Dishwasher

I am a dishwasher.

I also have a dishwasher.

I usually have to rinse my dishes before and after the dishwasher does whatever it does with my dishes.

I also have someone who likes to help put dishes away on the floor.

I used to think spatulas were harmless toys. As you might recall, one was recently used as a weapon in our house.


Maybe a plate would be better?


Or not.


Emptying the machine that pretends to wash dishes is so much fun!


Also tons of fun, shaking the bottom rack until the rusty, corroded wheels that support the whole darn thing fall off, so that Mom has to put a custard cup upside down in just the right place in order to support it just enough that the water sprayer thingie can still spin,


...and bouncing up and down with such enthusiasm...


...that one cracks one's own head against the top rack, causing giant teardrops to roll off one's sweet baby cheeks.


That dishwasher is just absolutely no good at all.

Heirloom seeds

At the moment, I have about fifty things going through my head. Don't worry, I will only write about forty-nine of them. Maybe.

I'm eating a really amazing sandwich. I should have taken a picture of it. It's too late now and sorry, but I am not going to stop eating to grab my camera. Which reminds me I should start some alfalfa sprouts, so I can have an even better sandwich later this week... and sprouts might be fun to take photos of as well.

I really need to add butter croissants to my arsenal of home-baked bread products.

Someone left the light on in the coop, so I have to go back outside again. I have no one to blame but myself, but that's OK, I love my chickens.

I've had a whole week to calm down since my seed order arrived, but I just can't help myself. They're so beautiful, I keep picking them up and smiling while I listen to them roll around in their envelopes.


It's that time of year, people! The weather may be frightful, dreary and bleak, but my garden is already growing in my head.

Oh! And the color pictures on these things are half my problem, I think. I see them sitting on the counter across the room, where they're screaming at me, "Pick me up! Gaze upon my gorgeousness and fondle me!".

Seriously, it should be illegal to put pictures like this on a seed package.


I can't get a darn thing done with them in the house. Every time I put them away, they call to me and I have to get them out again just to be sure, ummm... I don't know.

They are awfully pretty though, don't you think?

Besides being pretty, trust me, these are very special seeds.

They came from Seed Savers Exchange which means they are all heirloom seeds. Not a hybrid to be found. That means I can save my own seed. Each seed package, in fact, comes with instructions for saving your own seed from the lovely things once they grow in your garden. Detailed instructions too, like what each will cross pollinate with, and how far apart those items must be grown.

Each one is a historic variety that was painstakingly saved by someone for years and years. Some were thought to be lost and later found.

Personally, I believe saving my own seed is not a trivial thing. Once Monsanto takes over the world (and the truth is, they will), it will be the little people who had the foresight to save their own seed that end up saving humankind from certain disaster. Monsanto is evil. Maybe I'll write more on that another day.

Anyway, right now I have hope. Tiny little balls of hope rolling around in brightly colored envelopes. They are full of potential, waiting to do the one thing they were created to do.

I can't wait to see them grow. I am so excited to see how these varieties do here in our neck of the woods prairie. I ordered some cool stuff, an extra-early tomato, kale hardy to -10F, onions that store like rocks, tiny extra-early melons, gorgeous eggplants and swiss chard that looks like my kids colored it.

I have a friend who also ordered from Seed Savers Exchange, and we are planning our own little seed exchange. Seed saving goes hand-in-hand with seed sharing, it builds community and empowers us, and frees us.

Monsanto can kiss mine.

You Capture - Color

The sunrise this morning.


A teething but fairly happy little bean chewing on her sippy cup.


The master creation of a five year old who just finger painted for the first time ever in his life. Do you see the humpback whale?


Go visit Beth to fill your day with lots more color.

Something big

This morning my three year old was building towers for his baby sister. She destroyed them, and then they laughed hysterically while she clapped and clapped. They entertained themselves like that for quite a long time. They were both loving it.

It was a rather big improvement, because of something big that happened yesterday.

You see, just yesterday I found him standing over her as she cried. I mean, really cried, with big fat teardrops rolling off her face. The incriminating evidence was the spatula in his hand.

My sister pointed out the fact that maybe he had learned from her son, who on another memorable occasion smacked that little bean in the face with a ladle.

I doubt it. My kid knew full well what he was doing. My guess would be that even with his punishment, he was likely still pleased with himself.

