Colder Weather

I think the cold front that moved in to town last night is here to stay for a while. I might name this cold front Autumn. Or Fall if you prefer.

Not the Myers home -  just in case you were confused.

Either way, it is nearing time to get out the longest-extension-cord-I've-ever-seen-in-my-life (a chicken farming gift from my dad), unreel it from Shed #1 to the Coop, and light up Kathy and Eleanore's lives.

Since it is getting chillier, and the hours of daylight shorter, I will be using an incandescent imposter to keep the eggs a comin'. 

*** I swear I remember writing something about why I needed to put a light in the coop, but I can't seem to find it - if this is a re-run for you, my bad. If not - here is a little explanation: (And of course now I don't remember what my source was, probably the internet. The internet knows everything, and thanks to the Google, now I can too.)***

Anyway, apparently hens need so many hours of light a day to keep the egg production steady. So in the winter months, with less light, it is likely that I won't collect as many eggs.  Also, even though they are birds, I worry about their comfort level.

5 Years

I have been keeping chickens alive in our backyard for 1 year now.

I have been counting off the days until I retire for 5 years. Only 10,950 left. How time flies...

I graduated college in May of 2004. I didn't start my "real" job - you know, the one that kind of pertains to my major - until October 15, 2006. Thank you (I suppose),  Bed, Bath and Beyond.

Bed, Bath and Beyond was the lesser of  the 3 evil "transition jobs".

Sometimes, on the occasional night or weekend or even holiday, I like to walk in there, with our without a purchase in mind, and just feel good about not wearing the navy blue apron, not suspecting everyone of being the MYSTERY SHOPPER!, not worrying about the piles of unfolded towels, not wondering how long I can hide from a manager or customer in the stock room that exists in the center of the store... It just kind of puts things in perspective. I might go tonight and celebrate!

Remember: No matter how bad you think your job is - You could be working retail for linens and kitchen gadgets.

Videos - a 2nd chance

 Well, hopefully this will work better. Thanks for the helpful comment, Wes!

They worked last night! What the heck?!?!?!?

Venting

I could turn this in to a post about chickens. They do, after all, have a vent as part of their anatomy. (That is where the egg comes out.)

Instead I am going to just let it rip:

Why, Blogger, won't you play my videos? I mean, I know they aren't that good, but they are more entertaining than "This video is currently unavailable." 

And, another thing - stop spitting your tobacco around me! Oh wait, that isn't the website. And come to think of it, neither are any of the other grievances - shoot!

I'm not sure this relationship between Blogger and me {although we've made it over a year together) is going to survive much longer.

Don't worry about Kathy and Eleanore, they will still be around doing what they do best. As for me... I might have some other ideas/interests in mind.

Hide and Seek

and Peck!

Ok. I'll call this a teaser and write a rain check. I didn't realize how bad the light (or lack there of) appears off the camera.

And those are the same video. Blogger decided there should be two of the same to make itself happy. Who am I to stand in the way of that?

Self Imposed Challenge Results

I think I only wore my hair in a (slightly unkept) pony tail 4 times. I broke out the flat iron a few mornings. There were a couple of braids, a headband now and then...

 This had to be my best hair day of September. I actually left the house with wet hair and mindlessly twisted it around my fingers in traffic. When it was finally dry at work it looked really (relative term) good.

This particular day I spent A LOT (relative term) of time on my hair trying to make waves with the flat iron. I realize this sounds counterintuitive, but according to reliable internet sources it can be done. It ended up in a pony tail - headband combo shortly after this look of disgust. (For some reason it is easier for me to take a goofy picture of myself than "acting natural" while observing my own reflection.)

If I were to grade myself, I'd get a B+ for effort.

-ahhh, the formatting is driving me nuts!-

A month or 12

September Egg Yield: 47

September 2010 - September 2011 Egg Yield: 523

or if you prefer... 

