meet her and he fell in love with her.  I brought the kids to meet her and they fell in love with her.  Then I brought our dogs to meet her.  And they thought she was tolerable.  She got along with everyone.  She loved everyone.  We loved her.  The shelter staff came to check my yard.  They saw the cat, saw the chickens and ducks in my yard.   Said it was a perfect place for such a sweet dog. We brought her home. Cute as all get out.  Smart as a whip.  Sharp as a tack.  Sweet as Cherry Pie with extra Whipped Cream. 

Then. She saw the cat. Her energy totally changed and she took off after the cat like a bat out of hell. 

Our older Lab dogs never minded the cat at all when we brought her home from the shelter last Summer.  They might give her a slurpy kiss her now and then, but that's it.  Everyone, including the shelter staff, thought this new dog would act the same way.  So, for the next few days, I  worked with the dog (on a leash) and the cat to see if maybe something could be worked out between them.  Even to just get a tail wag out of the dog when she looked at the cat would have been a sign of hope.   But when I finally got the cat out from under the bed, the dog charged her again as if she was lunch.  A few hours later my new pup charged the chicken coop.   The chickens screamed and squaked and ran all over the place like a bomb had dropped.  I searched on the internet for tips, The Dog Whisperer, all the rest of it.  It wasn't looking promising.

Then, The Brad said: Gosh Darnit. She has terrier in her.  I don't care what the shelter said her mix is. (The shelter had said she was a shepard mix.) We studied dog breed photos online for an hour at least. And The Brad said: This dog has Jack Russel Terrier in her!  And I'm sorry honey but you can't train a prey-drive instinct out of a dog.

Of course we'll really never know for sure about her mix of breeds, that's how it is with a mutt.  But the fact was, our peaceful little farm was out of balance. Nevertheless, I tried to work with the dog and cat a little more. That is, until the cat couldn't be found at all.

The chickens and ducks wanted to come out of the coop, but we knew that wasn't a safe idea.
Our house became separated and stressful.
In the end, we had to take the new dog back to the shelter.
I cried a lot. I cried until I got a headcold. The cat came out of hiding and ate for the first time in several days.

I wasn't crying because I was afraid for the dog to go back to the shelter. I know someone will scoop her up in a heartbeat.  She had lots of people interested.  I cried because I fell in love with the dog. I smiled at her and she smiled at me.

Sometimes you do the very best thing you think is possible.  And it doesn't turn out how you thought it should.  You give the very best part of yourself, your heart, and it doesn't go the way you hope it will.  Still, that's how I live.  From the heart.  With the best of intentions.  I may get let down more than I would if I didn't reach out- but I also get to experience a lot of love this way.  I simply don't know any other way to live. For better or worse. 

And I'll never forget her.

XO

lookie what I got.

Look what a friend got me at the thrift store.  A vintage egg poacher! I know you're not supposed to put in eggs with the shell on (duh!)  but I had just gotten these eggs out from the coop.   Aren't they pretty?  The egg in the upper left is a first from one of our young hens.  I'm so proud of this hen for laying her first egg.  I picked her up and gave her a little squeeze and said Congrats Hen, nice egg, good going.  Then I put her down and she looked back up at me like..Thanks for noticing, mom. These are the moments that make farming all worth it.  I can't bear to tell her I'm not her real mom.  We don't know who her real mom is and that can be really rough on a chicken.

Anyway, this friend who brought me this egg poacher...what a friend!!!  I met her not so long ago through another friend.  And I went to my new friends house for the first time and I was like: Wow.  We really have some things in common. We are both into "flea-market style."  I'll have to ask her if I can take some pics of her cool finds someday and how she has them displayed.  Way rad.  Plus: we are both side-of-the road-furniture vultures! She has found some amazing things on the side of the road!  I'll see her and I'll ask her: So, E, what do you want to find on the side of the road these days?  And she'll ask me the exact same thing. 

She loves that I make little quilts for my girls because she appreciates the days of old when women had to make quilts to keep their families warm.  You couldn't just run to Target, you know.  That's what she says.  And I love that she says that.  And you would hardly ever catch her in Target.  Unless, I am guessing, it was for underwear or something along those lines.  Because we live by the same credo: thrift shop til you drop.

My friend doesn't really read my blog because she can't get over how personal I get.  She's such a cutie that way.  But I'm going to show her how much I love my egg poacher pan by sending her a link today. 

