This is the sight that greets me most mornings when I open up the cupboard which now hides the fridge away: we’re getting about two dozen eggs a week, lots of them blue, and Quercus, whose real life is interrupted daily by a large office, is doing a roaring trade in selling; so much so, in fact, that we sometimes find ourselves eggless, which is ironic, given that we’re the ones with the chooks. I’m particularly delighted with the blue eggs, I confess; the colour of them is simply gorgeous in person, and it’s particularly touching that one can tell which hen laid which egg by the colour. Cobweb, who came into lay before Nightshade, lays eggs which are on the yellower-end of blue (two of hers are at the back of this photo), while Nightshade delivers turquoise confections which you can see in the foreground. Then we have darker, speckled eggs courtesy of Liquorice, our Barnevelder, and the paler ones from the two Buff Sussex hens, who – and I swear they do this on purpose to increase the frustration of not being able to tell them apart because their markings are so similar – seem to produce identical eggs.  I’m starting to think that white eggs might be nice too… Or perhaps green ones. Anyone got any breed suggestions? (And yes, I’m playing with fire here – I remember a conversation with Quercus, oh, two years ago, where I said ‘it’ll only be two of them; no, really!’.)

In other news, I have acquired the most fantastic fabric. It has got wols on it. Wols, I tell you. Shortly, it will be transformed into a blind for the witchling’s window; not before time, I might add, as British summer time has only been prevented from fucking with our normal morning timings by the fact that the poor tiny daughter has been rather sick for the last day or so. I know I’m in a lucky percentage here, mind you, in that this is only the second time she has been ill, and she seems to be getting over it pretty rapidly, but I did feel for her yesterday when gravity appeared to be suffering a regrettable performance lapse in relation to her tum. I am glad that she is still breastfed; it seems to be the one substance which stays down.

In other, other news, the thing I wrote for Juno Magazine is going to be in the next issue. I am quite excited. Oh yes.