LOMA PARK

 

Goat heads, the noxious weed I was telling you about. Seriously, don't step in a patch of goat heads.



Nate felt like we didn't have enough chickens. I am not sure why. We bought ten baby chicks last year and raised them all to adulthood. They each lay about an egg a day. That is nine eggs a day, sixty-three eggs a week and two-hundred and fifty two eggs a month. I am drowning in eggs. Seriously, drowning in eggs. I have to do a run to all my friends once a month to drop of eggs. If you want to be on that list, leave a comment and I will add you. I seriously don't know what to do with all the eggs.

 

Last week Nate went and bought sixteen new baby chicks. If we are as successful at raising them as we were the last and if they produce as well, I am in deep, deep, eggs. Praying some of them die.



  

 The girls begged to go to the Loma park after we watered the garden, feed the chickens and the chicks. They love this little park that consists of nothing but an ancient merry-go-round. I rode on it for a minute and felt like puking. I never could understand as a child why my mother always complained about getting dizzy, but now I get it.

  

However, they love it. Seriously.... love it.