Back to work...

 The dogs were as happy to get back to work as we were. Bravo and Opal have a deep love, and I know they missed each other. They play and romp, and then have long, intense session of kissing and cuddling.

It was lovely to work in the freshened studio. The new floor and crisp, white paint make everything seem light and bright. I bought new pink towels to replace the old blue ones, and the sweetest mat for in front of the tub. The advertisement promised it would feel "like standing on 1,000 gummy bears." To our delight the pink of the towels perfectly matches the new mat.

We had the ceiling painted light blue. I've always wanted a porch with a blue ceiling, and now I have it. I brought a pile of paint chips home and my artist neighbor kindly came over and helped me tape them to the ceiling and decide which color was best. It makes me smile every time I look up.

We worked 50 hours last week, trying to catch up. Our customers were patient, kind and generous. One brought us flowers, another home made cupcakes. Someone brought a bottle of champagne, another a big pot of culinary herbs.We are all getting used to having us pick the pets up from the car, instead of inviting people in to sit and visit. I wear a black mask and have begun to quip, "This is a stick up, give me your dog (or cat) and no body gets hurt!" It lightens the mood a bit. We pop the pets right in the tub, and spends lots of time washing our hands, as well.

One customer asked if she could possibly brush the donkeys while we groomed her dog. I marched her right outside, and put a brush in her hand. She spent an hour out in the sun, with the goats and donkeys crowding around her, each eager for attention and the feel of the firm brush pulling out their itchy, shedding, coats. It was a bit of a trick to get her to stop and come gather her dog when his grooming was done!

Meanwhile, around the farmlette spring is finally showing its colors.

But yesterday we woke to snow. It seemed a bit surreal to see the budding trees and blooming flowers, all covered in snow.  All day it came down, accompanied by icy gusts of wind.It felt wintry enough that we lit a fire in the stove. Chris made chili and biscuits for supper, the icy day begged for hearty fare.  Very little white stuff accumulated, however, and today is mercifully bright and clear.

While pottering about the yard one day last week I investigated the vegetable garden to begin plotting what work needs to be done. The rhubarb is up, and I stooped to see a few nubs of asparagus nudging up through the cold soil. Something caught my eye, a flash of white under an overturned kayak. A brief investigation showed a hen had left the safety of the fenced yard to build a leaf and feather lined nest under the ruddy boat.

She is brooding 15 eggs, sitting in a trance-like state all day and night, only leaving the nest once or twice a day to eat, drink and defecate. Although she and her nest are charming, they are not altogether safe. So I hatched a plan. I put a crate in the garage, and made a cozy nest inside a dish pan, lining it with shavings and straw. As dusk gathered, I asked Chris to help me. The idea was that he would raise the kayak up, and I would gently lift the broody hen. Then he was to carefully place the eggs in the pan. Next he would carry the pan and eggs, I would carry the bird, and we would settle them into the safety of the crate. I'd put food and water in there for the expectant mama, and she could stay there, safe from any passing fox, until her chicks hatched. 

My plot was going along smoothly. I had the hen in my hands, and was watching as Chris counted the eggs. Suddenly the bird came out of her broody trance, pecked me hard and with an outraged squawk escaped my grasp. There was no catching her, though we tried. So we carefully placed the eggs back where we found them, tipped the kayak back over her nest, and called it a night. She pecked around a bit, then ducked below the lip of the kayak and fluffed her feathers around the pile of eggs. I set up a little prayer of safety for her, and we called it quits.  Perhaps we will try again tonight. 

Meanwhile, the "supper" chicks are growing at the same alarming pace they always do. Soon we will be able to move them outside so they can scratch in the dirt, eat grass and bugs and get down to the business of being chickens. 

I'm off to clean out all the animal houses and enjoy this lovely, (though cool) spring day. Tomorrow, it's back to work again, and I am glad.