What? Spring already?
1024/03/2024 by ChrisJamesAuthor
There are two reasons this blog has been quiet since 7 January, both of which are pretty dull: one, I’m heavily into writing the next novel, over halfway, in fact, which means everything and everyone tends to get a bit neglected at this point in the process (just ask Mrs James – er, on second thoughts, maybe don’t); and two, this year’s winter has also been dull. If we get a nice cold snap and a blue sky, I can post pictures of how great the scenery looks. But since January, it’s almost been like a British winter here in Warsaw: cold, wet and humid with the occasional frost and nothing to look at but a back garden that clearly needs a lot of work.
And if you’re wondering about those gorgeous five chicks Mrs James and Eldest Daughter raised last autumn, the news is also dull: out of the five, three transpired to be cocks. We’ve eaten two of them and the third is plucked and chopped and currently residing in my freezer waiting to become another Sunday lunch. One of the two remaining hens fell ill and also had to be dispatched. I assumed that you would not have appreciated a post showing my axe doing the deeds and Mrs James all a-plucking and a-gutting 😉
On the upside, the crocuses came out last week, and they looked rather nice.
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Ugh, sorry to hear about the chicks. I know that’s life but…I couldn’t do it, one reason I’ll never keep chickens. Now that we have two sheeple, lamb is off the menu too. -sigh-
The crocus does look lovely though, and I’m thrilled your writing is going well. Keep us posted. 🙂
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Yup, it’s no a nice job to do, but we had n o choice: the young cocks were really stressing the hens so they had to go. Ditto the ill hen; she was suffering 😦
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When you put it that way, yes, I can see the necessity. 😦
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My Hungarian immigrant great-grandparents never learned English, and lived on a farm in Michigan – I met them once. I remember a pump for water in the kitchen sink. And corn on the cob. I was five.
We are all only a few generations from farmers who had to live off the labor of their hands and the soil – but the most I’ve ever done was raising broccoli once.
Food comes from somewhere – I’m too far removed.
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Hi Alicia, thanks for dropping by 🙂 It’s a funny thing, but yup, when you hatch, grow, feed, look after, then kill, pluck, gut, prepare, cook and eat the thing, it really amazing how much effort and work is involved. We are so incredibly spoilt that we can just walk into a store a pick one up ready to go in the oven.
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It’s a LOT of work – and consumed in less than half an hour.
I always resented that time spent cooking – and didn’t even count the time spent by SOMEONE prior to that to get something that could be cooked.
We are so privileged. And spoiled.
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I quite like cooking as an activity, I’m just not very good at it 🙂
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It takes so much time, and so many things attack me now, that I’d happily swallow a pill.
I’d eat a lot of refined, easy to digest carbs if it didn’t make my brain so darned mushy.
Food without salt is tasteless.
And, for me, the kicker: eating makes me need a long nap about an hour later, every single time. It makes planning for life and writing very spotty and slow.
Other than that, it’s necessary for life, or I’d probably give it up entirely.
And cooking used to be sort of fun (except for the recipients wolfing it down in no time) when I could stand. No more.
I’m exceedingly grateful I don’t also have to grow it!
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Too bad about the chickens! And sorry your winter has been so dull. I have some good news for you… my husband just finished Onslaught and loved it. We have a 40 hour road trip planned in April and are going to buddy-read the rest of the series. 🙂
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Thanks for dropping by, D., and for your kind words. Keep well! 🙂
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