Massacre, Market, and Being Kids

Temps have been in the nineties this past week. We've made the sudden jerk from spring into summer. Saturday upon arriving home from the Farmers Market, I discovered 18 of our youngest chickens (around a month old) dead in the coop. There was a hole in the roof, we figured a raccoon (or 5?) climbed in and was responsible for the massacre. However, this morning all the remaining chicks (15 or so) were found dead by my husband except for one. The young roo isn't telling us what happened. There are a few much smaller holes in the (crappy) coop, so maybe a weasel squeezed in? I've never actually seen weasel. Whoever it was, it was quite rude of them to just kill the birds and leave them there. If they are going to be killed, least they could do is eat them. What a waste. The remaining roo has moved out of the nursery and joined the big boys and girls in our other coop.

Back to the Farmers Market and a more positive note.. so far we've participated in two of two Saturdays and it has been a good time. I don't have much to offer as of now, and I'm not sure how my garden will turn out, but I've been selling breads, rolls, and eggs. I may do doughnuts this Saturday and I'm also working on some canvas shopping bags, but I'm not sure I'll get those done this week.

The borderline miserable temperatures don't stop the kids from being outside. They still spend majority of their time going on adventures, mixing up "poisons" and "desserts" aka water/mud/foliage creations, hunting for baby kitties, getting extremely dirty, building houses, exploring the (small) creek, and chasing the poor ducks and geese. This is exactly how I hoped our kids would spend their childhood.. well maybe with a bit less whining and fighting.. but pretty close anyhow. It wasn't that long ago my sister and I were playing Little House on the Prairie with our cousins, or marching down to the creek with our hatchet, or finding our own goldmine of baby kitties.

A few nights ago, it was inching further and further past bedtime, but the kids had been outside for a couple hours and no on had come whining to me or crying someone hit them, they were just playing together so nicely. Even if it was using the duck pond to mix up a "poison" of mud, leaves, water, and dog food which they know they aren't to waste, I just couldn't bring myself to stop such a wonderful thing. Why is it they must get along best right before bedtime?? It must be their secret plan to prolong the day, guess they know my soft spots. It works.


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