Broken eggs no more

All egg cartons should look this pretty.

Broken eggs have been a problem ever since I started keeping chickens many years ago. Whether they are accidentally stepped on or deliberately pecked doesn't matter much when the result is messy goo that looks like a bunch of junior high school kids decided to "egg" your chicken coop. Not easy to clean up in junior high, ditto for now.

I've had my share of egg-pecking hens over the years, but unless you catch them in the act it's difficult to pinpoint which hen is to blame. I know our pigeon Floyd is also fond of rolling eggs and breaking them, although it seems to be more for entertainment purposes rather than wanting to eat the yolks.  Floyd does this because he is a gangster/hoodlum in a pigeon suit, as I believe I have stated before. 

Gangster.

But broken eggs are not just messy, they're also not sanitary as far as the nesting boxes go, because obviously broken eggs attract bacteria, unless you sanitize thoroughly each time it happens. And let's not even get started on the second nesting box issue most of us face -- eggs which are laid and cared for properly, but which end up smeared with feces by either the laying hen or whomever comes into the box after her.

We now have an In n' Out AND a Tractor Supply!

With that in mind, Big Ag and I drove down to the brand new Tractor Supply store in Junction City, Oregon, to buy a nesting box system with a slanted bottom and egg catchment box.  Tractor Supply stores are a staple in California, but have only recently made their way up to Oregon. Back in Paso Robles, we had a Farm Supply store, which was locally owned -- but more expensive -- and a Tractor Supply Store, which was corporate-owned, but which had better prices. We tried to split our time and money between the two; both were needed in our little town, and we knew if one decided to leave or go out of business, the other would probably immediately raise their prices, knowing they were now the "only game in town." 

But I digress. We had a nice drive down south, seeing about 500 swans parked in a field of grass, and two bald eagles (wish I'd gotten some pics but we were going 65 mph at the time). Those sights alone made the drive worthwhile. We picked up our nesting boxes, bought some rhubarb crowns, some asparagus crowns, two grape varieties (table, not wine) and some seed potatoes and Big Ag installed the boxes in the coop yesterday afternoon, after the day's laying was done. 

Looks good...but does it work?

And while I heard a lot of bitching coming from the henhouse this morning (hens really don't like the new and unfamiliar) when I went out, voila! One perfectly-laid egg in the self-contained egg compartment!

I'm hoping this allows us more freedom to be off the property, since one of my (self-appointed) tasks has become being home during morning laying hours so I can grab eggs before they become a yolky mess on the bottom of the nesting boxes. This will also keep them free of fecal matter, which means less eggs discarded due to being impossible to clean, so just a more hygienic endeavor all the way around.

Yes! It does!

One thing I am sad about it denying the girls the pleasure of sitting on their eggs for a few moments after they are laid. It's something most hens seem to enjoy doing, but for all the above reasons, isn't really practical. So they'll have to make do with extra treats and love instead, while we enjoy our omelettes, fresh ice cream and egg salad sandwiches.

A little taste of home

In and Out recently established their northern-most restaurant in Keizer, Oregon -- a 15-minute drive for us -- and it opened a couple of weeks ago to HUGE crowds. We waited until after the holidays for the opening insanity to die down, then went for a very early lunch there this morning.

It felt like a little taste of home. The only thing missing was the trip to the beach afterwards, which I suppose we could have done, but as its only about 45 degrees there right now, with huge "sneaker" waves, that might not have been as much fun as it will be in July. 

Nonetheless, the palm trees on the sides of our shake cups made us feel a little bit of sunny California has come north to live near us, and we can visit whenever we want!

An Animal/Protein Style cheeseburger has never tasted better, I'm telling you. The shakes were as good as ever. And the fries were divine...just like I remember. Who says you can't go home again?

A slower year

I've been reading a lot recently about how much the passage of time speeds up as we age, and why. One theory is that as we get closer to the end of our lives, the time we have left seems to compress itself more -- with less time remaining, it seems to move faster towards the finish line. And we all know what the finish line is, for us all. Ya. What a happy thought.

 Another theory is that our measurement of time when we are younger seems subjectively extended (which is why it seemed like three years between Christmases when we were seven). But most of us feel that time in our 20s and 30s moves at about the "correct" pace -- a year feels pretty much like a year. But after our 50s and 60s, time seems to speed up to a point where the 20 years between ages 60 and 80 will apparently, for most, only feel like about 13 years or so, according to one study of seniors.

To me the most challenging aspect of this is how to feel like you're making enough time to relax and slow down time, once it starts moving more quickly. When time seems compressed, it can always feel like you are rushing off to the latest chore or outing, and that the weekdays seem to just scream by into the weekends, all bumping into each other like train cars on the downslope of a hill.

But the advent of our tiny screens, I think, has also contributed to our never feeling like we have enough time, no matter what our age. First, because our iPhones, laptops and tablets steal so much of it through fairly useless (but time-sucking) activities such as Facebook or internet surfing, and second, because we can be roused to our phones at any given moment, via the alerts that let us know we've just received an email, text, or phone call from work or from loved ones reaching out. All of which take us out of our unscheduled "time out of mind" moments, back into the drumbeat of work or social life.

I loved having this table filled with family and friends, but also the solitude which came after.

We had the entire family here at the holidays and it was pretty much what you'd expect; being busy, being seriously plugged in to other people, and constantly thinking ahead to what was next on the schedule. It was wonderful to be with everyone again, but in the time since then, I'm really trying to be more mindful of putting less into the days, if just so I can enjoy the hours passing more slowly, for now.

Busy, busy busy!

One nice thing about the Oregon winter is that the short days and rain allow you to do that; there's never a time you feel less guilty about spending the day inside with a good book than when it's raining all day and the sun's going to set at 4 p.m. (provided no one's expecting you to cook dinner for seven people). 

I know in Paso Robles, I never felt like I had a lot of free time, and that's because the weather was so nice year-round, there was usually some chore around the property I knew I needed to get after, or something to do in the  chef's garden at work, or some appointment, errand or social activity scheduled. When every day is nice, you pretty much do something every day. Which is fine for people who like to have something on the calendar all the time.

Big Ag's vineyard in Paso Robles -- where every day could be productive.

I'm hoping to enjoy more "slow time" in 2020, and to be more conscious about pulling on the reins of time a bit more and watching the hours pass at a walk rather than a gallop. It will mean more time by the fire, or the stove, or by the window, just looking out. It will mean expecting less of myself and saying "no" to more activities and events. But ultimately, I think saying no a little more to some of those things will be worth the reward. 

If it lengthens my days so that 20 years feels more like 20 instead of only 13 years, that will mean seven more years of my life handed back to me; a reward paid in the one dividend we cannot make more of -- the gain of time itself.  

Slow time in Oregon. 8 am sunrise.