I hope you also have a friend who thinks of you when she sees vintage egg poachers from the thrift store.   I really hope you do.  There's not a lot of friends like that to be found, you know. But they are out there.  I know from experience.

farmer-y things.

Farmer has a dog or two.
They say Brown Labs are the least intelligent of the Labs.
Seeing as this specimen has eaten large portions of a wood deck, bags of fertilizer and perhaps 25 sq. ft. of pea gravel to date, you won't get an argument out of me.
She won't eat the chickens though.  They run her around the yard.  It's embarrasing. But solid for egg production.

Chickens wear fuzzy underwear.  And that is that.  There is really nothing more to say on the subject.

I can plant these if I want in cold weather.  Another farmer told me so. So.  There.

 Sometimes farmers have special fountains and pretty flowers in them.  Just sometimes.

Some farms have ducks.  You know my farm has ducks.  There are only so many things people can blog about.  But, come on.  This picture is adorable.  They are every bit as darling as this picture. If you are not into blogs with ducks, c'est la vie.  & Ciao.

I sooooo wish I could tell you I grew all these veggies.  Well.  Sometimes wishes are just that.  (Wishes.)
I bought them, at the farmers market.  (The veggies.  Not the wishes.)
I am not a super big fan of going to the market, cause I'm slightly anti-social.
But only slightly. 
The veggies are well worth saying "oh...hi!" to a lot of people I only sort of know.

My child took this of me and Snow White.  I usually look a little less psycho than this.  But only a little bit.  Snow White always looks this intelligent.  She is like...so smart and stuff.   I'm always like...so impressed by her.  She says stuff like Bawk! And Buk-ak! She never says Cluck. She's not that kind of girl. She never has been and she never will be.  And that.  Is that.  I'm a farmer.  So I know all about these things. 

Well.  Anyway.   It's been nice having you here visiting on the farm again. Yes.  The tour is over.  My farm is hella small.  You know that.  So.  Talk soon.

XOXO

 

 

 

 

 

Following my heart into the New Year

In 2010 and 2011 I learned to knit, cook, bake, raise my own chickens and ducks.  I bought a used sewing machine.  I started to thrift shop more and retail shop a whole lot less.  I fell in love with vintage. I planted more food grown in my own little garden, I became more clearly committed to helping the environment by simple, conscious everyday choices with food and general consumption. I began to truly enjoy the movement of the seasons, AND I found a "style" for my home that I liked after almost 40 years of not having any heart-directed sense of home style.  (The style of my home?  A little to the tune of bohemian flea market, of course.)  All this, of course, in root was inspired by my kids and the desire to be a "rad homemaker."

Because I'm an songwriter by career, I have always been open to the creative.  I always made things, quilts, gardens... But....it was almost as if I needed an affirmation saying TO me: you CAN do more.  You can go deeper.  If you want to, just dive in and DO IT.  Amanda Soule's blog certianly helped.  And many other bloggers out there.  Also: inspiring books, rad local thrift stores, supportive parents, appreciative kids, a patient husband.

And so...  I am slowly getting better at all of it.  When I started my blog about 400 posts ago, I was crying over knitting and throwing my needles.  Burning food.  Making bread that looked and tasted like bricks.  Bringing home a lot of things from the thrift store to The Brad's disapproving look, then a few months later taking them right back to the thrift store (I've found having an eye for interior home design isn't a natural born quality, but getting in tune with the heart is.)  

I've made progress.  I've continued to follow my heart.  And into 2012 I go, following it all the more.  Going deeper.   What lies waiting?

::::::

We have a chicken who was very sick for a long time.  She never was a good layer, her pretty blue eggs broke inside her.  We tried everything to no avail and figured her sickly.   As you may or may not know, in late Fall and Winter, when daylight is more scarce, chickens don't lay much if at all (they need a certain amount of light to lay an egg!).  This is exactly the time, when all our other chickens stopped laying and our gal, named Lily, began laying perfect pale blue eggs almost everyday.  

This is why I have chosen this path.  The path of a little more hard work and a lot more gratification.   Because one day when you least expect it, on the exact day you never should, you start getting beautiful perfect blue eggs.  

Yes.  A little more work, and a lot more gratifcation.  I'm glad I made it past the starting gates, because learning new things is never easy.  But the thing is, you get better at it.  And there is always further to go.

