It began early in the morning, as I was burying my head under my pillow to steal a few more minutes of sleep. The sun was shining brightly through the open window. And Mintie was talking. She's always been vocal, the loudest voice of the five hens. But that morning, she had something to say.
I went about the morning chores as normal, releasing the girls from the coop to their daytime pen under the trampoline. I fed them, watered them, gave them treats, cleaned their coop, freshened the nesting boxes that they sleep in. And Mintie was still talking.
She became more "crazed" as the morning wore on and I had the thought that this might be the morning. I have birthed two babies so I have an idea of the discomfort she was probably in. I fixed up a nesting box for her and when I gave it to her, she was immediately interested. As she sat in there, intermittently, the other girls watched, curious.
I had to leave for work, but I left Blake with the task of checking on her frequently. Just an hour later he texted me a picture of her egg.
A perfect little brown egg.
Same day as the egg I harvested a few goodies from the garden. I can't even begin to explain the joy this brings, this bit of farming I get to do. But it is there, the joy, all pure and unadulterated, bubbling over in my heart.