Perhaps I'm the one who needs to take a hint, and stop handing out kitchen utensils in my attempt to keep the baby busy.

Anyway...

When it was nearly lunchtime today, he blew into the kitchen. "Can I have some cewuweeee?" he sang, as he bounced up and down looking into the cupboard.

I'm thinking, "He's crazy, does he mean celery?". I cook with celery, but we almost never snack on it. Instead I said, "You think I have celery? There isn't any celery in there. That's pasta".

Now he is spinning in circles in the kitchen "Can I have some pasta? Can I have some mac and cheeeeeeese?".

I remind him, "You didn't like your macaroni and cheese yesterday, why do you want it now?"

He changes his tune again, "Can I have some hard mac and cheese?".

I ask for clarification, "You want dry pasta?".

But he's already running out of the room yelling, "MACARONI PENGUIN!".

It would definitely be something big if this kid ate his food. I bet it will be less than two years and his sister will be bigger than him, and God help him then when she is the one with the spatula in her hand.

My biggest boy is at preschool today, which has been a really wonderful something big in his life.

Preschool was running two hours late today because of a winter storm that lingered from the weekend, although it ended up to NOT be as big a something as it was supposed to have been.

AND if everything goes according to plan, and there aren't any surprise disasters to deal with, I should have something very big to write about soon. Well, not that big...


...but not that little either.

Peanut butter balls

Once in awhile we like to make something that is extra fun. Fun to make, and fun to eat! It's high protein and very calorie dense, perfect for my skinny kids.


I dare say they're at least much fun as play doh. We make them into balls, or squares, or snakes... or even frogs and cats. Then, we roll around in them roll them around. Finally, we eat them!

The last time we made them, we were snowed in the house and needed some entertainment.

We made them even more exciting. How is that possible?

With CHOCOLATE!


Was it rude of me to post that photo?

I'm terribly sorry.*

Don't lick your computer screen. Go make your own Peanut Butter Balls!

First, mix together 2 cups of peanut butter, 2 cups of powdered milk and one cup of honey. Second, roll into small balls (or penguins or whatever you want) and roll in crushed cornflakes (we use wheat germ). Third, add chocolate chips if you're feeling crazy and bored, like we were. Fourth, don't blame me if they make you fat, I did warn you!

*not really

Un-decorating the driveway

Upon arriving at our humble home, you will be greeted by our big dog.

She may not think you're cool.

I love her.

Just this winter, she has decided that she doesn't like to do her business in the snow. I have no idea why the snow is so different this year.

It means you will also be greeted by a row of big frozen turds lining our driveway.


They're fairly well spaced, and the row is almost straight.

Rather impressive!

But that lovely photo is deceiving. They're not just frozen turds. Oh no! They are frozen turds in waiting. Waiting patiently in line.

I took that photo earlier this week. Guess what? This morning their destiny arrived. They wait no longer!

Exactly how far do you think a snow blower can throw a frozen turd?

What about a whole row of them?

One by one they met their glorious destiny, and flew thirty feet through the air!

Scavenging sunflower seeds

What kind of person gathers dirty sunflower seeds off the highway and puts them in her used Cadillac?

Yesterday morning was the third time I have had my trunk full of sun seeds. I shoveled them off the highway, again. But this time I wondered what it said about me.

Please excuse me while I try to get my cat to stop eating a blanket.

Anyway, back to the sun seeds. I don't care. They were there, and I took them.

End of story. Well, not really.

The second time I rescued sun seeds, I couldn't find enough buckets. So I did what any chicken owner with a corn stove would reasonably do. I stole my husband's corn hauling buckets. I say they're his buckets because it is his job to haul corn. I only do that if I have to. I'm the mom. I have other things to do, although not necessarily better things. Things like cleaning squash off the kitchen ceiling.

What is with this cat?

Hoping the pile of seeds would still be where I saw it, and planning to pick more up the following morning... I informed my husband he would be unable to fill all of his buckets with corn, as is his evening ritual. Obviously, I needed to use them.

He was not amused.

He found me a different bucket, a bigger one. If I did not have the car that I do have, it would not have fit in the trunk.

I was pleased. This should work.

When I got to the magic sunflower seed spot on the highway, the BIG pile was gone. Bummer, but there was enough of the small pile remaining that it was worth stopping. So I shoveled seeds into my 5 gallon bucket, which I then poured into the BIG pail in my trunk. I did this three or four times. I had a lot of seeds in there.


