Oregon Wheat Fields
Some people have cats and dogs; I have ladies. Still some days off from laying; soon.... They were Easter babies, hand picked out from multiple smelly bins of fluffy tufts that ran around on spindly toothpick legs. they slept in the bedroom for the first few nights until it was quickly determined that sleep+light+peeping babies is not an equitable formula. So out they went to the laundry room where they lived until the Rubbermaid nest could no longer contain them. Home now? a backyard wilderness of sorts complete with red chicken coop. perfect. So this is another one of the projects that so heartily fills the Corvallis time. What's more... I wrote not long ago about the wonder of the appearing plums in the backyard. oh they only scratched the surface of my backyard explorations. What could possibly be better than 100's of mini plums? Why a fig tree of course. I had never in my life eaten a ripe fig off a tree. Turns out when your neighbor's tree overhangs your fence and they show minimal interest on the horizon in the plump round ripening green orbs, well now life is in your favor. damn fresh figs are good. I gave myself a belly ache three days in a row to the point I had to actually physically remove myself from under the tree for lack of any self-control over fig consumption. A love-hate (read love-love) situation.
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