Mama Hen Update #8 - A Chick of a Different Color

This morning, Mama had 6 chicks with her, and another egg with a pip.  One of the chicks is definitely from a Golden Comet hen, since he is a little puffy, yellow fellow.

We candled the suspicious egg again, and still no change.  We also gave it the good old sniff test, and were definitely getting a whiff of something stinky.  That egg is WAY out in the woods now.

The egg with a pip hasn't changed since this morning, but the chick is still tapping away in there.  That leaves one egg to go!

Hopefully we will actually catch one while it is hatching so we can watch!

Catt and J brainstormed this afternoon, and came up with a hatching chick Haiku:

Pipping, zipping out.
Playing around and about.
Fluffy little chick.

Much nicer, I think, than the one I wrote about our chicks last year:

Now just balls of fluff
Scampering, peeping, scratching
Soon to be my soup.

Poetry and Berry Picking

Last week, I walked around the ridge and picked about 2 pints of black raspberries.  They are not as plentiful and plump as last year, when I picked several gallons full.  There are still some languishing in my freezer, which I intend to turn into raspberry gelato with a new recipe from Cook's...more to come on that.  Last year, my right arm and hand became incredibly scratched and sore from my forages into the brambles, but there would always seem to be a lovely handful just...a...bit...further...in!

I heard a poem on NPR a couple of weeks ago about picking blackberries, which I enjoyed.  Although L asked if she could join me in picking today, she never made it out there.  Maybe some day, we will pick berries together and talk while we pick.

Blackberries for Amelia

-Richard Wilbur

Fringing the woods, the stone walls, and the lanes,

Old thickets everywhere have come alive,

Their new leaves reaching out in fans of five
From tangles overarched by this year's canes.

They have their flowers too, it being June,
And here or there in brambled dark-and-light
Are small, five-petaled blooms of chalky white,
As random-clustered and as loosely strewn

As the far stars, of which we now are told
That ever faster do they bolt away,
And that a night may come in which, some say
We shall have only blackness to behold.

I have no time for any change so great,
But I shall see the August weather spur
Berries to ripen where the flowers were—
Dark berries, savage-sweet and worth the wait—

And there will come the moment to be quick
And save some from the birds, and I shall need
Two pails, old clothes in which to stain and bleed,
And a grandchild to talk with while we pick.

Today, the picking was more like a stroll, where I would pause in my walk to pick a berry or two.  Most of the raspberries are dried up on the vines, but I found a lot of blackberries...and there will be more.  In the shadier areas, the berries were nicer and more plentiful, and if it weren't for the stickers, I would almost want to linger there.  It put me in mind of the Robert Frost poem, "Stopping By Woods On a Snowy Night."

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep./ But I have promises to keep./ And miles to go before I sleep,/ And miles to go before I sleep.

I must hurry off to work, since I have promises and miles yet today.  Enjoy this lovely day if you can:  the breeze is cool, the sky is blue and cloudless, and the sun is warm.

Lazy Daisy

The cake I baked this weekend is an old recipe from JP's aunt.  The topping bakes up caramelized and chewy...reminiscent of a Girl Scout Samoa cookie.  The cake is moist and light.  I would recommend doubling the topping, as it was spread VERY thinly on the top of the cake.

LAZY DAISY OATMEAL CAKE

1 1/4 c boiling water
1 c oatmeal
1/2 c shortening
1 c sugar
1 c brown sugar
2 eggs
1 t vanilla
2 c flour
1 t soda
1/2 t salt
1 t cinnamon

Pour boiling water over oatmeal in a small bowl and let it set for 20 min, stirring occasionally.

Cream shortening, then add sugars and beat until fluffy.  Add eggs and vanilla.  Add oatmeal and mix well.

Mix together dry ingredients.  Add to oatmeal mixture and mix well.

Pour batter into greased and floured 13 x 9 inch baking pan.  Bake at 350* for 40 min. (Mine was done at 35, so check it.)

Topping:  1/4  c evaporated milk
                6 T butter, very soft
                1/2 c brown sugar
                1 t vanilla
                1 c coconut

Mix all ingredients well, then spread over cake.  Brown under broiler.

Our skittish black cat, Bert, has disappeared.  He has been on the veranda, crying for attention every morning, and out front at midnight when I take the dogs out for the final time every night for 2 years.  His buddy, Ernie, wanders off for a day or three at a time, but always comes back.  I don't feel that optimistic about Bert.  Ernie is notably distressed.

My friend has been writing Haiku's.  Unlike her, I have a fun time with Haiku.  Whether they are any good or not is debatable.  JP asked last night, "What if one word is 5 syllables long?"  So... we came up with a 5 syllable word Haiku.

Unexpectedly,

I fell down the stairs again.

Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!

This Haiku is for Bert:

Timid, black and sleek,

Yin to the outgoing Yang

Slipped away in night.

I need to go get my Monday started...

Twigs

I acquired a book of Haiku this Fall, that are translated from Japanese. I think a few of them may have lost some beauty in the translation, but I enjoyed these couple:

Of what use are twigs

but to sweep up a litter

of fallen petals?

-Buson

Poor crying cricket,

perhaps your little husband

was caught by our cat.

-Kikaku

I must go begging

for water...morning glories

have captured my well.

-Chiyo

This one is mine...

The Hunter's Moon gleams

white in the eyes of a herd

of cows in my yard.

Theme in Blue

Butterflies and bees drink from me.
I am called a Bluebell.

I wave in the wind.
I smell nice in the summer breeze.

People pick me to make bouquets
and weave my stems together to make
beautiful crowns and necklaces.
A fairy makes a tiny house in my bell.

I sleep all Winter long under the snow.
I wake up again in the glorious, good Spring.

- LAM, age 5