I have other visions too for the New Year- ones that are career based.  But somehow they seem secondary to what I do in my home and with family.  Perhaps these career dreams are not secondary, and the misconception that they are  prevents them from fruition. Rather, I choose to now think: all if it is part of it.   (Hint: I would love for 2012 to prove that to me.)

Much Love to you and I will be seeing you in the New Year.

(By the way- I just found out several of my albums are available on Spotify.  I can't figure out how to send you the direct link to my music..but if you go to Spotify and search "Cory Sipper" you should get access.)

making a world through dreams

Here were my weekend thoughts:

When I wake up in the middle of the night I get worried sometimes about my visions.  They are too grand, too scary, too risky.  When I wake up in the morning I say: Lemme at 'em.  And that is the difference between night and morning for me.  Suffice to say, I am a morning person.

A few weeks ago I started to get a little tired of cleaning out the chicken/duck coop.  Just a little.  I wasn't loving it.  I was just doing it.  And that was in itself fine.  There was no way I was "over" it.  Oh no no.  Don't go that far.  But then, you know, last week happened, and it shifted my mental vortex back to where is was before about 6 months ago, only about 100 times stronger.  You know, the "sustainable living" place I have in my mind.  The one that sees the bigger picture and asks: what I can I do to better the planet?  The one that sees more farm-to-table.  More work.  More gratitude.

I was very happy this morning.  My dad came into town for a few hours without my mom (who is away for the week.)  We went to the local farmers market and I bought meat there for the first time.  Remember how I told you I will never ever buy commercial meat again even if it is organic?  You betcha gurrrrl (or boooeeey.)  I'm living it baby!  I got a whole chicken and some ground beef.  Local small farm raised, truly free-range, and harvested on the same local small farm (i.e. not shipped out to some disgusting ol' slaughterhouse.) Our plan is to eat this high quality of meat just a few times a week, smaller portions, one night of fish and 4 nights of vegetarian.  I may eat vegetarian more than that. The Brad may eat meat more than that.  But we are starting here.

We also ordered a turkey from the same small local farm as well because we have Thanksgiving with our extended family and at that table, turkey is a must-have.  I mentioned to a few people that I thought it might be nice to take the girls to the farm to meet the turkeys before one ends up on their dinner plate.  I think they- the folks I mentioned this thought to- found me clinically insane.  But, this is how I roll now.  Breaking it down so that it's real.  Being part of the process and not, as I was, blindly consuming in a way that I felt for me was very disconnected to my heart values.

I ask myself: How can you eat an animal that you have no connection to?  I think to myself, if it is farmed locally, I may not have come into contact with the live animal, but I have come into direct contact with the farmer.  And that means so very much.  I asked the chicken farmer this morning about her turkeys and she said, oh yes, I saw them this morning, cruising around and gobbling away. (Heritage turkeys are so so beautiful by the way, truly magnificent.)  Why not take the girls on a trip to the farm.   Let them see how beautiful the turkeys are and take a moment to truly give thanks.

The Brad and I speak of rasing our own meat chickens someday (and turkeys?).  Have to be honest, I don't think I could do the harvesting, but maybe we could find a local farm to harvest for us. 

I am asking myself if I can't take it that far, the raising of my own meat, should I be eating it at all?

It's not a consideration for everyone.  But, it's where I find myself.  Connecting deeper into the process of food to table.  What do I believe in? What can I learn from it?  What am I afraid of?  I stop and sit with the fear and I look at it from all sides. I hold it up like a ball and spin it in my hands.  (It is not holding me if I am holding it.)

What I am most afraid of, I decide, is walking blindly through the world.

So.  I grab a paper and pencil and begin to design what I think a perfect 1 acre farm would look like.

 

(pic found here.)

 

Conscious Changes

I want to write about this without offending anyone, pushing my view or expecting anyone to feel the same.  I just want to report my experience because this is my blog and I like to write about that which is meaningful to me. 

::::::

A few days ago I wrote an entry called "A World Without Lions."It  was on that entry that I received a comment from dear blogger friend Amanda over at Blue LaReve who made me privy to something I never knew: Organic meat is most often processed (slaughtered) at the same places that commercial meat is processed. Many (if not all) of these commercial slaughterhouses follow very inhumane practices.  I'm not here to get deeper on that point.  You can research for yourself if need be.

