I set the vulnerable, wobbly sac-like things on the ground for the chickens to eat and they did.
Yes, chickens love to eat eggs.
But, the six that were truly formed eggs, I gathered with great love.
I know for sure that the blue egg is Ozzie's, the two small brown ones of matching size are Butterscotch's and whomever my stealth layer is, probably Lucille's, the white one is either Chi-Chi's or Cha-Cha's. And the very small egg on the end is Missy's. I saw her repeatedly get into the nest which is actually on the outside of the henhouse today and jump back down with no egg laid until finally later in the day, I discovered she had succeeded.
Missy is the small black hen with the fuzzy legs, the sister of Eggy Tina. That darling Missy egg is so small that it fits in an iced-tea spoon with room to spare.
This is all absolutely fascinating to me.
Which probably means I need to get a life.
It rained today again. Sweet and heavy and I felt as if I were all alone in the world, the grey curtains of water drawn around me, the noise of it on the roof blotting out all beyond that might intrude upon this space, this place. No one needed me, I was entirely able to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to do it. It was wonderful; I felt guilty.
My husband's workload has gotten tremendously heavy recently with the cars, with our rental property, with this and with that. I knew that his day probably didn't include enough time to truly sit down and eat his lunch while I spent time writing and reading and casually doing things around the house, spying on the chickens and making soup as the rain poured down.
Guilt is my default emotion. Always has been, probably always will be.
I try to assuage the guilt by knowing that tomorrow the boys will be here all day and it will all be a different story. Two boys with four fully-functioning legs, both wanting to go off in different directions, do different things at the same time, both wanting Mer to help, to join in, to get snacks, to get juice, to listen, to pay attention, to play, to swing, to watch this, watch this, watch this.
Today I took care of myself and tomorrow I will take care of them and I will do a better job of it, having had this good day of rest. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
And who knows? I may be right.
More tales and egg reports tomorrow from this small thing I call my life.