A graphical representation:

The Dirty (half) Dozen

Just a peek at what the eggs look like before I wash them and put them in a carton.

I would say the amount of "debris" shown here is a good representation of average cleanliness. Some days are better, some days are worse. 

In a year's time

I have learned some things about poultry and I have learned some things about myself.

First the birds:

• Hens, I have learned, can be quite particular about their brooding grounds. The anticipation of those first eggs...
• Even though they tend to poop where they eat and sleep - they have a fine appreciation for cleanliness/fresh hay.  
• They like the rain.
• They put themselves to bed before it gets dark.
• Hens like to chase and eat bugs - and they are good at it!
• They like me best when I am holding food.

and now, me:

• When I put my mind to it, I can stay on topic - mostly.
• This blog has been and hopefully will continue to be a good creative outlet.
• My photos have better quality when I take them with Aaron's fancy camera takes rather than my "Ah, it's good enough" camera.
• Amazingly, I was able to keep pretty upbeat or at least neutral topics. (i.e. I didn't use my creative outlet as an outlet to deal with annoyances or irritations {i.e. I didn't b*tch.})
• I prefer to "farm" in mild temperatures, in the daylight, when it is not raining and there are few mosquitoes.
• I have grown more and more hesitant to order eggs out at a restaurant.

Happy Anniversary!

Today marks my first year with Kathy and Eleanore.

Happy Anniversary, Ladies!

Thanks for all of your hard work.

When I went up to the coop this morning to deliver their anniversary cards, this is what I got in return.

Tragic Comedy or Comic Tragedy?

A couple years ago, Aaron invited Dave to come live at our house. For a while Dave was greeted on a regular basis when we returned home, " 'Sup, Dave?!" or "Dave! How's it going?" and once in a while upon our departure, "See ya later, Dave."

Through the years Dave just didn't have the same luster and shine that he used to. None the less, Dave remained.

Last night I went to water some plants on the front porch and came across Dave. Not an unusual place to find him, but he wasn't looking very good.

If anyone is having trouble with the fact that our lawn gnome was named, you probably didn't watch David the Gnome during your youth.

Sunday's Visitor

With the pitchfork in hand I headed up to the coop to perform a hay exchange. A dark shadow in the brush behind the coop caught my attention. I was ready to take on this demon if need be. After all, I was armed. I think it started to approach me first. I paused. And then the demon wagged its tail. I pat my hand on my thigh and the happy creature came over for some lovin'.

I noticed how skinny she was and how old and tattered her collar looked. So back down the hill I went with a friend in tow. I got her a bowl of food and POOF! it was empty. She hung around for a little while while I tended to the chickens. She was very interested in my small flock.

When I was finished I called the number on her lone tag. The operator there called the owner. No answer. At this point the two of us are hanging out on the front porch. There may or may not have been bones involved. A couple of hours later the owner called us and said that Skinny Minnie here was not actually her dog. She had found her as a stray, kept her for a little while and then gave her to a foster. The foster kept her for a little while until she found a more permanent home.

After an early afternoon of phone tag and a calm evening with (newly dubbed) Roxy resting in the living room with Charlie - the what-ifs crept in.

What if we don't find her owner?  What if she was abandoned?  What if I fed her too much today?  What do we do with her tomorrow while we are at work?  Are we ready for a second dog? More importantly does Charlie want another dog? If we take her to the vet and don't adopt her will we still be charged?

After dinner I took some recyclables to the new bin and Roxy was right on my heels on the way out of the house. She decided to go meet the neighbors. Then all of the sudden runs down to the street while 2 cars are passing. (This rarely happens.) I said a 4 letter word in front of my neighbor and his kid - Sorry!- then chased after the little black dog. One of the cars stops and the driver side door opens...

(At this point a lot of thoughts are going through my mind and I am probably being unfair and extremely judgemental so I'll just say...)

Hoppy was reunited with her lady and Sir Charles still has sole reign of the kingdom.

