Some time ago (last fall, to be exact), we found new homes for our chickengrrls. It was a bittersweet parting, but every grrl found a new and (from all reports) a happy home. Few of the community gardeners (as in none) wanted to take their turn to feed and care for the chickengrrls, which was a considerable amount of work. Smith and I faced another winter of being in charge without the support of others (either that or we wanted all the eggs, so there). We've missed our grrls in many ways, but we were also relieved when the cold and snowy days arrived.
Happily, we have a very kind neighbor who owns a dozen banty hens and last weekend she dropped off a basket full of darling little eggs. It was as if we’d received a gift of gold.
Smith is quite a master with eggs, although he likes his eggs cooked into dust. How I love the flavor of a perfectly cooked egg and dipping bread into the golden yoke creates such a deliciously delightful bite (even though the bread is gluten free). I miss our Millie, and the other chickengrrls, and I miss their delicious gifts, but they are now part of the past.