It is Sunday morning. I'd let the chickens out early and went for a run with Sunny and afterward, slipped on the pink plastic shoes that are so appropriate for cleaning out a chicken coop, or gardening, or any job where I either get muddy or could step in poop, and I went back down to check on the progress. You see, last night I found their first egg. It was exciting, I immediately started talking to them and was saying things like, "good girl! what a big day! I'm so proud of you!". All the things that could make me seem like someone who's a little off kilter, or either totally normal. I leave that judgement up to the reader.
So I headed back down to the coop, past the beans,
rounded the corner,
opened the door with that pretty little knob that everyone knows doesn't belong on a chicken coop,
and there was another...little...egg.
They are just perfect.
It's hot and steamy here, can you see?
But I've managed to not only keep my butterfly bush alive and thriving this year (it's taller than me), but also 8 chickens. I recently joined facebook and reconnected with so many old friends from home and I wonder if I'm really the same girl who grew up in suburban St. Louis. One thing's for sure, I bet they all think I'm crazy.