So, here I am, an organic consumer who is all about animal welfare, someone who has spent years giving money to organic food businesses and all along I am unknowingly contributing to "big business" processing the animals. 

I knew that "free-range" was a sketchy term.  That is why we got our own chickens and ducks.  What I did not know was just how sketchy of a term it is: an outright lie in most cases! I innocently believed that by buying something labeled "organic"  or "free range" I was actually bettering the lives of the animals themselves to some degree.  I am an innocent no more. 

Wow. I have never been happier to have our own chicken and ducks laying eggs for us with plenty of room, sunshine and love around them.    (I would have kissed them for emphasis but I thought that was going a little too far.)  What I feel now is that unless I raise/grow it myself, I'll really never know for sure how it was treated, plant or animal...

Since our quarter acre has no room for raising more than a few chickens and ducks, I searched and found a local(ish) farm where I can buy beef that is sustainably grown on acres and acres of grassy fields and harvested in their own facility as well as reasonably priced.  The Brad likes meat. That is that.  I felt immediatly that I needed to find the healthiest source possible.  

I am proud to say though, after the last few days The Brad agrees/wants to eat less meat and he loooved the tempeh tacos and raw kale salad I made for lunch today!  Oh, Brad.  I am also looking into meat that is processed using the  guidelines set forth by Dr. Temple Grandin, a world renowned authority on the compassionate treatment of animals being raised for food. 

As for me, I'm trying out a mainly vegetarian diet.  My personal question to myself is: How humane is it to kill an animal for meat at all?  And especially at the rate we are doing it in today's world.  I was vegan once before for several years and ended up with some health problems from it.  (I was in my twenties then and I'm a lot more conscious now.)  One thing for sure: I will never again just blindly support the raising or slaughtering of animals by the commerical meat industry.  Organic or not.  I.  Just.  Can't.  

If you have helpful, peaceful insight, links or other information you would like to share for my benefit and the benefit of others on this subject, please do.    This is a learning process for me and I know very little in comparison to many others.  Again, this is about my personal awakening and my path.  I am very a sensitive lady and it is quite challenging for me to get more acquainted with how brutal the meat industry really is.  I know that the lot of people who read this blog are environmentally conscious and open minded and I thank you for letting me share my experience here.  Part of what I love about blogging is what we can teach eachother and learn together.  Thanks so much to Amanda for her support these past days.  I hear she is a creative vegetarian chef and was thinking about sharing some recipes on her blog.  I hope for all of us that she does! 

a world without lions

Not so long ago there were almost a half a million wild lions roaming African plains.  Today, less than 25,000.    The world is changing so fast that our grandchildren may very well know lions (and many other big mammals) as an extinct species.  It's hard to wrap the mind around that.  The heart, harder still.   So we turn away from it, as if we misheard it, and continue about our day.

Last night I was quite upset about this, as I have been for the last few days (and years and a life time, really.)  And I asked The Brad what we could possibly do?  We can't throw millions at any organization or buy up the land the animals live on.  We can't pack up at this time in our lives and stand up to poachers or land-takers.   We can get off the grid, said The Brad.  Little by little.  As we are able.  Taking less and giving more.  A solar house, more food grown and raised on our own land. 

In the meantime, I live in a small town and I need light bulbs.  I go to the local "commercial" grocery where I almost never go.  I stare at my choices.  $2 for 4 grocery brand "normal" bulbs or $8 for 2 "energy efficient" bulbs.   I stand there for over 10 minutes.  Really.  Am I going to spend $8 because I think it's my personal responsibility to do so?  I feel culpable if I don't.  $8 light bulbs become a  punishment to myself for not stocking up on a cheaper "environmentally friendly" brand when I had the chance. (And where would I have had the chance? Ikea?  A company that is known to be environmentally conscious but by the same token creates so much throw-away furniture that the good ol' Billy Bookshelf must account for 1/2 of the space in our landfills? I'll be the first to admit that I'm guilty of a Billy in the landfill.)

It takes planning to be kind to the earth and its inhabitants.  I'm not a big meat-eater.  But my family does eat meat.  I won't buy it if it isn't ethically raised.  If it's a few dollars more and The Brad shakes his head at me, I shake mine back at him.  To me, a few bucks more is very little when it comes to knowing the animals were raised organically and humanely.  If I don't buy it in order to start bringing the price down, who will?  (Our local corner gourmet market started then stopped carrying organic meat because not enough people bought it.)  

