In the red red hills of Dundee
After work last night we headed off to Lisa and Mark's house in Dundee. Naturally we had to stop to pick up some beer. That's when I spotted this peculiar sign. What does it mean? Did it used to say "Burritos and More"? Or how about "Burgers and more"? But, here's the question: would you trust a liquor store to sell burritos, and once you've decided to wreck your stomach with a questionable burger from a liquor store, what "more" could you be looking for? "More" seems a little like a vague threat. But maybe what it used to say is "Burds* and more". I'll bet the police would like to know about that!
Lipstick, head-scarf, and chickens. I am standing in front of Mark and Lisa's new chicken coop that they added into their shed last week-end. It is so well done! I'm glad my birds can't see it or they'd be jealous.
The red hills of Dundee...ah, what a haven! That's their house nestled amongst the maples. Where I'm standing to take this picture is on top of their back yard hill, on the plateau where their vegetable garden is planted.
It's hard to see in this picture. I'm kicking myself now because I should have taken a better picture. They have four raised beds that are old and falling apart, they have one patch of corn and squash growing to the left there directly in that luscious red clay. Along the side of that fence they have lots of bulbs, flowers, and a wonderful patch of asparagus.
Yum. (And also, that's not phallic at all!)
Lisa is becoming a chicken lady, just like Chelsea did, just like I did. How can we help it? Hens are awesome! People think that because they've got brains the size of, I don't know, carrot seeds?, that they aren't fun, funny, or adorable. Chickens are all these things. When you have a lousy day, all you have to do is go hang out around your chickens and your faith in the lighter goofy side of life will be restored. I think it may be because of their small brains that they are particularly amusing. They don't get bogged down with big head splitting questions like "what's the meaning of life?" or "Why are we letting soldiers kill innocent Iraqi chicks?". What concerns them is more earthy and simple like "Why does Bertha get the snail every single time?!"
Plus, they do funny stunts just to appease their silly people. This is Rex's little buddy. I think she's a Rhode Island Red. So is this Rex's parlour trick, or the chick's parlour trick. Pretty hard to tell, isn't it?
The chicks are still too young to spend much time outside, but very soon they will require a little chicken run. So Mark is digging post holes to give them a little play yard. He thinks the chickens are a pain in the ass. That's his current line. But it's already slipping. He thinks he'll grumble about them forever, but they are throwing their web of chicken style enchantment on him as we speak. Mark's done for.Now, I have a very important question to ask of all you other chicken keepers out there: where can I find a list of plants that are poisonous or unhealthy for chickens to eat? I will conduct my own search at some point if no one knows, but I keep forgetting to do this with my vast amounts of spare time. This is important to know though if you are a homesteading individual, urban or otherwise.
I have to go water the garden now and get ready to take a trip to JoAnne's, always a toothy delight.
*Means young lady or maiden. Old Scottish word apparently.
