Don't adjust your monitor

If that top egg looks a little green, don't worry, it's supposed to. I was beginning to wonder if my Arucanas (nickname: the Easter Egg Chicken) were ever going to start laying eggs, or if I was doing something wrong, or even if they were roosters. Turns out they were just taking their sweet time, but have finally decided it's safe to start laying eggs.

I'm told their eggs will start out either blue or green and then when they're fully mature they'll be a blue/green swirled mix, hence the cute nickname. Of course the egg inside looks and tastes exactly the same as a brown or white egg, but the novelty of the shell color is, well, pretty cool.

I've started baking due to the sudden influx of eggs, we gathered 7 just yesterday and so I'm smelling banana bread as I write. I've also decided that today my business name should be this: She (does everything possible BUT) Knits.

Pigs without ears

It may not sound nice, but I'm told by a friend it's their nickname. Chickens, a.k.a. "pigs without ears". But when you don't have a garbage disposal and you haven't been keeping up with composting lately, this is a great alternative.

Take a watermelon, say,

watch them check out the rinds,


and move in,


a little closer,

mmmm, that's good stuff.

I've started baking to try to use more eggs, that, and we've been having more for breakfast. We're getting 3 a day now and even though they're still small that can add up quickly.

I'm going to be on baking fire when we have around 8 a day, either that or we'll have some lucky neighbors.

The chickens don't care

One thing I really like about chickens and dogs and my kids is that they're basic. Oh sure, the kids have funny and even insightful things to say on a pretty regular basis, and they can have complicated thoughts at times, but if you stopped to ask them if they were concerned in the slightest about all the things their mom had on her "list" to accomplish in a day they'd look at you with a blank stare as if to say, "Mom has a list?".

That's right. Not a one of them, not the 8 chickens, the dog, the three kids and let's throw in the cat too, care one bit about mom's list.

And that's probably as it should be.

And maybe mom shouldn't put so much stock in her list either. Because maybe things like food, water, shelter and love are some of the best things they've got going. So it's on days like this when I look around me at the indifference to my "busyness" and question it's merit, and worth and how much space it's occupying in my life. It's fair to say that the list, albeit whittled down to a minimum, has been trumped by 8 chickens, 1 dog, 3 kids and 1 thirteen year old cat. Enough said.

The Egg(s)

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.

Flying the coop

The chickens are out and about. They're getting acclimated to their yard, they follow each other in and out like cattle, they're acting like, well, chickens I suppose. The first night I had to capture each one and put them inside before they killed themselves trying to bolt through the wire fencing to escape. The second night all went in when I opened the gate except one, who I had to capture before she killed herself trying to bash through the wire fencing. We're making clear progress.

This morning when I opened their door to the yard they followed each other out like it was old hat, proving my neighbor at the market right. He told me that they follow a routine well and once you show them a new one, they have it down in 2 or 3 days. I'm glad because I don't really like the looks of their necks straining to squeeze through the fence, nor do I want to chase them around every night. Come winter that might get old.

These chickens are a good daily reminder of what life is like at it's most basic level. That food and water, shelter and protection from danger are all they really need to survive and thrive. That wants don't even enter the picture and that they already come with all the internal programming they need to have a good life. The difference between us and them is that basic instinct is all they listen to. Today I'm going to try to be more like my chickens. Don't laugh.

Catching up

We were off our usual routine this Sunday morning as Lauren and I headed to the doctor around 8:30. Her eye was swollen shut with poison ivy and it was popping up all over her head and neck. Kevin could barely move his head from repeated injury and working too hard, and Allie has a new cold. Needless to say, church did not want our plague and so we opted out. Just as well, I think we all needed a day to lay low and catch up on life and even slow our bodies down that have been moving so fast all week.

The market continues to be a great thing for my business, for creating new friendships and for learning a ton about growing plants. I'm right next to an herb gardner this year and I just sit and listen to her wealth of knowledge all morning long, soaking up as much as I possibly can. I'm determined to become a better caretaker of our plants/gardens. I may even be making herbal teas by the end of the summer if she rubs off on me enough!

I took some pictures this morning for a customer in Sweden and so I thought I'd stick them in here. Too often I forget to include enough pictures of the fiber arts!

