Airing Your Laundry
I finally got to use my new clothesline today. I hung it several days ago, but it rained the two days after, and then we had no water pressure for two days (so no washing machine). POSSLQ* insisted I buy a coated wire clothesline this year (I'm not sure why; rehanging the braided cotton line five times last summer was no biggy!), so I've been without a line for several months now. Not a huge deal, since it's rained almost every day since... well, the beginning of time, I think. But today, glorious spring day that it was, was a perfect day for hanging laundry!
There's something inherently comforting to me about a clothesline. Every time I hang clothes, I think of my summers at grandma's house, and rushing out to pull clean, dry clothes off the line faster than the summer squall could start, pins popping off the line and flying in every direction. I always wondered why she hung clothes in the afternoon, knowing the sky would reliably turn dark and stormy for at least a half hour each summer evening. Now, I understand. It's all about squeaking out that last load of white clothes before bedtime. And if that means braving earth-rumbling thunder and deafening cracks of summer lightning to retrieve my sun-warmed clothes, that's okay; I'm a more courageous woman for facing the storm. There's a sense of satisfaction in knowing you are faster than nature; you managed to shove every last t-shirt into the basket just as the first fat raindrop hit your shoulder. Plus, that pre-storm wind dries shockingly better than the "more dry" cycle on the electric machine.
On the coop-front, I made loads of progress today... I finally hung my fancy hanging-bucket-gravity-feeder thing. I made the girls a ramp so they can (maybe) find the roosts, because they are too old to pile up at the coop door overnight. I also, sadly, had to dispatch a wasp today. I've been politely asking her to move it out for about two weeks now, and she just keeps staying, so I had to smoosh her, and it only took a few tries. Question: how long does it take a nesting wasp to regain her composure after being nearly smashed with a purple Croc? Answer: I didn't stick around to find out, I just slapped and bolted. But she was calm (and easy to smoosh, maybe she had come to terms with her fate) half an hour later when I was brave enough to check. I've never been stung by a wasp, but that's an experience I'd rather not have.
I went to the library after work today, and I was pleasantly surprised to find a new book on the "Featured Selections" shelf by the door! A few months back, I checked out the only two books the library had about chickens, and one was, "Raising Poultry the Modern Way," published 1976. Not very modern. But this beautiful book! I suspect I might be the first to check it out... I love few things more than an unbroken spine on a book.
*What's a POSSLQ?
(1) A Person of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters, my POSSLQ is an amazing man who supports me in everything I do, tolerates my every crazy idea, moderates my dreaminess, and keeps me grounded, but encourages me to follow my bliss. He makes so many sacrifices so that we inch closer to the life we dream about, and I don't tell him enough how much I appreciate him. He's an awesome musician, and hearing him sing still gives me butterflies. He's practically an encyclopedia of information, and can talk to most anyone about most anything. I like him, as you can probably tell.
(2) POSSLQ is the acronym the Census Bureau used to use for counting people who lived together, but were not married. (Stay tuned, I'm sure the day will come when I write about why he's a POSSLQ and not a DH.) I'm not sure what they use now, but when I read "Unmarried to Each Other," I liked the sound of it, and it stuck.
There's something inherently comforting to me about a clothesline. Every time I hang clothes, I think of my summers at grandma's house, and rushing out to pull clean, dry clothes off the line faster than the summer squall could start, pins popping off the line and flying in every direction. I always wondered why she hung clothes in the afternoon, knowing the sky would reliably turn dark and stormy for at least a half hour each summer evening. Now, I understand. It's all about squeaking out that last load of white clothes before bedtime. And if that means braving earth-rumbling thunder and deafening cracks of summer lightning to retrieve my sun-warmed clothes, that's okay; I'm a more courageous woman for facing the storm. There's a sense of satisfaction in knowing you are faster than nature; you managed to shove every last t-shirt into the basket just as the first fat raindrop hit your shoulder. Plus, that pre-storm wind dries shockingly better than the "more dry" cycle on the electric machine.
On the coop-front, I made loads of progress today... I finally hung my fancy hanging-bucket-gravity-feeder thing. I made the girls a ramp so they can (maybe) find the roosts, because they are too old to pile up at the coop door overnight. I also, sadly, had to dispatch a wasp today. I've been politely asking her to move it out for about two weeks now, and she just keeps staying, so I had to smoosh her, and it only took a few tries. Question: how long does it take a nesting wasp to regain her composure after being nearly smashed with a purple Croc? Answer: I didn't stick around to find out, I just slapped and bolted. But she was calm (and easy to smoosh, maybe she had come to terms with her fate) half an hour later when I was brave enough to check. I've never been stung by a wasp, but that's an experience I'd rather not have.
And, just for fun, a picture of Turd-Bird soaking up the afternoon sun.
Who knew chickens lounged??
I went to the library after work today, and I was pleasantly surprised to find a new book on the "Featured Selections" shelf by the door! A few months back, I checked out the only two books the library had about chickens, and one was, "Raising Poultry the Modern Way," published 1976. Not very modern. But this beautiful book! I suspect I might be the first to check it out... I love few things more than an unbroken spine on a book.
*What's a POSSLQ?
(1) A Person of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters, my POSSLQ is an amazing man who supports me in everything I do, tolerates my every crazy idea, moderates my dreaminess, and keeps me grounded, but encourages me to follow my bliss. He makes so many sacrifices so that we inch closer to the life we dream about, and I don't tell him enough how much I appreciate him. He's an awesome musician, and hearing him sing still gives me butterflies. He's practically an encyclopedia of information, and can talk to most anyone about most anything. I like him, as you can probably tell.
(2) POSSLQ is the acronym the Census Bureau used to use for counting people who lived together, but were not married. (Stay tuned, I'm sure the day will come when I write about why he's a POSSLQ and not a DH.) I'm not sure what they use now, but when I read "Unmarried to Each Other," I liked the sound of it, and it stuck.
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