The cold weather is not the only thing to set us back and I have been putting off writing a blog post. I don't usually procrastinate but there is something I need to say and until now I could not find the right words. Sometimes I just need a little time to myself to reflect and get things in perspective.
A couple of weeks ago, Doc and I decided to re-home our chickens. It was not an easy decision because the girls have been with us for 3 years and we have so much enjoyed their company in the garden - and their eggs. We also knew how much we would miss them.
But life moves on. (Clichés are so annoyingly true!) Our lives are changing and we have had to allow our sensible heads to rule our hearts. Doc, who is a GP, is preparing to take up a new role as President of his local Medical Society and although this is a great honour , it will be a lot of work for both of us, with a lot of entertaining and events to organise. We are looking forward to Doc’s year of Office immensely but in order to enjoy its challenges we need to be realistic about what we can manage to do at home and in the garden. In addition, our little granddaughter is a huge magnet who will continue to pull us across the Irish sea. When Number One Son asks if we can go over, we want to have a bag already packed, so we can fly off at a moment’s notice.
I don’t want to dwell on the girls’ departure because it was inevitably sad. For days afterwards, we reminded each other to ‘coop the girls’ and I still see three little ghosts when I walk down the garden path. However, I found a lovely lady called Anita who has given the girls a good, safe home. When Doc and I left them, they did not look back at us and strutted off behind a rather fancy, haughty cockerel and his harem. I am sure the girls will have some fun their new pals and we can be contented that we did right by them. We looked after them as best we could and took our responsibility seriously.
We have such happy memories of Ginger, Tweedledee and Tweedledum. The eggs were the best we have ever tasted and keeping hens is a good way to connect with the food we eat. When I picked up Ginger’s last egg from the straw, it was just as special as the first one Doc brought up to the house. We were so excited it could have been a golden egg! I cradled the very last nutty-brown egg in my palm for ages, its warmth is something I will never forget. It was such a privilege to enjoy home-laid eggs.
There were funny times too such as The Great Escapes which made Mission Impossible look positively pedestrian. Doc spent one very wet, wintry evening trying to find a hole they had made in the fencing. To this day he is convinced the naughty trio were laughing at him.
Our chickens taught us how important it is in life to do a bit of pottering about, doing nothing in particular. They scratched and wandered about from dawn until dusk and were perfectly contented. Doc and I used to take a 10 minute break, sit on the bench to drink a cuppa and we would watch the girls scrape ,scraping their way round the orchard, totally immersed in their surroundings but oblivious to it. Doc and I have made a pact that we will still take those breaks, even without the hens to watch.
We will fill the holes where they used to take their dust baths. We will re-seed the grass and find a new home for the coop. But the hens will always be part of Springfield and we will never forget our little friends.
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