I have been mulling the chicken thing, too. In Minneapolis, you have to get written permission from anyone that lives within 100 feet. One of my immediate neighbors is a doctor, and a bit tightly-wound: she will definitely bring up the avian flu thing, and I am already inclined to tell her to shutup, so I dunno. Also, I worry that I won't be able to travel at all.
I want to name my potential hens (in a way) after my mother and her sisters: Anna, Mary, Jeannie and Martha, only more antagonistically: I want to name them Annabald, Maribald, Jeannibald, and Marthabald. Like Archibald, only feminine. Sort of. So I guess, yeah, if a big part of the reason that I want them is to aggravate my family, maybe I should A) reconsider and B) grow up.
Will you flickr your progress? I hope so.
I have a big ol' rotating compost drum on a stand, because I am impatient like that, so nothing grows in there. Except sweet, earthy black goodness. When I remember to turn the crank.
Stuff is finally sprouting here (late spring this year) so I sit out there a lot and grin at the fern nubs and heuchera stubs. Life is good again, no?
Also: cam4.com: good lord. I felt like a freelance proctologist for a minute.
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I have been mulling the chicken thing, too. In Minneapolis, you have to get written permission from anyone that lives within 100 feet. One of my immediate neighbors is a doctor, and a bit tightly-wound: she will definitely bring up the avian flu thing, and I am already inclined to tell her to shutup, so I dunno. Also, I worry that I won't be able to travel at all.
I want to name my potential hens (in a way) after my mother and her sisters: Anna, Mary, Jeannie and Martha, only more antagonistically: I want to name them Annabald, Maribald, Jeannibald, and Marthabald. Like Archibald, only feminine. Sort of. So I guess, yeah, if a big part of the reason that I want them is to aggravate my family, maybe I should A) reconsider and B) grow up.
Will you flickr your progress? I hope so.
I have a big ol' rotating compost drum on a stand, because I am impatient like that, so nothing grows in there. Except sweet, earthy black goodness. When I remember to turn the crank.
Stuff is finally sprouting here (late spring this year) so I sit out there a lot and grin at the fern nubs and heuchera stubs. Life is good again, no?
Also: cam4.com: good lord. I felt like a freelance proctologist for a minute.