Only after I got home did I realize I would have to lift that big thing out of my trunk.

I figured I might as well try, being as I am a farmer and can take care of myself. I have chickens, does that make me a rancher?

Seriously, this cat will not stop nibbling on this blanket. Does it mean she has some sort of vitamin deficiency... or simply dementia?

After first checking to be sure I had no eggs in my pocket, I managed to hoist a zillion sunflower seeds out of my trunk. There, the hard part is done right?

It wasn't the weight so much as the awkward size that was the problem.

I waddled like a duck half-way to the barn. Then I put it down so I could think. Guess what? It slid like a dream across the snow! I pulled that bucket the rest of the way to the barn, and reasonably fast too.

I left a very interesting track in the snow.

Very pleased with myself, standing just outside the barn, I realized there was another problem. The barn door wasn't open wide enough to fit the bucket through, and the barn door is frozen in place for most of the winter.

One of my roosters was growling and I felt like doing the same.

I made it this far so I tried sliding the door. Wow, if only my life was this easy every day. I moved it a little, and a little more, and just a bit more. All that was left was to swing the huge unwieldy bucket up onto the dog house.

Victory was mine!

Was it worth it?

I don't know.

What else would I do to entertain myself in the middle of January?

Right now, I have two things to do. The type of things that do not fall into the category of entertainment, but more like whatever cleaning squash from the ceiling would be categorized as. I must go vacuum the remaining sunflower seeds from my Cadillac trunk, and clean the cat puke off my bed.

I knew eating a blanket was a bad idea.

You Capture - Love around your home

I almost didn't participate in this week's You Capture. The assignment was to photograph things you love around your home. I'm just not a material girl. If my house burned, assuming we all got out safely, I think all I would be really sad to lose are my recipes and pictures of my babies.

I'm upset because the ONE thing that is absolutely, truly loved above all other things in this house... I was not given permission to photograph. Waaaaa! And we have another winter storm headed our way. Bleh.

So as I was being grumpy, I grabbed my camera and stomped around the house.

My beautiful, blood-red stand mixer has earned it's place on my counter top. I use it all the time. Yeah, I guess I love it.


I put hours and hours (and hours) of work into this charcoal. I'm pretty proud of it. An art teacher in college challenged me to do it. So I did.

My Dad made the frame for it. I remember stopping in at his shop asking him to make it, and that I needed it in two days for my class, and knowing he had a million other things to do... he did it for me anyway.


I love my camera because it gave me a swift kick in the butt, and got me learning and dreaming and being creative.


I think this frame is so cool. I loved it enough to buy it (and I rarely buy things). I found it shortly after my first child was born. With my colicky newborn wrapped up snug in a sling, I wore him as I walked, and came across a tiny little antique store.

It's so awesome it could destroy all other frames just by being so freaking cool, if it wanted to.


I smile every time I see these chickens because they belonged to my Grandma, and I remember her telling me the story of how she came to own them. I miss her.


The little bean has a love for this, a blanket that my Great Aunt made for her. When she finds it, she smiles as it hypnotizes her and she...


...collapses on top of it with her thumb safely in her mouth.


What is the one thing that is loved above all other items in this house? What is the one thing that MUST be rescued in case of fire?

New Kitty. The world's most loved stuffed cat, which looks anything but new. It looks LOVED, all the way loved. Part of it used to be white. Part of it used to have fur. All of it used to be fluffy. It defines the word LOVE.

This morning I asked my five year old if I could take pictures of his New Kitty.

"Yeah... no... NO!"

I was curious, and hoping he would relent, asked him why.

"Because New Kitty is sleeping, and the noise of your camera will wake her up. New's been playin' for a hundred days and a hundred nights, and she's sooooo tired, and you can't wake her up. If you wake New up, she'll be really, really hungry. She'll be soooo hungry that if she sees food she'll just run right over there and eat it up."

"ROARRRRR!"

I asked him if I might wake New up gently, feed her some fish, and then take her picture.

"NO! You have to let her sleep. She's hiding and you can't find her."

So even though this post is sorely incomplete without New, there is not a gosh darned thing I can do about it.

Sorry people, I tried.

Head over to Beth's to see more You Capture.

