Day 3- The magic of eggs and gravel roads

I wake up at 5:30 to another beautiful and picturesque view straight ahead of me outside my window. Three days away from home and I am now starting to miss my morning coffee and conversation time with my husband. Our morning ritual consists of drinking coffee together talking and not talking about the day ahead, our observations of what is happening on our small small pond or in the news. I text him good morning, no response yet, though I expect one at 5:45 or so. I get dressed and head downstairs to make coffee.

​I still don’t completely have this coffee maker figured out and I really need a cup right now because I went to bed last night before washing the eggs. There are now over 2 dozen eggs to be scrubbed and washed and I need the wherewithal to do the task without breaking the eggs.

​Let’s just be honest, coffee is supportive for so many things and for so many reasons, washing farm fresh eggs is just one of millions of reasons that coffee makes everything better. While the coffee brews, I wonder where can I get a French press considering town is 30 minutes away and I really don’t have time to shop, care for the kids and the farm. How does my friend manage all of this? I tell myself I can get thru this experience without a french press and in my head I hear my sister saying to me: “First world problem Deana.” Yup…

---

I begin the task of washing off the eggs. Just before the hen lays an egg she releases a protective coating onto the egg called a bloom or cuticle that seals the shell pores and prevents bacteria from entering the egg which allows them to stay fresh and helps reduce moisture loss. The eggs have stuff on them, feathers, a bit of dirt and a bit of poop. Poop and other bacteria is a factor of farm life and it is the reason that I cut my nails down to nothing before I left town. Lots of hand washing takes place on a farm as does taking off boots outside and putting on inside shoes, and likely changing some or all of your clothes more than once per day. These things make laundry an endless process. ​

​How can something so fragile withstand being washed without breaking? I am in awe how fragile yet strong they are, the nutrition they provide, how good they feel in my hands. Every time I crack an egg into a bowl or pan I marvel out loud at the orange color of the yolks, like a sunset. It enhances my breakfast experience to be sure.

Farm to table in real time, no grocery store. You literally walk into the barn, collect eggs and thank the hens as you eave. It’s only 6:30, I let the farm dogs out, cat comes up and meows at me, while chickens are running about the lawn and the cranes are honking. I still have time to walk around the property, drink coffee, and take pictures before needing to wake up the kids.

---

Big farm dog comes with me; she is psychic and knows where I am going for our morning walks before I even finish the thought. I am thankful for her wisdom, killer instincts (there are coyotes out here), thick coat and eyes that remind me I have dogs at home. I take random pics along the way and decide to check on the cows out in the pasture.
​

​Big farm dog stays back a good 50 feet from the cows and watches me, waiting until I am ready to leave, but I am not sure why. Is it because she doesn’t like them or vice versa? Or is it because taking care of the cows is the cattle horse’s job and she takes care of the rest? She doesn’t want to intrude on cattle horse’s turf? No clue, and I can’t think of it anymore because I am now watching a calf nurse from its mother. Simple beauty not seen everyday though while I am on the farm, I get to go see it anytime I want. It is a beautiful sight to behold every single time.

---

I wake up the kids and chores begin and go off without a hitch. I have to remind myself that today is Friday since the days and nights just fly by out here. It was an active day of taking the boy and his buddy to their fishing spot and heading into town with the girls. We ran errands and on the way home I decided to take a different way and the girls told me this was the way their mom always drove home.

This route included gravel roads, okay entirely gravel roads! The gravel road was not too bad but it was hilly, lots of hills. One hill in particular was so high up that you could not see if cars were going to be coming over the hill until you were at the top. One of the girls started to freak out because she doesn’t like hills. Well… this was a first for me, and I did it without externally freaking out, while internally it was a bit thrilling and I was freaking out! In the rearview mirror I could see the dust trail that I was leaving behind me. The other thing that was behind me was fear. Funny how overcoming a steep gravel hill and not being able to see what was coming is so much like life, every single day.

---

​With chores being done, dinner cooking, and the boy out for the night fishing and camping with a friend, the girls and I began playing “keep away” in the livingroom. It has been several decades since I have played that game, and thankfully I have still maintained my “keep away” skills. They were laughing at me because as they put it “you are really good for your age.”
Well I started laughing at that and lost the ball but only temporarily. After dinner we played “keep away” again but this time outside, baked cookies, and ended the evening painting on mini canvases listening to pop music. Kitchen cleaned and laundry done I climb into bed and I am out like a light bathed in the moonlight.

---