We used to have chickens. We loved our chickens. Our new neighbor who bought a house behind us loved our chickens. Her granddaughters would come and play with them and she thought that was marvelous.
The granddaughters moved out-of-state, and some of the charm of chickens fell away as well.
The neighbor came over one day and told us the chickens were causing flies to congregate in her breezeway and we needed to do something about it. Reluctantly we gave all our chickens to a feed store to re-sell. We turned over the ground, gave it several good coatings of lime and declared it to be a chicken free zone.
About 3 weeks later a knock on the door and a card in the hand identified the health inspector. The neighbor had seen no improvement, grown even more weary of the flies and had pulled in the heavy hitters. I took the inspector to view where the chickens had been. She observed, sniffed, made notes and said, “I don’t see what else you could have done. It all looks good to me,” and off she trundled to report to the neighbor. A little while later she came back, knocking again on the door to follow-up. While she was speaking with the neighbor, she did notice an inordinate amount of flies, but doing a little investigation, she pointed out if the neighbor would clean up the messes her dog left in her own backyard, the flies might not be as big a problem. Oops, with a side of “Is my face red?” Continue reading “Swede is not necessarily a nationality designator”
We have started getting a farm box. The boxes come from a farm a small amount of distance from us, who utilize the CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) method of providing good food to those interested. Once a week a “share” of the farm is brought to our drop off point, none of which was selected by me, and let me tell you that has been a fun eye opener!
At the grocery store, I have my tried and true “normal” vegetables and other than the jicama which my grandmother taught me to love, it’s a pretty bland mix. Enter the mystery box of vegetable goodies. On at least 2 occasions I have had to call my sister, who has been receiving farm boxes for a couple of years, to describe to her what it was I might be trying to ingest.
“Lynn,” I would ask, “I’m just working on an Asian soup and I started peeling the ginger from the farm box, only it doesn’t smell very gingery. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure it is ginger. Any thoughts?” Continue reading “Just when you think you’ve got it figured out”
Following my morning routine of clearing everything off my electronic plate before taking on the rest of the day, I was cruising through Facebook, when I came across this ditty about surviving Whole Foods. It made me laugh because like all good humor, it contained nuggets of truth. My favorite was the smarmy clerk who indicated the “poison” was tucked far away; they were diligent in protecting a populace who might otherwise find themselves croaking in the WF parking lot. Continue reading “Poison pills”