Doing our part

...with the cart. The City of Knoxville has decided to let 20,000 households sign up for free curbside recycling. (There are still around 3000 carts available - click the link!)



Recycling


When I first heard the news I was very excited. Last week when our giant "cart" arrived (it is more like a garbage can, but bigger) my excitement was renewed.

For the past three years or so, Aaron and I have been above average recyclers. Admittedly, sometimes we got lazy and the collections in our homemade bins would overflow, and recyclables would hit the regular ol' kitchen wastebasket.  It really is amazing how much waste can be recycled. At our recycling highs, we would hardly have enough trash to take down to the street each week. But for the most part, we did well and made trips to the nearest recycling center every so often.

But now... the recycling center is coming to us!

Would it surprise you if I told you I had a song for this post?

Re Re Re Re Re Re Cy cle
Re Re Re Re Re Re use it
No No Do not trash it
No No Don't abuse it!

I cannot take credit for that lyrical genius. I learned that from a man named Ray Cycle. He wore green tights and a matching green cape. Here is a little sumpin' sumpin' about him  Recycling Superhero Zaps Trash With Song

Do Spoiled Chickens Make Rotten Eggs?

Last night on my way home from work I had to stop by Tractor Supply. Instead of walking straight back to the 50 lb bags of layer pellet, I perused. I looked at some clothes and boots, books and magazines, feeders and traps... and then I came across treats. Treats for my chickens. I debated between the pecking block and a bag of mixed seed. The pecking block is basically 20 lbs of mixed seed stuck together in the form of a cube.

I picked it up.
I put it down.
I picked it up again and read the label.
I made a "hmmmn" face.
I put it down.
I picked up the bag of mixed seed.
I made a slightly different "hmmmn" face.
I walked around the aisle and heaved the 50 lbs of pellet into my arms.

This morning Kathy and Eleanore were treated to a delicious breakfast of mixed seeds and vegetables.

Remembering

This weekend I ran in the Firefighters 5k in Sweetwater, TN.  This year, on the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks, the goal for the race was to have 1 runner for each of the 343 FDNY members who gave their lives.  I shared my bib number with Jose Guadalupe. I did not know him. Today I know a little more about him, though only through what was shared about him after his death.

Remembering NYC Firefighter Jose A. Guadalupe

Sad news about Jose.

Chinese Lanterns

Last Saturday I went with my mom (and my dog) to Ijams for a wildflower walk. It was put on by Knoxville Parks and Rec. I learned a few names of flowers and weeds that I didn't know before and also solved the mystery of the plant residing where my carrots should be.

Chinese Lanterns.

I don't think they are very drought resistant. But, if they did survive the dry spell followed by a gully washer, they might continue to ripen and turn red. After that the pod will kind of deteriorate into a lace that surrounds a red ball.

I wish I took these last two pictures. But I didn't. Google Image Search didn't either, but that is where I found them. (I have gotten really lazy about credit where its due. My apologies well deserving artists!)

Life is just a bowl of cherries

Or in this case, cherry tomatoes.

Last week Charlie and I were on a walk around the neighborhood and we met one of our neighbors for the first time. She asked if I wanted some tomatoes, that the rain had knocked down her plants... (which seemed odd last week because we actually haven't had any rain for weeks on end until just this past Saturday) anyway I could come back around and she would have some picked for me.

Charlie and I continued on our walk and I thought about what I could do with 4 or 5 tomatoes.

What I should have been thinking about was what I could do with 4 or 5 pounds of tomatoes. Roberta had a produce bag full for me, enough to fill my second largest mixing bowl.

Action! (trying again)

I am experiencing some technical difficulties. In the end though, I suppose it doesn't really matter - I mean, I am filming chickens, and talking with them. My interview skills among foul could use a little work though.

Lights Camera...

Sorry, No action. At least not yet. Apparently I uploaded the video from my camera onto the computer and failed to download to the Picasa album...

