He can’t play the guitar.  He can’t do chores.  He can’t help me clean the cafe to get it ready to open.

Then we remembered how we used to spend those final, restless days of winter, when the sun would shine one moment, and ice, hail and rain would fall from the sky the next, and mud coated everything, everything, everything.

We painted Easter Eggs.

So out come the dyes, the wax, the dozens and dozens of eggs gifted to us by the pullets who are laying like crazy these days.  And Bob sits down to one of the few activities that can take his mind off the broken arm.

Before long, Ula and Saoirse are beside him, and the collection of eggs (and artistic mess) on my kitchen table grows.  It inspires us to celebrate all things EGGS and has even resulted in a fresh story for the farm store website, outlining everything you could ever want to know about fresh, pasture-raised eggs….Including how to boil and peel them, and even use them as Easter eggs!!!  Hope you get a chance to check it out!