Rambling Towards the Full Moon of April

I saw some Rhubarb today that was a good foot and a half high already. It wasn’t mine! Darn, I should have fertilized and spread some compost around last fall. It is really dry and needs to rain. We have had such winds, like as if it is March. They made me tired when they were blowing so I was glad when they stopped off. But then they left a dry earth, a earth still waiting for the rain that the winds had promised and did not deliver.

Like a lover left wanting. Evening before last there was a slight sift in the air and the skies teased the land once again. Then you could smell it and I stood out in it and let it wash my face. It has been so warm, I heard one older lady put it this way,
“ It is 20 degrees over normal temperature for this time of year.”
Yeap. A part of me feels aggravated and hot about it as if the unexpected heat is making the air heavy and weighing me down. I yearn for the misty wet days that are suppose to be April. It feels more like late June. We all fuss, those of us who grow things because the grapes and the peaches and the apples have let loose all abandon and are opening up to the Sun without looking back. Last expected frost day is in Mid May and we have 15 days and a Full Moon to go before we get there. No fingers can touch your face like the fingers of rain. It rained just long enough for me to get cooled down and then and then it was over.

Strange to sit on the porch in April with the Peepers still singing down on the creek, strange to be soaking wet and still enjoying the breeze.

Well I got the creamed honey done, and I rounded up our private stash of jams and jellies and picked out the nicest ones to take to market, must have more then we are going to eat this winter I guess I tucked enough for ourselves away and I am glad that I have some to take to market. Elderberry mostly. So I dusted and tided and I am finding the signs. Well most of them, will have to make up a few. But I am having the most fun when I am outside mixing up soil and separating the plants that are taking more then their share of room and potting them up for trade, gift or barter. As I do this Little One has gotten into our fairy houses and she is trying to figure out how to get her roof to stay on. She spends hours kneeling before tree with moss in hand, weaving.

The chickens are peaking at their laying and we have so many nice brown eggs everywhere. I must tell you, there is one chicken that has some Rhode Island Red in her and she can fly over the coup, (unlike our broader, more mellow Buff Orhpengtons).
So she gets on the loose and she has taken up residence in the doghouse. Yes! The doghouse. Poor Laddy he tries to go in his nest and this broody ole hen is raising her feathers at him and hizzing. Tomorrow evening I think I will go out there in the night when she is asleep and sneak her out to the smoke house and let her sit on her eggs out there. When she wakes up in the morning she will just think that she has died and gone to heaven with such a nice quiet place all of her own , without the dog peeking in. She picked a pretty good spot all by herself, but it won’t be fun if Laddy lies on an egg.

We were laughing the other day because the overheads are talking about making more laws about selling eggs and even small timers like us will have to have their coups and egg cleaning spot inspected. One thing that they look for in the coup is that the hens lay in their proper boxes, not on the dirty floor or behind the food bin.

Another thing that they inspect is your egg cleaning sink. Don’t they know that eggs have a natural protective dusty coating on them and if you wash it off the egg is more susceptible to absorbing bacteria? We have been trained by those who raise eggs to not wash the eggs before putting them in the carton. We only wash them if they are obviously dirty and then we eat those ones right away. But they don’t want to see your kitchen sink or the pump by the well in the yard, they want a special spot for washing your eggs with a chrome sink and all. Most small timers don’t already have this and they would to take precious time out from planting the gardens or migrating the bee hives to build it. I guess what gets to us is they try to make rules that are not really necessary. Seems like they just like to make rules lots of times to us.

Usually the chickens do lay in their nest boxes but since we like to let them free range when we can, sometimes this old breed is smart enough to find their own favorite spots. So when they make these rules, the people who keep their chickens in a little pens can abide by them, as the caged chicken has no choice but to lay her eggs in the little spot allotted to her. But rules like this really don’t fit where a chicken can be happy. Where a chicken that is so inclined to might take the notion to lay her egg under the bloomin Lilac bush. Or in her originality she might choose the doghouse. I admit the doghouse is going a little too far for a place to find my egg, even if I am a country girl.

And to pay for the inspections they will charge you 100 bucks, no big deal to a big chicken cage farm. Considerably a big chunk out of the small time guy and gal, who see as they go along that selling eggs doesn’t even buy the chicken feed.

And so it goes, until we make it happen differently.
And we will!

God created the most beautiful world with the most beautiful skies. And he put so many shades of green into each single spring day. And he made the robin not to cry like men, and he made a place that is pure and clean and next to him. And I get to sit down beside this place everyday in the garden. I thank him.

Love Tren