But maybe you are curious how the hair fixing is going? Maybe? Anyone?
Well, I haven't resorted to an unkept pony tail yet.
Here is a sneak peak (on a day I remembered to take a picture!)

Seriously? I didn't get that one moved over either?!  You'd think it was Monday.

Self Imposed September Challenge

This photo - courtesy of Glenn Myers - has inspired me to do something about my mane.

I wear a pony tail for some portion of every day. Sometimes it hangs from the center, sometimes it sits over one shoulder. Most of the time, it doesn't contain all of my hair, as detailed here with the whispies at my forehead, ears and neck.

In my defense for this particular shot... It was early. I mean EARL-Y when I got ready for this event (Storm the Fort Tri). Somehow though, I feel like this is probably how disheveled I look on a regular basis, regardless of waking hour or race day. (Feel free to keep any comments to yourself unless its a complement. Self realization, even in terms of vanity, can be kind of a doozy.)

So here is my challenge for myself:
Every day for the month of September I shall attempt to fix my hair in a manner appropriate for the place I am going. (I'm not ruling out pony tails all together. I'm starting to get serious about running again.)

Attempt is the key word though. I don't have a lot of hand-eye-mirror coordination, nor do I have a lot of product knowledge to achieve or maintain desired look. I'm going to try though and eventually reveal my results through pictures taken along the way.

Wish me luck!

Sum Sum Sum(mer) Time

Get excited. The numbers are in for August.


2 Birds
Kathy and Eleanore survived the heat of the summer beautifully.

0 Traumatic Experiences
...Which is really good considering the quantity and proximity of natural disasters recently.

46 or 49 eggs for the month
Some days I am really good at remembering to make the tally mark, some days I am not.

Free for Interpretation

Vegetarian Fed Hens.

Do you think that was on the job application at the egg plant?

Circle the adjective that best describes you:
herbivore
omnivore*
carnivore*

*Eating meet does not immediately disqualify you from this position...


This happens from time to time. I see a phrase and understand exactly what it means, what the intentions are, and then... for fun I see if I can give it another meaning.

For example, the stool that resides in the tool room at work that is labeled "shop." I suppose its main purpose is to convey "Hey, don't take this stool out of here, this is where it belongs." But sometimes when I pass by, maybe that seating option is telling me to "go ahead, get yourself something nice."  And that garbage can with the name Skip on the side of it? Maybe that is name of someone on the cleaning crew, or maybe, just maybe, it is encouraging people to travel with a little more spring in their step.


Never a dull moment in this noggin!

The 1.00 Acre Wood

(Not to be confused with the 100 Acre Wood.)

I was looking at a property map of home sweet home today at KGIS and realized that of our 1 acre, I have probably only tread on half of it.  Since our lot is long and narrow, there is quite a bit of unexplored territory beyond the coop. "Quite a bit" as in, the other half acre.

Charlie may not have even been into the depths of the woods. When he chases rabbits he usually stops short of the tree line, puffs out his chest, raises his head, and then returns to the house with his tail high and his tongue dragging.
 

A friend at work has been talking a lot lately about going ginseng digging. I don't think the terrain in our neck of the woods is quite right for prolific ginseng growth, but it won't hurt to look. I just hope I don't find any snakes. Or better yet, they don't find me.
 

Lost in Translation

Yesterday I decided to type for a while the way I hear some people speak on a regular basis. Sometimes I admire the casualness of the dialect, other times I want to - well, other times it can irritate the bajeebers out of me. (My bajeebers are much better off left alone and unprovoked.)

This past weekend somebody chuckled at my use of the word sneakers. Sneakers. Up until 6th grade, I knew no other term for that particular style of shoe. When my family moved south and I started at a new school I was really worried that I wouldn't be allowed in the gym. Tennis Shoes Only.

I pictured the white adidas shoe with the green tab at the back of the heel that I had seen my uncle wear.

