Make My Day

There are night people and morning people.  I am definitely of the morning variety and yesterday morning was an absolute delight.  Walking up from the barn after chores, it was such a pleasure to wipe a smattering of rain drops from my face instead of sweat.  It never amounted to anything more than putting polka-dots in the dust on the truck, but it was wonderful just the same.  After days in the 90s, the temperature dove down into the 60s!  It was a no-brainer to decide whether to wear a tank top or tee-shirt.  Summer is officially over with the autumnal equinox, but the heat will be around for a while longer, I know.  Today is predicted to be even cooler, and it's another example of take what you get and be glad that you got it.

Walking past the feed shed on the way to give the chickens their milkshake, I noticed Rhonda tucked into a corner nest she'd made.  Hmmm.  I should have said "give the chickens and squirrels..." because the furry ones were also waiting and crowded in for their share from the bowl.  Betty and I made the rounds of the laying boxes and picked up a couple of contributions from the pullets.  For whatever reason, the mature hens have not laid eggs in months.  On the way out, Rhonda was walking toward me and fluffing her feathers.  On the off chance, I checked her nest and lo and behold, there was an egg in the box.  Good girl, Rhonda!  The surprise was that it was a brown egg.  I knew it was Rhonda's egg because it was fresh out of the chute, but I'd always heard that white chickens lay white eggs.  Google tells me that isn't so, and now I know it to be a fallacy.  Perhaps it also works the other way around because I'd picked up two white eggs from the coop and there are only two white hens in the flock.  Live and learn.

I am not alone.  How many times have I gone into a room, only to stop, stand, and wonder what I'd gone in there for?  Bessie's morning routine is this:  first she lies down by my feet under the desk kneehole, then comes out and asks to be let outside, then comes in and waits to be boosted up onto the bed where she waits for me to finish at the computer.  This morning started out like any other.  There was evidently a gap in the synapse because she came back in, went under the desk, then came out and stood by the door again.  "Honey, you've already been outside," but opened the door and turned on the light.  She went out, stood there with the same look I've had so many times, and asked to come in again.

It doesn't take much to make my day.