Farmgirl At Fifty

Okay, fine. farmgirl at 50 plus. Oh, all right, if you really want to be nitpicky then, farmgirl at 60 minus. I hope that makes all you sticklers for accuracy happy.

Anyway, I have recently tapped into my inner farmgirl. It all started when my daughter gave me a copy of a magazine called MaryJanesFarm. Mary Jane lives in Moscow, Idaho; the same town that my daughter lives in. According to my new friend, Mary Jane, anyone can be a farmgirl. Who knew?

In all honesty I am a "pick and choose the chores I like" kind of farmgirl. I LOVE my hens, they are pretty and they are well behaved and my three older hens lay me an egg each everyday. The other ones are still young and aren't laying yet so I excuse them, however I do encourage them everyday when I go to feed them. Someday I know I will be rewarded for my motherly concern and encouragement.

I love going out and finding the eggs in the same little corner of the coop every time. It's like Easter everyday except the eggs aren't bright and colorful and I usually have to pick feathers off and wash chicken poop off of them. It took me a while before I could bring myself to eat the nice fresh eggs that I gathered everyday. I"d scramble them up for Steve but the thought of actually eating them made me a little queasy. I mean, really, I like my eggs from the grocery store after they have traveled for days and have sat in the storage room in the back of the store. They are already clean and in a carton. There was something a little unsettling about eating a warm egg that just moments ago had chicken poop on it. I got over it!!

I got over my aversion to eating fresh eggs but still cannot bring myself to clean the chicken coop. Instead of letting my sweet hens live in a messy house I talk Steve into cleaning it for me. Men are so cute, you can talk them into just about anything; "Honey, do you think you can go out and clean the chicken coop, I'm in the middle of making those yummy chocolate chip cookies that you love, I'll take care of it next time (sure!)".

I know I will never be a true farmgirl until I don my hip waders and grab my rake and clean the coop myself (it might be awhile before I'm bona fide).

The other aspect of my inner farmgirl includes picking raspberries off of my very own raspberry bushes. Now those really are my babies. I go out every afternoon in search of raspberries that are just waiting for my novice hands to pick. I pick about a handful every time, but I refuse to eat them. I wash them and put them in a ziplock bag and someday I will have enough to make a whole jar of jam...I'm optimistic!

I also have crooked neck squash and zucchini and two whole tomatoes growing.

I am very pleased with myself, but plan on expanding my garden next year. Maybe I'll try my hand at those dreaded carrots!