For three solid hours this morning I boiled and peeled chestnuts in order to make soup and stuffing. One kilo gram of chestnuts took from 10am till 1.00pm to peel and I ended up with prune fingers as they had been handling hot wet chestnuts for so long. Then of course, I had to make the soup and the stuffing. I'm sure that come Christmas I will be pleased to have the stuffing already made (if it lasts that long without me succumbing to cooking it as chestnut stuffing is a particular favourite of mine). We had some of the soup for lunch and then, joy of joys, we visited the garden centre for a quick wander around and I bought some new gardening gloves after Luke wore my last pair when he was putting a new roof on the shed and ended up with a hole in the finger. I also spent five pounds on a pretty orchid for the house. The one I really wanted was three times the price and I didn't want to pay any more so opted for the cheaper one. Sometimes these things are false economies but I love having flowers and plants around so I shan't regret that one and may even succumb to buying one I really wanted too.
The hens were allowed out as we were home most of the day and it was hilarious watching them all fly out of the runs. They have been cooped up since Wednesday afternoon so couldn't wait to fly the nest, so to speak. Each chicken came out with a ludicrous flight path and little Mrs. Bun ended up flying straight into the raspberry patch - no wonder Luke chopped them all down afterwards. It's time for their annual cut and it's been months since we had the last raspberry although I think the hens may have enjoyed a few more than we did.
The two new hens now have names that we agree on. I think we've turned into proper chicken owners now because I've stopped thinking about naming them. However, the old rule that if something has a name we don't eat it still stands for any animal we own. Once you find out their personalities (and believe me when I tell you that each chicken has it's own individual personality - yes, really), well, you just can't dispatch them.
So Buckster, Lunar, Poppy, Mrs Bun and.., Betty and Silvie are all safe.
Last night Luke had to retrieve an egg by hooking it with the garden rake. Silly Mrs Bun isn't like normal chickens and doesn't hide away in a dark and comfy nest to lay her eggs. Nope, she just seems to lay them where she is standing and then looks surprised to see the egg when she turns around. So her latest lay was just left in the run and out of reach, hence the rake. But that chicken can do no wrong in Luke's eyes and he just rolled it along the ground till we could pick it up and wash it off. Scrambled egg in the shell., no doubt.
The hens were allowed out as we were home most of the day and it was hilarious watching them all fly out of the runs. They have been cooped up since Wednesday afternoon so couldn't wait to fly the nest, so to speak. Each chicken came out with a ludicrous flight path and little Mrs. Bun ended up flying straight into the raspberry patch - no wonder Luke chopped them all down afterwards. It's time for their annual cut and it's been months since we had the last raspberry although I think the hens may have enjoyed a few more than we did.
The two new hens now have names that we agree on. I think we've turned into proper chicken owners now because I've stopped thinking about naming them. However, the old rule that if something has a name we don't eat it still stands for any animal we own. Once you find out their personalities (and believe me when I tell you that each chicken has it's own individual personality - yes, really), well, you just can't dispatch them.
So Buckster, Lunar, Poppy, Mrs Bun and.., Betty and Silvie are all safe.
Last night Luke had to retrieve an egg by hooking it with the garden rake. Silly Mrs Bun isn't like normal chickens and doesn't hide away in a dark and comfy nest to lay her eggs. Nope, she just seems to lay them where she is standing and then looks surprised to see the egg when she turns around. So her latest lay was just left in the run and out of reach, hence the rake. But that chicken can do no wrong in Luke's eyes and he just rolled it along the ground till we could pick it up and wash it off. Scrambled egg in the shell., no doubt.
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