Saturday, July 5, 2014
The Fifth Of July Is Sweet
Here's Maurice, pretending she's not looking at the chickens. In the foreground is Miss Eggy-Tina and the black chicken behind her is Missy. I love how Eggy-Tina has Elvis's markings but in such a differently arranged bird. I should look up breeds and see what it is I have here but for some reason, I really don't care. I just love all of them.
Yesterday Miss Butterscotch definitely laid her first egg. We watched her go into the hen house and waited patiently and when she came out, there was a tiny brown egg in the nest, smaller and with a more matte surface than the other little brown egg I've been getting which looks to be almost lacquered. Not one of the older hens laid yesterday. I suppose they heard it was a holiday. Miss Mabel and Miss Sharon are on the nest as we speak, getting to work early.
It is incredibly cool this morning. Mr. Moon said it was 68 degrees when he got up which is just unheard of in North Florida in July. Perhaps Hurricane Arthur sucked some of the heat out. I have no idea. I am just grateful.
Mr. Moon and I had determined yesterday that today we would take out the dead dogwoods in the yard today which have perished from some sort of blight. It is the same with all of the dogwoods in Lloyd. I don't know what the deal is but it's disturbing. He also desperately needs to go out and buy a new chair. The problem is, he needs an extra-long chair or when it reclines, his legs stick off the end about three feet. The man has the longest legs you've ever seen.
Okay. Here's something Owen said yesterday that made me laugh. He had just pooped and he told me, "That made my eyes water."
"Well, sometimes that happens,"I said, tending to the business of cleaning his skinny little butt.
"In fact, it made my eyes pop out of my head!"
"What? That's horrible!"
"Yes. But I picked them up and put them back before you came in."
"Well thank goodness!" I said. And we washed our hands and proceeded with our day. I am glad that he is better at determining which eye goes where than he is at knowing which shoe goes on which foot.
I better go offer to make that man of mine some breakfast. I notice that he has not eaten a bowl of cereal which means he's waiting for me to cook something. I would not like him to perish from lack of a breakfast. Perhaps I will offer him a trade- I'll make biscuits if he takes the trash. Sometimes this works. I can cook him up four or five of the small brown eggs, and this day of such incredible coolness and beauty can truly begin.