every day is a good day
The first chick of the year pokes its head out from under the warmth of its mother’s feathers. Tonight it is sleeping quietly under her, listening to her steady heartbeat. This is why every chick deserves a mother.
I was expecting her chicks to hatch tomorrow. Hopefully, there will be more chicks to see tomorrow, and in a few days, they will be running carefree through the grass.
The chives are in bloom, it felt like August today. It’s the hottest May day I’ve seen in the eleven Mays we’ve been here.
The hens take their egg laying seriously. They are adept at warning me with their eyes that they want to be left alone. They’d make good librarians. No child would dare utter a peep with hen eyes glaring at them.
The purple flamingos have opened up into striking irises.
Serious business. You can see it in her eyes and her sharp tone.
The white wisteria are opening. It’s glorious to be alive. The bees are ecstatic. They live for the wisteria to bloom. If you want bees in your garden, plant wisteria.
This morning I read a quote by George Weymouth, conservationist, horse enthusiast and bon vivant, who recently passed away:
Yes, I love good living. Why have a bad time? It’s such a beautiful world, and every day is my oyster. No one has had more fun out of life than I have.
When you pass, may you be able to say, “No one has had more fun out of life than I have.” May we all be able to say that. Indeed, why have a bad time, especially when the best things in life are free?
Walking out to the pond this morning, I spotted a flock of purple flamingos. The iris have sent their flower stalks high into the air when I wasn’t paying any attention. Their purple buds look like purple flamingos, craning high to see what fish are swimming in the pond.
Seven year old Billy enjoys spring more than winter. An old rooster, sunshine and warmth suit him much more than cold, windy, rainy days.
I may be one of the lucky few who have a mob of chickens racing over a bridge to see if I have any treats to spare. Lucky may not be the right word to use. Hearing the clatter of sixty chicken feet racing after me makes me wonder what they’d do to me if I fell down. Billy is too far away to rescue me.
BFFs? Hardly. Himawari-hime, on the right, is sitting on eggs which should hatch around May 8. Last year, she had a brood in early June. Ungetsu-hime, on the left, insists on laying an egg in the same nest. Fortunately, I marked all the eggs when Himawari-hime started sitting, so when she is off, I can remove the additional eggs Ungetsu-hime keeps adding.
The shallot buds are plump for picking. This is what good earth tastes like, delicious plants springing out of the ground. Garlic shoots are ready for pulling too. They have been growing all winter and are thick and juicy, perfect for chopping up to season dinner.
