here is my inner artiste. examining profound things, like eggs.
the little brown eggs are the first from our baby chicks, which are not babies anymore. only one is laying. her name is roger. our other four chickens are in chicky heaven, after the great massacre of 2011. let's not talk about it.
i like that my garden and the chickens have kept me sane this summer. actually it's all a pain in the neck, but i'm convinced we all need some inconveniences to be happy. my friend ashley and i talked about this recently, how the ways of the past are maybe wiser. like we should live in small, tight communities and toil for our food, and women should work side by side in doing household chores every day. instead, we isolate ourselves in our homes and have too much free time and get lonely and depressed. i know that all sounds very idealistic but i think it's true! hauling water and working in the fields sounds awful maybe, but so is being lonely and depressed. which a lot of people are! basically i want to live in lark rise to candleford as queenie's neighbor, but you already knew that.
thoughts? does anyone want to join my 19th-century commune? it could be like the village without the fake monsters.