Crocheted basket: (I'm loving the orange)

(and my little tags on the top!)

And finally, a chicken coop update. While I was at the market yesterday, Kevin and the kids finished the outside yard for the chickens--here it isn't quite finished. They're getting acclimated to being outside and learning how to go in and out. Last night I went in the yard to put them all back in the coop for the night and they all decided to try to kamikaze themselves through the wire fencing! They have a little learning to do yet. I'd also like to point out the gorgeous, healthy, huge poison ivy vines growing up the trees in the background. The doctor said this morning I needed to get rid of our poison ivy. Ha! Lady, you have no idea what you're dealing with--this picture doesn't even come close to showing it all.

Stay tuned, there's more to come, just too much to fit in one post: Chickens out in their yard, finished plans for the addition (Kevin's copying them at Kinko's as we speak) and more new creations as I churn them out. Life really is good.

Life in the slow lane

"Hey lady, what do you want?"

"We're tired, can't you tell?"

"Seriously...zzz...go...zzz...away...zzzzzzzzzzz."

Despite the squawking, chirping and flapping of wings, they're more like babies than I thought they'd be. Eat, poop, sleep, repeat. A routine highly reminiscent of the baby days.

While I was at work yesterday the girls made a sign for the coop,

Kevin installed a short door and half wall between the storage space and where the birds' nesting boxes and roosts will be,

and John helped a tremendous amount, so the story goes, nailing up paneling inside and helping install the roosts and this guillotine-style hen door that will lead to their yard.



There is an irony in this whole process that I hope is not going unnoticed. The chickens are getting great care from a certain man who has told me more than once, "These are chickens, not pets, we will not get emotionally attached, we are not naming them" and so on and so forth. Yet, he reports to me about their various personalities and habits and has dedicated great thought, time and care into their dwelling space. I'm thinking he cares more than he lets on.

Much to his dismay they all now have names thanks in great part to one of my nieces. They are: Peck, Dorothy, Spot, Chirp, Cloud, Sleepy, Snowy, and Lucy. Fortunately I'm managing to keep them alive.

Chicks gone wild

(is that the look of a city mouse or what?)

If it's chick entertainment you're looking for I have one word for you, earthworms. Yesterday after the kids came home from school I set them to the task of digging up worms in the garden so we could feed them to the chicks. They were on it with such excitement you'd think I told them we were going to Busch Gardens.

It was all out pandemonium at feeding time. I'm pretty sure they'd never seen a worm before but it took about 2 pecks and 3 seconds before feathers were flying, beaks were pecking with reckless abandon and they were racing around the bin I have them in. The squawking was at an all-time high as if each chick was saying, "It's MINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINE! gimmeegimmeegimmeegimmee!"

Worms were flying, getting chopped in half, chicks were all over top of each other and getting stuck behind feeders and such, each trying to flee from the other. At one point a worm landed on this one's back and she kept searching around for it as it dangled from her wing.

I must say they are rather easy animals to care for at this point. Their only requirements are food, water, a clean environment, warmth and safety from predators. That's it. They definitely don't want any more of me or the kids than it takes to fill those basic needs.

But of course I've been a tad neurotic about the whole thing, especially that first night. Kevin and I were sitting up watching t.v. after the kids went to bed and I heard him say, "Earth to Amy, where'd my wife go, what's gotten into you?"

"I'm paranoid that they're too cold, that they're going to freeze to death, that the light bulb is going to catch everything on fire and the whole tool shed is going to burn down (we don't have them in the coop yet, no electricity down there), or that the light bulb is going to burn out, and that my new ferns and peonies are going to die because it's going to freeze tonight. Does that answer your questions?" I replied.

I think he shook his head, muttered an "Oh great!" and then said something like "Why don't you just go check on them?"

"I think I will. And I'm bringing my plants inside while I'm at it."

But to myself I was just laughing at the clear difference in the way some women and men are wired. I know why women have babies and men do not. I see clearly why some men are stronger and can build great chicken coops (or houses) with ease and actually like it. I realized quickly why I'm the one responsible for keeping the chicks alive, when from the moment they came home and I sat quietly looking in their bin, watching their every movement, listening to their contented little peeps with a growing warmth in my chest that only comes from caring for another living thing. I'm glad I'm me and I'm glad he's him and I will happily keep it that way. The world needs both sides of the equation if you ask me.

