new life, that is.
the plum tree is starting to bloom:
my narcissistic self likes to consider daffodils to be my personal birthday sparklers.
(get it? narcissus flowers?)things are growing well inside the house, too:but here is our favorite sign of Spring: nine cheeping little balls of fluff in our house! We have four Buff Orpingtons, three Golden Sex Links and two Rhode Island Reds. The boys each have their own and were still debating names for them, when I forced them (just now) to make a firm decision.
My six birds have proper hen names. Names that a little old English woman might have or the dear 82 year old saint in the back pew at church-those are the kinds of names a fat hen should have. NOT Chicken Dinner or Darth Vader or KFC or George.
My girls are properly christened as Matilda, Miriam, Mildred, Martha, Millie and Madge.
marvelous, huh!?Caleb picked the littlest one. That’s right son, I’m proud of you…always go with the underdog! He is leaning towards calling her “Freddy” so that, if the Farm Store made a mistake (and it happened last year) and we have a Rooster (Frederick) instead of a Hen (Fredericka), he is still in the safe zone. This boy likes to keep all his options open!Sam named his chick “Arwen”, after the lovely elf princess from Lord of the Rings. It’s a pretty grand name for such a tiny bird, but her being female made Sam’s name choices quite difficult. None of his heroes are girls! Despite his deep devotion to my french crumb apple pie, which ought to at least put his Mama in the running…?