Flying The Coop

The chickens have flown the coop - at least in the daytime. They won't lay in their nesting boxes anymore - they go to boxes in the packing shed or under the intern house or God knows where. It's a bit of a pain, especially when you want an omelette, but I'm content to view it as yet another sign of Spring. Everything's coming back to life, and nobody wants to lay around in bed.
A new greenhouse is on the way. I spent most of this morning bending some old pipe that S**'s younger brother gave me a few years ago. The site got graded a few days ago. I braved, yesterday, Tunnel Road on a Saturday afternoon for the inevitable Lowe's trip. So, yeah, everything's coming together. Another week - hopefully - and we'll have a place to put all the extra baby plants.
J* got a new car last week. That sentence deserves a few exclamation marks, but nevermind. The whole J* vehicle situation can best be summed up in one short anecdote: circumstances put me near Weaverville late one afternoon, so I offered to get I* from day care. I call J* and she's calls the day care center. The day care person tells I* that his uncle will be picking him up today, and his first question is, "What's wrong with the car?"
Well, now, nothing. She's got something that runs, and will hopefully run for a very, very long time.
We're itchin' for a road trip, but will probably settle on G*'s birthday party next Saturday.
Went to Swannannoa last night for A*'s bus warming party. She's really got the place spruced up nice, and, typically for A*, the grill was full of steaks when I got there. Interesting: she put the bed over the steering wheel. I never would have thought of that.
Two bee hives arrived last week. That's a story in itself, but I don't have the energy for it right now. Suffice to say that I only got stung twice and details will follow.
Potatoes will go in the ground soon.
I spent most of the morning on the phone with my friend I*. He sounded like he's off his medication again, but that might be a good thing.
Finally cleared all the brush from above the upper field last week. I got real lucky: March is about the only time to do it. Earlier than March, and it's too wet to get a tractor up there, later than March, and there just isn't time. I hit it on just the right day: it was dry enough to get a bit of traction, but moist enough that the ground let go of the rose briar roots. Took all day, but it concludes a chore I've been working on every March for years. It was kinds trippy: K* happened by as I was doing it. She hasn't been by the holler in a while, and came by as I was clearing brush. I reminded her that I was hard at the same exact task three years ago, the day that G* was born.
Might even plant some carrots this week.
No, I'm not supposed to be doing all these things with a broken collarbone, but I can't help myself.