There was a cow at the end of my driveway yesterday morning. And no, I don’t have a picture because I was just so completely flummoxed that I didn’t even think to pick up the camera. I did throw on a hoodie over my pajamas and run down the road to the neighbor’s house to bang on her door, using my morning breath to ask her what to do. She was far calmer than I, welcoming me into her kitchen while she called her brother to come get his critter out of the road. She then sent me home with not just her brother’s number, but those of the rest of the family as well. The whole thing seems very silly and simple now, but in the moment, I was quite uncertain as to the appropriate response.

The chicken run is (mostly) complete. There are plans to cover a portion of it so that we don’t have to do quite as much shoveling to get their exit door open over the winter, but there is now quite a nice enclosure. The little chickens are the only ones that currently have access to the space, with the idea that they can meet the big girls through the fence for a few more weeks before moving in with them. In reality, the two mini-flocks care not a whit about each other. The chickens avoid eye contact with members of the other group, as if the chicken wire were a solid wall, or they were city pedestrians, carefully not looking up as they pass. Clearly, I have no idea if this is normal, nor do I know how the flock integration will go. The youngsters are thirteen weeks old today (I was a week off without my calendar!) so we will try to merge them at the end of the month.

Our long weekend was filled to the brim with true summer living, and I said yes to both cotton candy and ice cream, more than once. We attended a lovely boat parade on the 4th, and enjoyed a really incredible pyrotechnics display in town a few days before. Swimming has become a daily event, and bathing suits and beach towels rotate constantly through the washer and dryer while the regular laundry piles up at the bottom of the chute. There’s not much of anything coming in from the garden – even the herbs are too small to pluck – though I’m still hopeful our little plot will eventually produce something. The apples, however, are most definitely growing, and we are enjoying walking among the trees to inspect the baby fruits. Signs of the next season to come, for sure.

How are you summering?