Archive for the ‘spring chickens’ Category

Spring Chicks and Carrot Cupcakes

April 08, 2010


A few cracked eggshells strategically placed were all I did to decorate the house for Easter this year. I had hopes of making a new Ukrainian Easter egg using one of the girl’s eggs, but I never found the hours it takes to create one. Instead, I put out the collection made by Marty, me, the boys and family through the years.


The girls have been taking advantage of the warm weather by lounging about and sunning themselves. They spend hours finding the rays and spreading their feathers to soak up the heat.

Roxanne and Cleo

Whenever I go out onto the deck, Cleo comes running with hopes that I’ll sit on the stairs so she can jump in my lap. She nestles in happy to cuddle until I finally put her down because I have to get on with my day.

Roxanne used to join us, but lately she’s more interested in food (I think she’s getting fat with all her eating) and instead of joining the cuddle, she nibbles at my jeans hoping they’ll yield a treat.

I’ve been into too many treats also, the problem with baking a lot (the eggs come in a little too handy). A few weeks ago I made what I think are the best ever Carrot Cupcakes. The recipe is from King Arthur but I’ve fiddled with it a bit and added more spices, toasted nuts and raisins for a deeper, richer, spicier version. Crowned with a luscious cream cheese frosting, they’re truly irresistible.

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The Joys of Spring

March 30, 2009

The trio has been busy this week. Running from one end of the yard to the other as if they’re training for the 100-yard dash. They love the feel of the soft squishy ground beneath their toes instead of the ice pellet snow. The more mud and water the harder they splash. Yesterday, Roxanne ran up to me with her feet muddy, legs dirty and a blackened beak begging to be picked up. Chickens don’t jump on you like dogs, they’re far more subtle but just as insistent. They stop in your path, crouch, and quiver in a passive stance waiting to be scooped up into your arms. Mud wrestling with a hen, however, is not my idea of amusement. Roxanne was miffed.

Their days now are taken up with nibbling the few available blades of grass, digging up the garden and chasing every blowing leaf. You never know where you’re going to find them. Indeed, this afternoon we couldn’t find them. They had escaped.

No, they hadn’t learned the Fosbury flop. Instead, they shimmied to the fat hen squeeze. The winter winds had loosened one of the sections under the deck and the wide-planked hens squeezed their bodies into the tiny space to freedom on the side of the house. They were found at the side fence running to and fro frantic to get back into the yard. Freedom without boundaries can be very frightening.

Later, Roxanne and Cleo happily snuggled together on my lap. Relaxed and feeling safe, their eyelids lazily closed. A little taste of adventure is fine, as long as it’s followed by a warm canoodle at home with someone you love.