Chicken and the (farm fresh) eggs

It is the simple things in life that bring the most happiness.

Last weekend, we embarked on a mission. The goal? To find a farm where we could buy fresh eggs. At least, that was my goal. My husband aimed to source more from the farm. But for someone like me, who prefers to imagine that chickens grow on trees, the 'ostrich' mode is so convenient. Like that astute bird, I can easily stick my head in the virtual sand, pretending certain things don’t exist.

Armed with this strong defense mechanism, I cheerfully accompanied him on this quest. All I had to do at the end of the ride was stay in the car and look the other way.

The drive was beautiful, with winding roads through the rolling hills of Driftwood providing a serene backdrop for our bickering (a 45-minute drive is bound to invite an argument or two!). Time flew by, and after a few wrong turns, we arrived at our destination—a sleepy farm stocked with donkeys, goats, and dozens of clucking chickens!

I stayed in the car, soaking in the vibes, reluctant to step out and leave my ostrich-land. Magically, Fluffy Bottoms Farm turned out to be an animal sanctuary!

What could be better? Maybe if it moved a few miles closer to our home so we didn't have to drive nearly an hour for fresh eggs. Outside of that, it was everything we could ask for. I could now smile at the chickens, secure in the knowledge that they had long, happy lives ahead of them.

It was so peaceful to relax and surround myself with the sound of contented animals.

We bought three dozen eggs (to be safe). They came in adorable cartons with the sweetest logo ever. To add to the cuteness overload, their shells varied from soft brown to pastel blues!

Our dozen eggs

We collected our bounty and headed back home. After a good washing (dirty-bottomed* chickens!), the eggs proudly took their place on our countertop. (Google and I are debating whether they can stay out or need to be in the refrigerator.)

In the meantime, I am working on convincing our families (sister and sister-in-law) that I could be their egg-agent, making the hour-long drive every month to keep them stocked with fresh eggs. A hard task, but one I would gladly do for their benefit—never mind that I get to spend some glorious minutes basking in the joy of our fluffy-bottomed friends.

*I couldn't resist that - in reality the eggs are speckled with just a little mud, and I have learnt that I should wash them just before consumption