I love collecting eggs, it's one of the best parts of my day. This morning I went to collect them and found this astounding sight in the nest. That tiny thing is in fact, an egg! It's pretty normal for new pullets, very young hens laying for the first time, to lay tiny eggs, but my hens are in their second year of production. There was one hen standing and loking at the nest, and I asked her if she was the proud one, or a disapproving old biddy. She merely clucked and walked away, so my guess is she's the latter.
Working in the yard today I felt, for the first time, like an old lady. I've always been quite strong, and capable of doing any heavy job around as well as the men and maybe better. Today shoveling endless piles of gravel to make way for planting beds, I ran out of steam quickly, had to take breaks and drink lots, and at the end of the day I am exhausted and my muscles are like limp noodles. For the first time I see myself as one of those ladies who hire yard help and stand to direct them - an image I do not care to see myself in. So, in my pride do I forge ahead and finish this heavy job myself and enjoy enormous satisfaction, or do I hire a young man and preserve my feeble unstable old joints?
This is the site of the problem, at least a part of the site. The large stumpage on the left has been removed, and the gravel shoveling goes on - it's very deep. The grassy area in the background is just weeds growing thru the gravel - it extends all the way to the fance. I want to call the former owners and scream -- "what were you thinking?" So much of this yard is gravelled......
I have plants ready, and so many more I want to put in. I love the feelings, sights and smells of working in the garden, fresh dirt, fresh herbs and veggies. And I have always had large gardens that develope like Topsy - they just bloom, so to speak, without an ordered plan to them. I look forward to that, and I guess any means to an end, right? So tomorrow I'll speak to my stepson about hiring on of his crew to come clear this out for me.
Rats --- something tells me I won't be entering my old-lady-hood quietly.