The excess toilet

This is not a bathroom.


You're looking at that photo in disbelief, aren't you?

Believe me, it is not a bathroom. It needs a door.

We learned that when were in the midst of selling our last home.

By definition (whichever one mattered at the time) a bathroom must have a door. You know, a door for privacy.

Lucky for us, it didn't have to be a very secure or very private door. A few dollars for a cheap curtain and rod and we were approved to sell. (The main bathroom did have a working, solid wood door. It was the second bathroom which was having an identity crisis.)

I'm sure the new owner was thrilled.

Around here, it really doesn't matter if a bathroom has a door or not. There is no privacy with young children about. I couldn't tell you the last time I pooped alone. However, it is on the list of things I hope to do again someday when my children are older. What a list! I should write about it sometime.

This is only a toilet.


Too bad, because otherwise I might be able to say it was the fastest bathroom my husband ever built. I was rather impressed. Not the best bathroom he ever built, but certainly the fastest. That must count for something?

I was the first one to use it.

Now that must surely count for something?

I used it because someone had parked himself on the other one.

My three year old has issues. One of his issues is that he sometimes needs to sit on the toilet for awhile before he can get his poop out. It doesn't seem to be a real problem for him, or anything, just that he sits.

Well, it is a problem in that we only have had one toilet in the house, and there are five of us.

Alright, there are only four of us that use the toilet. But still!

That child will sit there, for something like an hour or longer... almost every day. Yeah, I give him prunes for lunch a few times a week. He loves them and thinks they're just the coolest thing ever, besides gummy worms. Doesn't seem to matter though.

If I am so rude as to bother this child and ask him if he is finished sitting there on his throne, he waves me away with his hand like some snobby royal prince, while commanding, "AWAY!".

Seriously, I have no idea where he got that from.

This is toilet paper.


My five year old was given the task of obtaining several rolls of paper for our shiny new toilet. He was so thrilled, you would think it was the greatest honor we could have bestowed upon him. His level of excitement went far beyond his level of involvement in the project. (He did help install the dumb thing.)

I was minding my own business doing dishes (which usually has nothing to do with a toilet) when he suddenly appeared beside me.

"MOMMY!!! I saw the parts on the inside of the tank that makes it flush! And it flushes really, really, really good! And when it flushes it goes KASHOOOOOOOOOOSH! And there was a leak! But Daddy tightened it up and now it's fixed! And Daddy wants me to bring him TWO ROLLS OF TOILET PAPER!"

Just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

Have I mentioned we don't have a television and tend to be rather easy to entertain?

Anyway...

We had to put in a second bathroom toilet in preparing to fix the gashed sewer pipe which I mentioned in this post. Remember?

One hundred dollars for a toilet in the middle of my basement. It was the cheapest one. I would rather have spent one thousand dollars for ten toilets and sent them to Haiti, along with a good plumber and a backhoe and pipes and whatever else they need to make them work.

At the moment, I'm feeling guilty about my second toilet. Yeah, we need it while we repair the big pipe, but how long will that take?

The truth is, it is excess, and we already have so much more than we need.

The sad thing is, after some time, most of the world is certain to forget about what happened in Haiti.

My hope is that this extra toilet will remind me of how much I have, remind me of how blessed I am, remind me to give and pray.

My hope is that I will remember that somewhere, someone is hurting.

Oh yeah, and I hope this toilet (since it does happen to be in the middle of my basement) does flush really, really good. Because the truth is, an excess toilet will probably be a useful thing to have.

Get it off

While the little bean napped, I heard a very quiet whisper...

"Mommy, get it off."

It came from the boys' bedroom.

Then I heard soft footsteps headed toward me, and again...

"Mommmmmmmy, pleeeeeeeease get it off."

It was my littlest boy, and he was coming down the stairs.

"Mommy. Help me. Mommy, get it off."

And then I saw him. I giggled, and reached for my camera.

Some kids put peas up their noses.

Some kids swallow coins.

A friend once took her daughter to the clinic because she had reason to believe the child had put turkey in her ear.

We have a toy called Bug Bonz, and he had gotten a bit creative with the container.


Ohmygoodness.


And seriously, that thing was stuck tight!


He was trying to scratch at his ears.

I thought maybe I was a bad mom for taking pictures instead of helping him immediately.


If you think his left ear was bad, check out his right!


