There were 7 dozen eggs in my refrigerator this morning:
That's 84 eggs:
Not bad for 3 year old hens, right?
Skippy, my White Leghorn, likes to gives me eggs with little surprises every now and again:
If you've read my blog for any length of time, you know that I really love these eggs. I have been having a 3-year love affair with the eggs my hens lay me. I count them. I weigh them. I pay attention to differences and subtle changes. These below are all from Thumper, my Welsummer hen:
Each one of her eggs has a slightly different shade variation and spotted pattern. They are literally small works of art:
I carefully packaged up 5 dozen of these babies today and gave them to Jim to sell at work. Some of the people that buy them like to hear the names of my hens who laid them. Seems like people are appreciating more and more knowing where their food comes from:
Here's Honey from this afternoon. She came to the kitchen door today to announce the creation of Another Perfect Egg. As you can see, George and Clyde weren't terribly impressed:
I was, though:
I always am.