Sunday, 7 May 2017

The perfect spot.

I have the perfect spot to drink my perfect cup of coffee. The spot is not a café in Helsinki where the sun always shines, nor is it the café in town where the cakes are to die for. My perfect place is on the old step, by the front door, looking out at Ebba's play paddock.

The step has been brown, the paddock was once new and had a straight and shiny fence and we also had a nice flowerbed nearby. Our dear sheep ate the flowers. Paint tends to wear off, but I could not care less as it's worn off evenly. I sit, leaning against the house on two very old, worn cushions and just feel a little bit happy.

The reason for my carefree disposition is our animals. Oh yes, dear husband too!

No, really. When you skip the nice garden chair and the practical garden table the animals feel that you are more approachable, or so I find it, anyway. Ebba has her dog run next to me, the hens come right up to my feet, checking if I have any treats for them and our lovely sheep stand around the corner, sneak peaking to see if Ebba is loose. They will soon be brave enough to just step right up to the door, loudly demanding their share of the goodies.

Mosquitoes have started to fly around our heads, but Ebba catches them for us. That's her treat dealt with. She does have a new bone to chew on, the bugs are just something a little extra.

It's early evening and the two hens and their chicks have gone to bed for the night. Soon Monty will begin to droop and when he starts to look like a completely wilted flower, it's time to put the rest of the henhouse to bed. Mindy, Mandy, Molly and My wanted to go in ages ago, but as this is one of the first nice evenings, in a long time, we should all be outside for a while.

Ebba's friend's, the cranes, are serenading the evening sun or maybe celebrating the day's frog hunting. Perhaps they just had a moment of happiness to and wanted the village to know? It's hard to know with cranes.

Dear husband is returning home in the tractor so Ebba is now wanting to stretch her legs. This means that I will soon be sprinting behind a rested dog, wishing I had four legs, too. With my brilliant brain, I would never figure out how to handle that, so two it is.

Speaking of rested. Both mother hens have realised that by hanging out with me, they can use the outdoor pen and finally get some sand baths. My input is to babysit the chicks and look out for gangsters. As they can't spend any time together, the two mothers, they must take turns being outside. My life as a chick minder! I do have help though, as four woolly heads follow our every move. It must be a very brave gangster to approach us!
Edit: After two days, the mothers realised that by being nice to each other, they got rid of the chick minder so I'm off duty again. Clever birds.

Gardening season is upon us and this year we will plant more blueberry bushes. We have the forest full of bilberries, I know, but there is something so charming about the shape of a blueberry bush in their midst. I will also try my hand at growing some asparagus, but the outcome of that will be next year’s news. Beans and peas will be the main crops. Perhaps Ebba will be a pea loving dog too, we will see. Dear husband says he'll grow mostly weeds, this year. We can only hope that he's joking.

Thank you for brilliant name suggestions! We now have a chick called Puffball and one called Thistledown. I can only imagine Puffball growing up to become a very handsome cockerel. Do send in more names or the rest will end up called Sprinter, Digger and Squeaker and that would not do, as they seem to be a charming lot. Sunny is the tiny chick and beeps a lot.

Ebba fell asleep on her kitchen sofa. Too much fresh air can do that to you. She has been exercising dear husband all day too, she told me. It is nice, the way the days get longer and when the cold nights go away, we can start celebrating springtime properly. We might just join the cranes, down on the field and sing our little hearts out. Or not, said dear husband!

Take care, be well and what about Willow for a name? 

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