Today A Blue Egg

Our White Leghorn, Letty, has been laying regularly for several weeks now and slowly the eggs have begun to get bigger, some days more so than others. Last week we began to find small eggs again, and although none of the other three hens is supposed to lay white eggs, we thought maybe Buffy, our Buff Orpington, was laying these little gems (all resources I’ve read say Orps lay brown eggs); she does afterall have white ears—supposedly ear color correlates to egg color.

Big Egg, Little Egg

We find ourselves observing our Rhode Island Red (Penny), the biggest of our backyard flock, and wondering what her deal is... she hasn’t yet laid an egg, evidenced by the lack of brown eggs in the nesting box. Today I found one small pinkish-white egg and one blue!! The blue is definitely from Matilda (aka “Tilly”), our Americana. So, we know that at least two, perhaps three, of our hens are laying. Maybe soon Penny will catch on and start earning her keep.

Blue Egg (I know it looks green, but really, it's blue)

The garden is doing well, and we have begun to think about fall plantings. We’ve planted more beets and are ready to get broccoli (yes, I’m going to give it another try), cabbage and spinach into the ground, and maybe some butternut squash, but definitely no brussel sprouts. I hate brussel sprouts. In the meantime, I’m hoping to save tomato seeds from the Heirloom Cherkoee Purple for planting next year. I looked up (thank you Google) how to save tomato seeds and found that you have to ferment them for a few days before drying and storing them.

Fermenting Cherry & Heirloom Cherokee Purple Tomatoe Seeds

Today's Harvest: Cherry, Plum, Juliettes & Cherokee Purple

Garden "Volunteers"

A few weeks ago I wrote about our “volunteer” tomato plants. We’re not sure where they came from, although we have some guesses that have to do with either birds or dogs—I’ll spare you the details—but we’re happy to have them. The cherry tomato plant has hardy been able to hold up its branches they are so loaded with tomatoes. I harvested many tonight and there are at least this many more that’ll be ready in the next few days.

Tonight's Harvest

These plants are definitely stronger than those that were nurtured as seedlings in a greenhouse and then transplanted into our amended soil in the, we thought, perfect spot in the garden. These plants are survivors... growing from seed directly “planted” in soil, unamended clay soil at that, in a location that gets less than the recommend amount of direct sunlight. Of course the best part is that they’re delicious!

I’m planning on saving some of the seeds and experimenting with starting them indoors and then transplanting them into the garden as well as sowing seeds directly in the garden next year. Hopefully their offspring will be just as hardy as these have been. I looked up how to save tomato seeds and found that you have to ferment them before you dry them. I’ll also be saving some of our heirloom Cherokee Purples as well. These are a little finicky, liking to be watered at the same time each week and the same amount. Otherwise they tend to crack somewhat. Ugly, yes, but still delicious. And I’d rather eat an ugly heirloom tomato than those sold by grocery stores that have been modified/bred for uniform size, form, and color, but are flavorless and mealey.

Heirloom Cherokee Purple Tomatoes

Ditching the City

I had Jury Duty today... I know, not the topic you’re expecting from the title of this post. But, while I was waiting in the jury assembly room, I had the rare opportunity to read uninterrupted for several hours. A luxury and an indulgence on any normal day. I’m currently reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver; this is a different book for her. It’s the story of her family’s move to life on a farm in Virginia and their first year of eating only food raised locally or grown themselves. It’s also part investigative journalism, full of facts I didn’t know and I'd bet most Americans have no idea about. An example: most turkeys (the ones you and I serve at our Thanksgiving table each year) can no longer reproduce on their own. That’s right; it seems that the genes that make this possible aren’t useful in animals who live their life in confinement, packed closely together with thousands of other turkeys—so these characteristics are bred out to them, along with the qualities for superior disease resistance and flavor.

As I did when reading Omnivore’s Dilema, I find myself dreaming of making a major change in my life, of ditching the city and “living off the land,” growing our own food—not just the 4 4’x4’ raised beds we are currently tending, but several acres or more. The dream begins with moving to a climate somewhat more temperate than Georgia, after all I’m not crazy enough to think I want to spend 10-12 hours a day outside working in 90°+, buying a piece of land with a farmhouse, barn, and pasture. We’d grow and eat all our own food, raise chickens (both layers and broilers), maybe a cow or two. Sounds crazy right?