Ever since I read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House in the Big Woods in the 4th grade, I have dreamed of one day having a little homestead of my own.
You know —
Milking my own cow…
Gathering my own eggs…
Playing volleyball with a pig bladder…
Okay, maybe not that last one.
At any rate, these Wilder dreams followed me through my primary years, college, and even graduate school.
And I pined for my own Big Woods every time I rented another second story walk-up or fourth floor flat.
Then finally after years of saving, my husband and I bought our own little house on a few acres.
It was much more prairie than piney, but that was just fine by me.
Well, back in August I took an even wilder leap and purchased a dozen day-old heritage breed chickens.
Thanks to the advice of some good friends and a few info-packed books from the local library, I actually managed to get them all from fluff to feathers.
Then last Saturday something happened…
First Little Egg on the Prairie
And all I can do is grin.
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