Beach Rose

Today let like the first day of real summery times. I broke out the cut-off shorts and we spent the day at the beach.



We sifted through shells, caught jellyfish, ate sand (some of us) and toasted in the golden sun.



On our way out of the parking lot at the end of the day (RUN!!!! Its time for baseball!!!!!) I stopped the car and dashed over to the dunes to pluck the first beach rose of the year.



Love these lush, spicy Rugosas with their delicate petals. They smell like heaven and shatter into a heap of raspberry petals instantly when picked. And yet, I can't resist! They smell amazing! Must paint some. And also, order a vial of this for sampling!!!


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Dandelions For Dinner

We had dandelion fritters tonight, an ephemeral pleasure for sure. The boys gathered all of the blossoms themselves, romping along the weedy edges with a basket in tow, picking earnestly.




At one point, a lady stopped them and asked what they were picking, getting all cute when she saw that the basket was only full of dandelions. Ru drew himself up to his full height and told her that they were for eating, not for play. When he did not appear to be believed he hustled his brothers back towards me and told them loudly, "Come on boys, lets go home and make our fritters!" The poor lady was a bit agog. The world is not ready for us. We be strange, y'all.




The biggest trick to making these is to whisk the blossoms indoors and fry them up instantly or they will all close themselves up in to sad little wads. They are light sensitive and wither somewhat instantly.








Dandelion Fritters
1 egg
2T flour if your choice
1/4 milk or water
1 t. vanilla
Pinch of salt
Dip each blossom in batter and the sizzle in hot oil until golden brown. Dust with cinnamon or powdered sugar and eat immediately!
Health food it ain't, but they are a romantic treat for a sunny spring day!




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I Don't Remember This From My Childhood

There is far more shattered glass at our house than I remember from my own childhood. We weren't particularly gentle girls but I still feel like our current tally of four accidental broken windows this year is a bit beyond the pale. Seriously. Four. And that's just the windows. I can't even tell you how many toys, cups, plates or lampshades have been destroyed. Argh. Is this how it's supposed to go???
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Fluff City

I knew today was the day, we needed some chickens. I spent the first part of the morning calling numbers from Craigslist and eventually landed on feed store in upstate New York that had a handful of chicks left an was willing to save them for me. We all dog-piled into the van and raced for the hills and this we became the owners of a tiny herd of peeps.


There are eight of them right now: one Australorp, one Cuckoo Maran, a pair of Wellsummers, a pair of Auracaunas, one Silver Laced Wyandotte and one Gold Laced Wyandotte. We should end up with blue or green eggs, speckled eggs, chocolate brown eggs and light brown eggs; everything but white.






The boys are enchanted with our new urban agrarian life (Nib promptly asked me for a horse!) and are loving snuggling them. The favorite pose is a chick-on-the-shoulder piratey/farmer look.






I don't need all eight, I am think 4-6 is actually right for our little backyard coop but there are usually a few that don't make it and Mama has sworn to take on any orphaned hens we don't have room for after it is all said and done. I am planning to see which ones end up being the best of the bunch and letting them stay on as permanent residents. And in the meantime....there are many names to consider!






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Coopin' It Up!

Just buildin' a chicken coop in the living room, like it ain't no thang! Woohoo!!!



Spent a good while working on this today, longer than I thought it would take. The kit was all very simple though, all the confusion was manufactured by yours truly by missing certain key steps. I almost quit about three times in the process but am proud to say I figured it all out. Am very proud. It is beautiful.


We are one step further into this itty, bitty, urban farm gig. Give me a wheat straw to gnaw on and call me a farmer-ette! I might need to expend some extra manic excitement while I wait for the weekend when I can make a road trip to adopt hens from rural parts.



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