I probably told my mom about my concerns and that we needed to go shopping. She helped me understand.

Occasionally I pick up a new term or phrase that I have never heard before and if it is one that I like, try to incorporate it into my daily conversations. Most of the time I fail miserably and it comes out akward and forced. But it usually gives me something to laugh about.

Eats bin a wall...

Ah fill lock Ah ain't had much in the way of sayin bout chickens these days. Ah reckon cause not too much bin goin own.  Ah feed in water 'em same as usual. Day bin layin eggs same as usual. Poopin' too.

What?

I have noticed recently that Eleanore is the first one into the coop and up to either the feeder or the water basin when I am there visiting and refilling. The other day she pecked at my ring as I put the basin of fresh water back in. (I guess she was a little thirsty for some clean, hay free water.) Kathy is always close but never between me and Eleanore.

This past weekend I fed and watered the ladies early on Saturday a.m. Sunday afternoon when we got back in town I got to witness the Hungry March - two hens frantically patrolling the fenced perimeter occasionally pecking into the dirt. Honestly, it made me feel a little guilty that I didn't top off the feeder, but it was entertaining. I'll have to try and get it on video.

Lucy in Disguise

Last week I reported that a friend found out that one her hens was actually a rooster. She has since found out that 2 of her hens are roosters. Little Gerri now Little Jerry.

If Lucy maintains her feminine status I have a feeling she will be one busy bird. Then again, if she is really a Lucas there could be other issues. For instance - no eggs. How dissapointing.

An admission

Admitting you have a problem is the first step.

See where the grass meets denim... yeah, up there, at my knees, that is my problem. That is how tall the grass in the "garden" is. 

Ah hem. Was.

And, save for these babies:

 the garden has been returned to yard.

Up until last night I was convinced these plants were carrots. Makes sense... that is what I planted there. The thing is, the foliage just doesn't look like carrots. Can anybody help me out? What are those seed pods?

Its all about the Ears (i.e. I'm a nerd)

I had a conversation with a person the other day that has an allergy to white shelled eggs, but not brown. From what little I think I know about chickens and eggs, the only difference between white eggs and brown is the shell color. I was intrigued, so I did a little "research".

White eggs often come from hens with white ear lobes.

Brown eggs often come from hens with red ear lobes - like Kathy and Eleanore.

The beautiful blue eggs come from Araucana hens. (Must be to make up for the butter face - "That's a good looking hen, but her face...")

After gathering some information I have formed this hypothesis:

The white eggs this person has consumed have mostly been from the grocery store.

The brown eggs this person has consumed have mostly been from free range or backyard chickens.

Backyard birds, often red ear-lobed, have a different diet than white ear-lobed factory (battery) hens, therefore - WAIT FOR IT - the allergy originates with the chicken feed!

Gender Issues



When I first got my pullets and they weren't laying any eggs, a lot of people suggested that maybe I had roosters. As we know now this was not the case. My toddler-aged chicks have grown up nicely into hens.

A friend of mine was not so lucky. Mrs. Utz (the mother of my best high school friend, Sarah) started with three chicks; Patty, Little Gerri and Lucy, only to find out that Patty is really a Patrick.

I decided to do a little research on gender assignment of young poultry. I use the term research loosely. Maybe 'Google search for instant gratification of curiosity' fits better. Anyway, I came across this table which answers another question I had about the term sex links. It is kind of obvious now.

Inside Outside Upside Down

Inside the workplace it is very cold. Or at least, I get very cold. My hands have got to be 20 degrees cooler than say, my neck. Cold fingers make intricate work more difficult. I wear a sweatshirt everyday and have been debating the addition of a scarf, gloves and maybe something to warm my nose.

Outside it is very hot. It is very, very hot in my car. My AC doesn't work anymore. Stopping is my greatest enemy when I am on the road.

This really didn't have anything to do with anything else. Just felt like sharing.

