The Return

Vacation was fun, I got to play beach volleyball and then be sore for three days. It was the one and only sport I ever played competitively, albeit ten years ago. Apparently the muscles I exercise at the farm are different then those I use to posture in front of strangers while wearing nearly nothing at all. My good friend is an avid sailor and rugby player, and commented diplomatically that this was likely the only time I would be the better athlete. Good times.

I've given up on painting the house yellow before August. The primer is taking forever to finish, and what is done looks so nice, and there is so much I would rather do: pull up the cedars by the door+replace them with pretty annual flower beds. Make window boxes, hang baskets from brackets, garden. Replace the broken and stained screen door with a nice fancy one. Create a staircase runner that looks like this (paint and decor to follow):


So no little yellow farmhouse yet.

The chickens spent their first evening in the chicken coop last night. I worry the spot isn't terribly vermin-proof, but we couldn't keep the chickens in the porch any longer-it smelled so bad. I've gone on a cleaning spree the last three days, doing nasty chores like empty the refrigerator. And one of the things I need to do is scrub the front porch on hands and knees with Vim or other abrasive cleaner to get it really clean.

So much fun. So little time.