The prediction

Ten years ago today we bought our house and being the city girl I was at the time Kevin had great fun joking with me, saying, "One day honey you're gonna have chickens and do crafts! Mark my words."

"Pshawww, yeah, right!" I think was my response, "Chickens and crafts, I wouldn't know how to operate a hot glue gun if I tried!" And that is still true today, however the knitting needles, crochet hooks and yarn get quite the workout around here as you may well know. As for the chickens I never had poultry dreams or any notion that they would be a good idea. After all, we had already started gutting our farmhouse before we moved in and both worked full time. We spent months without a kitchen and a year and a half renovating all while living in a construction zone and loving (almost) every minute of it. Then came the kids. One, two, three, boom, boom, boom, just like that all in three years time. Chickens were nowhere on my radar screen as you can imagine, life was crazy enough.

But now that things have settled down somewhat and my youngest will go to big school next year, I'm looking at our life here through different eyes. Kevin has again joked with me that the chickens would be astronomically expensive ones had we to pay someone to build the coop that he built but it's really not about that. To us, it's about truly experiencing and actively participating in our lives here. The animals, the landscape, the garden, they all enhance our experience and we become intertwined with this place. It means so much more to me than the mall (although I really like having an Anthropologie close, don't get me wrong!)

I asked Kevin last night if he had any more predictions for me since he hit the nail on the head with his original two. "I have two words for you...churning butter...you wait and see" he said.

Ummm, I'll just leave you with that to ponder for a while.

The chicken coop cometh

Start with one able-bodied husband.

Add an ulta-organized work trailer,

the likes of which Martha would even approve,

an old salvaged door from when we remodeled our house

and in six hours you have it,

the skeleton of the chicken coop with a papered-in roof.

I continue to be amazed at how much he can accomplish in such a short period of time, not to mention the quality.

Only thing I might have to do is confiscate that pretty doorknob for the addition when the time comes.

Landscaping on a zero dollar budget

There's a place at our house where no grass will grow. In 10 years of trying we can initially get it to grow in the Spring but by late May it's drying up and withering and by July the ground where it was becomes as hard as cement. Unfortunately it happens to be right at the most utilized entrance to the house, under a couple of huge (really huge) trees. I blame it on the thirsty, shady trees. It's a little embarassing and dry and desolate so we're trying a new approach, the no cost, high labor, throw in some heavy equipment, manpower and lots of time approach and we'll see if we can have better luck.

I spent the better part of my day digging up, dividing and transplanting liriope (fancy word for monkey grass). It has to be one of the most prolific ground covers out there and the perfect solution for us. It's free, it doesn't need babysitting, it grows in the shade, it's green, it'll fill in so no weeds will grow and did I mention it's free?

I love the part in dividing plants where I get to cut them apart with a serrated kitchen knife. I feel like a kid breaking the rules, oh yeah, I'm wild and crazy like that. Someone grab her! She's got the cutlery in the garden again!

Funny thing too, this stuff gets so dense and thick you can hardly tell the spot where I dug it up.

Enter Kevin, making things so much easier with the heavy artillery, and enhancing my view at the same time. I'm a lucky girl.

Even his old boots are my favorite. Look at the toes, we've had to take them in so many times for repairs, they've even replaced the toes on these.

And last but not least, the beginnings of the chicken coop. Look closely and you'll see John helping him push the auger down. A real mom-cringing moment. Watch your fingers!

Finally the layout and an example of one of the perks of being married to a builder. I bet we'll have the most level, square and true chicken coop in the county. Not that I'm trying to one-up anybody, I'm just sayin' the boy's a bit of a perfectionist which is fine by me, 'cause I'm not, well, unless it comes to knitting in which case I'm a total spaz, gotta rip it out if there's one mistake, but this post isn't about knitting (like most of them, ahem) so we'll talk about that later.

Oh and one more thing, I think my favorite part of the day was when we walked in church this morning and a friend said, "I've got 16 eggs I'm going hatch for you if you want 'em and you can have the hen that laid 'em too." He's 77 this friend, he and his dear, sweet wife. I like having 77 year old friends. Life is full of good things if you stop and look at it.