As the Coop Turns

Just another manic Monday.

Actually, it's not manic at all - it's quite calm about here.

The kind of calm that's palpable - the bees feel it, the birds feel it - and I certainly feel it too.

We are in for a hot, humid, wet week - with air you can wear, as my friend Lynda says.

Things were so peaceful this morning, and it was well enough light outside at 5:15am to get some photos.

I picked some cherries, laid some mulch, pulled some weeds, tended some birds.

Have you ever seen anyone with OCD and ADHD pick cherries?

It's awful.

I have a burning desire to clean each branch, and yet no impulse control so I pop from branch to branch exclaiming 'look how ripe this one is!'.

And then I only got about a gallon picked before I deemed mulching the veggie garden more important.

It's raining now - so some housework may actually get done!

I just thought I'd show you a few photos of the birds and gardens today - I'm in a really good state of mind over the whole thing.

It is what it is - and I'm not concerned about it being picture perfect anymore.

It's my garden.

I didn't plant it for anyone else.

The flowers are just starting to explode....so far there is just a lot of greenery, but it's lush and lovely just the same.  Nothing feeds my soul like the garden.

Except maybe music, or poetry - sometimes yoga - or maybe doing yoga, while reading poetry and listening to music in the garden.

This is the way most of the garden is looking...plain John, very plain.

The veggie garden is a delight.  It feeds my soul and my stomach.  My romaines are to die for.

I fear the broccoli may just bolt instead of head.  I planted it too late and too early.  I should have just put it in later this summer for a fall crop.  It's still pretty.

The meat birds.  Bless their little gluttonous hearts.

I have no attachment to these birds.  I can't allow it.  None of them can be pardoned.  They were born to die.  I'll do my best to treat them with respect, and honor the sacrifice they are making by cooking them well.

The egg birds.  Growing like weeds.

Born to be named, pampered and in general spoiled rotten.

See that poor gal on the far right?  What's up with that?  She's defeathered. I've watched, she's not being picked on, so I really haven't figured out why she, the only one, is nekked.

It's a beautifully mundane, quiet, average Monday.

Hope yours is too.

: -)