Flew the coop...

This time of year, the hens bring a lot to the table in the way of delicious, fresh eggs. These are not your everyday average grocery store eggs. The yolks are deep orange and stand tall when cracked. The shells are firm; it takes a good tap to crack these beauties. And they taste delicious. 

We provide the hens with a clean, safe coop to live in. Inside the enclosure are private nest boxes lined with fragrant pine shavings. We've even gone so far as to hang bright bandana curtains in front of the nest boxes, so the ladies can have privacy. For the most part, they buy into our plan, allowing me to quickly collect a basket full of eggs from the coop each afternoon. But sometimes, a bird will develop a different plan. 

Something caught my eye mid-morning. A chicken up inside the goat's hay rack. The rack is elevated and has a decent layer of hay in it. The chicken had left the cozy coop. Then she had exited her fenced yard and strutted across the big pasture. I wonder what she thought when she hopped up, 3 and a half feet or more, to perch on top of the loose, slippery hay. I noticed that she settled there and stayed awhile. 

This evening while I was doing chores, I investigated. 

Indeed, she had left something behind. 

The goats wanted to see what was so interesting. 

They didn't see what I found so appealing. I popped the egg in my pocket and finished chores, smiling about one chicken's wandering ways and creative nesting choices. 

Spring and things...

 Spring comes slowly this far north. To me, this makes it all that much sweeter. I found this little hyacinth braving the still-chill air in the side garden yesterday. It has sprouted unbidden next to the vintage scythe that molders there. 

My sister, not far from us in New Hampshire, reports that the forsythia (the well-known bush that blooms brilliant yellow with early blossoms promising warmer days) is almost gone by. I wandered out to check on mine. 

It is just barely beginning to bud. 

My neighbor just up the road reports that no daffodils are blooming at their house yet. I have a few, with more still waiting in the wings. 

While taking pictures, I heard a familiar, annoying chuckle. 

3 or 4 gulls have been hanging around here for the past few months. We are 15 miles from the ocean, and I am not sure why the gulls find my place attractive, except that I feed a small flock of crows and a couple of ravens here. This week I saw the gulls chasing one of my crows off, away from its breakfast. I hope the gulls tire of my roof and chimney and head to the shore soon. 

A couple of years ago, Rachel's father-in-law brought them the Steiff teddy bear that had belonged to his mother. It is approximately 100 years old. The bear has been staying with us because they lived in a tiny apartment and have cats that tend to bother things they shouldn't. Yesterday, he visited The Owlett and brought her a Steiff bear of her very own. She was enchanted with it. I took this picture of the two bears, 100 years apart, waiting for the Owlett to be old enough to play with them in earnest. 

Late last summer, Chris and I made a dream come true.  We bought the parcel of land that adjoins our property. In my heart, this piece of meadow has always been mine, but in reality, it belonged (at first) to someone who lived away and never visited and then to new neighbors who bought it and built a vacation home down the road from us. We became friendly, and they very nicely let us graze our animals there for years. We expressed an interest in buying this small section of their land if they ever wanted to sell it, and last year they told us they did. It took us about 30 seconds to decide it was a deal we could not resist. When we bought our house, it came with two acres of land, and now we own a whisker under 5. Today we walked up and did some exploring. There is a meadow, a young stand of pine trees, and some older woods as well. This time of year, there is even a brook that rushes over boulders, chanting the happiest of songs. 

We want to cut down a bunch of the young pines to reclaim the meadow they are taking over, and today made our first effort, cutting 15 or so of them and hauling them to the burn pile. It is a bit of a daunting project but working together, we should be able to make good progress. Here is the view from the tree line, looking back to our home. The brook is behind me, singing. My heart is, too. 

Eggcellent adventure...

 Rachel and I received an intriguing invitation to gather at the home of one of her friend's parents to create pysanky eggs. There are a million wonderful things about raising a child; one of them is that I have met some of my favorite people through her. Kathy and Scott hosted today's gathering. Going to their house is a treat because it is incredibly cozy and filled with beautiful things. The kind of home that begs you to choose a book from the shelves that line the walls and curl up on the soft sofa for a long, peaceful day of quiet bliss. 

A big bed of snowdrops greeted us outside. A foreshadowing of the delights that awaited as the day unfolded. The house was deliciously warmed by the woodstove and smelled of scones baking. An orange tree bloomed and fruited in a sunny window. 

Although I had heard the name of the famous Ukrainian eggs and had seen pictures of them, I had no idea how the beautiful designs on them were created. Kathy had the table set, so everyone had a place to try their hand at the art. 

An egg, a wedge of beeswax, and a candle were the basics of the recipe. Kathy patiently explained the process. 

We chose a stylus and heated it over the candle. Then scooped a little beeswax into it. Next, we drew a design in wax onto the egg. Since this was my first time doing this, and I am not particularly artistic, I went with a very simple drawing. Most of the other people at the table had done this before and were more confident and bold.

 Images were drawn in wax, the egg was dunked in the dye for a bath, then more images applied, and another layer of pigment was added if desired. Lighter shades were used first, then darker colors as the process went on. 

This egg was created by Kathy, who is very artistic and has lots of pysanky experience. Here is my rather sad attempt... a goat! Just one color of dye. 

Once the process is completed, one holds the egg near the flame until the wax melts. It is then wiped away, bit by bit.

Some of the eggs in this basket are 50 years old. The liquids inside have dried, leaving just the fragile beauty of shell and dye remaining. 

One woman at the table created a unique,  intricate, multi-layered design. As she was finishing up,  melting the wax and wiping it off, the egg shattered in her grasp. We all gasped. She shrugged, prosaic. Art imitates life... sometimes things are going along beautifully until they are not. 

But today was all maple scones, snowdrops, and beauty. It was an eggcellent day. 

Home again, home again...

 Previously postponed due to Covid, we finally got to take a long-planned tropical getaway to celebrate our 38th wedding anniversary and my 62 birthday.  Along with sister Deb and brother-in-law John we jetted off to Moon Palace, Jamaica. 

The view was stupendous. The rooms were lovely. The mattresses were even amazingly comfortable, unlike most hotel beds. We slept a lot, happily. 

We spent hours sitting under a shady cabana in comfortable chairs every day, sipping drinks and admiring the ocean. When we got too warm, we'd wade into the water, float around for a while, and repeat. 

If we should become weary of these hedonistic stretches, we'd wander over to one of the many pools. A trip down the water slide always perked things up! 

The food at inclusive resorts like this is always pretty good. I think it was better than good here. And the staff was incredible. We met some wonderful people and enjoyed some excellent meals together. 

Deb and John arranged for us to have a special romantic supper on the beach on our "Birthdaversary." 

Chris and I particularly liked spending almost every second together for the week. 

I did sneak off for a fantastic massage at the largest spa in the Caribbean. But first, there was the sauna, steam room, ice room, hot tub, cold pool, and the unique pool with waterfalls designed to offer hydromassage. This was relaxation with a bold, capital "R." 

The days stretched out in a flawless procession of perfect weather, rest, lovely scenery, excellent company, and naps. Lots of naps. And then it was time to come home. 

It always feels good to be back in the familiar US. 

I get a little teary when we hit the Maine line. No matter how wonderful a vacation is (and this was one of the best ever), I thrill to be home. 

Along with Rachel and Evans, niece Aimee took care of all the animals, the house, and the business. I never worried about anything knowing they were at the helm of my little "ship." 

I was back to work within a couple of hours of arriving home, which was fine by me. As my dad used to say, "It's good to go away, but it's good to be home again, too."