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Forecasts for cold rain are not conducive for a good farmers market.
Jenifer drove through snow and rain recently to stand around in 30-degree temps and held staring contests with other local farmers wondering where our customers were at.
Ellie, Levi, and I did what most of y’all probably did – stayed home where it was warm and watched it snow.
Tom finally gets a comfortable sleep
Tom Turkey figured out last Friday night, after eight years, that he does not have to stand up and sleep. He usually roosts on the railing of the back deck or the front porch but the weather recently pushed him into the carport. He settled down on our stacked pile of farm-grown and locally milled poplar and pine lumber (future shed) and tucked his head under his wing and went to sleep.
Hard to ignore chattering chickens
If you think you want a few urban chickens for eggs, just be aware that there are unintended consequences.
We only have around 15 feral chickens now. They are game chickens and migrated to our farm from our neighbor two-three years ago. All the chickens are either the children or grandchildren of the matriarchal crazy black hen. I am not even going to make a West Virginia joke here. I did not make the joke, so no emails please.
About half of them roost in our carport; the other half roosts 20 feet up in the crabapple tree right outside our bedroom window. The hens are notorious for hiding their eggs. The roosters begin discussing their plans for the day around 4:30 a.m. Crowing is so archaic. Can’t they just text?
Just be careful what you wish for.
