Mostly this is for my own reference, but maybe you’ll think it’s fun. Here are/were all the chickens I’ve had:Continue reading “All Their Names. Day 289.”
I dedicate this post to Aunt Wendy, our silver-laced Wyandotte who passed this morning. She was five and although she was tiny, she was the boss. All the others respected her and moved out of her way when she wanted them to. Enjoy string cheese with Barbie and the others, sweet Wendy. You are so missed. You have no idea.Continue reading “Why Don’t You Free-Range Your Chickens? Day 188.”
I have tweaked a recipe that I found on Weight Watchers for egg cups. An egg cup is kind of like an omelet, but it’s baked in a muffin tin so you can make many of them at once. They’re filling and rich and almost no points if you are careful. Plus, my chickens are still laying eggs regularly, even though the days are shorter this time of year.Continue reading “Egg Cups. Day 142.”
We kept driving, absorbing the familiarity of our beloved North Carolina. Tyler and his girlfriend, Deaven, were waiting at the house for us. We hadn’t met her yet, and I wanted her to be comfortable with us. I remember thinking she must be nervous, and we were about to come in like a few rusty wrecking balls with all our drama, emotions, and creatures. They live about an hour away, so they planned to stay the night and we were so looking forward to spending time with them, especially since we hadn’t seen Tyler in over a year.
Months before our trip, we had our first Christmas away from each other. We put Tyler on the big screen TV in the living room and connected with him via Zoom. I would internally cringe each time there was a glitch, or Tyler’s face froze, and felt myself many times wanting to throw something heavy and sharp at the TV, hating not being with him. We made the best of it, but as I continued driving toward our new home, I fantasized about our next Christmas, one where we would all be together.Continue reading “The Big Move Part III. Day 72.”
Once we realized sleep was not going to happen, we let the dogs out and tried to find the two cats, Gary and Salad, to put them in their crates. We tossed the last of our belongings into the truck, realizing we didn’t even have room for our food bag. Eating was the last thing on our minds anyway. It was time to get the chickens.
We had large bins with wire tops and a ventilated truck bed to take them. Most bins had two hens in them, but some had three if they were smaller. We also had to incorporate two roosters in the mix, including one who is testy. That part actually went quite smoothly. We had a good plan, but they didn’t like it.Continue reading “The Big Move Part II. Day 71.”
Poetry is my favorite writing form. Maybe it’s because the first time a publisher ever said yes was for one of my poems put into a copy of Hypertrophic Literary Press called “Dear Annie, I Kissed Another Man.” Also, poetry is therapy because a writer may choose to rhyme or not, and it is a free and freeing way of writing. Some are intimidated by poetry, understandably so, but it is not as complicated as most believe. Lyrics are poetry and most of us sing along to them. Greeting cards, nursery rhymes, and even silly limericks are poetry. I suppose it doesn’t matter why I love it, but that I just do.Continue reading “Will Pay With Eggs. Day 59.”
“Let me see that tiny one,” I said. The small black puppies were in the back of a rusty farm pickup truck, parked at the exit of our local flea market in Jacksonville, NC with a sign that read Free Puppies. I picked her up and held her silky little body to the side of my neck. I had no intentions of taking her home until someone else showed interest. She was the size of a can of Campbells soup.Continue reading “Day Twenty-Four”