It was really, really stuck.

"Mommy can you get it off?"


"Get it off!"

And we did.

Frosting

It was beautifully warm yesterday, for mid-January. We made it above freezing, and the sun was shining.

The boys played in the deep snow, while the dog found all that snow useful and dug like a badger.

The kids thought it was hilarious.

The chickens actually came down the path from the barn, scratched around and otherwise generally caused mischief. It was the probably the first time in a month that I have seen them wander away from the barn.

When I locked the chickens up late in the evening, the air was crisp and cold again.

Before I went to bed I glanced out the window.

There was a thick fog swirling past. I could see it in the glow our yard light casts on the barn. Doesn't fog usually just sit? Well, this stuff was on the move. All mysterious and good for a horror movie kind of fog.

I smiled because I knew exactly what it meant.

It meant we would wake up to a sparkling magical world, where the frost is as thick as the fog had been.


My oldest boy said, "Look Mommy, it snowed!".

I told him that even though it looked like snow, it wasn't. He already knew that. He was leading me right into a joke.

He giggled, "I want to eat that frosting!"


It was beautiful.


Maybe we should have tasted it.

A way with words

My five year old has been in speech therapy since he was three and a half years old. He has come a loooooooooong way in that time.

Since he could talk, and by that I mean, since the time I could understand his mangled words, he has had a vocabulary beyond what is normal for his age. His speech therapist, Shelly, thinks that is partly why he has had so much trouble getting his sounds to come out right.

I was talking with Shelly and she was laughing, "Did I ever tell you what he came up with when I asked him to use an 'L' sound in a sentence?" No, she hadn't and I was more than curious. She explained that normally she would never ask a preschooler to come up with a use for a sound, and especially in a sentence. At that age therapy is about getting them to listen and then repeat what they hear. But knowing he has this wild stash of words in his brain, she put him to it.

And just what did my boy say?

First, he overemphasized the 'L' sound in the word of his choice, that he dug from somewhere out of his brain. "LLLLLog"

Shelly waited patiently.

The words were building up in his brain, and suddenly the dam broke and out flew...

"When Mommy cut the head off the chicken it went (he put his hands around his neck and stretched his head out as far as he could) BAAAWWWWKK!!! and it's head rolled right off the Log!"

Yeah, that's my boy.

Thinking after midnight

So I'm sitting here after midnight, eating almonds. At the moment everyone else in the house is sleeping. I should be sleeping too, but instead I'm busy thinking...

I'm thinking about the knoepfle soup I made today, how good and satisfying the chicken was that I used. Very satisfying. Satisfying in a very different way than using home grown vegetables.

That chicken arrived in the mail as a three day old chick in a cardboard box, last spring. I watched it grow from adorable and fluffy, to gawky teenager learning to crow, to big trouble rooster.

It was my decision to move him from coop to kitchen.

In that moment I was able to thank him for his life, knowing he had a real one. He spent his days scratching and singing out in the sun, interacting with the social order of the flock... so different from the lives of store-bought chickens.

In taking his life, I was mindfully aware of what my food really cost. I went from chick in my hand, to axe in my hand, to soup in my bowl. Amazingly good soup, but satisfaction on so many different levels.

I feel a connection to the prairie women of days past, who put chicken on the table in exactly the same way.

But I'm also thinking about how life can be so cruel. So many people are hurting. Hearts are breaking.

So many of us believe there is more than just this world, but what is beyond, we don't understand. We cry out to God, but often don't feel anything. The world is still cold and lonely.

In losing human lives, it makes us mindfully aware of just how short our time here is.

It makes us uncomfortable.

There are times we just want to feel warm and safe, there are times we just want someone to hold us, and tell us it will be alright. But all we can do is hope, and pray, and through our tears watch the sun come up tomorrow.

You Capture - Winter

I love these winter night photos, because they make it look as cold out as it really was. Hot cocoa with lots of marshmallows! The windchilll was -17F.


Some people here like to joke that we live in the frozen tundra. But the truth is, there are moments when it is no joke.




Does anyone know what is causing the vertical lines in the sky on the last one?

Fate

smash [smash] -verb (used with object) to break to pieces with violence and often with a crashing sound, as by striking, letting fall, or dashing against something; shatter.

Yeah, you guessed it.


That is my coat pocket, of course, with some eggs that don't come any fresher.

