Little Farm in the City

This morning I dropped off my empty half-gallon raw milk jar with my "source," the mother of the "let's dance to bluegrass" kids I babysat this spring. They made me close my eyes so I would be surprised by their chickens (each child has a chicken), constantly interrupted their mother to tell me about the chickens, gave me chicken feathers to take home, and let me hold a still warm, just laid egg. They've only had chickens for a week and already act like experts. "She's quiet because she's laying." "They only lay one egg a day." "I named her Brownie because she's brown."

I begged my source to hook me up with more. I think it scared the kids a little when I got down on the grass and started crying. Sobbing, "I want raw milk!" Unfortunately her source is operating at capacity and they rarely have extra. She said she'd see what she can do.

Then I proceeded to ye old blueberry patch, where I ran into a half dozen kids from church (and their parents were there somewhere...) and picked two big yogurt containers full. Of off three bushes. Most of the berries came off one huge bush, which I dove into to reach the biggest ones. See picture below.

Milk, eggs, blueberries...it doesn't get much better than this.