We raise our own chicken and duck eggs and I garden as  much as I can with the small space we have.  We thrift-shop.  Buy quality organic. Go to the local Farmers Market.  Re-use.  Recycle.  We do it as much as we can.  But our great animals are still dissapearing.  Or course.  It starts so long before that.  People eat bush meat because that's what is free and available.  Sell hides and tusks to feed their families.  People need to eat and live, so land is cleared.  It gets complicated.  So complicated.   Still, there must be another way.

I cry to my mom on the phone in my worst moments.  Or maybe they are my best moments.  When I feel so sensitive to it all that I almost implode.  She understands more than anyone. Says in her calm and soothing voice: The world is changing. We can't go back. Only forward.

Damn it. I want to bite the hand of the universe, just like a lion. How can it spin on in this way knowing such beauty is suffering, disappearing.  Can't it just shake off all the people who don't care, don't understand, don't even try?   Let them go floating around in outer space until they learn to feel the connection with every blade of grass. 

But no.  The world is changing.  Our planet is getting heavier.  

I didn't buy any light bulbs that day.  I got confused and mad at the grocery store. A few rooms stayed a little darker than usual.  Didn't seem to bother anyone too much.  

Here's what it boils down to: we can't go back in time and fix our mistakes.   And habits can be broken. Period.  We can  learn from the mistakes of our past and move forward in a different way.   We may be doing it without wild lions one of these days.  (And there is nothing anyone can say to me to take that sting away.)  How can we make a difference in our own little lives? By sticking to our decisions. By cutting through our fears and questioning our beliefs about ourselves and the world we live in.

Ok.  Recycling.  That's easy in most parts.  Growing foods and/or eating seasonally and local.  Searching out thrift stores, local artisans and antique stores first instead of mass-production chains or mainstream shopping malls.  Walking more, driving less. I could really go on here.....we've heard all of them!  But.  These things can't be important in one moment and not in the next.  It has to be a way of life.  So, I re-commit to these small things every day.   Sometimes it feels like it does nothing...   But I won't believe that thought anymore.  No.  I won't believe that thought anymore.  Because if I do, I'm still a part of the problem. 

artwork by sandra dieckmann

photos from pinterest.

finding.

For some reason, like I've told you, I'm late bloomer.  It's taken me time to find that which I really love.  For instance, the interior "style"  of my home never meant much to me until I fell in love with the bohemian/antique/flea market look.  I still have a long way to go in creating my second-hand interior, but at least I know what I like. 

So, as far as cooking goes, I fell in love with Heidi Swanson's new cookbook.  (Jeez.  You so know about this and are so tired of hearing about it.  Luckily for you, my story goes past Swanson today!) Then a blog friend, the very gal, Amanda, I tag on with for weekending, told me about another cookbook (really?  there's another one?) called Feeding the Whole Family.  I got it and realized immediately that this was an essential book in my kitchen because it focused on a kids palate. (Swanson has no kids, I guess her recipes do seem to, kinda, accentuate that fact.)

What I am coming to, is that I found our perfect soup today.  This was so exciting. I made a basic chicken broth from my new book (and also consulted the Alice Waters broth recipe ) and let it really cook for a long time.  About three hours.  I know you are thinking: Duh.  That is normal for cooking broth.  But, you are talking to me: an impatient beginner in the kitchen.  Not today though.  Nope!

When the girls got hungry, I scooped some broth into a smaller pot, added soba noodles and, when the noodles were almost ready, some finely diced chard from the garden.  Topped it with a dusting of  dried dulse (and hot sauce on mine.) Wow.  Sooooo good.  The girls flipped over it because it had noodles, and I loved that they were soba noodles and not white pasta noodles, which I really am not big on.  Not real big on meat either, but I feel that a home-cooked organic chicken broth seems wonderful for growing bodies, especially when those bodies have little colds.

I know it's simple.  Chicken broth.  Soba noodles.  Trimmings.  But, when you've been searching for the perfect family soup for a while, it is really an amazing victory.  I love this idea of child-friendly (whole food) cooking/preparing.  I am very much wanting to make sesame rice balls for the girls, but I guess I need a pressure-cooker.  This is a whole new world to me.  A pressure-cooker!? I am thinking someone might want to pass on their old pressure cooker to me because they don't need it anymore.  Otherwise.  Well. Christmas is coming up.  (Brad.  Hi.)

