My Dad gave us a dozen eggs when we left Maine this past Sunday. We have had chickens at the house in Brunswick since we moved there, almost 30 years ago. My parents have kept a number of different kinds, but mostly Rhode Island Reds, Barred Rocks and Buff Orphingtons. For a while we had some fryers, but for the most part the norm at our place is to see a small flock of red hens running around the yard.
I didn't open the carton until that evening after the drive back home, and I laughed when I saw eleven brown eggs and one gigantic whitish blue egg! That's the beauty of a mixed flock, I guess! I remember being young and sorting eggs for the perfect dozen to enter in the Topsham Fair.
This led me to think about some pictures Mom had taken of the chickens a few years ago. I looked back and found this photo from July of 2008:
It was a pretty charmed life, I think, growing up in the country, with hens, and eating eggs that were fresh that day.
Thanks for the eggs Dad!