Each year as a Christmas gift, my sister-in-law (well, I suppose she's actually my ex-sister-in-law now) sends me a subscription to a different magazine. This year it's Mary Janes Farm, an organic lifestyle magazine.
The most recent issue contains an article by MaryJane Butters on urban chicken farming. Yep, Urban chicken farming. There's apparently even a website where you can check whether backyard chicken keeping is legal in your neighborhood. In the article, MaryJane goes on to suggest that you don't even need a yard to keep the little cluckers ~ that all you really need is a patio of even just a balcony. Now doesn't that conjure up some amusing images. For those of you who are perhaps having trouble imagining it, I will share the photo from the article of chickens in a retro-fitted baby crib ~ in the bedroom!!!!
Now you must understand, I do like fresh eggs, and Mr. Cobblestone get ours from a friend who raises chickens on her property ~ her non-urban property that is.
And although the article provided detailed instructions, including a pattern, for making chicken diapers, I'm afraid I don't see this particular brand of freshness in my future.
Trouble is they're around in bits and pieces waiting to be finished.
Yes, the planetary journey has brought us round again to Spring, which in my neck of the woods typically means Season of Gray Skies, Mud and . . . sigh . . . Spring Cleaning.
Mr Cobblestone and I started on the living room over the weekend ~ he washes the walls and steams the carpeting while I basically clean everything else. I'll admit I got the better deal, well, except for the draperies.
I've made all the window treatments in our house (a genetic flaw I fear), and the ones in this room consist of a triple layer of ceiling to floor pieces that are heavily pleated. So after the washing and ironing and adjusting the hems, each one is threaded onto its pleater pins and rehung.
It took me an entire afternoon to finish the smaller window in the room ~ and tomorrow . . . . I tackle the grand daddy of the house. . . .