Freshly smashed, that is.

I guess carrying three reusable canvas bags full of groceries, a backpack (diaper bag), a package of twenty-four double sized rolls of toilet paper, an empty dog food bag, AND at the same time having four eggs in my pocket is just too much.

I have never been very good at multitasking. Although, Lord knows I try.

One out of four isn't so bad?


Oh crap.

Christmas poem - part 2

I warned you there was a chance of a sequel. If you need a reminder, click here.

Twas the day after Christmas,
and all through our land
a deep snow had fallen.
I, with my camera in hand,

looked out through the window
at this most wondrous sight,
trying my darnedest to get
my camera settings just right.

When what to my wondering
eyes should appear?
Someone braving the blizzard,
my husband, a man of no fear.


All through the night
it had snowed and snowed.
And every time that happens
there's one spot on the road,

where a snowdrift grows
to such an enormous size,
that to leave with the car
would certainly be unwise.

Without a question I knew
my husband was going to see,
just exactly how large
that drift had gotten to be.

Then I saw our dog
prancing around in the snow.
Wherever her master went,
you can be sure she would go.

But the longer I watched,
something didn't seem right.
That dog had something in her mouth,
and she was holding it tight!


My husband was trying
to get her to come,
but it took quite awhile.
That dog isn't dumb.

He wanted to take it,
whatever she'd gotten.
Back at the house I was hoping
it wasn't stinky and rotten.

As I watched with my camera
through a gap in the trees,
finally the snow beast came to him,
although I doubt my hubby said please.


As he then headed back to the house,
my curiosity nearly killed me!
In just a few short minutes I'd know
what in the world it could be.


A pheasant!

It had flown up in front of her nose,
and that dog leaped into the sky!
She'd grabbed it real quick,
and in only one try.

Often that dog is a pain in the rear
but on this day, she was a winner,
for in catching that bird
she gave us our post-Christmas dinner.

Up

Things are looking up.

The little bean is up, all the time standing up.

She stays up, by hanging on really tight with at least one hand.


If she's down, she is traveling to a new location to be up.

Like a little "whack-a-mole" she pops up all over the house.

The coldest days

It is a beautiful sunny day. At least it appears that way looking out the window. We've already warmed up from our bitter cold last night and right now as I type, it's a lovely -22F outside. Don't ask me what the windchill is, I don't even want to know.

I think I should have titled my blog, "Eggs in My Pocket". If you have followed me from the beginning, you know this has been an ongoing issue.

It happened again.

I just went out to the barn, but first I had to peel my frozen boots off the entryway floor. Then, I found an egg in my coat pocket. I put it there last night when I put the chickens to bed. This one was actually cracked, but the good news is it was NOT fully smashed, so my pocket is fine.

Chances are good that I have not learned my lesson. Only time will tell.

The other good news is the barn was still there, so Fritzy did indeed manage to keep his gorgeous tail feathers out of the heat lamp.


But look at his poor freezer burned frostbit comb.


Last night was only the second time (other than when the birds were babies) that I have put heat on in the coop. It was a balmy -12 in there, and the birds were happy and singing in the red glow of the heat lamp.




Several of the hens are still wearing their fleece jackets. If you missed that story, you really missed out! Read about it by clicking here.


One of the hens was sitting on four eggs (which I put in my pocket, of course), and another was getting settled into the nest, so I expect it will be another five-egg-day. Five eggs a day from ten hens is really very good, especially when it's this dang cold.

I'll thank them with some warm oatmeal when I go back out.

I have to go back out, to (hopefully) gather that last freshly laid egg before it freezes; and because the heated dog bowl was frozen. Frozen solid. I kicked it hard just to be sure, and it hurt my foot. Yes, it was still plugged in.

Wondering what the problem was?

There is such a good power line running to the barn, if I plug heat in for the birds, there simply isn't enough juice left to keep the dog bowl thawed when it is this cold. Nice.

Marshall did not appreciate me pulling the ice out of his sensitive cat whiskers. The dog, on the other hand, did not care.

What an odd couple they are.

Right now, the dog and cat are warm enough, snuggled together deep in some hay, the moisture in their breath freezing to their whiskers again.

The chickens, I am sure, are still singing.


(The pictures in this post are grainy and out of focus because I wanted to capture that red glow the heat lamp was casting in the coop)