Oh, and by the way, so far the egg laying rate for August is 1 a day.  I'm hypothesizing the 50% decrease  has something to do with the heat.

A Poem.

(Not Charlie, just looks a little like him.)

Swimming

Swimming

In my swimming pool

When days are hot

When days are cool

In my swimming pool

Backstroke

Sidestroke

Fancy Diving Too!

Oh, Wouldn't you like to swim with me

in my swimming pool?

-unknown

It's a slow news day from the mini-farm. Really, a slow news week. Ever since the coop has been re-enforced there isn't that much excitement surrounding escapees or intruders. With the exception of those dang moths that are like scaled down stealth bombers, of course.

True or False

I realized the other day that I never posted the numbers for June or July. Well, I suppose I wouldn't be too late for July... however, I didn't keep track either month. You may not miss it, but I kind of like seeing the data over time. 

I have two excuses:

1. Summer vacation - no reading, writing, or arithmetic
2. I was overwhelmed with Squash!

Never said they were good excuses. So here is an alternative format for my monthly summary:

True or False

Hot - T

2 Hens - T

Eggs Collected - T

Traumatic Experiences - F

Kathy & Eleanore had successful budget talks - F

Fryday

Man, it's hot out there!

Extreme weather makes me aware of just how much I reeeaaally like "farming".
The hen house isn't all that far away from the people house...

...But, when it was cold and the weather was precipitous, tromping through the morning frost to break up a gallon of ice wasn't at the top of my list. 

...And now, with the high humidity and the mosquitoes thriving, I find myself grateful for city ordinances preventing me from bringing home a goat or sheep.

I still maintain that I would like to live on a farm. I'm just not so sure about the working there too.

Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard

Actually it was Charlie and me down on the greenway.

Yesterday morning I promised Charlie that we would go to the park after I got home from work. At the sounds of GO, PARK, and WORK his ears perked and his head tilted. (Work sounds a lot like walk when you are a spoiled dog.) He was ready and wasn't going to let me get out the door without breaking my heart or making me feel guilty about making him wait.

I held true to my words and after work we went to the park.

There weren't many dogs out last night. I saw maybe 4 or 5. There were quite a lot of people, most with some involvement with football practice, but also many out walking, jogging and riding bikes.

Charlie and I made our way through the greenway giving wide enough birth to other pedestrians.

We ended up playing "leap frog" with one couple - when we weren't stopped to sniff, we were covering more ground. Anytime we got near, the lady would grab her companion and drag him in between herself and my happy, tongue and tail wagging dog. The man gave me the stink eye.

Have you every seen a truly vicious dog out for a walk at the park? I am sympathetic to those who have had bad experiences with dogs - or any animals for that matter. (I was once bitten by a turkey.) But have a little faith in those who take their furry family members out in public. 



Seriously. Look at this face.



93 days

I came accross an article a little while ago where a Michigan woman was facing up to 93 days in jail for growing a vegetable garden in her front yard.



http://www.channel4.com/

So... vegetales can be bad for you. Especially if, say, you ignore your town/city ordinances and the first communications requesting you relocate your produce.

Cohabitants

Kathy and Eleanore are gracefully sharing their sweet hen house with a few other winged creatures.

Black Ninja Darting Moths.

I have a feeling that is not what they are regarded as in scientific-flying-insect circles. Although... I might just circulate a petition.

Forgetfulness

It has its perks...

...Such as this gladiola. Or these gladiolus? I'm not sure how many are there. I don't remember planting them and I'm pretty certain they weren't there last year. But I'm happy its there now.

Also, every once in a while, I will have a conversation with someone who reads my blog. I tend to forget that I have an audience and am immediately suspicious that they are stalking my chickens... and then I remember I wrote about it and shared it publicly.

 

Eleanore

(That's not really true. I know if anybody is stalking my birds, it's a critter that wants to eat them. But I have been caught off guard a time or two - What? How did you kn...Ohhhhhh right.)