Kay.

This weekend we did some resting cause my big girl got a lil' cold.  Along with the soup making, I cleaned house (sort of, but not really) and baked bread from this book and knitted.  Spent a little time outside because I cleaned the chicken and duck coop yesterday which always makes me so happy when I go outside.   Within a few more days, I'll have to tidy it again.  Then I will be slightly irritable.  And then I will clean it again and be happy again. 

I don't know if you have noticed but the "little things" in life make me very joyous.  People often tell me I am easy to please.   A pressure cooker would please me greatly.   Rice balls.  Hmmm.  La de da. Hummdy hum.  Just saying.  Brad.

Also: a little art with the women in my life.  We have about 1000 stamps that look somehow handmade that someone gave to us some time ago.  Really, if you can think it, we have a stamp for it.  Yes: bunny ears.  Yes: a cereal box.  Yes:  a toilet.  I was really into the sailboat.  The toilet was mildly amusing.  But. I really am way above and beyond potty humor.  (And if you believe that, I have a great used car you might be interested in.)

Anyhoo, I hope your weekend has been fabulous.
Bye for now.

 

 

 

 

the women in my life.

Firstly, thank you so much for all the sweet comments.  I read and love every one.  I am always amazed at how much understanding there is.  I love that I have made friends who I will probobly never meet.  And, I love how when one of them is planning to sell their house and move to another State possibly, I don't mind at all.  Why?  Because I know I can "see" her several times a week and travel with her on her journeys.  How great is that?

Anyway: down to business. Chix n' stuff.

I wanted to properly introduce you to the gang, since I don't know if I ever have.  They are part of my everyday life and you really should take the time to get to know them a little bit.  Even if you don't really want to. Here are our women:

This is Puffy Cheeks.  She's kind of sketched out.  A nice woman though.  Lays well.

Meet Lil (short for Lily.)  Lil is a great pal.  See the slate blue legs? Lays blue eggs.  Sometimes. Tends to have shells that are thin.  She lays for weeks on end and if we get the eggs from the coop quickly enough, great.  If not, they break when another chicken lays on them.  Then coop gets ants.  Then I get irritated. Cause I am the only one who deals with all the chicken and duck stuff.  Even though everyone else eats the eggs every freaking day.  (Oh. Hi Brad.) Anyway.  She often does not lay at all.  It's really too bad because having a chicken that lays blue eggs makes me feel kind of...show-offy.  Kind of cool.  But, not in a way you would really understand unless you were into having chickens.  So.  Anyway.  Lil eats an oyster shell suppliment, if you must know, to boost her calcium.  It helps.  Kind of.  Not really though. Not at all.

  This is Fatty.  She looks thin in this pic but she really has a huge a**.   She is a very nice woman though and has a lot of good things going for her.   We don't call her Fatty to her face.  Well, I don't.  The Brad does.  Men can be so insensitive that way.  

Haven't named this one yet.  She was one that was raised from an egg that Snow White laid on.  Remember that story? She is really very pretty and will start laying early next year along with one other hen we kept from the same set of eggs.  If you have a good name, send it along. 

 This is Snow White when the chicks first hatched.  She looks about the same now, only a little less haggard.  I didn't look good the first few days after I gave birth either.  I was pale and bloated for weeks.  Not glowy and all that stuff.  Then I was happy cause the breast-feeding burned off most of the weight and I had big "D" size you- know-whats.  Now I am back to a size A.  Dang it!

This is Koko eating duck crap and trying not to look guilty afterwards. I know I've shared this reality with you before.  It happens a lot.  So.  There you go.

This is Lucy May.  She has fleas.  And yes we have done a million things about it. She's a good lady though.  The girls looooooooooove the cat.  I mean loooooooooove the cat.  I think she's fair to midlin.

This is Moonie.  Or could be Sally.  Can't tell them apart.  Very cute.  Funny.  Lay BIG eggs.  How such a little thing could lay such a big egg I have no idea.  They lay early in the a.m. and always at the same time.  By 5 p.m. they waddle around and you can see this protrusion, the next day's egg, in their belly.  Kind of cute.  At least I think so. 

Well, that's the gang.  Minus one dog (male) and a chicken or two. I love you, but I really can't invest more time trying to get quality shots of my chickens.   Off to re-fill the duck pool.  Someone's gotta do it.