Rosie put a goose egg in the nestbox this morning. It's not really a goose egg, of course, but it's big enough to be one. I know it's hers because it's all cinnamon brown and velvety smooth. The Delawares are good layers, in case you're looking for good layers. The Orpingtons, not so much. The Sussex, they really deserve a round of applause because they deposit an egg fairly regularly even if they are a ripe three years of age.
In other poultry news, Tiny is fine. His crow seems weak but he is crowing and strutting and eating. All is right in Chickentopia.
I do believe this was the first year in which I declared, "For once in my life, I'm looking forward to the time change". Michael looked doubtful but I went on to tell him that it would do me good to have a little daylight left after I got out of work. I could do things, like go to the grocery and still get home before dark. So I tried it.
I bagged and weighed three red pears and was lingering over a mountain of cheese when the realization hit. I forgot my wallet. I had no money. No cash, no card, nothing. I thought about the myriad of explanations that clients give at the vet clinic when they cannot make a payment:
"My aunt always pays."
"I'm going to be back tomorrow, I'll settle up then."
"I had no idea there would be a charge for this."
I couldn't imagine saying any of those things to the cashier. Instead, I left my little basket and went home for my debit card, imagining that I would be in and out and back at the market in no time. When I got home the dogs made it clear that they had different plans. They wanted dinner, they wanted out. There would be no discussion, I just needed to make it happen.
I phoned Suzanne and we lamented that things always take so much longer than you would think. It's true, it's true; the gleeful cry of a child brought the call to an end. I saw that my peanuts had arrived. My peanuts! If I hadn't forgot my debit card I'd have made it home with enough daylight left to plant a row. But nevermind that, the dogs wanted in. I made Beagle's day by appointing her co-pilot for the return trip to the grocery.
We made it back to the market by sundown and rode home through the dark. She's a most excellent co-pilot. Her toes perch on the center console, her nose a compass. "We could plant peanuts," I told her, "if it were still light out."
We could plant peanuts. That's the beauty of spring and summer. We'll plant peanuts next to the okra. We'll save that for another night. We'll dig and scratch in the dirt. We'll spend two hours on a chore that should take thirty minutes. We'll come in after dark and do it again the next day.