Twist and Shout

I picked my first cucumber the other day. I used the same method I use when picking zucchini or squash: grab the veggie and twist up near the stem of the plant. Sometimes I come accross a pricker, but they are nothing compared to what is on a cucumber before it is ripe.

Hence, the shout!

Good News

"Good news!" I told Aaron after returning from the coop to find Kathy and Eleanore unharmed, "the gun turret won't be necessary."

After I told Aaron about waking up in the middle of the night to the sounds of predators making a ruckus, he suggested adding a gun turret to the impenetrable fortress.

It was one of those times where I was not sure if I woke up because I heard the noise or if I heard the noise because I woke up. Either way, it didn't sound like dogs and I was worried for my flock. (if you can call two chickens a flock).

So I am happy to report all is well on the mini-farm.

Humbled

I was having a fat day Saturday. If you are male, you may not have experienced this. However, if there is a lady in your life, you've probably been around it. If you are female and you don't know what I am talking about - lucky you is the nicest thing I can say.

I started my day in Lycra and spandex - not really materials that make me feel my best. (My sister-in-law and I were going for a swim and then a bike ride.) I was grumpy leaving the house and kept tugging at my top which would ride up over my hip fat and reveal the pudge.

After my shower I put on a shirt that I swear didn't use to fit like that. Amazingly, I didn't tear it off and throw it across the room. I did some house work - probably complaining to myself about how I hate doing dishes and wondering how long those leftovers had been in the fridge...

Later in the afternoon my mom and I went out and about and stopped for a light dinner at a fast food restaurant. I know what you are thinking. "You're having a fat day and you went to fast food? No wonder!" (We had salads thank you very much.)

While we were there an older couple walked in with winter coats on. They both had gray hair and seemed frail. They sat in a booth next to us just going on about their day. I tried to see what they had ordered without really staring. It didn't look like much.

I went up the counter and asked the cashier if they came in often. She said they did. "Do you think they are homeless?" She said she thought so, but that they drove a car. I asked if they sold gift cards and stopped whining about my ill-fitting exercise-wear and the chores to keep up my air conditioned home.

Matters of Size

I took waaaay longer than necessary editing this photo of the giant zucchini and pint glass. Probably anytime spent at all would have been too much for the point being made: Look at the size of that Zucchini!

But I enjoyed every minute of it.

Zwiebeln

Zwiebeln - the German trasnlation for onions. It is one of the few words I remember from our trip to Switzerland. If I remember correctly, it should be pronounced like this: ZVEEbeln.

This is the result from the half of an onion I threw in the lasagna garden compost and then transferred to the worm box and then back to the lasagna garden.

We didn't eat it. I don't know if it was ready to pick for eating. But it was falling over and starting to uproot, so I pulled it up and took a picture.

Oyster Shells

Oyster shells, the answer to all of your weak shell problems.

Ah ha!

"Thin egg shells are observed when calcium, phosphorus and vitamin D3 are not provided in diets at adequate levels. It is more often observed during periods of hot weather because calcium is conserved and retained within the hen's body less efficiently." 

- Mississippi Agricultural and Forestry Experiment Station


I had a bag of oyster shell gravel that I occasionally mixed in with the pellet so I mixed some more in. I was under the impression that the shells aided in digestion, but I guess they are more of a calcium supplement. So far so good.

Coping

A couple of weeks ago, my mind was put at ease. No, sadly Violet did not reappear. However, I am glad to know and report that she was loved. At first I was skeptical. I believed that my neighbor's dogs were miserable and needed to be saved. The truth is they just weren't as spoiled as I would have liked. Charlie has no idea how good he has it.

There is a small memorial in the backyard. A circle of stones around a plant, and a home made, hand drawn card. The picture is of Violet in the shade of the tree on a clear blue day. Inside, scrawled in crayon, it reads "We love you, Violet" along with all the names of the family.

I cried telling Aaron about it.

I still miss her.