Empty egg shells after a home laid breakfast.
One of my very favourite parts of going away on a holiday is definitely coming home again. Jumping out of the car and exclaiming over how much everything has grown. Running down to the chook yard to say hello to our girls and let them out for a good scratch. Stepping inside and reveling in the clean house that I spent the day before leaving frantically cleaning (while simultaneously packing the car and keeping a houseful of sick children entertained). It always feels different coming back. The ceilings seem higher, the light brighter, the rooms bigger and airier. I am sure that has something to do with holidaying in little seaside cottages, but after a long winter when it sometimes felt as though the walls were closing in on us, it is a feeling I am trying to hold on to. So I thought I would take a walk through our house, camera in hand, to record this little place we call home. It shouldn't take long. I'd love you to join me.
Blue eggs will be missing from our rainbow egg cartons after Bluebeard, our Araucana, was killed by a fox this week. She always hid her eggs. We uncovered her last nest when I was pulling handfuls of Vinca out of our garden beds a few days after she died. Twelve beautiful blue eggs from our old girl, eaten with gratitude.